I have a pyx in my purse.

For the uninitiated (and until last week that included me), a pyx is a small round container used in the Catholic Church to carry the consecrated host (Eucharist) to the sick or invalid, or those otherwise unable to come to a church in order to receive Holy Communion. As a Eucharistic Minister, a lay person who assists the priest during Communion, I volunteered within my parish to take the Host to members of the faith confined to local nursing homes. I started this week — hence, the encounter with the pyx.

I received my orientation by accompanying a wonderful woman in my parish who has been serving in this special ministry for years. A former Sister of Providence, she has a theological background, and an outgoing, loving personality that reaches into the dim corners of the waning mind and draws out smiles from these meekest of the meek whom she visits so faithfully. I knew I was in good hands. After my orientation she went over some final guidelines and handed me the pyx I would be using for the next couple of months.

Gulp. A pyx of my own? The Host in my hands? I asked, “What should I do with the pyx? Where should I keep it?” She cheerfully replied, “In your purse.”

In my purse?

In my mid-fifties, I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the mystery of the Eucharist (a possible subject for my next blog). This morsel of brittle, flavorless “bread” becomes the body of Christ, the flesh of the Redeemer. We consume it and become one with God in our body. How do you comprehend that? And even if we can’t fully comprehend, we revere the Host. We keep it under lock and key. We kneel before it when it is revealed. Once it is consecrated, it cannot be thrown away. And now it’s bouncing around in my purse with the Kleenex, lipstick, pens, and cell phone? That struck me as inappropriate if not downright irreverant.

And yet — the longer I think about it, the more appropriate it seems that I should carry Christ along with all the mundane items of my daily life. Isn’t that where and when I need Him most? I’m in pretty safe territory when I’m meditating in a fragrant chapel or inching my way down the aisle with other parishoners anticipating receiving grace. The challenges come when I’m in rush hour traffic, standing in the long line at the grocery store, or dealing with a belligerent co-worker or family member. That is when I need to be aware of the Christ I carry. No one can see the pyx in my purse, but it is my sacred obligation that they see Christ in me. “It is not I that live but Christ that lives in me.” Galatians 2:20.

Kate is a nickname for my legal name, Katherine. My parents told me that had I been born a boy my name would have been Christopher. Their choice came from my father’s devotion to A.A. Milne and his fictional character Christopher Robin. It was only when I began to learn about the lives of the saints that I discovered the name Christopher means “bearer of Christ.” I like knowing that. And I like that in my fifth decade, while not being born a “Christopher,” I always have the option to live as a “Christopher.”

I currently have the pyx safely tucked away in the zippered pouch where I keep the rosary given to me by my godmother, and a third-class relic of Padre Pio. I won’t always have a pyx in my purse, but for now, as I work toward becoming the person God calls me to be, it’s an important reminder that the most important thing I carry isn’t my wallet, my keys, or my phone. It’s the call to Love as I have been Loved.

Wishing you a space for grace in your life today,

Kate