See Jesus through Suffering

Our elderly Frank continues to tell his story:

Sometimes, pain forces our attention on God. Not that God gives us pain, but evil, poor choices, and our broken world do. Yet, God can take our suffering and turn it into good. He might utilize a trauma to help us realize how much we depend on God, and how little we can do without Him. That’s the way it was for my son.

Daniel and I were arguing in the middle of the street. Suddenly, a car careened around the corner and skidded toward us. Daniel had his back to it and, consumed by his own anger, wasn’t paying attention. I grabbed his jacket, pushing him as hard as I could out of the way, and shouted, “God, save my son!” He was bigger than me by that age, but I firmly believe God gave me extra strength. I had succeeded in getting him out of the path of the car, but it hit me and threw me into the air. I don’t remember anything after that, until a few days later when I woke in the hospital, so the rest of this story is what my son told me.

Daniel called 911, screaming for an ambulance, not only for me, but for several members of his football team in the car, which had hit a tree after hitting me. I’m told he stayed at my side at the hospital, terrified that I would die. And maybe it was touch and go for a while there. I had broken a hip and two ribs and lay in a concussion-induced coma.

According to my son, he railed against God, demanding to know why He’d let this happen. Wasn’t it enough that he didn’t have a mother? Would God take his father, too, a father who, in my son’s words, had served God so diligently? If so, Daniel reasoned, if I died, he didn’t want to have a God that was that mean. He’d never believe in God again. He was determined to renounce his faith.

By the third day, things weren’t looking good for my recovery. The doctors had started trying to prepare him for the worst. Terrified, he realized he needed a world where miracles were possible. He needed a God who could heal. Daniel, in desperation, made a pact with God to return to his faith and become a priest if God would spare my life. Soon after that, I awoke. That timing, that answer to prayer, was more than a miracle for me. It worked miraculously in Daniel’s heart and soul, too. Little did I know that when I begged, “God, save my son,” He would save him spiritually as well as physically.

Five key players of the football team were hurt badly enough to require weeks to recover. The coach decided to forfeit the season, partially as a lesson to the whole team about underage drinking and driving, and about making choices to promote one’s health. Daniel immersed himself in his faith with his newfound time. True to his word, he returned to our morning Masses. He studied the Bible. He joined the Youth Group and would tell his story to anyone who would listen. He began to research colleges with seminary programs. He’d found his own Savior, and more importantly, his Friend. He admitted to being pretty fond of me, too, and happy to have me safe.

Betty here:

Of course, we don’t often experience miraculous deliverance from our suffering, but when we reach out to God from our pain, He answers and fills us with His Grace. He comforts and accompanies us throughout our agony. The psalmist says, “Though I walk through the valley of death, I will fear no evil, for He is at my side.” (23:4)

Jesus knows suffering. He experienced torture and death, dying to prevent us from suffering in the next life. Whenever we look at a cross, we see Jesus and can remember what He went through, for us. As children, we might have been told to “offer it up.” By joining our suffering to Christ’s, it becomes an act of love.

Here are a few other thoughts on suffering from the New Testament:

• He will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more.” (Revelation 21:4)
• And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. (Romans 5:2-4)
• Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory. (Romans 8:17)
• To this you were called, because Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps. (1 Peter 2:21)
• And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm, and steadfast. (1 Peter 5:10)

See Jesus in Ourselves

Frank, the wise elderly priest, continues to tell us how he’s come to see Jesus in his life:

One of my favorite blessings as a priest came with the honor of listening to people’s confessions. You might be surprised at that, but sharing such a sacramental moment with anyone is a gift. Sometimes people come in during confessional hours and you can tell they want to get in and out as quickly as possible. But most people, once they’ve said what they need to say, are open to the many graces God wants to shower on them. And the people who make an appointment for confession off-hours are often hungry for such grace and any spiritual counseling that I’m moved to offer.

Many people come to the confessional weighed down by guilt and feeling very bad about themselves. I listen, not for my own knowledge, but as a conduit connecting God and the parishioner. Their words, both the penitent’s and God’s, flow through me, and I frequently am amazed at how the Spirit directs my response to them. You’d think after so many years as a priest I’d be used to it, but I still often wonder, did I just say that? Where did that come from? It certainly isn’t my own wisdom, but that of the Spirit. Being used that way, for the healing of a sorrowful soul, is one of the greatest gifts of the priesthood!

