.A beautiful faith journey—my son’s First Holy Communion
As I sat in the pews, watching my son receive the Body and Blood of Christ for the first time, my heart overflowed with gratitude. Earlier that day, during a quiet moment of prayer with Mother Mary, I found myself in tears—tears not of sorrow, but of joy, gratitude, hope, and perhaps even a bit of relief.
So yes—this has truly been a journey of faith, a leap of hope, and a testimony to the faithfulness of Jesus and Mary. It’s a journey that began three years ago. Now, I know some of you may be wondering why it took three years for my son to receive his First Holy Communion. Well…
My son was in Year 3 when our church extended the invitation for children in that year group to begin preparation for their First Holy Communion. I accepted eagerly, without really stopping to consider how my son felt about it. In my mind, any hesitation on his part would be met with my usual determined (and loving) persuasion. And it worked—he attended his first class.
But it didn’t take long for me to see that he wasn’t engaged. He sat through the hour-long session with a quiet unhappiness that tugged at my heart. He was just eight years old then—still very much my baby (he’s ten now, and in many ways, still is). Watching him so withdrawn and disinterested hurt more than I expected. I found myself torn between the desire to nurture his spiritual life and the instinct to protect his joy and wellbeing.
After much prayer and soul-searching, I made the difficult decision to withdraw him from the program. I chose to wait another year, trusting that God’s timing would be better than mine. As life would have it, we moved the following year—and in God’s perfect timing, the parish in our new area happened to celebrate First Holy Communion in Year 4. My son was now in the “right” year group once again, and I eagerly signed him up for the classes.
My husband and I spent time preparing him, gently talking about what this sacrament meant and what to expect. But once again, our son was hesitant. And truthfully, I understood. We had just uprooted our lives and moved to a new part of the country. He was adjusting to a new home, a new school, and a whole new routine. In my heart of hearts, I began to wonder: Was this the right time for him to begin this sacred journey? He was already carrying so much change—did I want to add more to his little shoulders?
He also wasn’t fully engaged with going to church. While he did attend Mass every Sunday, I knew in my heart it was more out of duty than desire. As someone who grew up in a practicing Catholic family, I understood. Sitting through an hour-long Mass every Sunday isn’t always easy for a child. Looking back, I can’t say I was always excited to go either—but I did go, usually without complaint.
That wasn’t the case with my son. There was often resistance, and sometimes frustration. It became clear to me, through prayer and long conversations with my husband, that maybe—just maybe—this still wasn’t the right time. He simply wasn’t ready for the depth of this commitment.
So we made a decision. We would pause again, and dedicate the next year to truly preparing his heart—not just for a sacrament, but for a relationship with Christ.
We began reading the Bible with him every night. Prayer became a permanent part of our daily routine, it wasn’t just something we did occasionally or when life felt difficult. We talked often about the meaning of the Mass, about the beauty and mystery of the Eucharist.
We encouraged him to talk to God as his loving Father, to bring his worries, joys, and questions to Him. We also spoke about trusting God—especially when life feels uncertain. And perhaps most importantly, we taught him that to love God means loving others: to be kind, to be patient, to see the face of Christ in every person he meets.
And then, something beautiful began to happen.
He started asking questions—about God, about Jesus, about Mary. Questions about our Catholic faith. His curiosity grew, and with it, a quiet desire to truly understand and to believe.
At school, he began to make a conscious effort to live out his faith. He chose kindness with his peers. He became more thoughtful, more aware of how his actions would reflect the love of Christ.
At Mass, I saw a change. He listened. He paid attention. He began participating—it wasn’t perfect but at least it was sincere. He couldn’t yet recite all the responses by heart, but he tried. Always. And that effort, that willingness, moved me deeply.
This, I believe, is the quiet power of the Holy Spirit at work. A gentle transformation that no amount of pushing or persuading could have accomplished on its own.
I’ve always loved the saying: “Do what you can do, and give the rest over to God.” And that’s exactly what we did. We planted seeds, watered them with love and prayer, and trusted God to bring the growth.
So this year, I sat in the pews—with a tear in my eye and a heart full of joy —as I watched my son receive the Body and Blood of Christ in the Holy Eucharist for the very first time.
I was overwhelmed with gratitude, joy, peace, and deep happiness. I felt so proud—not just for the moment itself, but for my son and the quiet perseverance he had shown. He had worked hard. He had overcome doubts, changes, and challenges to reach this sacred moment. It hadn’t always been an easy journey—but then, ease was never what God promised us.
What is asked of us is faithfulness. What is desired of us is trust. And as I reflected on this journey, I realized my son’s Holy Communion wasn’t just his milestone—it was ours as a family. We were all changed. We were all drawn deeper into God’s grace.
I, personally, was stretched and refined. I learned the virtue of patience in a way I never had before. We experienced, firsthand, the gentle and unwavering faithfulness of a loving Father who walks every step with us—even when we stumble, even when we doubt.
Final Thought
The bread and wine we receive in Holy Communion are not symbols—they are truly the Body and Blood of Christ. God, in His infinite love, has given us this most precious gift, a gift that has the power to transform us both physically and spiritually. In receiving Christ, we are united with Him—body, mind, and spirit. What a wondrous mystery. What a sacred treasure.
I know I am not worthy of such a gift. And yet, I’m reminded of how, as parents, we often give beautiful, thoughtful gifts to our children—not because they’ve earned them, but simply because we love them and want to see them happy. On their special days, we go above and beyond to bring them joy.
So it is with God. In His perfect love, He offers us the greatest gift—His Son, Jesus Christ—because He desires our joy, our fulfillment, our eternal union with Him.
I pray that each of us may receive this gift with open hearts, and that God may grant us the grace to approach the Holy Eucharist often, and always with reverence, humility, and love.
A quote from Blessed Carlos Acutis
‘Try to go every day to Mass and to receive Holy Communion. … If you can, stay a few minutes every day in Eucharistic adoration in front of the tabernacle where Jesus is really present, and you will see your level of holiness increase considerably’.
Blessed Carlos compiled a catalogue of all the Eucharistic Miracles, below is the Eucharistic Miracles of Buenos Aires they blew me away I’m sure they’ll do the same to you.