Sep 1, 2025 |
By Carolyn Humphreys, O.C.D.S
Republished with permission from The Catholic Journal.
If we were aficionados of the comic strip Peanuts, we remember that loveable little boy named Charlie Brown. For many reasons, his common response was “Good grief.” Although it may be a popular term, it is more than just an idiom. The reasons that can cause us to say good grief seem endless. It could be a response to an irritation, surprise, dismay, or another emotion that is usually negative.
So where does the good come in? Despite the often insignificant everyday usage of “good grief” and its apparent origin, the words do have a serious appropriateness, both in themselves and to their connection with God. It is said that good grief is a euphemism for “good God,” that could mean we grieve a loss, but still maintain our faith in God who is all good. Even in the midst of whatever causes us grief, we can find comfort and hope in God’s love and mercy. We believe that he can eventually bring good out of the deepest of grief thus allowing grief to lead us closer to him through the absorption of, and reliance on, his goodness. God allows no evil from which greater good cannot be derived.
Because of the many losses we experience throughout life, the grief associated with them varies in intensity and in time. A petty irritant is minor, hardly a disturbing grief, while the death of our child is severe, and leaves an empty place in our heart for a lifetime. Time periods for grief can last for a short time or be long term. Although grief lessens and softens with time, it is not unusual for signs of grief to come back at unexpected times and unusual places without warning.
Grief is an essential and ordinary part of the human experience. Jesus shed tears at the grave of Lazarus. Jesus wept, knowing that he would raise Lazarus from the dead. He had hope in the future and knew joy was coming, but still cried. Jesus teaches us to embrace the darkness of loss, let it fall into our hearts, and then look to the slow rising dawn of a new and broader horizon.
We need to acknowledge our grief, for it is unique to each loss and to each person who experiences it. Loss is myriad, involving persons, places, or things, and the importance of each loss to us. Each person is different in circumstances, character, values, personality, beliefs, culture, and life experiences. Managing grief is essentially up to us, through what we know about it, our ability to deal with it, and our response to grace.
When our grief is new or raw, self pity is expected. And we may be overcome by it if we feel isolated, only think about the negative facets of our loss, or dwell on ruinous problems that could happen. Self pity becomes problematic if it leads to destructive tendencies such as deficient self care, clinical depression, or other aberrancies. Moving out of self pity occurs when we see a candle flame flickering in the dark, move closer to that light, and began transformation into hope. We come out of ourselves when we realize we are not alone in our grief and the spotlight on I and me broadens to include we and us. It is a beautiful occurrence to watch self pity evolve into growth producing self discoveries. Francis de Sales tells us, “We shall steer safely through every storm as long as our heart is right, our intention fervent, our courage steadfast, and our trust fixed on God.”
During the stormy seas of serious grief, it is easy for guilt to become part of the chaos. Trusting in God, and maintaining a right heart, keeps fact separate from inordinate desires or emotional responses, and remorse in the right perspective. However, if we survive a disaster, and dear ones do not, guilt can cause serious pain. It seems like everyone experiences some type of survival guilt during their lives. It happens during natural disasters, wars, terrorist attacks, pandemics or other catastrophic events. At a deep level it causes severe self doubt, significant confusion and worry. The big question that arises from guilt is “Could I have done more?” If we did all we could that was reasonable, and within our abilities, we can lay that question to rest. We remember medicine has its limits. There is more that is unknown than what is known about medicine. We also would not have wanted a dear one to undergo painful experimental treatment. We hold on to our trust in God, and accept ourselves, and our laws, within the circumstances that are beyond our control. Not all things work out right, have meaning, make sense, or have a reason. We are all flawed. Every organization in the world has flaws. With our flaws, confidence in the goodness of humanity, positive responses to grace, and security in the beneficence of God, we work together to make this world a better place.
Companions on the Way
How we respond during a grief event is just as important as how we respond after a grief event. Grief is like an uncharted territory where we experience starts, stops, dark, light, rugged terrain, rest spots, setbacks and progress. Travel is rough and smooth, hard and easy, and we get lost and found. When travel is difficult, we remember there are persons who have traveled this road before us from whom we can learn, and there will be persons who travel this road after us who may learn from us.