I don’t want the penitent to leave while weighed down by what they’ve just told me. I want them to realize what a blessed child of God they are, so there’s a question I’ve always loved asking people before I give them their penance and send them on their way.

I say, “Tell me when you’ve been most like Jesus.” Well, usually they start telling me when they’ve been the least like Him. So, I interrupt and say again, “Tell me when you’ve been most like Him.”

I hear quite humbling answers.

One woman said, “When I overlook my husband’s little irritating idiosyncrasies and just love him as he is.”

Another said, “When I’m up in the middle of the night with my infant, and she’s crying, and I’m exhausted but I cuddle her and coo to her and rock her until she falls asleep. I think that’s what Jesus must long to do with us when we aren’t behaving. So often we misbehave because we are tired or hungry or don’t feel loved. But He’s right there holding us and loving us through the hard times.”

So much truth rests in that wise young woman’s words. But women aren’t the only ones who are Christ-like. One man told me, “My joints hurt most of the time. I’ve had severe arthritis for years, but I try not to complain. I think about Jesus and how He suffered for me, and I thank Him, and then the pain doesn’t seem intolerable.”

Another man had a hard time letting go of all the times he’d missed the mark. I had to repeat my question several times, but finally he looked up at me with tears in his eyes and said, “I’m divorced. I didn’t want it, but I am, and sadly, my ex-wife is very angry with me, so she belittles me in front of the kids. I’m most like Jesus when I resist the temptation to do the same about her. He never returned anything but good for evil. I try to remind myself of that, and I try to tell the kids about her good qualities. I don’t want them to think that whatever part of them comes from her isn’t anything but wonderful.”

The elderly man paused and looked at Pedra, who had been recording his words in shorthand as quickly as he spoke.

“How about you, Pedra,” he asked, “when have you been most like Jesus?”

Pedra looked up from her notepad, then looked down again, not wanting to meet Frank’s gaze. She could feel her cheeks burn, and her first thoughts were all the ways she wasn’t like Jesus at all. Frank let her relax into his silence and simply waited. Finally, she said, “I’m most like Jesus when I’m in this room, listening to your stories, and completely enjoying being with you. I hope He enjoys being with me, but I am absolutely sure He enjoys being with you, Frank.”

“Pedra,” Frank answered, “you have no idea how wonderful you are. And I don’t have much time left to convince you. But you are. You make me feel like there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. That’s a remarkable gift of friendship. And I promise you, Jesus loves being with you, listening to you confide in Him, sharing your friendship. He loves you, Pedra, just the way you are right now. He doesn’t need you to be perfect. He’ll aways encourage us to be better, but He also delights in who we are right now.”

She looked at the good man through tears in her eyes.

“Go home,” he said. “Talk to God. Listen to Him. Let Him show you all the ways you are wonderful.”

Betty here. What more can I say? Go home. Talk to God. Listen to Him. Let Him show you all the ways you are wonderful. He loves you, just the way you are right now. He doesn’t need you to be perfect. He’ll aways encourage us to be better, but He also delights in how we are right now.

See Jesus in yourself.

See Jesus through Forgiveness

Our story continues with Frank telling us about his young wife leaving, soon after her baby was born.

Long before I became a priest, I was a husband and a father. I remember the rush of emotions the first time I took my son into my arms. He was so tiny, so perfect. I wanted to protect him from all harm and difficulty. I wanted to always be able to surround him in an embrace and hold him close. What a miracle a child is!

Of course, parenting isn’t easy in the best of circumstances, but within a couple months of his birth, his mother Marcie had left us, called away to save the world, she thought.

I was angry—really, really angry. I couldn’t believe it. I felt like she had used me. I was just someone to leave Baby Daniel with, so she could be free of responsibility. I have to admit I was furious with God, too. Why did He let this happen? Why did He let me love her so deeply and then lose her? I had been torn between being a family man and being a priest, and it seemed Marcie had made the decision for me. Plus, I was exhausted. I tried to do all that our son needed, but with my sleep interrupted for feedings, my worry about finances, and sheer emotional devastation, I was a mess. Looking back now, I thank God that my parents were there to help me those first few months.

I never resented Daniel. That sweet little boy was the bright spot in a dark time. However, each time he cried, I thought of Marcie and grew angrier that she wasn’t here to help us. Eventually, I realized I couldn’t hold on to my anger and be a good father. Daniel would feel the tension in my arms and cry harder or see my scowl and frown in response. When I realized my hurt ran too deep to easily forgive Marcie, I began to pray, both for assistance to forgive, and for her wellbeing. Also, holding him, watching him stare at me as he drank a bottle, and eventually seeing him smile at me helped to heal the wound in my soul. Around nine months after she left, I could think about her without seething. As I watched Daniel try to toddle on his own, I imagined my “forgiveness muscles” also toddling and growing stronger.

Just when I thought I was gaining my equilibrium, my mom and dad were killed in a car accident. I could have slipped back into despair and anger with God, but He gave me the grace I needed. I know if I hadn’t done the work to forgive Marcie, my heart would have been hardened, and this next loss would have turned it into stone. With God’s help, I managed to keep going.

Betty here again.

Our faith instructs us to forgive others. We may tell ourselves we don’t need to because they aren’t sorry, they intended to hurt us, and they don’t deserve to be forgiven. But if we don’t forgive, our hearts harden. We are less able to forgive the next time we are hurt, and the next. If things don’t change, we become angry and bitter. Before long we start feeling the world is out to get us, and we see ourselves as victims. Our anger will likely cause people to avoid us, making loneliness reinforce our bitterness. We may think that THEY don’t deserve to be forgiven, but WE deserve the JOY that comes from being FORGIVERS. We deserve to have soft, merciful hearts that are slow to anger, and open to love.

The Lord’s Prayer says, “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” (Matthew 6:12)

The New Testament reiterates:

• For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins. (Matthew 6:14-15)
• And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive them, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins.” (Mark 11:25)
• “Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven. (Luke 6:37)
• Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. (Colossians 3:13)

Let it go. Soften your heart to accept grace. Pray for the ones who hurt you. Don’t allow yourself to dwell on the pain. You will see Jesus as He helps you forgive.

See Jesus in Service

3 See Jesus – in Service

In our story about Frank, he begins to meet Jesus in others as he serves them. He tells Pedra, who is taking his story down in shorthand:

As I grew to be a teen, I followed the precepts of the Church, obeyed the commandments, even Jesus’ command to “love others as I have loved you.” I knew that could mean dying for others. I prayed I could have that kind of courage. But it also meant living for others, which required its own kind of bravery.

Our Youth Group focused on service to others. At first it felt awkward, going to help people. I thought they might be embarrassed by the contrast between their need and our privileged lives, but most of them were truly grateful. We sorted clothes at a local St. Vincent de Paul and were encouraged to converse with those who shopped there. We ran food drives in our neighborhoods. Later we distributed groceries to shelves at the local food bank or boxed up supplies to be delivered to families. We helped manage the lines of people indoors, or the cars outdoors, as people drove up trying to help their food budget reach the end of the month.

Other times we visited nursing homes for the elderly, and we’d sing some old-time songs or simply spread out and visit with the residents. I learned to admire the kind people who worked in the homes every day, whether cleaning up after accidents, helping with showers, or being cheerful and patient when the residents weren’t. Some folks there felt forgotten and abandoned and their hurt could turn to anger. Once, though, I saw one of the crankiest old men turn into a baby-talking cuddler when a therapy dog nudged his hand for a pet. I think we all need a little nudge out of our self-pity occasionally.

In December we would arrange and throw a Christmas party for foster kids. We’d each pick a toy for someone whose name we’d drawn, but we’d also raised money so each child could take home a suitcase or duffle bag for the meager possessions that travelled with them from home to home. Seeing those kids and hearing some of their stories sure made me grateful for my parents. We didn’t have a lot of money, but we did have lots of love. I grew up with a sense of security that those kids might not ever have known. I still pray for foster kids and that truly good people will be inspired to become foster parents.

Later, after my first year of college, one of my professors found me a part-time job at a homeless shelter. I did some cleaning and cooking, but mostly I listened to stories and offered friendship to the friendless. Like Mary and Joseph who fled to Egypt with their newborn Son, some of the guests were immigrants. Some were down on their luck and had lost their homes. Some were addicted to drugs or alcohol or both. But they all needed to be listened to, to be treated with dignity, to be fed and clothed and sheltered. Those people taught me so much. I learned how little in life is really necessary; how relationship is everything. I learned how Jesus was able to hug the lepers. These folks were just as outcast as lepers, so I figured they were His people. It wasn’t always easy, but I occasionally succeeded at seeing Jesus in them.

