Jemma's Special Day
May 18, 2025
Sunday was Jemma’s First Holy Communion—a day wrapped in sacred meaning and scattered sunshine, made memorable in more ways than I could have imagined. I’ve felt a mix of emotions leading up to it. This was supposed to be at our house—the place where we’ve hosted every baptism, where our deck has echoed with laughter, where the evening light dances just right on our kitchen walls during cake cutting. I longed for the comfort of that familiar space, the backyard chaos of kids playing for hours, the effortless warmth of being home.
Instead, we hosted the celebration at our rental. I debated renting a venue or reserving a restaurant, but none of those felt quite right. In the end, our makeshift celebration turned out just fine—more than fine, actually. It was lovely. The weather held out with grace, the food was comforting, and the guest list was small and intimate, just like Joe Joe's in 2021.
One of the highlights of the day? Jemma and her cousins made our family's special soup recipe together—a request she’s had on repeat for months, and we hadn't been able to do without our usual equipment. That little bowl of soup meant everything to her. She beamed over every spoonful. We followed it up with cannolis and ice cream cake—more of her hand-picked favorites.
Later that evening, Jemma was filled with joy to put her Communion dress on again, and we made our way down to the church for her professional portraits. (Her brother never let me take his, so I was especially grateful for her excitement.) True to her spirited self, she rode her brother’s electric scooter all the way there—with her helmet on, of course—lace trailing in the breeze, people waving and cheering as we passed. She only took the helmet off once we arrived at the church for photos.
Outside the church, a prayer group walked by—rosaries in hand, priests in tow. They paused to bless her, offer kind words, and admire her radiance. An older couple stopped to chat, and the woman tucked a $5 bill into Jemma’s hand as a small Communion gift. Jemma beamed, thanked her sweetly, glowing under all the kind attention. Then came a moment that filled my heart even more —the woman noticed my shoe was untied and almost bent down to help since I was holding my camera and the scooter. Before I could react, Jemma kneeled down and tied it for me, so gently and lovingly. The couple smiled and said, “God bless you both,” before continuing on.
And in that fleeting moment, it all clicked. This day wasn’t missing anything. It had everything we needed: grace, joy, kindness, and connection. Even in a rental house, even with change and challenge still lingering in the air, this milestone found its way into our hearts exactly as it was meant to. A sacred day, made brighter by a little girl’s glow and the quiet signs that love is always right where we are.
