 When we are born into this world, we are born with a built-in dignity. We are, from the moment of our conception, sons or daughters. We descend from our parents as they did from their parents; therefore, we are descendants. We are created from our parent’s very selves, from what makes them be, and by means of this essence, we are connected to the previous generations all the way back to the beginning of it all. We are the inheritors of all history and the torch bearers for the light of knowledge and wisdom passed down through the ages... And all this comes from being sons or daughters. As believers, we know God gave us this dignity. He made it all, that we may always be a family and that knowledge of Him may be passed down through the generations. It has been a foundational part of God’s plan from the very start. We were told to go out to the world and fill it.
And while we fill the world, we are meant to faithfully create, raise, and guide our families in the teachings of our Lord.
And this is so that the new generations may keep the faith and obtain the fruit from their efforts.
We are called sons (and daughters)… The word “son,” etymologically speaking, is related to the word “sewn,” as in knitted or “put together with string.” We have heard this before...
Our sonhood, our natural dignity from our human lineage, originates from God. We must strive to remember this. When we were children, we understood inherently that so much of our identity came from our life in the family, from that line that connects us to the traditions of the past. As we grew older, most of us wanted to assert more of our individuality. Most of us grow to want to choose our path. Some of us, rebelliously, move away from our families and traditions and even forget our dignity as sons and daughters of God. This is not uncommon, even from biblical times. Do you remember the Prodigal Son?
So many of us are like the Prodigal Son. We squander our spiritual inheritance. In our haste to become independent, we forget our traditions. We turn our back to our families and to our identity as sons and daughters of God. If we see our sonhood as just a stage in life, as a phase we must go through and grow out of in our search for individuality and meaning, then we completely miss the point. We are exactly like the Prodigal Son. Our sonhood is not a stage in life or a phase we go through and grow out of; it is an intrinsic human and natural state, a gift from God’s plan for us that we cannot grow out of. It does not matter where we are in life; we never cease to be sons or daughters. It is where we come from, and God acknowledges that dignity. He is always waiting for us to return, but we have to take that first step on the journey back to who God calls us to be.
And this is the importance of our sonhood, that because we are sons and daughters, because of that dignity inherent to our lineage, we have access, through Christ, to our Heavenly Father. It is through the gift of the dignity of sonhood that we were sent our Heavenly Father’s only begotten Son, firstborn and our most perfect brother, Christ, so that we may be redeemed.
Let me share a little personal story. Most of the time, I wear two rings, the ring from my wife on my left hand, reminding me I am a husband, and a ring on my right hand from my father, reminding me I am a son... I do not remember when it started, but the last few times my father visited, he took a ring right off his right hand and gifted it to me. For me, there is no mistaking it. It is not a ring that was bought for me, unused, and in a gift box, but a ring that was his and he wore... he gave me his very own ring. I know it was probably unintentional on my father’s part, but for me, this spur-of-the-moment present of his represents giving to me from his very self, acknowledging my dignity as his son, and I can’t get over how Eucharistic this is. Is not that how our Heavenly Father gives to us? From His very self, he gives to us. Through Jesus in the Eucharist, He acknowledges our dignity as His sons and daughters. May we all return to our Father in repentance and ask for the full restoration of our sonhood. May we receive our Father’s ring, just like the Prodigal Son, so that restored to our life in Him, we are constantly reminded of who we are, in Him who loves us.
Let us pray: Heavenly Father, we are your children. Help us to acknowledge You in our lives. Help us to embrace our sonhood and be ever reminded of our dignity as Your very own, that we may glorify You in all that we do and wherever we go. Amen.
