The Perfect Gift

June 28, 2014.
My friend Patrick picks me up downtown, and takes me to Mass at a small, basically all-black parish.
Walking in, we stick out like two sore, white thumbs. I need to use the restroom, so I head towards the back, and am cut off by Mrs. Jones, a very kind and outgoing woman, with very long nails, who immediately asks, "Would you like to bring up the gifts today?" Though feeling strange, I appreciate her hospitality (as clearly, we were visitors), so I agree to her request.
Then, she asks, "Is that your husband?" No, just a friend. "Oh, would he like to carry up the gifts?" Probably. You could ask him. At that, she directs me to the bathroom, then proceeds to ask Patrick, who replies, "Why the h*** not?" (He is still practicing his Mass etiquette :) ).
The best part is, Patrick had just had a conversation with the pastor of this parish the day before about discerning a call to the priesthood. So, here he is, with some random girl, and here we are, two of only three white people in the whole church, walking up to the altar in front of the priest and everyone.
Awkward!

Fast forward to today, the Feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary.
It is 8:30AM Mass at my parish, and I am looking for a place to sit. Seeing my four neighbor children (ages 5-12), I sit with them. Apparently, their mom has gone to Mass the day before, so they have come alone.
After I say a prayer, an usher comes up behind me and asks me if I'd like to carry the gifts up. Scanning my clothes (a t-shirt and capris), I first ask if I am dressed for the task. She assures me that it is fine. Then she says, "Just come over with the kids after the Creed." With the kids? Wait, what?! (These kids are not mine, you know....) Okay, kids, here goes nothin'....
We walk to the back of the church, as instructed, and three of the kids are given the bread, the wine, and the basket with the tithe. That leaves me and the youngest boy, who folds his hands piously and walks beside me. All the while, I am thinking, should I hold his hand? Does he want to hold my hand? Forget about what he wants, I want to hold his hand! At least then I would feel like a part of this family! The kids are dressed very nicely, which makes me feel embarrassed. And we are all uncoordinated, because there is no Mrs. Jones telling us what to do and when. What must the pastor be thinking about this?
As we sit, relieved, back in our pew, the youngest leans over to his sister and says, "That was embarrassing." Poor little guy.

Can we please break for a totally relevant musical interlude? This is the soundtrack of my experience:

God has an incredible sense of humor. I just love it.
They don't offer classes on bringing up the gifts at Mass. I think it's something you have to learn by humiliation. Or maybe it just happens that whenever I am involved in the process, things are a little strange. It could be because I am a little strange. (Yeah, I think it's me...)

But it is a nice reminder that when I bring my gifts to the Lord - whatever they may be (joys, sorrows, desires, intentions, talents, sins, etc.) - they are never going to be perfect. There is going to some measure of self or self-love, a poverty due to my humanity, or a pride or sin or lack. If I try to be the best shiny silver hat I can be, sometimes that very act is what makes things not quite right. So there is no sense deluding myself and trying to act as if I have it all together.  Instead, may the Lord continue to remind me that when I come before him with my gifts, they should be cloaked in humility.

As awkward and embarrassing as I sometimes am, and as out-of-place as I sometimes feel, it is truly a marvel that the Lord still chooses me, receives the broken offering I bring and gives me back a thousandfold.

The best gift I can offer is an honest one. God knows that what I bring can never be perfect; He alone can make it so. And He reminds me that He, Himself, is the Perfect Gift, offered on the Cross and on the altar.

 

"Lord, I am not worthy that You should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed."