DOES SUFFERING MAKE YOU A BETTER PERSON?

   I am very ambivalent about this. I see in all my Catholic feeds, including the incandescent Fr. R. Rohr, that going deep into one's heart during a hard, hard time can be a way of getting closer to God. 

That when we are on our knees, sobbing, clutching a kleenex like Anne Lamott pretending it is Jesus' hand, and wondering how we are EVER going to get through this, that THEN is the time our damn ego falls off like a tattered, smelly coat, disappearing into God's hands.

  I have posted before about the time when someone I loved beyond belief was so sick I thought they were going to die. I lay in bed sobbing and praying, asking God, "I don't think we are going to survive this." Then the strong, inner knowing (I suspect you have had these too) came, "Read Romans 5." Ok, I thought, turning on the light and blowing my nose. (Rick was still downstairs watching Netflix movies.)

 

  I took up my ancient blue New Testament from Sunday School when I was 11 and found Romans. All I knew then was that it was a book in the Bible. My finger traced the reading of Romans 5 until it stopped on verses 3-5:

    "...we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance, perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God had poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us." 

   Can you even begin to read this without goosebumps? I can't. It reminds me of how God is always present, if we only knew it, if we only called out, helphelphelphelp.

  I am only using my experiences here, as that is what I know best. I can attest to having two cancer surgeries back to back, one day after another, then months of chemo which gave me Dysautonomia. I have searched for and been open to the gifts of this time.

 

  I saw, with heart-felt sympathy, how the nurses and doctors cared for me with such empathy.

 I talked to the Jamaican man who walked me up and down the hall after surgery at Baystate, who said, as we spoke of dying, "I am afraid I will see God, and he will tell me how much I have sinned." I looked at him, pressed his warm hand and said, "No, that is not what God will say. God will say to you, 'Here you are at last, my dear beloved. I have been waiting for you!'"

  We both got teary, but that is what happens when your tattered ego falls away. You see how others are struggling, how many are in despair and depression. You reach out to touch their hands because touch is essential to make connections.

  I think that is what I most feel after many dark times in my life. I am still here, walking, talking, cooking, and loving. I am God's beloved and it is laid on my heart to reach out to others and share that good news.

 

   In the end, we are all one, all one. We need to act on this, remind ourselves, and even with people who hold wildly different (and we are sure terrible) views, we must see that God's light surrounds them too, God's hands reach out to them in love and forgiveness.