Fearless Communing

This past year has been an interesting one for us in regards to Anya (not) taking Communion at church. She has had an abiding fear or, at the very least, a mistrust of adult males (her Grandpa and I excepted). What this has meant in approaching the chalice every Sunday is a turning away from the priest and burying her face in Jennifer’s shoulder as Fr. Matthew says, “The Handmaid of God, Anya…” My thoughts finishing the pronouncement with “…will not be taking Communion yet again this week.”

But today was different. We’ve noticed this past week or two that she has been more open and engaging with adult males when we are out and about. At Noodles & Co she interacted in a cutesy way with the male employee who was trying to get her to laugh and last weekend she let her Uncle carry her around. The look on her face was a bashful smile that said, “Oh isn’t this so very strange, I think I like it.” So, the stage was set.

During the homily Anya’s godmother was holding her and told her that she’d give her a piece of bread (antidoron) if she took Communion. When it came time to line up she stood on her own next to her brother, crossed her arms over her chest as instructed, and waited for the priest to bring out the chalice. She seemed perfectly at ease and when Jennifer lifted her up she looked straight at the priest, opened her mouth, and let him place the Eucharist on her tongue with the spoon.

Fr. Matthew, Jennifer, and I all grinned simultaneously at this little triumph as we shuffled back to our place to await the bread from her godmother.