Most of you already know that I had two procedures done on my body in the last month. Two simple procedures became much more complicated than they were meant to be. It is difficult to accept, but that was the road that lay before me and walking it was not optional. Now, for the last few weeks, my life has been all about “recovery,” mostly laying in bed, tired all the time, forcing myself to walk a little, eat without appetite and drink without thirst. I had to take medications at rigorously scheduled intervals with accurate tracking, only taking what was necessary to take the edge of the pain. And all that, as annoying as it sounds, is all grace. I have had so many experiences of His grace that it is truly humbling; let me share this one with you.

It was really early in the morning, probably around 5 am. I was in bed, half-asleep and in pain. I was half-praying and half-watching the TV. (It is funny, but there is a lot of half-whatever going on all the time in recovery). The TV show I was watching was some Industrial designer person talking about fixing a broken piece by using glue. “These two pieces are meant to be together; if we use the correct glue, it will truly repair the damage and be as strong as when it was new. The key to doing this well is to use the correct glue, and then persevere through the hard part… Be patient, and just let the glue dry.”

“Just let the glue dry.” As soon as I heard this, I broke down in tears... What binds us to Christ? We want to be one with Him, but what can we do to be with Him in this “valley of tears”? We have to suffer gladly. We have to accept His will for us, even when it means pain, even when we do not know how long it will take. 

Here I am, a little broken and yet a little mended, and I have the opportunity now to accept these little pains with as much love as I can muster so that they can be used to unite myself to Christ. That love and that acceptance of the reality of life, that desire to be like Christ in this present moment, is the glue that can fix us and restore us to greater strength than we had initially. This gets us closer to the exemplary figure of Jesus. So we ask God to heal us, to fix us this way. So how do we do this? Here is one way.

Laying in bed, I remembered all the people, valiant souls,  that I have prayed for over the years. Young ones battling cancer, older ones close to death, middle-aged ones having surgery... I remembered the ones who were alone in a hospital because of COVID restrictions and the few who passed suddenly and without warning. All these are still happening to our people, our loved ones, some of them strangers, but loved nonetheless; that gives meaning to our little sufferings. Thinking of them, we propose to our Lord that He may accept our little offerings… the uncomfortable times, the painful moments, the selfless thoughts… the humble realization of our littleness, and unite them to His suffering on the Cross… that it may help atone even a little for our faults and those of anyone suffering and in need. 

I have come to accept that our little suffering has to be attached to that of Christ. Our love, consideration, and prayers are the correct glue. Now we must grow in patience and just let the glue dry.
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Dearest Eucharistic Family,
 
Take a moment to go into the depth of your prayer and hear Jesus speak these words to you and me, “I am the living bread...”. They are truly unique, bringing forth life and truth. God is with us, and He is alive and well, giving us Living Bread from the Kingdom of Heaven. We are fed by God, nourished in His love.
 
Take another moment and think of the most precious gift you have ever received. 

Our Father in Heaven gave us his Son and the Promise of the Holy Spirit, spirit and life. I believe we share in response to the greatest gift we have ever received, being Jesus Christ, and our faith in the Resurrection of the dead. Our treasure of religion, our faith, is beyond the sentiment of earthly treasures. We may have many sacramentals and gifts that remind us of the giver, these sentiments are beautiful holy reminders, and without attachment to them, they are gifts from God through people, treasured. Gifts and presents from the sincerity of our hearts become part of our expression of love. Beyond the physical world are the spiritual gifts from above our earthly experience. 
 
Jesus speaks to us so personally, “the bread which I shall give for the life of the world is my flesh.” In this promise from our Lord is everlasting life.
 
The Eucharist is the only One to consume the pains of our humanity, the longing of our hearts, and the inspiration for us to hope, live, move and be. By way of the Incarnation, Jesus is part of us; more importantly, we are part of him. What more extraordinary gift can there be other than someone loving us, seeing us, and living with us. This life exalts us to the heavens now. Life comes through forgiveness of sins and our intimate relationship with Christ. At the elevation of the Sacred Host, be consumed with returning love to our Lord. Let us share the gift of the Flesh of the Son of God. The epitome of compassion is given to us in Jesus; this gift is provided beyond our faults and failures. 
 