One man came in every day for the noon meal. He always wore a tee shirt and jeans, much like most of the men there, but he looked more clean-cut than others. It took me a couple of weeks working there to notice that he moved around the diners chatting here and there, and occasionally took one or another of them into a separate room. I asked my supervisor about it, and he said, “Oh, you must mean Doc. He comes to bandage a blister, offer an antibiotic when something is infected, or encourage a person to go to the free health clinic for more care. I even saw him stitch up a knife wound once.”

I asked if he really was a doctor. My boss shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows,” he said. “But he knows his stuff. He never asks for anything more than his lunch, and the people trust him. He’s one of the good guys.”

Those words made me want someone to say that about me someday. “He’s one of the good guys.” Or even more to the point, I wanted to hear God say, on my judgment day, “Well done, you good and faithful servant. What you did for the least of these, you did for Me.”

Betty here: We all want to hear those words on our own judgment day, when we will see God face to face. Whether through service to the poorest of the poor, to our family and friends, or to the people God places in our lives, whatever we do for the least of these, we do for Him.

See Jesus – In Church

Seeing Jesus can result from observing Him in others like we considered last week. However, He draws us to Himself through many different means. Moving closer to Him is a matter of deepening relationships as we love people more, but also as we get to know Jesus better in His Church, through His Word, through Prayer, and through Community. Our protagonist, Frank, tells us more:

As a kid, I enjoyed reading the New Testament. Our Lady had told me I’d meet her Son, and I wanted to be ready. At first, I used a child’s book of stories about Jesus, but eventually a simplified Bible, and before long, a regular Bible. I liked the Jesus I met there. As a child, He must have been a deep thinker, and I could relate to that. I loved how He sat and listened to the elders at the temple and asked questions with understanding, even at twelve. He was kind and gentle with people, but could be passionate, like when money lenders misused His Father’s temple. I was especially intrigued by His healing miracles. I thought that healing might be just about the best of gifts to be given, to be able to cure people of their brokenness and pain. As I learned about Him from reading, I was drawn to Him, and began talking to Him as a friend.

I still do. I highly recommend it!

Above all, I strove to build a real relationship with Jesus by spending time with Him, whether in front of the Blessed Sacrament in adoration, in conversation with Him in prayer, or through little love offerings by way of sacrifices. A favorite author of mine, Matthew Kelly, once wrote that relationships deepen when we spend carefree timelessness with each other. The same is true spiritually. We grow closer to Jesus by spending time with Him.

But He doesn’t always call us to solitude. He can also meet us in Community. On my first night in Youth Group as a high school freshman, one of the seniors called for our attention. He invited us to take our seats and introduced us to the teen leaders who were other seniors like himself. A handful of adults supervised but allowed the teens to do most of the interacting. A young man and a young woman each gave a short talk about how the group had helped them deepen their faith or feel supported through hard times.

Excitement made me grin. I’d been hoping for a place where I could talk among friends about our faith. I wanted to grow closer to Jesus, but not feel like I was weird for that desire. Our Youth Group didn’t only talk. Much of our time was spent in service, putting our faith into practice.

That was when I first learned about the value of belonging to a community with shared beliefs.

Many years later, I was made pastor of my own parish, and I loved my flock dearly. I saw Jesus within them and through our shared worshipping. I felt Him reaching out to them. I felt tenderly toward the man who struck his chest gently each time Jesus’ name was read. Or the woman who sat in the front pew so that her four young children could see well, though tending to them probably meant she didn’t get to pray much herself. Of course, some folks were harder to see Jesus in. I listened to complaints about Mass times, or the music, or what the lectors wore. Some folks disagreed passionately about every topic brought up at the Parish Council meetings. The Church isn’t a collection of perfect people. It’s a community of imperfect folks who struggle together to grow closer to each other and to God.