The ability to console others well about grief is a noble and tactful art. A young widow’s only child dies. A married couple whose child died a few years ago spends quiet time with her at the funeral home and after the burial. Their quiet presence does more for the mother than most of the words well meaning people offer. Silent presence is a helpful start in the long process of healing.
During this process we realize grief time is a sacred time set apart from our ordinary daily activities. It can be a special time for deep thoughts, or reflections about the good that was part of our loss, a favorite room in a house no longer ours, or a favorite poem or song of a dear one. Remembering pleasant, heart warming happenings softens and quells the harsh pain of grief.
Walking with persons in grief is a sensitive time. We recognize their vulnerability and refrain from forming judgments, being condescending, offering pious platitudes, or giving unsolicited advice about how they should feel or what they should do. If they talk about not being needed, we might suggest something they could do. If we do say something, it should come from careful listening for example, when they talk we do not interrupt with stories about ourselves unless we are asked. To be in the dark with someone who is in the dark creates a supportive bond. Sitting in the darkness takes more courage than standing outside the dark and talking about the light. Talk is secondary because most of the time we do not have the right words to offer. Sharing pain by listening with the heart, providing a hand to hold or a shoulder to cry on, maintaining eye contact, and not forcing people to talk about things if they do not wish to do so, can build trust, provide solace and be a greater comfort than sweet words. A quiet presence suggests, let’s face this together. We remember grief time is about them and not about us. We show our concern by nodding to show we are listening and acknowledging their feelings by short comments such as “That must have been difficult,” or “That must be hard for you.” We have no expectations other than being in the moment with them. We are not there to set goals or outline a strategy. Each loss is different and has its own set of burdens. We do what we can and leave the rest to God.
God and heaven can seem very distant at the start of deep grief. Suddenly faith can be like a freezing winter. God seems cold, distant, and even absent. Harriet Beecher Stowe wrote to a friend: “When the heart strings are suddenly cut, it is, I believe, a physical impossibility to feel faith or resignation; there is a revolt of the instinctive and animal system, and though we may submit to God, it is rather by constant painful effort than sweet interaction.” In time, and through painful effort, somehow in the darkness God is there.
Where is the Good in Grief?
“Measure thy life by loss and not by gain, not by the wine drunk but by the wine poured forth. For love’s strength stands in love’s sacrifice and he that suffers most has most to give.” (Ugo Bassi) These words are worth ruminating because they open the door to good found in grief.
Unlike Charlie Brown, after careful reflection the words “good grief” go beyond something we say. They concern something good we do or the good that is done to us. Goodness can emerge from grief as we meet its challenges in a realistic way. Henri Nouwen tells us, “You choose to live your losses as passages to anger, blame, hatred or resentment, or you choose to let these losses be passages to something new, something wider and deeper. The question is not how to avoid loss and make it not happen, but how to choose it as a passage, as an exodus to greater life and freedom.” If we find goodness in our grief, it leads to a deeper experience of living. We lay aside feelings that focus on the negatives of our loss, focus on the good memories in our loss, and start or find an activity that helps others as a result of our loss. Feeling immobilized by sadness at what has been lost can be replaced by the prospect of finding goodness along the way ahead because our emphasis is on the common good instead of goods for me.
Marcel Proust wrote, “Happiness is beneficial for the body but it is grief that develops the powers of the mind.” How does grief develop our mind? We may write a poem, essay, song, or booklet about our dear one who has died and include their gifts, talents, personality traits, character, impact on our life, and why they were an inspiration to us. This would honor their memory and share their life with relatives who did not know him or her. We could establish a scholarship, plant a tree, or start a garden in memory of a loved one. Through good grief we go beyond the pain as grief is transformed into purpose. Significant grief makes us more compassionate toward the anguish of others as we respond with active love to a marginalized group of people, a good cause, or a needed service. Well channeled grief expands the heart and soul. We grow in our love for God, others, and ourselves in ways we never dreamed because a loss has the power to stimulate spiritual and human development. And, with grace, we learn to live with paradox, conflict, and unanswered questions.
