Cross

All of these little invisible crosses are not lesser – they are just lessons… 

Crucifixion (Yongsung Kim)

What does a cross look like in the real world?

Sometimes a cross is easily recognisable.  It is a disfigurement, or an illness, it is the tragic and terrible death of a young person and the toll on the family left behind.  But, sometimes, the cross is not so easy to see.

We each of us carry crosses.  Sometimes, they are recognisable, and sometimes they are invisible.

The weight of regret is a cross that is invisible.  It is a heavy weight.  If only I did this, then my child would be that.  If only I did that then my work would have provided this.

I find myself imagining the lives of the Saints.  Those Saints became Saints because they were able to offer these crosses – even the invisible ones – to God.

They did not dwell in self-pity and did not spend days depressed and sad.  Instead, they saw the suffering of their day and welcomed it as a way to offer atonement for sin and to unite their sufferings to God.

If only I had such strength as that.

My crosses – invisible as they are – weigh heavily on me and I find myself completely overwhelmed by them.  I am not able to offer them up silently.  Instead, I am overcome.

The crosses in my life are not even very terrible crosses – just overwhelming ones.

And I have been reflecting on the example of the Saints…

Saint Therese of Lisieux became a great Saint and is revered as a doctor of the Church for living by the principle that her little way could be a path to sanctification.

All she did was offer all the little things up for love of God.  How simple that sounds in theory.  She stood next to the nun who walked too slowly and whose conversation annoyed her and she offered this up for love of God.  She knelt next to the nun who made an annoying noise in the church and sought out her company to the point where that nun thought that Saint Therese had a particular love for her rather than an irritation for some of the noises she was making.  She did not cry when her sister who was the Mother Superior of the convent where she was cloistered refused to see her or single her out.

And she did all of these small things so that one day she would be prepared to quietly endure her disease – tuberculosis – unto death, for love of God.

And I have been reflecting on that a lot today.  You see, all of these little invisible crosses are not lesser – they are just lessons…  They are the way that I can invite God to send me the discipline inspired of Grace to endure far greater crosses.

And today – as I am frightened and overwhelmed and alone – I wonder how God manages to have patience with me.  For all I ever seem to do is buckle under the weight of invisible crosses…

For with prayer, I stand on Holy Ground where everything is clear. Here. At the Foot of the Cross.