From Grief, or Struggle, or Hardship- To Grace

I like to sit on my covered porch in the early morning and take in the sights and sounds of summer. I say my morning prayers as I watch the “drama” of the various birds battling for space in the birdbath, or Flowering Crabapple, or little birdhouse my husband set up in the front gardens.

Today, I was finishing a book I’m reading by my dear friend, Jeannie Ewing, entitled: From Grief to Grace, The Journey from Tragedy to Triumph, published by Sophia Institute Press. The impetus of this book is in sharing her story and struggles with being the mother of a medically fragile child. There is a wellspring of thought-provoking gems—from redemptive suffering to Divine Mercy—but today I was struck by her words in a particular way. She writes, on page 158:

“Love always asks more of us than what we feel like giving. Our visceral reactions to everyday life may be to become reclusive and deny the discomforts and challenges that we’re constantly hurdling.”

We went to Sunday Mass today, and my daughter, Grace, and I noticed a family who took a seat in a row not far from us. This young family stands out quite dramatically because the husband and wife have a son, around four, twin daughters, who look to be about two, and the mother is obviously expecting another set of twins. I say “obviously”, as the dear woman is enormous.

You know how there are times during Mass when it is hard to stay focused on the important stuff, because you are so distracted by someone around you? Well, for me, that was the case today. I was so profoundly touched by this mother, who is definitely in the homestretch of her pregnancy, as after a time she had to sit down instead of kneeling or standing. I watched her as she closed her eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath—her hand protectively, yet painfully on her large, extended abdomen.

There was little time to rest for her, as her young children—while behaved—were still taxing, and she would hold one on her small lap and provide continual love and attention. She was tired, and uncomfortable—but, love always asks more of us than what we feel like giving. Although she was doing nothing to try and draw attention to herself, her extreme situation and obviously demanding cross were noticed by everyone around her.

I thought again of my friend and author, Jeannie Ewing, and the constantly visible cross she carries: raising a daughter with a rare genetic disorder, and I thought: it’s in these glaring crosses carried by those resigned to do the will of God—those loads that cannot be hidden—that God’s glory is so much more profoundly witnessed.

What seems to be, in the eyes of the self-absorbed world, situations to be shunned: having a special needs child, or a larger-than-socially-acceptable family, or any other life experience that society would deem “inconvenient” or “burdensome”, are really those pearls of the greatest value, that lift our hearts toward Heaven and help us to see so clearly what love is. For hearts opened to it, we see Who God is. Most especially today, in our country torn apart by sin, it is these silent yet powerful witnesses that demonstrate true love in action.

While the is book is entitled: From Grief to Grace, and provides incredible insight and aide for those suffering loss or pain, I don’t think it should be narrowed to those experiencing only great hardship. This is “the valley of tears” and everyday each one of us can understand myriad setbacks and sacrifices that challenge us to stay positive and focused on Christ, on His Cross and sacrifice.

Again, she writes on page 158:

“Consider Jesus on the Cross: His arms stretched purposefully to rouse a greater pain than what He was already enduring. His body was inconceivably expanded, and we can assume that He suffered intense agony, much as we protest when God stretches us beyond what is easy into the realm of what is cumbersome and incredibly onerous. In this way, our hearts are being stretched, but so is our character, which is being refined by virtue.”

I watched as this young, tired mother leaned her elbows on the back of the pew before her and prayed after receiving Holy Communion. I would imagine she thinks constantly of the little lives soon to be added to her busy family. Maybe she worries on how she will be able to handle it all; will her babies be healthy? where will she find the strength? Just before that her family went up the Communion line. Father Bob’s face was beaming when he saw them. He blessed each one of the children and with so much love extended his hand to her pronounced stomach, closed his eyes, and prayed an earnest prayer for her and her unborn children.

From grief, or struggle, or hardship—to grace. No matter what our individual challenges, God will provide all that is needed to live His will. And how much more will the grace flow, to those who have the heaviest burden.

Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light (Matthew 11:28-30).