The greatest gift we have given? 
 
Let this response be our return to the Lord, our gift of faith passed on to others. Compassion dwells in us from our reception of Holy Communion and making known to others how we have received this source of life. Love is the only gift we take to the Heavens when we leave this world. Let us fly over the transcendent sufferings of the present, keeping our eyes fixed on what is to come. Jesus gives us life in the spirit to journey through life. The Eucharist, the Living Flesh of the Son of God, is a treasured gift to carry into the world. We are the bearers of Christ for those of us privileged to receive Him. The Heavens will welcome us one day; love revealed in the abundance of LIGHT. Let us begin now, our purgatory, with love in acknowledgment of the gift of our Triune God. 
 
St. Peter Julian Eymard, our spiritual Father, discovered this gift of the Eucharist. It consumed his existence and empowered his life to be like a fire blazing, a torch reaching the Kingdom of God, awaiting the Eucharistic Kingdom to come again. 
 
St. Peter Julian says: 

With Our Lady of the Blessed Sacrament, we have yet another treasure, our spiritual mother, always with us in the Living Bread, Jesus. It is Mary who helps us to consume our food well, digest, and be consoled to have the fullness of life on this side of the Kingdom. 

First, I would like to extend our deepest gratitude for each prayer said for our family this week. My husband, Rick, had major surgery this past Monday, and your prayers have carried us through. His surgery was much more complicated than anticipated, but he did well and is home recovering. Looking back at everything that has transpired during these past few days, I can honestly say it is all grace. Emmanuel… God is with us… a truth, sometimes hidden, yet often felt. This is what your prayers did for me… they helped me remain aware. Aware of His Presence, of His Providence, of His Love, of His Care.

The last thing I said to him was, “I love you,” as they wheeled him off to the OR. I found a chair away from people in the waiting room, grabbed my coffee and my rosary, and settled in to wait for a while. After an hour and a half, I moved to a chair closer to the preop area door. Looking up each time the door opened, hoping it was the surgeon saying they were all done. A surgery that was supposed to take one hour turned into two, then three, then a call from the nurse saying, “There are some complications; try not to worry, we are still working on him.”

A lot goes through one’s mind and heart in those moments. A prayer of begging and surrender…

It was precisely at this moment that I felt the prayers calling down graces to live the present moment. A grace of courage to have a difficult conversation with God. A grace of trust to know that His Will is perfect and good; that no matter what happened, He was, and would always be, with us. He was with Rick in the OR, He was with our kids at home, and He was with me in the waiting room. And, always, a grace of hope.

Shortly after that call from the nurse, a friend texted and asked if I wanted her to bring me Communion to the waiting room. I said, yes, of course! Jesus wanted to be physically present in the waiting room with me. My friend stopped by, gave me Communion, and prayed with me. She was there representing all of you, and I felt your prayers strengthening me. There were moments when I felt afraid, yet I never lost my peace. I didn’t try to escape the moment either; I was able to remain present, in prayer, in the grace of the moment.

Five hours went by when, finally, the surgeon stepped out looking for me. She said he was in recovery and doing well. There had been some complications during surgery, so she still needed to run some blood work and keep him for observation, but she hoped everything would be ok. It would still be a while before I could see him, but I was so grateful. My friend, who was still with me, left, and I sat in a little corner, ate the sandwich I had packed, and just breathed. I breathed in the Holy Spirit and let Him wash over me. I asked for strength for what was just ahead, helping him through recovery, fully aware of my limitations due to my own disability. Once again, I felt the grace of your prayers, carrying the cross like Simon of Cyrene (cf. Matthew 27:32).

I got to bring Rick home the next day, and he is recovering beautifully at home. We are both resting, taking care of each other, and the kids are doing their part to help things run along. Yes, my friends, this is what your prayers have done for us. A highly complex surgery went well, and we are being carried by grace each moment. Like Rick said last week, let us always continue to pray for each other. Prayer works. We have experienced it over and over again. Let us not tire of asking… of offering sacrifices… of calling down grace for each other. Let us bring light to the places in darkness.

When I saw the little pyx containing Jesus in the waiting room, sitting next to me, I wondered who else He was visiting there. I got to be the one to receive Him, but I know He was not there just for me. 
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