The Cross Is Our Way Home

I remember years ago a friend saying that she was trying to find joy in the crosses she was currently carrying. That thought astounded me. I am not that holy. I am not focused on Christ. I am not that… good.

And yet, I also kind of believe that she is right. I was thinking about this at Mass a few weeks ago. I had finally gotten glasses and was able to actually see what was going on around me. Man, I was blind. But I was sitting in the pew, lamenting my troubles, and I thought about that statement my friend said, and I saw it in a different light.

I saw the crucifix hanging on the altar. I thought of crucifixes we have around our house, ones I’ve worn around my neck. I thought about why we surround ourselves with these physical reminders of Christ’s greatest pain and greatest sacrifice, a cross greater than any of us will have to carry. And I realized (I’m a slow learner) that we surround ourselves with Christ’s suffering because it really is upon that cross that hung the salvation of the world. The cross is our only way to Heaven, our only way to Jesus, our only way home. As such, it’s beautiful.

And if we take that one step further, our own struggles, our own crosses are also our own road home. It’s a treacherous road. It’s usually not one we would chose to follow. But it is the one chosen for us and given to us to bring us to our final place of rest and peace and joy.

Our greatest sufferings are our greatest crosses. They too are out greatest means of redemption. Most of us cannot glory in them when we reside in them, but this does not mean that they are not worthy of love nevertheless.

I was at a funeral Mass a couple of weeks ago, staring up at that same cross that I was looking at a couple of weeks prior. After the deceased and his family left, the rest of the congregation was left inside the church singing, “How Great Thou Art.” And this was one of the most touching moments I have experienced in many years.

Here was the funeral of a man who had a heavy cross and whose closest loved ones carried that cross with him for years. If anyone had something to complain about, a cross to despise, it was them. And yet, as he was leaving church for the final time, he left behind a congregation praising the greatness of God. That is a life well lived that directs those left behind to what is greater than us all.

Our crosses hurt. They are burdens. They can steal our joy if we let them. But they are also our quickest way to God. Especially for slow learners like me who only learn when hit over the head.

And I just realized that I am writing this on the Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross, so that’s Providence for you!

Baby Songs

And now for something slightly more fun. I was driving two of my daughters home from choir practice tonight, and we started talking about their baby songs. When each of my girls was a baby, I dedicated a song to them, and I would sing that song to them as I rocked them to sleep or tried to console them. They hold these songs dear as their songs, and they were shocked to hear that other (normal) people don’t have baby songs. They were all chosen with special meaning.

I sang “God Bless the Broken Road” to my eldest before she was even born. It took us four years to conceive her, and I can’t help but get tears whenever I hear “this much I know is true/that God blessed the broken road/that led me straight to you.” Now I’m grateful for those four years because without them, she would be an adult having fled the nest. I don’t need time to move any faster than it already is.

I started out with “Baby Mine” as the song for my second oldest, but then when she was still really itty bitty, my husband took our oldest to the restroom in a restaurant and Adele’s version of “To Make You Feel My Love” came on, and I knew that was meant to be our song. I chuckle now at the line “You ain’t seen nothing like me yet” because no, Goose, I still have not seen anyone like you.

My third daughter’s song is “Maker Said Take Her” because I secretly hoped to have all daughters, and when the ultrasound tech told us that Little Miss Mae (sorry, I don’t use their real names online) was a girl, I did not believe that anyone in the entire world had ever been so blessed as I was. Raising girls felt like a calling, a vocation, and a dream. I wanted (and still want) to live up to that gift.

I could say a lot about how my baby got her song. There are numerous reasons I chose this song, but the most obvious reason is not actually the reason. I chose this song because of the line, “And when the night has been too lonely, and the road has been too long, and you think that love is only for the lucky at the strong, just remember in the winter, far beneath the bitter snows, lies the seed that with the sun’s love, in the spring becomes the rose.” My baby came when I most needed her. Maybe one day I’ll tell her the whole story. Maybe I won’t. But she was and is my rose that came from the winter.

I do not normally listen to much music, but my brain has been working too hard lately, and so I’ve been listening to the radio at times in the car, and it reminded me just how much our souls need songs. Very few songs mean as much to me as that last one.

What about you? Do any songs remind you of your children? Also, if you like what you see here, feel free to share it and subscribe (it’s free!)