Jesus promised that not a single sparrow will fall from the sky without God our Father knowing it. We are worth much more than sparrows. We are so precious to God that he sent his only son into the world to die on the cross for us. We need to cling to this truth, especially when grief overwhelms us. Christ is fashioned anew within us when our thoughts no longer center on our grief issues. Our trust in God is greater than our problems related to loss. We seek God in our grief, knowing that he seeks us more. With God’s help, we can pour love into situations or circumstances that cause us grief and thereby draw out love which unfurls into good actions.
Our greatest good is Jesus Christ. It is said that knowledge is power, but more importantly it reduces fear. Therefore, it is our sacred duty to learn as much as we can about Jesus, which is the greatest adventure known to humankind. The apostle Paul said, “In Christ dwells all treasures and wisdom.” (Colossians 2:3) John of the Cross offers a thought provoking addition: “There is much to fathom in Christ for he is like an abundant mine with many recesses of treasures, so that however deep individuals go, they never reach the bottom, but rather in every recess find new veins with new richness everywhere.” The crucifixion of Jesus shows us how the greatest evil was overcome by a greater love. Through his death, the gate of future glory was opened for us.
Apr 16, 2025 |
By Mary Therese
- Mary Stands Below the Cross:
What a model of strength our Lady is in the fifth Sorrow. There she was standing… standing at the foot of the Cross. Oftentimes Mary is depicted fainting in the arms of St. John, but I imagine it the other way. I imagine John leaning on Our Lady for support, leaning on her strong heart! I have no doubt she reached very near the end of her human strength at the death of Jesus. Our Lady stands with us when our strength is spent and our hearts pierced through with suffering. To say she was exhausted would be an understatement. I think the following words could also pertain to Mary: “Behold the Heart which has so loved men that It has spared nothing, even to exhausting and consuming Itself in order to testify Its love.” What great faithfulness she showed her Son standing there by His side below the Cross. It is here we see the truest meaning of compassion, “to suffer with.” Like Our Savior, during our personal experiences of the cross, we do not want tears of pity from those around us, nor even someone to fix all our problems for us, but we desire someone to sit with us, to suffer with us, to enter into our pain. That is no little easy thing to do because each time we make ourselves available to another it requires us to sacrifice a part of ourselves, it calls us out of ourselves. After all, love is sacrifice. Our Lady didn’t go to Calvary just to weep. She went there to suffer and sacrifice herself with her Son. Our Lady makes herself available to us in the same way. She stands with us on all our crosses. She says, “I’m here. I understand, and you are so worth loving.” The more we realize that the suffering she endured for love of Jesus was also out of love for you and me, the more we realize how much she truly loves us. Who could not be moved seeing our Mother standing below the cross, with a heart full of sorrow and anguish, knowing she’s standing there for you.
On the hard days, I keep the image of Jesus Christ crucified and His Mother standing below the Cross in my mind. I look at Our Lord and with His last dying breath I hear Him say, “You are worth dying for.” And I look at our Mother and I see all her swords and I can’t help but see another one, the eighth one, which tells me that I am worth fighting for. She will fight all your battles for you — you only need to call upon her. She will help you remain steady, constant and strong in trials. Stay very near to her in this sorrow, lean on her, listen to the beating of her heart, to the song of her love for you. Stay with her a while to express your gratitude towards her. She too is in need of Compassion.
- Jesus is Taken Down and Placed in His Mother’s Arms:
What preceded His body being placed in the arms of His Mother, I imagine, was one of the longest, most agonizing hours of her life waiting for the news of what would become of her Son’s body! Would His Sacred Body be further defiled by the breaking of His legs? What would become of the body of her Son? She knew the fate for common criminals. Their bodies would be thrown in a ditch outside the city in an unmarked grave. Would there be a tomb and proper burial for His Sacred Body?
The suspense of the unknown….
Where was Joseph of Arimathea with the news he had received? What was taking so long? She understands the agonizing pain of waiting, being in that “in between” space, that anticipation of the future and what it will hold. These difficult “in between” times of waiting often come after a series of sufferings. She knows that paralyzing fear. But do not fear, we will always fall into the arms of our loving Father and all will be provided for our next step, just as it was provided for His Son by the holy women… the linen cloths, sponges, water, frankincense, myrrh and spices. He will provide for you also.
