It’s just where I’m at right now. For whatever reason, I’ve kind of gone back to the beginning of my grieving process–as happens from time to time. It’s a dark period, I guess.

So today, when I read the Gospel for the vigil Mass of the feasts of Sts. Peter and Paul (John 21:15-19), I felt like Jesus was asking me what He was asking Peter: “Do you love Me?”  In the midst of the dark moment, Jesus wants to know if I still have my eyes on Him, if I still am clinging to the one thing–my faith.  So  He is asking me the question again. Do you love Me? Didn’t I answer you already Lord?

Yes, but maybe I’m the one who forgot what the answer is

And then . . . at the end of this reading (after He tells Peter how He is going to die), He says, “Follow me.” Follow me through the darkness and uncertainty.

It’s a blinding, groping kind of Yes–like I am holding on to Jesus’ cloak in complete pitch darkness. I can’t see in front of me and I can’t see Him but I trust that He is there. I just keep holding on and walking.

So that’s it . . .that’s my message for this day; that’s the question Jesus is asking.

Do you love me? Do you trust me? Follow me.

This picture was taken from the rose bushes I planted this spring. I have always loved roses and I can see them outside of my laundry room window–a tiny ray of hope and comfort.

Suffering boils life down to its most basic level.

When we are not suffering, a lot of things have meaning to us. Little things bother us more  and little things mean more to us.

When we suffer, little things may still upset us . . .but not In the same way. Suffering gives us perspective. It helps us keep the little things little as we see them in the light of the big thing or things we may be losing or that have changed for us. In other words, we learn the difference between mountains and molehills.

That also works for the things we “love.” Puppies and our favorite color and sweater and foods don’t hold the same meaning as we fight for what does–our faith and our family. In this sense, this reality points back to the detachment from earthly things that we gain from our suffering.

Our suffering is painful because of the great importance of whatever is causing the suffering. And now we know just exactly how important it is. And, as is usually, if not always the case, if our suffering involves loss, we see that although the pain is incredible, we can live without this thing–even if it is so important to us.

So everything is boiled down to what matters and maybe something that matters is being taken from us. What do we have left?

Ever heard Robert Frost’s poem, Bereft:

Where had I heard this wind before
Change like this to a deeper roar?
What would it take my standing there for,
Holding open a restive door,
Looking down hill to a frothy shore?
Summer was past and the day was past.
Sombre clouds in the west were massed.
Out on the porch’s sagging floor,
Leaves got up in a coil and hissed,
Blindly struck at my knee and missed.
Something sinister in the tone
Told me my secret must be known:
Word I was in the house alone
Somehow must have gotten abroad,
Word I was in my life alone,
Word I had no one left but God.

Its a good summary of what I am getting at: everything is taken. What’s left?

God.

God.

If everything is taken, we just need to hold on to God for dear life. He is still there-and He may be the only thing but He is there. We can’t control the situation or the suffering. But holding on to our faith is what makes us stronger through it instead of weaker. Recognizing that God is there, loving us and helping us is what allows us to pass through. Being able to say, “Blessed be the name of the Lord,” in the midst of our pain is what keeps us going.

In short, many things,  maybe everything can be taken from us.

Our faith in God is what matters.

It’s so easy to want nothing but a good life here on earth. We want our happiness. We want things to go well. We want our plans to work out. And that’s all good. But what happens when they don’t?

In our deepest pain, especially in suffering like I am experiencing where the pain is prolonged, its nice to know that its not all about this life. If your suffering is the kind that changes your life forever, and you don’t like the way its changed, its quite a comfort to realize that there is something more and better waiting for you.

I know it sounds so negative to say, but sometimes its true. Sometimes this life just sucks. And that’s when we long for Heaven.

Like a lot of the other things I’ve talked about that we learn from suffering, Heaven is never as important to us as when we don’t like what’s going on in our lives on Earth.

