Don’t Think I’ve Heard a Homily in 6 Years

I go to daily Mass as often as I can. Or at least—I used to.

During my last pregnancy, especially toward the end, the struggle became more than was healthy to keep pushing through. I remember trying to force it, only to realize: I didn’t have what I physically or emotionally needed to keep going.

I’d end up snapping at my kids in frustration, impatient with every tiny obstacle. And suddenly, I was doing the very thing I’ve always been set against—making church a miserable experience for them.

Since my third was born I’ve gone to Mass on Sunday but only here and there during the week. And honestly, I’ve been okay with that. Healing takes time. Rebuilding rhythms takes time.

But this week, I went to a parish I haven’t been to in a while… And I felt like the prodigal son.

They greeted us with such love, excitement, and authenticity. They had missed us. They had wondered where we’d been and if we were okay. They hugged and kissed us like we were family.

It struck me deeply. While I can get swept up in the busyness of life—where anything beyond what’s right in front of me slips out of sight and out of mind—they don’t.

These people have the age, the practice, the presence, and the focus to hold the importance of family in their everyday lives. And not just biological family—but their Church family.

As I write this, I still feel profoundly humbled. It’s like I’ve woken up to something that’s been in front of me all along. I’m seeing something for the first time that I never noticed before: the treasure the elderly are to our Church and to my spiritual life.

I’ve taken for granted the gift of those closest to Heaven.

And while I’m in a different state of life right now—with all the distractions of family, work, and, frankly, my own interior mess—I’m so grateful for that experience of love. That kiss from Heaven, where Jesus kneels beside me, points to those in the pews, and says, “Watch.”

I have so much to learn.

So while it may be another six years until I fully hear another homily, the Lord still meets me. He brings people to me—people who love me in ways I didn’t even know I needed.

Thank you, Jesus, for your Church. As imperfect as she is, she is still your Bride. And she’s still loving me home.