The monstrance glittered in the candlelight. Our community had come together to pray the rosary and spend time in adoration as we celebrated the 75th anniversary of our foundation. During the string of Hail Mary´s, I watched my sisters in my community walk up to the basket at the foot of the altar. We took the intentions of each of the five decades and placed specific names at the feet of Our Lord: consecrated women, Legionaries, consecrated men, first and second degree members, and deceased Regnum Christi members. In my heart I walked through eleven years as a Highlands student, eight in K4J and ECyD, two at Immaculate Conception Academy, one as an RC missionary, nine since the first vocational questions entered my heart… all of my path in my Regnum Christi family till now. Names flooded my mind as I thanked God for each of the members of this family who he has placed along my path, and who have touched my life with his love through the charism that we share.
Then, I listened to the Gospel passage being read like words to a melody in the depths of my heart:
They came bringing to Jesus a paralytic carried by four men. Unable to get near Jesus because of the crowd, they opened up the roof above him. After they had broken through, they let down the mat on which the paralytic was lying. When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, “Child, your sins are forgiven.” …“I say to you, rise, pick up your mat, and go home.” (Mk 2:1-11)
I watched as each of my sisters took turns kneeling in front of the altar, and as the Holy Spirit inspired others to kneel at her side, intercede for her, and pray over her, bringing her to Christ in the Eucharist just as the four men carried the paralytic to Jesus. As I myself knelt before the altar, I felt hands being placed on my shoulders and head. It was a profound image for my life: I couldn´t see who it was who was praying at my side, but I could feel their hands holding me up and offering me to the Lord. My prayer was wordless – I knew it was because I was resting in the prayer of those around me. In turn, I also knelt at others´ sides, thanking God for the gift that each of them is in my life.
The liturgy of that day, the second Sunday after Christmas, echoed my gratitude for “the riches of his grace that he lavished upon us…” because “in him we were chosen…” by the love of “the One who accomplishes all things according to the intention of his will, so that we might exist for the praise of his glory.” (Eph 1)