Mary now holds the Flesh of her flesh, the Heart of her heart in her arms. How many times do we feel as though we are holding the dead broken body of Jesus in our arms? What are we holding in our arms…? Shattered dreams, unfulfilled desires, a broken heart or body, a weary mind, a wounded soul? Every spark of hope has left us cold and without life. Oftentimes, through the hurtful experiences in our relationships or with the world, the world gives us back to ourselves but it leaves us broken and wounded. Now we are left to clean up someone else’s “mess”. Oh, but Our Lady is here! She’ll take you tenderly in her arms as she did for her Son and wash all your wounds. Every wound she washes, she anoints and cleans with care. She caresses you most tenderly. She will restore your dignity, and by restoring your image, the image of your heart and soul damaged by this sinful world, she will reveal to you who the Son is. The Mother of Love will heal us and restore to us our relationship to the Father.
In the times of listless waiting there is also a time of healing. Surrender yourself into your Compassionate Mother’s arms, she will wash your wounds and prepare you for the next step God has in store. She wants to help you. To her, you are another Jesus! With child-like abandonment, entrust yourself to her and experience the profound tenderness of her love for you.
- The Burial of Jesus:
The more loyal someone is, the more it hurts to say goodbye. This was the greatest test of Mary’s faithfulness. How could she walk out of that dark cold tomb and leave her Son there? She wished she could have buried herself with her Son. After all they had suffered together, she was asked to part from Him. Shared suffering bonds people together. Mary and Jesus shared one heart. For once He had gone where she couldn’t follow. He was her everything, He was her life, He was her light, and now somehow she was expected to walk away from the one thing she loved most. I don’t know how she did it. How she put one foot in front of the other and walked away. Somehow the whole world continued to go on when for her it felt like the world had ended. If there’s one thing I’ve learned (in my personal experience), it is that leaving is so much harder than staying, but it also requires much more strength and willpower to leave than it does to stay. So her departure from Our Lord’s tomb showed forth her strength and her fidelity, the tremendous sacrifice asked of her. She understands our deep hidden grief. Sometimes, following Jesus means walking away from the very thing we love most and sacrificing a whole life centered on Him alone and learning to serve and see Him in a new way.
Our whole world is turned upside down and we wonder if we’ll have the strength to get up in the morning. We ask ourselves, “How am I going to go on? How am I going to get out of bed in the morning and put one foot in front of the other?” Our heartache and sorrow, our crosses and pain, nothing, will make any sense without Him. Without Jesus and His glorious wounds and His Resurrection we can’t make sense of anything, especially without His Resurrection. That was Mary’s secret which kept her head above the dark waves of despair. Ask her to give you a daring Trust in His resurrection and your own.
As we know, her story doesn’t end here. There is a secret she clung to, a promise that lived in her heart! She trusted that soon the Resurrection would come and all would be made new. She hoped in the Resurrection of her Son and you can be assured that she is hoping in yours. How many lessons we learn from her on how to live, on how to love. We learn that her strength is in her compassion.
Our Lady of Compassion, Pray for us!
Apr 15, 2025 |
By Mary Therese.
- The Loss of the Child Jesus:
What dark days passed before Our Lord was found again. The void He left behind was unbearable. Our Lady would have turned at the sound of a young boy’s laugh, or the patter of feet or the call of, “Mater!” Every little thing she saw or heard that reminded her of Him must have haunted her. She desired to find Her son and be in His presence, then to live among the hundred little memories of Him.
Oftentimes when leaving the convent we can feel like we have lost Jesus, or He has left us. We lived a life that revolved around Him, but now that life has come to an end. Every part of our day, every action and intention was saturated with His Presence and done solely for Him. But being back in the world, it is often triggering, the smallest things make you miss those days so centered on Him. Our Lady understands what it feels like to lose Him, to lose the things dear to our hearts, our community, our Sisters, even our religious name. I think, especially for religious, whether inside or out of the convent, there is an almost torturous existence of perpetual desiring, but not yet grasping that desire. I know that day will come, but the fullness of it will only be realized in Heaven.
