by Veronica Pino
St. Gianna Program Director
Catholic Social Services of Southern Nebraska
I recently had the joy of attending Mass with one of our St. Gianna Women Home (SGWH) residents and her son. It was the woman’s first time attending Mass in 16 years. It was a very special occasion, and one I’m incredibly thankful to have been a part of. While I’ve often had the opportunity to pray with residents or guide Bible studies at St. Gianna’s, being able to join them for Mass in the community is an opportunity that is not often presented to me.
This particular resident and I had been discussing her return to the Catholic Church for a long while. She always maintained her faith in God, but due to her previous circumstances had stopped going to church—as well as many other previously held habits and routines.
To say she was nervous about going back to Mass would be an understatement. After everything she suffered at the hands of her abuser, the thought of simply being surrounded by the crowd that would be at a Sunday Mass was very frightening for her. But she had made a great deal of progress healing, and felt that she was ready.
She was also rather worried about her 2-year-old son, who has autism. She wasn’t sure what to expect in terms of behavior—especially since he wasn’t terribly used to sitting still and had never been inside of a church. She was particularly nervous that he would be a distraction for others, but she knew they had to start somewhere.
We began Mass seated toward the back of the church. It was beautiful to see how her young son was enthralled by the light and music. The first 10 minutes were precious. She was enjoying being there, and enjoying watching her son take in this new environment. As he began to get a bit more distracted and make more noise, I told her that we could move into the cry room if it would make her feel more comfortable. She accepted, and our time at Mass calmly continued from there.
During the Eucharistic prayer, her son walked up to a girl who was kneeling with her family and hugged her. Both of us watched to see how she would react, ready to intervene if necessary. The girl looked up toward her mom, who kindly smiled and encouraged her daughter that everything was all right. The girl calmly played with and accepted hugs from him each time he approached her. Seeing him so lovingly received was an enormous comfort for our mom.
At the end of Mass, the family introduced themselves. As the woman I was accompanying mentioned that it was her first time at Mass, they warmly welcomed her to the parish and encouraged her to continue in her faith journey. They let her know that they typically attend Mass at that time and hoped to see her again. They also expressed how much they enjoyed watching her son, and what a delight it was for their daughter.
While they weren’t aware of it, I knew that these words meant a great deal to a woman who had felt so much uncertainty regarding what to expect with his behavior.
Walking out of the church, she was glowing. As she made plans to return next week on her own, I felt enormous gratitude toward the family we encountered. The whole experience made me think of the words of St. Teresa of Calcutta: “Not all of us can do great things, but we can do small things with great love.”
It is amazing to witness just how big an impact those “small things” done with love can really have.
Moments like this heighten my awareness of the true blessing that it is to be able to call the Lincoln Diocese home. I’m grateful to be part of a community that is welcoming and truly grounded in faith. But I think this also serves as a reminder: we have a beautiful, faith-filled community as long as we maintain it. We have wonderful priests and parishes, but the extent to which our diocese and families flourish has much more to do with our—the laity’s—participation in God’s call to do small, daily things with great love. And if anyone reading this is looking for a sign to be more involved in his or her parish community in one way or another, consider this a sign received.
