Dearest Eucharistic Family,
 
As I prepare this reflection, I am on day fifty in the hospital, sleeping bedside by my husband as he heals from an open wound as the result of septic shock. It is quite surreal to think it was planned for me to pick him up from the airport at midnight after his family visit when I received a message about my husband being in the ER. After that, my rapid response was to catch a flight to New York without returning to Florida, for now. And here we are. I am typing, looking out at the East River in Manhattan, while my husband is sleeping in our hospital room.
 
It is all grace to endure the Cross, my sustaining power is the Eucharist. I find myself in constant conversation with Jesus. “What is going on now, Lord?” 
 
A dear friend reminded me to also take time to listen. Quiet time is so essential in our reception of grace. In this God has allowed me to remember the wonders of His love. Time to think of falling in love with Jesus. Praying His Passion, mourning Christ’s death, and finding the gratitude to live in the mystery of the Resurrection, especially through the gift of the daily Liturgy. 
 
Seeing through the eyes of heaven while enduring illness and even death transforms our existence into a living hope. Faith knows that we are living in a Divine plan. God is creating us, purifying us for salvation. In the silence we see and hear most of what the depths of our hearts know is true and holy. The Divine action of the Holy Spirit is our gift to be what we are called to be in Christ amid suffering. 
 
It is a blessing to have a beautiful Catholic Church one block from the hospital and get daily to 7am Mass. I was praying one morning and thought of my life right now like being in a movie waking up in a new land, an island, a new place. Where is my bed, my room, my home? 
 
Then I thought of heaven, and it made me smile. One day if salvation comes to me and you, we will be in heaven. And what must it be like waking up in a new land? A land that was revealed to us upon earth in the Sacred Host. A place that is revealed to us in the Sacraments. A place of belonging we find through our baptism, as children of Our Father. And in Reconciliation, to be free of our vices, to better strive for the good, the virtues of God’s love. The gift of the Eucharist reveals heaven mostly to us now with Christ’s beating heart in our existence through our receiving of His Body and His Blood. In the Sacrament of my marriage at this moment in time, the scriptures have come to greater life; the words promised 36 years ago, “In sickness and in health” are so very tangible.
 
The Kingdom of Heaven is with us now in the love we share. God’s love is revealed in our smiles even through tears. Revealed in our kindness even when we are wounded, and in sharing all we have received with those attracted to God’s Majesty.
 
Today, one of the nurses asked me to pray for her and received a prayer card from me for confession with the direction of the place of where to go, time, and how to... God allowed me to share the power of the sacraments and invite her to the grace she will receive. One soul at a time, one blessing, and the Kingdom grows here and now one heartbeat at a time.
 
 Jesus invites us to reveal the wonders of His love.
 
Obedience to my prayer life conditioned me for this Cross. It is an effort committed to our faith. I am forever grateful for the discipline that has given me the gift to help my husband carry this Cross of suffering. My imperfections are invited to be worked out this side of the heavens.

“Take up your cross…” “Offer it up…”

What comes to mind when we hear these words? Do we have a correct understanding of the meaning of the cross? Or do we use this as an excuse, as justification for our lack of action in the face of injustice? Do we become victims, letting the devil use these words against us? The enemy will take anything, everything, twist it, and use it against us. 

When the devil tempted Jesus in the desert, he used scripture (cf. Matthew 4:1-11). We should not be surprised when he tries to twist God’s Word against us. Our defense then is to know God so deeply that we will not fall for the deception. 

A mom was quizzing her little girl. She asked her, “What would you do if a stranger comes up to you saying, ‘I am your mom’s friend. She called me to say she couldn’t pick you up today and asked me to bring you home.’” The girl said, “No. You are lying, my mom only has two friends, and you are not one of them.”

The devil will take one piece of scripture, take it out of context, and try to use it to divide us, to isolate us, to hurt us. So, when Jesus says to his disciples, “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me” (Matthew 16:24), it must be taken within the context of who Jesus is, and of who we are. This is the same Jesus who said, “A thief comes only to steal and slaughter and destroy; I came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly” (John 10:10). “I am the way and the truth and the life” (John 14:6).

So, if we are to take up our cross, we must first learn to identify it. We do not want to mistake the attacks of the enemy for a cross. A priest once told me that when we do this, we end up giving the devil a “piggyback ride” and bringing him home with us. We feel powerless and victimized, which leads to resentment and a lessening of love. No, this is the time to put on the armor of God, to remember his promises, and to stand in the truth of our dignity as children of God (cf. Ephesians 6:13). What do we see when we look at Jesus on the Cross? We see sacrificial love.

When those around us are suffering, and we choose to help carry their burdens, that is a cross. Every day, we choose to carry our cross when loving those around us costs us. With love, we walk the way of the cross… this is the way of love.

Sitting in Church, I look up at Christ on the Cross and ask, “Lord, you did not go out looking for pain and suffering. Yet, it was written that you would suffer, and in order to fulfill your mission of love and mercy you accepted this willingly. Were you tired, stretched out thin? Was your heart beating furiously? Were your lungs struggling to keep you alive? Or was your heart racing because of your immense love? Were you thinking about each of us, when battling to complete your mission? Oh, but how profoundly human were you, and how divine was your love!”
 
Jesus’ Cross was willingly accepted out of obedience to the Father, but most relevantly to us, because of His perfect love for us.

​After staring at the Cross over the altar, I close my eyes and still see its image in relief, almost like a photographic negative. I marvel at how the light continues to define the Cross, despite the darkness, yet, I realize that if I keep my eyes closed intentionally, the image carved by the light gradually fades. This illustrates a profound metaphor, the light of Christ can penetrate the darkness, even when we close our eyes, but we must open our eyes to ensure it does not fade. We must willingly let in the light. The Cross, once an instrument of torture, became the means of our salvation, and for us, a beacon of hope.

The suffering of Christ in His Passion holds infinite redemptive value because it stems from His infinite love. Christ embraced His suffering for the forgiveness of our sins—such is His love for us. Our sufferings, too, hold value when offered with love. Suffering without conscious love is merely suffering, for the redemptive value of our suffering comes from our offering of it with love, transforming it into a cross akin to Christ’s.

Carrying our crosses helps us acknowledge God’s sovereignty, express gratitude for Christ’s sacrifice, and contribute to bringing His mercy to the world.

When looking at the Cross of Christ, let us recognize that His suffering was offered for our good, our redemption, and our forgiveness. Understanding this allows us to view the pain that comes our way as purposeful. We do not go out looking for pain and suffering, but when they invariably find their way into our lives, let us remember that by uniting our suffering with His, we offer reparation for those we love and even for those we fail to love. The redemptive value of our suffering lies in our choice to embrace it as purposeful.

This realization underscores that our suffering can be a gift. Through suffering, we can gain a deeper understanding of those who are truly poor, in pain, sick, lonely, jailed, and disheartened. By accepting our suffering and uniting it with Christ’s, we help lighten the load of the Cross. Our embracing faith, encourages and uplifts one another, guiding us towards Heaven. When we suffer with Christ, it is not in vain but purposeful, encouraging, courageous, virtuous, and life-giving.

Although most of us come into this world alone and will leave it alone, the journey is richer when shared. As we work towards our final union with Christ, let us embrace and celebrate our shared lives—the good and the bad, the joyous, and the sorrowful—knowing that in all these experiences, we walk with Christ. Let us help each other carry our crosses.

​Let us pray: Lord, thank you for your infinite love for us.  We give you thanks for the gift of your Cross. Help us this day, and every day, to pick up our own crosses and with great love, follow You. Amen.
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