So much of Mary’s identity was tied in with who He was. What if these three days turned into a lifetime without Him? There’d be no young boy to look after, to feed and clothe. Her days would become empty. Her whole existence revolved around Him. What would she do, who would she be without Him? It is true we possess our identity because of who God is as Our Father. So it makes sense for a woman who has left religious life to question her identity when she becomes separated from that intimate life with God in the convent. When will those sweet days with Him return? But it is a mistake to believe He is not with us, that we cannot love Him just as much as we did. Just because eight hours of a day are no longer filled with prayer that does not mean He is absent in those unprayed hours. God does call us at times, like Our Lady, to serve Him in the darkness of faith, in the unseen, and in silence. Oftentimes He does so because He is trying to teach us to hear Him in a new way. Our Lady is near to those going through spiritual desolation, when we wonder where God is, why He is silent and absent in our moments of misery and pain. We ask, like Our Lady, “Why have You done this to us?”
There are probably many different reasons, but it all comes down to Love. I used to wonder why I felt like our Lord had walked out on me and I could not feel His presence or hear His voice during the two and a half months leading up to my leaving the convent. No comfort, no consolation, no peace, no presence in all that long difficult discernment. Our Lady understands that feeling. But I’ve also come to realize that “He had to leave”: He walked out that door before me, to prepare the way. It was necessary. And one day, He will reveal Himself when the time is right. One day the infant Jesus will come running through an open door into your arms and the sweetness of His Presence will fill the room like a heavenly perfume! And maybe, you will be the one who was found. I can’t wait for that day. But until that day, I will ponder all these things in my heart, in union with Mary.
- Meeting Jesus on His Way to Calvary:
Our Lady must have experienced such powerlessness in that moment meeting her Son on the way to Calvary, barely able to recognize Him. She wished she could have taken the Cross and carried it herself and made it all better for Him, the way she had done for Him when He was a child. She knew He had a mission and trusted that there was a reason for all this. Though there was one thing she could give Him… her presence. She does the same for us. Jesus needed His Mother. We all need a Mother. We need someone to meet us where we are at when we feel like, or (more often than not) are a mess. We need someone to be our anchor. Sometimes our crosses can feel so heavy, almost unnecessarily. I like to imagine Our Lady ahead of Our Lord a few paces as He made His way to Calvary so that He could keep His eyes on her. She was the oil to His Lamp when the light of His Life was flickering lower and lower with every step. What new strength and courage the presence of Our Mother gives us in our trials. Mary also understands the pain of having your hands tied and not being able to alleviate the suffering of those around you. But as she teaches us, it isn’t so much what we do or say that expresses compassion for another, it is often just a look, a look of Love and a caring presence.
Apr 14, 2025 |
By Mary Therese.
- The Prophecy of Simeon:
On such a joyful day, Our Lady’s heart was so full, so ready, filled with anticipation as she completed her purification and came to present Our Lord at the temple. It was a climatic day and the Holy Family came prepared, bringing two turtle doves that showed their humble poverty. But that day suddenly became clouded by the words of the prophet Simeon. And the first dolor pierced her heart…
We see a theme of preparation and offering in this Sorrow. We see in this Sorrow that Our Lady understands that feeling of bringing your whole heart, everything, before God, only to be met with an experience that shatters and rocks your whole world. This Sorrow, for me, harkens back to the experience of the young woman entering the convent as a postulant. We prepare our hearts, minds and bodies for that big day, when we will inhabit the house of the Lord. We come with a heart so ready and aglow for our Bridegroom! We hold in the arms of our heart Jesus, our greatest joy. He is the very reason we found ourselves there at the convent door. We also come with our “two turtle doves” — that is, we have only the clothes on our back and the few essentials needed for entrance. Our poverty is seen and literally worn.
Then one day we are met with hard news. Many of us never thought our joyous days in the “temple”, enjoying the Light of lights, would end so suddenly. As a young mother, Mary’s days turned bitter. She knows the heartache of receiving sudden difficult news, that shocking realization that nothing will be the same going forward. For some of us, our joy is turned into sorrow when we leave the convent. But Our Lady reminds us to cling to Jesus who is our Light and our Love, and that it is always worth loving Him even if it hurts, even if He calls us on a path we would not have chosen for ourselves.