I loved officiating at weddings, watching the bride and groom gaze into each other’s eyes, though their happiness in being joined as one emphasized how very alone a priest can be. Just when I was feeling especially sorry for myself, some sweet family would invite me to dinner. The children would play their newest pieces on the piano, or sing for me, or ask me to join them in a board game, and I’d drive home that night feeling so thankful. God had reminded me that I wasn’t alone, and that He had me, and all His children, under His wing.

Betty here again.

The early Covid precautions kept us from worshipping with our communities in our churches. It was certainly easier to attend Mass in our living rooms, but something was missing. Don’t you agree? In those first early months, we couldn’t receive Communion, and we couldn’t share community.

Some people say they can stay close to God without community, but Jesus must have thought worshipping together was important, since He instituted the Church. I think He knew we would need each other’s support through the hard times. We need the help of others as we try to raise our children to know Him. We need the witness of others when we profess our vows as a couple, baptize our children, or introduce them to the sacraments. And we certainly need the support of friends when we experience grief from the loss of a loved one. Clergy and lay ministers give us examples of how to lead our lives when they’ve gone through the challenges we face, or when they share a homily that makes us consider new directions. Those same leaders need our participation to perform works of mercy through food drives, soup kitchens, charity collections, outreach to the homeless, or support for our seniors.

We see Jesus in our churches when we study His Word, join in prayer, and reach out to help others.

See Jesus – In Others

       Welcome, or welcome back to these 4-minute posts written to help us grow.  I usually set my fiction writing aside during Lent, but this year, I will illustrate one aspect of “seeing Jesus” with excerpts from my work-in-progress novel, Jesus’ Joy. In the story, we meet a terminally ill, elderly patient who is dictating stories of his life that tell how he came to see Jesus. He begins when he was a young boy visited by the Virgin Mary in a dream.

Aging through Grief to Service

Good Friday seems an appropriate day to discuss grief.

At any stage in our journey of Aging with Grace, we may suffer grief. The loss may be small or huge, sometimes causing us to feel as if all progress in our lives has stopped.

• As young adults we might grieve the necessity of choosing one path over another, or the realization that we might not achieve what we had hoped. We might mourn the loss of a relationship that we thought would be “the one.” In our twenties and thirties, a “quarter-life crisis” for some, we might find that we aren’t as far along a career or relationship path as we thought we might be. We might be lonely and wonder if we will ever find love.
• Grief might hit us in our middle-age years if we miscarry, our parents die, we suffer through an unwanted divorce, or our child falls seriously ill.
• If we are blessed with a long life, we will face many losses. We lose the constant companionship of our children as they grow up and move away. Even grandchildren will eventually be too old to nestle into grandma’s lap. Many of us will lose our spouses and dear friends to death. We will adjust over and over to new health issues, grieving the loss of pain-free joints and sharp vision or hearing or thinking, while possibly relying on a cane or walker or wheelchair. We may need to move from our home, letting go of sentimental attachment to things. We mourn losing our healthy bodies or quick minds. We grieve the way society sees aging as a weakness—or doesn’t see us at all.

In A Woman’s Guide to Healing the Heartbreak of Divorce, Rose Sweet contrasts fear and faith in the midst of grieving:

• Fear – I don’t want to grieve any more. It’s too big. It’s too painful. I’m sick of it. I want to move on. It doesn’t feel good. What will people think if I’m weak with grief? Why can’t I just avoid it? I’ll be fine, really I will, won’t I?
• Faith – I know God has given me tears for a reason. He designed me to grieve so that I could heal. I will not be afraid of the pain, knowing He will give me His grace to get through it. After all, God’s people wept. Jesus wept. I am not alone.

Marilyn Willett Heavilin, wrote Roses in December: Comfort for the Grieving Heart to offer hard-won advice. I’ll quote just a few of her points and recommend her book highly:

• Knowing that God cares doesn’t take the hurt away, but it does make the hurt bearable.
• God has experienced sorrow. He, in fact, was a bereaved parent, because He, too, had a Son who suffered and died. But the exciting news is God’s Son didn’t stay dead. He conquered death for each of us so that we can have the hope of spending eternity with Him in heaven. We also can have the hope of seeing our loved ones again.
• Life is never the same after a loved one dies or you suffer some other major loss. But life can be good again—different—but good.
• Don’t feel you must rush into any big decisions. Do your grief work. Give yourself time. Seek God’s heart and let Him guide you into the unique purpose He has for you.

