Mary G Bruno

By Lisa Morvant, RN, CFCP

I’ve never been a super joyful person. I don’t mean that I’m not happy or don’t get excited, but I’ve never connected well with the super “happy/bubbly/optimistic” kind of person. I’ve known suffering for as long as I can remember – between being diagnosed with multiple chronic illnesses as a child to the grief of losing a parent at a young age. The harsh reality of life started early for me. For a long time, I’ve wondered if that meant I was negative or cynical. But the more life I live, the more I see how God has used the circumstances of my life to shape my heart. 

The annual Mother’s Day blessing took place at Mass this weekend. The ways in which this is done looks differently in each church and depends on the priest. In this particular scenario, all women who were not mothers were asked to sit down. My heart cringed as I instantly thought of all women suffering from infertility, or those women who had miscarriages that no one knew about, or the birth mom who had chosen adoption in private. What kind of pain were they experiencing in that moment? As everyone prayed for, blessed, and honored the standing mothers, which is a good thing, I prayed for the unseen broken and suffering women. 

I had a conversation with a good, holy friend later about this. We talked specifically about how this blessing, which is delivered yearly and with good intention, is actually traumatizing for women in certain situations such as infertility. In my work with Creighton and NaProTechnology, I have some clients who find it very difficult to attend Mother’s Day weekend Mass because the anticipation of that blessing brings panic attacks. With love and compassion, my friend responded “I never really thought of that.” 

I was reminded in that moment that God has given me a suffering heart; a heart that thinks of those in pain and suffering first – even in the most joyful situations, a heart born out of my own personal suffering, grief and traumas, the things that happened that shouldn’t have. He has given me the gift of seeing “the unseen.” In my own moments of suffering, the people that have loved me best and helped me the most have not been the cheerleaders or the ones with “perfect” lives. It has been the orphan, the widow, the infertile, the chronically ill – it has been those who have personally suffered. I am comforted that Jesus saw the broken first. He saw the suffering. He lifted up the orphan and the widow. When He was on the cross, He saw me. And He saw you.

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.”

2 Corinthians 1: 3-4

On a good day, I thank God for the suffering I’ve endured. I hate to think of whom I would be or what my heart would look like without it. The body of Christ is made up of all different types of personalities and hearts and thank God for that because we need the cheerleaders, too! I’ve simply learned that that’s not me—and that’s okay. God has called me to walk with, support, and comfort His suffering people using the comfort that He has given me in my own trials, and that’s an assignment I don’t take lightly. Suffering is a sacred space. It’s holy ground. I pray that, like the Blessed Mother, I will learn to stand at the foot of the cross of the suffering of others. 

It’s hard to stand and watch another person suffer. I wonder how many of us would’ve tried to take Jesus off the cross. Praise God that the mourners at the foot of the cross did not do that. As someone who suffers in my body daily, I am aware of those around me who try to “fix it” (which you can’t do) and those who just stand with me in that space. We have to learn how to stand in others’ suffering without trying to control and “fix it.” 

Suffering is ugly, painful, and not fun to witness or go through. We should not downplay that. Can you imagine speaking platitudes at the foot of the cross of Jesus: “Everything happens for a reason.” “Offer it up.” “I understand how you feel.” “Pray more.” It’s appalling to think of saying that. We need to learn to sit with the suffering; to suffer with them. If our hearts don’t break for the suffering of others, then it might be time to check in on our own hearts. 

It’s been a difficult season for me, one where I have been wrestling with God on aspects of chronic suffering. I wish I could say that “I wouldn’t change a thing” or that it makes carrying my cross easier knowing that He has used it to soften me, helped me to love deeper, and see and comfort His suffering people. But if I’m being honest, I would trade this cross of chronic illness for the idol of comfort in a heartbeat. And this is why I need Jesus. I need my God and my Savior who is good, trustworthy, and always with me. In my humanity, I would have totally taken Jesus off the cross. But there is no resurrection without the crucifixion. I cannot carry this cross without His grace and those He has placed around me to help me. 

I am so grateful to have a Savior who is not immune or ignorant to suffering. When Jesus was in the garden, He prayed “Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will” (Matthew 26:39). He prayed for the cup to pass and I pray that one day I can pray, and authentically mean, “yet not as I will, but as You will.”