- The Flight into Egypt:
In this Sorrow, Our Lady finds herself packing up her few essentials and leaving the comfort of her home. Poverty, hunger, and uncertainty closed in around her.
She found herself in a foreign land among strangers. Her travels, as she fled into Egypt, I imagine, were extremely difficult. What tremendous trust it took to step into the unknown. What a risk that was to take! There was no looking back. Only ahead and only at the Little One pressed against her heart! She knows what it’s like to face the world with all its unknowns and be plagued with the fears of the future.
Sometimes after we have made a choice, we ask ourselves, “Why am I doing this? I can’t believe I’m leaving the convent! Why would I do this? Am I out of my mind? Why would anyone put themselves through this?” But I have always found that the answer was love, even a healthy love of self, for the sake of one’s soul.
Our Lady probably found herself sleeping in less-than-comfortable conditions, with the mule for warmth and a lantern for light. If anyone else were in her situation, lying on the cold desert sand staring up at a starry sky rather than a roof, they would have asked themselves, “Why am I doing all this… putting myself through this?”
Then comes Love’s gentle reproach.
I remember thinking something similar, after I left the convent. It was another restless night as I lay there in bed, as I brushed my hand over my very, very short hair, in disbelief that I was no longer a Sister. Maybe I could have spared myself so much suffering and heartache, so much humiliation and loneliness, so many stresses and worries, so many painful adjustments, so many goodbyes… so much grief! If only I had stayed, I would have been spared all this! (But I knew that the alternative of staying would have been painful in a different way.)
In response to this, I’d say, “Jesus! I wouldn’t do this for anyone but You! BELIEVE ME, I wouldn’t go through all of this for anyone but You!” I know Our Lady would have said something similar in difficult times. I can imagine the devoted, boundless love she has for you and me. Every time she swaddled Our Lord, she wrapped us in her mantle: “For you, my child,” she’d whisper, thinking of you and me, exclusively. She listens closely to all our troubles and heartaches, tells us how proud she is of us, and how Jesus will reward our love and loyalty beyond all our expectations! Oh, how He can’t wait to crown His brides!
Apr 13, 2025 |
By Mary Therese.
Over the years, I’ve come to know a woman with a very inspiring story.
No one would have guessed that this woman of few words with the perpetual smile was suffering so intensely day to day. It all started when she was a teenager. I can’t imagine the tremors that tore through her young heart when she was told that suffering would be her “lot in life” … and that there was no cure, nothing to numb the pain. The daily anticipation of that pain was her greatest suffering, and from it she wasn’t free.
Then, when just a young mother, she was faced with poverty, hunger, and uncertainty, and was on the brink of losing everything, even her home. She risked her own safety and comfort to protect her newborn child and stepped out into the unknown to find a place of support, safety and peace, far, far away from the looming dangers they had left behind. In the midst of being homeless she had such tremendous trust in God and His protection!
Her husband was her sturdy rock, and his prudence and fidelity eased her pain. He did all he could to provide for her and his son. Soon they settled down and had a place to call home. While she went about her household duties, she could hear her son and his father working in the distance together. But so often, when she was alone, she was overcome by her suffering. Silent tears of pain rolled down her face and neck. How many times her tears were found mixed with the dirty laundry water, or in the dough she kneaded, or on the floor she cleaned. But she suffered it all out of love for her child. It was her strong, maternal heart that kept her going day after day when she was tempted to give up. Mysteriously, her tears were paving a way and a life for her child and for so many more.
Her story goes on to tell of the heart-stopping moment when she realized her son was missing! For days and nights they searched for him, only to find him safe and sound. She praised God! Years passed, and her boy grew to reach manhood, healthy and strong. She still remembers the day he left the family home. Their encounters were always treasured.
Then, one fateful morning while making her way through the squalid lower streets of the city, she met her son. He was unrecognizable… and she discovered he was in the company of thieves and murderers! As much as she wanted to take control of the situation and be his savior, she knew she had to trust God and His plan. And she trusted again in His plan, when her only son was betrayed by his friend and brutally murdered before her eyes… and again, when she had to bury him with her own hands outside the city. For the second time, she had lost him.