His purpose for you, in time, will be to serve others. Yet, for now, what do we do with our grief? For a while, grief will keep us from being available to help others; we simply don’t have the energy or the inclination. (This might be the time to accept help from others.) When grief hits us hard, we can’t continue on our own. Grief can freeze us in place and threaten to make us bitter or always angry or hopeless. At these times, we must turn to another kind of Aging with Grace, beyond maintaining a positive attitude. We must let go, trusting and believing that God has a beautiful plan that sometimes comes with pain, yet is still beautiful and always loving. We must ask God for His grace, His loving strength. Then, relying on God, resting in His arms, we go on, and at some point, we begin to recognize His gifts again and know we are loved.

(If grief is prolonged and accompanied by appetite or sleep changes with a lack of enjoyment for what once used to bring joy, consider talking to a professional. Depression is treatable!)

I’m reminded of Jesus on the night before His crucifixion. He gathered His beloved followers for one last supper. He went out into the garden, into nature. He prayed.

When his disciples were grieving after His death, they gathered together and, when the Spirit came and moved them, they went out and proclaimed His Good News. They began to share about their Savior, and they served others.

So, if we follow Jesus’ example, and that of those who knew Him best, we should:

• Spend time in nature and prayer.
• Gather with those who are supportive.
• Share a meal with loved ones.
• Wait on the Spirit to direct us.
• Go out and serve others.

(It strikes me that most of these are parts of our church services, too.)

Serving others, making this tragedy that you mourn work somehow for the good of others, is a wonderful antidote to grief. The author I quoted above, Marilyn Willett Heavilin, lost three sons at three different times. She eventually was able to share, through writing and speaking, about her own experience with grief and how God supported her through His Word, her church community, and her friends.

When our daughter was diagnosed with Tourette Syndrome, my first reaction was strong denial, but eventually I accepted the diagnosis and went on to help two other women start a local support group. When depression struck members of our family, I began to study counseling, and I hope now that by using what I learned, my writing helps people through similar circumstances.

Some people may be called to a new career or volunteer position that strives to keep others from experiencing the grief they’ve known, such as Mothers Against Drunk Driving or Alcoholics Anonymous. Others may simply reach out to help their neighbors or friends through uplifting notes, or a hot dinner. Perhaps our limitations allow us only to pray for others, yet that may be the greatest gift of our lives.

Last week, Necessary Losses taught us, “As we near the end of our lives, we find meaning by leaving the world better for the next generation.” When you serve others, some sadness will remain, yet your struggle will gain meaning, and that can heal your heart.

Let us go forth to love and serve our Lord… and God’s people.

Thank you for sharing your Lenten journey with me. May your (Good Friday) grief eventually lead you to (Easter) joy!

Betty Arrigotti

Aging Through Losses

“… how happy others are because of you.” What a wonderful measure for our lives.

This week we ponder the Losses that life requires, and the growth those losses bring. We look back at earlier stages and can see the wisdom in growing. Let’s hold, in our current stage, to the belief that there is wisdom in letting go.

Those of you who’ve read my posts over the years know I’m very impressed by the wisdom of Judith Viorst. How can we talk about Aging with Grace without looking at the losses aging entails? In her book, Necessary Losses, Viorst discusses the “loves, illusions, dependencies, and impossible expectations that all of us have to give up in order to grow.”

She writes:

In the course of our life we leave and are left and let go of much that we love. Losing is the price we pay for living. It is also the source of much of our growth and gain. Making our way from birth to death, we also have to make our way through the pain of giving up and giving up and giving up some portion of what we cherish.

We have to deal with our necessary losses.

We should understand how these losses are linked to our gains.

There is plenty we must give up in order to grow. For we cannot deeply love anything without becoming vulnerable to loss. And we cannot become separate people, responsible people, connected people, reflective people without some losing and leaving and letting go.

Our life or growth could be seen as a progression of letting go, followed by the gain a new stage brings:

• Childhood’s End – We give up a belief that we can be kept safe and receive instead the freedom and responsibility to make our own choices. We accept reality, and with it accept that we don’t get special treatment, absolute control, compensation for past loss, or perfect companions. We don’t blame our current lives on our childhood.

