I love going to church because it grounds me. It gives me the opportunity to reflect on my own actions, strive for kindness, and gather hope. Although, the space where I have felt the most close to God was in the hospital with Matilda and witnessing the miracle of her second chance at life.
There is something within Matilda that transcends this earth. Sure, she is just a regular kid. But, she comes from an extraordinary event. An event that doctors called a miracle. An event where everything fell into place so miraculously. An event that has caused a beautiful ripple of hope in the transplant community.
On Good Friday, I took the kids to church with me, and when it came time to venerate the cross Matilda snuck away. She confidently marched to the front of the church and crossed over to where priests were standing. Now, at this point, Parker and I were just staring in surprise at what she was doing, but my instinct wasn't to chase after her, it was to wait and allow her to return once she realized she was alone.
What Matilda did next, made the entire church gasp in awe. She stood in front of the cross. Looking up, she gently embraced the cross with both hands, slowly put her forehead to the cross, and with so much love she quietly kissed it. Then, turning to everyone in the congregation, she flashed the brightest smile and danced her way back to where I was standing. Tears filled my eyes, joy burst out of heart, and as I lifted her into my arms I told her I was so proud.
During Easter mass on Sunday, the priest retold the story of a little girl who approached the alter to kiss the cross. His words echoed in the church as he repeated the phrase he wanted us all to remember, "She gets it." She gets it. He made the point that it wasn't what she did, but how she did it. She didn't walk away quietly with her head down, she danced.
She was filled with joy, she gets it.
