The Sunday morning worship service had been over for about ten minutes, Dan and I had been visiting with friends, and Chris, who was probably close to three years old, had disappeared. That was nothing new. He is probably with his buddy, Jonathan, I thought; but I'd better go see what they are up to.
I looked outside first, and saw Jonathan and a couple of other children playing "chase," but Chris wasn't with them. "Whoa, Jonathan," I said, as he whipped by me. "Do you know where Chris is?" He paused only long enough to shake his head "no." So I continued my search -- classrooms, bathrooms, and then the small multi-purpose room that had a kitchenette at one end.
That's where I found him. He was all alone in the room, sitting on the floor, beside a utility cart. The cart was used to store the communion trays and cups, after worship, until someone could take care of them. He had discovered the remaining pieces of unleavened bread (matza crackers), and was stuffing them in his mouth with both hands and with vigor. When I opened the door, our eyes met, and he froze. His cheeks were pooched out with crackers. But he was a quick thinker, even at that age. Remembering the answer I'd given him time and again, when he had asked me about communion, he said, with crumbs flying out of his mouth, "I'm remembering Jesus, Mommy."
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