• The Married State – We learn that no person can meet all our expectations all of the time, nor can some expectations ever be met. Our spouse can’t make us be happy, heal all our hurts from the past, or fill all our needs. Those unfulfilled expectations are necessary losses in order to truly love our less-than-perfect spouses.

• Letting Children Go – In parenting we fear our imperfect love will harm our children, or we will fail to keep them safe. Facing our fallibility as parents is another of our necessary losses. We must let our children become steadily more independent and let go of them and our dreams for them.

• The Loss of Youth – Time will repeatedly force us to relinquish our self-image and move on. We leave youth and health behind. We lose abilities and strengths. We let go of dreams as we realize we’ll never accomplish them all. Yet we gain experience, inner depth, acceptance of others, patience, and self-control. We move from body preoccupation to body transcendence. We move from identifying ourselves by what we do or who we parent to who we are. We can become an integrated whole, accepting our weaknesses along with our strengths.

• The Loss of our Loved Ones – Mourning is the process of adapting to the losses in our lives. We travel through and revisit stages of numbness, denial, intense emotional pain, bargaining, anger, guilt, and idealizing whom or what we lost. But as we find our way through the mourning and learn to let go of our pain, we can come to acceptance. (We will take a closer look at grief next week.)

• We live enriched lives, knowing that each day is vital. We make the most of the present to find a way to leave a legacy to the world for the future.

“Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him.” Philippians 3:8-9

Being alive means we will suffer loss. But the loss will open us to new possibilities. Jesus lost his life, but by doing so, regained for us the Kingdom of God. He rose to new life so that we will, too. In that life, there will be no loss.

Perhaps opening our hands to let go allows us to receive new gifts.

Perhaps this process of letting go, if done well, makes room for God.

Blessings on your week!

Betty Arrigotti

Aging with Health and Limitations

In order to improve our chances of aging with health, Andrew Weil, M.D., in his book. Healthy Aging: A Lifelong Guide to Your Well-being offers 12 recommendations:

1. Eat an anti-inflammatory diet.
2. Use dietary supplements wisely to support the body’s defenses and natural healing power.
3. Use preventative medicine intelligently: know your risks of age-related disease, get appropriate diagnostic and screening tests and immunizations, and treat problems (like elevated blood pressure and cholesterol) in their early stages.
4. Get regular physical activity throughout life.
5. Get adequate rest and sleep.
6. Learn and practice methods of stress protection.
7. Exercise your mind as well as your body.
8. Maintain social and intellectual connections as you go through life.
9. Be flexible in mind and body: learn to adapt to losses and let go of behaviors no longer appropriate for your age.
10. Think about and try to discover for yourself the benefits of aging.
11. Do not deny the reality of aging or put energy into trying to stop it. Use the experience of aging as a stimulus for spiritual awakening and growth.
12. Keep an ongoing record of the lessons you learn, the wisdom you gain, and the values you hold. At critical points in your life, read this over, add to it, revise it, and share it with people you care about.

I know I have some room for improvement as I read his recommendations. Unfortunately, even with the best of efforts, as we age, we will come to know limitations to our health and abilities, and those limitations likely will grow with time. In her book, The Gift of Years: Growing Older Gracefully, Joan Chittister writes:

“Limitations—those physical boundaries that the old reach before the rest of the world—are only that, elders show us. They are boundaries, not barriers. They limit us—they take time and energy, yes—but they do not stop us unless we decide to be stopped. In fact, limitations in one area simply make us develop in another. If your legs are weak, then getting in and out of a wheelchair will only make your arms stronger. If your hearing is impaired, you will begin to write more letters. Limitations, at any age and every age, call out something in us that we never considered before.”

“They also alert us to the needs of others. It takes limitations to be sensitive to their needs.”

” Being limited gives us an opportunity to learn both humility and patience. We aren’t as arrogant anymore as we used to be. But we’re more tenacious than ever.”

“Limitations invite others to get involved as well. We create community out of the needs of the others and the gifts we can bring to them while they, in turn, enrich us.”

“When we define ourselves only by our limitations, we fail to see to what greater things those limitations are calling us for.”

“A blessing of these years is that we know at last what really matters, and the world is waiting to hear it, if only we will make the effort and don’t give in to our limitations.“

More excerpts from Chittister about not giving in to our limitations:

“Generativity—the act of giving ourselves to the needs of the rest of the world—is the single most important function of old age. For example, in [a Harvard study] it was widening their social circle as life went on that was the key factor in the achievement of successful aging, not money, not education, not family.”

