A few weeks ago I attended a funeral Mass held at our lovely church, St. Mary-on-the-Hill. Four priests were in attendance, one of whom had driven several hours to be there. There were four altar servers, and music filled the church.
We gathered to honor someone
who wasn't famous,
who didn't accomplish anything great or mighty,
who never gave a famous speech,
but who, nonetheless, left a mark in this world.
You see, Baby Jesse never walked on this earth; he died in his mother's womb during the fifth month of pregnancy.
With trembling voices we sang the hymn, "On Eagle's Wings", and although it was heartwrenching to see that teeny, tiny casket in front of the altar, we also felt God's loving presence as all of us - priests, mothers, fathers, teachers, Catholics, non-Catholics - came together to celebrate a life . . . not a life that had been lived in full, but one just as important that had barely begun.
(Thanks, mg, for sharing.)