Somehow, she walked away from that grave. She put one foot in front of the other and walked away from the one thing she suffered for and loved most. She trusted in God’s plan, even when nothing made sense. All her life, this woman, in the midst of her deep suffering, continued to care for, counsel, serve and guide those around her. She became a strong rock for those around her to lean on. This woman never let her suffering make her bitter; instead it made her tender and compassionate. This woman is my Mother.
She is your Mother too! She is the Queen of Sorrows, and yet the cause of our joy!
I can’t talk enough about our Lady of Sorrows. In 1482 she was originally entered into the Roman Missal under the title of Our Lady of Compassion. I prefer to call upon her under that title, because, like all of us, I am in need of Compassion. I want to look someone in the eyes and know that they get it! If there is anyone that gets it… it is her. The more I meditate on her Sorrows, the more I discover why she is the most compassionate and loving of mothers. Not only do I find myself even closer to her strong radiant heart, but I find that she is also teaching me how to live and how to love… after all, the way we live is how we love. In my opinion, Compassion is a lost art, but Mary is here to teach us.
Over the next few days of Holy Week, I’d like to lead you through each of her Sorrows and show you that she completely understands whatever you’ve been through or are going through right now.
Image credit: Syrio, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons
Jan 1, 2025 |
By Carolyn Humphreys, O.C.D.S.
This post was originally published in Catholic Journal. Reprinted with permission.
Horatio Spafford was a successful attorney and a happily married husband and father. Unfortunately, he lost a great amount of money in the Chicago fire of 1871. He thought a vacation would be beneficial for his wife and four daughters. He sent them on a ship to England and planned to join them after he dealt with unexpected business problems.
When crossing the Atlantic Ocean, their passenger ship collided with an iron hulled ship. After approximately twelve minutes, the passenger ship sunk beneath the waters of the Atlantic and 226 of the 313 passengers lost their lives, including Spafford’s four daughters. Miraculously, Anna, his wife, managed to float on a piece of the wreckage until she was rescued by a sailor in a small boat. His wife survived the tragedy. When she reached England, she wired her husband: “Saved, alone, what shall I do?” Upon hearing the news Spafford set sail for England. The captain of his ship notified Spafford when they were passing over the spot where the shipwreck occurred.
While passing through his grief, Spafford penned one of the most beloved hymns in Christendom. The words reveal his unshakeable, exemplary faith and robust, profound hope. Those words have proven to many people that joy can indeed come after sorrow.
Parents who have lost children, and all who have suffered losses, never forget their loved ones who have died. The German Lutheran pastor, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, wisely sums up the pain and consolation of these memories. “Nothing can make up for the absence of someone whom we love, and it would be wrong to try to find a substitute. That sounds very hard at first, but at the same time it is a great consolation. For the gap, as long as it remains unfilled, preserves the bond between us. It is nonsense to say that God fills the gap: he doesn’t fill it, but on the contrary, he keeps it empty and so helps us to keep alive our former communion with each other, even at the cost of pain. The dearer and richer our memories, the more difficult the separation, but gratitude changes the pangs of memory into a tranquil joy. We must take care not to wallow in our memories, or hand ourselves over to them. Just as we do not gaze all the time at a valuable present, but only at special times, and apart from these keep it simply as a hidden treasure that is ours for certain.”
Like a deeply rooted plant that is uprooted and leaves a large hole, the deeper our love for another, the more painful the uprooting and the deeper the emptiness left behind. An especially large kind of hole is caused by the smallest of children, or parents’ children of any age. Loss of a loved one is assuaged by faith in God, knowledge of Christian teachings, and prayer. Far below the intense mourning there are seeds of new growth, unrecognized at present but waiting to develop and blossom with nourishment from grace and the passage of time.