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Dearest Eucharistic Family, The above text will penetrate our hearts with the depths of God’s love. Knowing we are loved changes everything. Every circumstance of life looked at in the light that we are loved brings forth the comfort and security only a father can give. The one who created us brings us up to the high mountain to reveal the light of Heaven that will radiate our existence now and in the fullness of time. The Eucharist is the only place to find true peace through life’s challenges. We are blessed to gather with grateful hearts around the Altar of God to be fed with eternal hope, a place to live in the mystery. Knowing we are created in love gives us value and comfort through every storm of life. We are close to entering into another desert season of Lent. Keeping our eyes fixed on Heaven will inspire us to keep our hands busy upon the earth; there is so much to be done. Together with the faithful, we share in the mystery; the Body of Christ will be working through the dusting of Lent to the reign of Easter. So many prayer intentions come to me and the mother’s cenacle through the week. Placing them on the Altar in prayer daily helps submit them to God’s Holy Will. I remember when my husband was terminally ill, it was by the grace of the Eucharist and every intercessory prayer that we were able to live in the grace of the present moment. Gathering with a grateful heart in Church, with the community of believers in prayer, changed everything to God’s glory. I recall some days wanting to go to Mass and not talking to anyone lest I would cry. By putting a prayer request out to dear ones, the burden was immediately lifted, and inner strength came by the power of the Holy Spirit. God’s love lifts us. As we enter into the Passion of Christ this Lenten Season, we may want to dive into the silence to find a voice that will echo, “This is my beloved Son. Listen to him” (Mark 9:7). Perhaps we will hear, “You are my beloved one; hear my voice, my child. Gather around the Altar with grateful hearts. Know that I am with you always until the end of time (Matthew 28:20). Work for the Kingdom of Heaven now by the grace of the Eucharist. Call upon the Holy Spirit to guide you. Take tight hold of your mother’s hand and pray with her. Be with her at the Altar and let her behold you. In good time all will be passed, and the journey behind us, as in a journal of faith.” We are blessed, this side of the heavens, to gather with grateful hearts into the Sanctuary on high. Lest we fall, we remember to rise and call upon the name of the Lord, and then, in a breath, grace will be found, and the terror of the fall will be passed. There is imminent merit in stopping to pray; a simple Hail Mary calls forth power beyond our understanding. Mom, the eternal mother of God, is waiting for us always. She is always readily available to bring us to the heart of the Eucharist, where our spiritual life is revealed in its fullness and peace beyond this world to be found. A Prayer to Our Lady of the Blessed Sacrament also carries me through the day; finding time to light a blessed candle on my knees helps me rise to every occasion with a grateful heart. By the grace of God, let us strive to bring others to the Altar to receive Jesus’ love so God may protect the doors of their hearts from living in discouragement.
Grateful to be with you in Christ.
 I do not know what is worse, being the one who is ill or witnessing a loved one being sick. Though both sides experience suffering, each brings its own kind of pain. There is an overwhelming sense of helplessness when we realize that we cannot make someone else’s pain disappear. This feeling is so painful and strong that we sometimes choose to keep our distance from another’s pain. Fear will sometimes make us choose to only say a prayer from home, even when we know we are being called to more.
When I was pregnant with our third child, I spent six weeks in the hospital under strict bedrest orders; the days were long and lonely. Other than a nurse popping in every now and again, I mostly just looked at the ceiling and slept. My husband would bring our two young boys to see me every evening after work. This was the highlight of my day. We would eat dinner, hang out and watch tv. Nothing major, just being a family together doing ordinary things. Their presence changed everything for me. At least for a little while each day, my loneliness would disappear. When the days were dark and long, I did not have to look too far ahead. I would just have to hang on until evening… When my hospital room would fill with love and become home.
No one should walk through the darkness of illness alone. What is the first thing we look for when we are afraid? We look for a hand to grab; we look for a hand to squeeze. Like a wine press extracting the juice from a grape, we squeeze hard… until drops of courage flow from them to us. When another human accompanies us with love, we drink from their presence. We take in God’s love. In a very real way, they become Eucharist for us.
It is not easy to accompany the sick in their pain. It takes love, and it takes courage. It takes getting comfortable in the discomfort of not knowing what to say. It takes coming to terms with our own frailty, our own limitedness… We must come to terms with our inability to make everything better for them. The only way to learn is to do it, knowing you will make mistakes. Walk with the sick; walk with the lonely; do not look away. Do not think you would rather remember them how they were. They need you now. Stay.
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AuthorsWe are Ivonne J. Hernandez, Rick Hernandez and Laura Worhacz, Lay Associates of the Congregation of the Blessed Sacrament, and brothers and sisters in Christ. 
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