I find it interesting that our society seems to be fixated on certain aspects of death, like zombies, haunted houses, and Halloween. People pay a lot of money to go somewhere and be “scared to death.” But then, when it is time to talk about preparing for our own death, people think it is morbid and turn quickly to avoidance. How often do we think about death? A few times a year? A few times a month? A few times a week? Every day? And when we do think about death, what do we think? How do we feel? Is there curiosity, anger, fear, sadness? Is there avoidance or resignation? Is there ever a welcome?

This is a short excerpt from the Office of Readings for All Souls Day, a day we think about our dearly departed, a day we think about death. Or perhaps I should say, a day the Church invites us to think about death. And not only to think about it but to pray about it. When we remember our loved ones who have passed from this life and pray for their eternal rest, we also strengthen the hope that we too will rise again with Christ, not only on the last day but also today, as we rise from our pain and our fears. 

This love that was poured out on the Cross is in the cup He gives us to drink (cf. Mark 10:38). When we accept the pain and suffering that life brings, and bring it in prayer to God, we find the love that casts out all fear (cf. 1 John 4:18). And it is that love that will transform our wounds into rivers of flowing grace, into witnesses of His love.

The tables were overflowing with canned goods, toiletries, and water bottles. A few feet away, boxes of donuts, breakfast sandwiches, and hot coffee waited for us. Smiling strangers welcomed us as we walked into this last-minute reception. We got a call the previous night saying that the community had heard they were hosting evacuees from Hurricane Milton and they were organizing a breakfast for us. “Where are you coming from?”… “Tampa,” we said. Their faces were moved with concern and compassion, waiting, wanting to hear our story… Did our house survive the storm? Have we heard from our family back home? They wanted to do something for us.

Four days before, we had boarded up our home, packed our belongings, loaded up the RV, and drove North. After days of praying and deliberating, we decided this was the right course of action for us. After two long days on the road, we arrived at our temporary home. An RV park in Alabama that welcomed evacuees from the storm at no cost. Not knowing what would happen, we needed the flexibility of an open-ended stay, a safe place to wait, a refuge from the storm. One of our sons stayed behind in Florida, so my body was here, safe, but a piece of my heart was back home.

The day the storm was set to make landfall was spent glued to the news, watching every wobble and bump. This was personal.  A Category 5 hurricane was on a direct path to our home. As I zoomed on the map and followed the dark line of its projected path, I knew the names of the streets. I knew where my family and friends lived. Streets I drove through every week, a concert hall I had sung in just the previous week, all in the path of this storm. I prayed everyone had found a safe place to shelter as we watched and waited for this terrible storm. Thankfully, our home was spared and so was our son’s. Our friends and family are safe, though some have different levels of damage to their homes. I find myself once again glued to the news, trying to get a good picture of the situation and figuring out when it is safe to start the trek back home. I see the flooded streets, and I know the places. Though I do not recognize all the faces, I see my neighbors. The phrase “hits close to home” takes on a new level of understanding… this is personal… this is close… this is home.

And I think of how this is with God. How He is with us in our suffering, because in Him, each one of our storms hits close to home. He knows our names, he knows each street we have walked on. He knows when our hearts are weary and heavy and burdened, and He wants to comfort us. 

When I walked into this unplanned reception prepared by strangers trying to comfort us, my heart was moved and I felt God’s love. I didn’t know how much stress I was carrying until someone offered to take a load off my shoulders. The kindness of strangers at a moment like this was a healing balm for my soul; their hearts were a place of refuge in the storm. May God bless them and protect them as they navigate their own storms. May they find friends and strangers to help them carry their loads. May we be Christ to each other on our journey home.

“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.