Yet, we’re made for Heaven. We just don’t always realize it–until we are forced to. When you think about it that way, you can kind of see why God allows us to suffer, to turn our eyes to Him! And not just to Him, but to eternity with Him! I am going to be honest–this has always been a weak point of my faith. I always felt like for as long as I have been a Christian, I should have a more Heavenly perspective! But I get too caught up in this earthly life. I don’t remember the bigger picture. I’m not always comforted by the knowledge that there is more than this life. That’s a problem. But this suffering, that has just knocked me off my feet, has made me say, “Thank you Lord, that there is more than this life.”

See how we get on our path to sainthood? If we long for Heaven then we begin to strive for Heaven. We walk with steadfastness and purpose on the path of holiness.

Or as Steven Curtis Chapman wrote:

But I had no way of knowing
Just how hard this journey could be.
Cause the valleys are deeper
And the mountains are steeper than I ever would have dreamed.

But I know we’re gonna make it.
And I know we’re gonna get there soon.
And I know sometimes it feels like we’re going the wrong way,
But its just the long way home.

(Long Way Home) From the album Re:Creation

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In a blog about saints and suffering, I knew I had to deal with patron saint of those in pain and suffering–Padre Pio.

But I confess, I’m finding it difficult. Its not difficult because I don’t know that much about him and therefore don’t know what to say–it’s because I know so much about him, and there are so many amazing things about him, that it’s hard to express it. So I’m counting on you to help me out!!

I’ll say this:

He was an extraordinary example of suffering as he endured the daily stigmata, literal attacks from the devil, skepticisms and criticisms, and a lot of unwanted attention.

As if this wasn’t enough, he added to his Cross, by eating and sleeping very little, and hearing confessions for sometimes up to 19 hours a day.

But he embraced suffering. Why? Because he understood its purpose–its value. Here are a couple of his many quotes on suffering:

“In order to  attract us, the Lord grants us many graces that we believe can easily obtain Heaven for us. We do not know, however, that in order to grow, we need hard bread: the cross, humiliation, trials and denials.”

Or this:

  “Jesus said to me; ‘How many times would you have abandoned Me, my son, if I had not crucified you. Beneath the cross, one learns love, and I do not give this to everyone, but only to those souls who are dearest to Me.”

So let me open it up to you. What is it about Padre Pio that speaks to  you, inspires you?

When we get to that place in our life–the place of intense suffering, we begin to ask different questions. We live day to day in the sense of being in survival mode–we take one day at a time and feel accomplishment at having survived it. But in another way, we are looking beyond the business of our day to day lives. We aren’t asking, “what am I making for dinner?” and “how can I coordinate getting two kids to practice tonight?”

We are asking, “Why is this happening? What does God want from me? How will my life change now?”

And even bigger questions, “What is the point of suffering? What is the point of life? What matters most?”

But its not the asking that moves us and changes us. It’s learning the answers. Well, not so much learning the answers, but accepting them.

For example, I wish the answer to the question, “why are we here?” was to be happy. But that’s not the answer. The answer is to learn to love God or as the old Baltimore Catechism says, “to know, love and serve God in this life so I can be happy with Him forever in the next life.” What that means is this life is all about perfecting our love for God and well . . .  . chances are that’s not going to happen by us being happy all the time. I’m going to point out again–I’m not saying God doesn’t want us to be happy but what He wants more is for us to be in Heaven with Him.

Now some questions are too big for us to understand on earth–like, “Why is this happening?” If we are lucky we may get a glimpse of that someday. But we may not. And we have to accept that too.

But its just something about asking that moves us from the mundane . . .makes us remember in a more than casual way that there is more to this life. It makes us want to know what that is.  It makes us remember that God is there. And that we need Him.

We need Him because we need answers. And only He has them.  And when we begin to see life as more than our day to day busyness, we remember what we are here for.

Heaven.

Heaven. And remembering that is another step on our path to sainthood.