Sorrows are a necessary process and an often present part of being human. Many things can cause sorrow: death of a loved one, onset of a chronic disease, moving from a treasured home, loss of a good job, death of a pet, or the closure of a beloved monastery or church. If we do not face our sorrow somewhere, it will wait for us. We must travel through sorrow in order to move forward in life. The passage of time softens a sorrow but does not totally alleviate it. After the death of loved ones, as time passes, their preciousness may become more treasured and we may love them more than when they were alive. As the years pass, we realize more and more what special people they were.
We respond to sorrow in different ways. Some negative responses are histrionics, poor self care, rash impulsive behavior, prolonged depression, or extended isolation. When the mind numbing emotions of sorrow decrease, positive responses can emerge, such as creating something to honor the memory of a loved one, planning a project for an upcoming event, or volunteering for a good cause. Acknowledging our sorrow, seeing beyond it, and remembering the good things that preceded the sorrow are essential in finding joy in sorrow. Sorrowful feelings can come at any time and in any place. If we have an episode of sorrowful feelings, doing a task that soothes and calms may alleviate it.
When we focus on faith in a loving God and trust in his help to get us through, we can see our tragedies and storms in a new light. Even in our darkest hours, God is with us. Therese of Lisieux keeps us on the right road. During the last eighteen months of her short life, she was ravaged by tuberculosis and experienced a dark night of faith. She wrote, “With daring confidence, and reckless of self, I will remain there till death, my gaze fixed upon the Divine Sun. Nothing shall affright me, neither wind or rain; and should impenetrable clouds conceal from my eyes the Orb of Love, should it seem to me that beyond this life there is darkness only, this would be the hour of perfect joy, the hour in which to urge my confidence to its uttermost bounds, for knowing that beyond the dark clouds my Sun is still shining, I should never dare to change my place. . . . O Divine Sun, I am happy to feel myself so small and frail in thy presence, and my heart is at peace.”
Our inner sorrows will be quelled if we are receptive to God’s grace as it develops, refines, and stretches us. As God’s timing and wisdom becomes our own, we become gentle with ourselves and our angsts. Gentleness is a many graced virtue as it guards our hearts against bitterness, resentfulness, or other life draining characteristics that erode our self respect and dignity as Christians. As we strive to be gentle, we find that sorrow is alleviated and difficulties easier to resolve. Gentleness of heart leads to kindly and sensitive thoughts and actions that heighten our ability to be at ease with our trials and content with ourselves. To release a tight grasp on things that grieve us clears the way for deeper reflection on current things that matter.
Another way we process and release our grief is through our tears. Shedding tears as a response to grief can be therapeutic. Tears are purifying because after our cry, we can look up and realize our grief can either damage us by self serving introspection or focus us by seeing the grief situation within
Divine truth. Tears can cleanse by providing a clearer vision on authentic realities. They release the stress of grieving moments so we can pay attention to direction signs on the road of faith. Tears are helpful because they can dilute negative feelings, release pent up anxieties, purge pessimism, remove unidentifiable fear, and be a guide to take the next good step. We need not be ashamed of crying, nor be surprised that a smile can break through the tears. Revitalized by hope, we smile and attempt to rise above the circumstances in which we find ourselves. With that smile, a new chapter can begin.
If we do not know the depths of sorrow, how can we know the heights of joy? Spafford found positive elements in his sorrow that brought forth a deeper expression of joy. The sorrows in life’s journey break the heart, but with grace, the heart mends. Sorrow darkens the mind, but dawn comes and brings rejoicing. Low energy is recharged with renewed hope. Joy lies unnoticed below the dark clouds of sorrow, but emerges as the clouds dissipate. There are many examples of how a well channeled sorrow can lead to a good cause or needed service.
Blessing God in the midst of sorrow is a praiseworthy manifestation of faith. As sorrows shake the landscape of our lives, through faith in God, serene joy is recognized at the depths of our souls. We remember the words on the headstone of a four year old boy who died unexpectedly—-budded on earth to bloom in heaven—-and rest, with comfort and hope, in the words of Spafford’s hymn.
When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well with my soul.
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
My sin—oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!—
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.
But, Lord, ’tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord!
Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul!
And Lord, haste the day when the faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.
It is well with my soul,
It is well, it is well with my soul.
The Prophecy of Simeon: 
By Mary Therese.
By Carolyn Humphreys, O.C.D.S.
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