“But this ‘widening’ was not simply the creation of social contacts, as important as that is. Instead, these individuals created social contacts by doing more than that—they became actively involved in one or more of the great social activities of life, ‘helping someone else.‘”

“Most important of all, perhaps, is that old age is the only age when we can possibly be so important to the world at large because it is the first time in life when we ourselves are free enough to give much thought to a world broader than our own. We are ready now to stretch ourselves beyond ourselves for the sake of all the others to whom we are leaving this world.”

“A blessing of these years is the freedom to reach out to others, to do everything we can with everything in life that we have managed to develop all these years in both soul and mind for the sake of the rest of the human race.”

We owe it to the world to live our lives trying to be as healthy as we can, in order to help others around us and the generations to come.

Blessings on your remaining weeks of Lent!

Betty Arrigotti

Aging with Forgiveness

“Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.”

Whenever we look back on our lives, and forward to how we’d like them to grow, we are likely to realize we need to forgive in order to continue to age gracefully. Maybe we need to let go of a past hurt. Maybe we need to forgive ourselves… or maybe God. No one who is holding a grudge or heavy guilt will age with grace.

First, we will look at forgiving others, then below consider how to forgive ourselves.

In the book, Everyone Needs to Forgive Somebody, Allen Hunt offers suggestions to help us discover whom we need to forgive and seven steps to assist in our journey of forgiveness.

1. Remember your own need for forgiveness.
2. Pick one thing you know you ought to forgive.
3. Ask God to saturate you with his grace to help you forgive.
4. If possible, engage the offender in direct, open, honest communication. Don’t accuse, focus on how you feel. Say, “I forgive you.” (Do this in your imagination if the person isn’t available.)
5. Follow your words with some act of reconciliation—perhaps a hug, handshake, or meal together.
6. To prevent the same hurts from occurring again, keep your lines of communication open, with clear, healthy boundaries and guidelines for your relationship.
7. Learn to forgive the small things—with friends, family, or coworkers. Be a person of grace. Don’t dwell on the hurts. Recognize you are still prone to mistakes as you become the-best-version-of-yourself, just as others are.

Forgiving others is a process, not usually a one-time decision. We will possibly fail, but then can try again. Here are a few practices that help me personally:

• Acknowledge to yourself the anger and hurt you feel. If possible, voice it calmly right away to the person who hurt you.
• Don’t continue to “lick the wound.” Dogs make their sores larger by doing this, and so do we when we dwell or obsess on them. Practice “thought stopping” when you find yourself doing this and instead—
• Pray for the person who hurt you. Place them in God’s care. Remind yourself you want to be a forgiver.

Letting Go of Guilt – Forgiving Ourselves

Fr. Peter Siamoo, a priest from Tanzania who studied and worked here in Portland, wrote a book called Restore Your Inner Peace: Personal Healing from Within. In Fr. Peter’s work as a counselor in hospitals and prisons, he found the inability to forgive oneself to be both prevalent and destructive. Perhaps we too have trouble letting go of our mistakes, weaknesses, and past sinfulness. Don’t we, in this study of Aging with Grace, also need to forgive ourselves?

He recommends steps:

1. Acknowledge what you’ve done.
2. Talk about it with a safe person, possibly a good friend, minister, or therapist.
3. Learn from it in order to grow and not repeat the mistake.
4. Make peace with it, not to justify the mistake but to become a wounded healer.
5. Ask for and accept forgiveness from God, who is loving and who readily forgives our transgressions when we sincerely ask for it.
6. Forgive yourself, remembering to love your neighbor as (well as) yourself.

Forgiving ourselves after a mistake is:

• An act of appreciation for God’s love and forgiveness.
• Self-love that restores our inner freedom and peace.
• A choice we make to acknowledge and accept God’s mercy and choose to treat ourselves better than what we think we deserve.
• Worth doing because we deserve a better life than carrying guilt around.
• A way of imitating God who has forgiven us, and
• Important to our being happy.
• Make amends to repair the damage and restore the relationship.

From this week on, let’s love ourselves enough to forgive ourselves… and others!

Blessings on your Lent! We’ve passed halfway!