THE COMMUNION OF STRENGTH

Grandmother was in the yard, seated in the shade of a lush vine.

— Grandma?

She raised her eyes, somewhat surprised, for until that moment her little granddaughter had not shown her much affection; she was attentive, but not affectionate.

— What do you want, child?

— Grandma, I would like to know why you have a wooden leg. Did you go to war?

— No, Lina; but that is not a question for your age. It was not a cannonball that cut off my leg, nor even an accident.

— Then what was it?

— Simply illness: a tumor in the knee. One day the doctor declared that it was necessary to cut off the leg.

— Oh! Grandma, I would rather have died first.

— I would have preferred that too.

— Then why did you let them cut it off?

— Lina, it was not possible; I was not living only for myself. To die when one wishes is a luxury… and sometimes it is cowardice. I had to think of four little children who needed me.

— But when they cut it, did they make you sleep?

— No, I did not want that; I was very afraid of not waking up and abandoning my children. And after all, if one must suffer, it is because God wills or permits it.

— Did they cut off your leg while you were awake?

The good old woman, just remembering what had happened, turned pale.

— My child, before the painful operation, I asked for the Bread of the strong, I received Holy Communion and asked Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament for patience and courage… Your father held my hand and even he, poor thing, almost fainted.

— Grandma, it was Communion that gave you strength. Oh, how good Jesus is!