Saturday, November 29, 2008


Pain is my companion.  
I suffer each day.  

No pill nor ointment nor medication removes it.

It is skeletal, it is invisible; and, it is always.

The pain sometimes is so intense that I feel as if I shall black out; but, I don't. Mary, ever Virgin, sees to that.  My faith in the saints and Christ soothe me as their suffering, I do now join.  This concept was difficult to capture for me at first.  Suffering as sanctification.  I'm rather slow and it took me years to grasp the intent and meaning of this type of suffering.  

  • What does suffering mean for me, for anyone?   
  • How can it be good?  
  • How can it be beneficial and helpful to a soul?   

For my life it is:
Belief.  Communion.  Oneness.  Compassion.  Holiness.  Sanctity.

  • Look upon the Christ.  Look how profoundly Christ suffered ... as an unspotted Lamb before his slayers.  Look at not simply how he died; but, why he died.  He died so all could inherit the realm of living, undying saints; indeed,  of redemption in his love.  He died so that any smallness we have can be elevated, unified, and united with him.  He is Messiah; we are human. By imitation, we are sanctified, we become Compassion; we become Healing; we become who we are as Person.  

It has taken half a lifetime to learn that my pain and mortal suffering has, indeed, strong meaning and purpose.  Its purpose is to make me a saint in his Kingdom.  Its purpose is to help me love others in ways never before thought.  That's the purpose, that's the reason, I discovered.  I take it all in its uncomfortableness; lift it, bless it in my littleness, and repeat it... over and over.  Lift, bless, repeat.  

Then, anything is sufferable with this ointment of attitude.  Then, it can be chosen for sanctity for it is given over and redeemed; I am redeemed and given over.  

I have suffered near a lifetime:  Today, I understand a bit more about sanctity and sacredness within a human limited framework.  What it means, that is, to receive after pouring out and pouring out some more until you are dry bones and hollow as wind.

For there it is: To comprehend suffering, my friends, is it not like grasping a sweet rose in the thick of a briar bush?    

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