Carry Me

I want to preface this reflection by asking you for your prayers for Julia. Late in 2014, I noticed some asymmetry in Julia's back. I took her to her pediatrician and we got x-rays taken, confirming the diagnosis. Julia has scoliosis, which is fairly unusual at her young age. The degree of curvature is concerning in that it will likely progress as she grows taller, and she has many years of growing left to do. We have seen an orthopedic surgeon, who scheduled an MRI of her thoracic and lumbar spine, to make sure there is no underlying problem causing the scoliosis to develop. Since she is only four, and incapable of lying completely still for an hour, she will have to go under general anesthesia to have the MRI performed. This will take place this Tuesday, January 27. Please pray for Julia with us, for her health and healing, and for peace and strength for Aaron, me, and all those who love & care for her.



I love the Holy Spirit. He helped me come to an important realization recently. It is something that Aaron has always realized and has tried to help me to realize all throughout our marriage. Perhaps most people already realize this truth. But, for some reason, I could never quite get this idea through my thick skull. That realization is this:

God doesn't want me to be wracked with feelings of anxiety, guilt, or fear. He wants me to have peace.

Simple, I know. But, seriously, I'm not sure I've fully realized that for years now. God spoke to me through our family's patron saint of 2015, St. Josemaría Escrivá. We are praying through one of his works called "The Way," and I read this a few nights ago. As always, when we read this book, a part stood out to me, convicting me of something the Holy Spirit wanted to teach me.

"Get rid of those scruples that deprive you of peace. What robs you of your peace of soul cannot come from God.
     
When God comes to you, you will realize the truth of those greetings: My peace I give to you... My peace I leave with you... My peace be with you... And this peace you will feel even in the midst of tribulation." - St. Josemaría Escrivá, The Way, #258

The line that really jumped off the page at me was this:

"What robs you of your peace of soul cannot come from God."

Honestly, to be a good Catholic Momma, I thought it was my job to worry.

I come from a long line of worriers. And it feels good, in a way, right? To have a mom who worries about you?

But, maybe, really what feels good about having a mom who worries is because she cares so much. And because she prays. And because she helps carry our burdens. Does the worry and anxiety itself really do anything besides eat at her?

I think our culture tells moms that to be good moms we are supposed to worry. We should worry about what foods our kids eat, who takes care of them during the day, who their friends are. We should worry if they are sick, we should worry if they are sassy.

And, as a natural extension to this worry, we should feel guilty if they aren't eating the perfect thing, if we're not home with them 24-7 (or if we are home, if we're not fully present or pleasant 24-7). We should feel guilty if they don't have wonderful friends. We should feel guilty if they have a health problem. We should feel guilty if their attitude isn't stellar 100% of the time.

You guys. You guys!

This is crazy.

My husband, who is a parent to Julia just as equally as me, NEVER stays awake at night haunted by these fears, tortured by these guilts. And I don't expect him. I don't think it is his job as a dad.

Somehow, I thought I was supposed to emotionally carry the weight of all our families burdens on my shoulders.

Do you know what I am doing?

I am like a tiny mouse trying to carry the cross. Standing there, pushing up against it with brute force. I am getting so worn out. It's almost comical. Jesus is looking down, lovingly, at me, say, "I got this. I don't need you to do that. No, I'm serious. I really don't. I love your spirit of sacrifice, but any burden you have, please give it back to me. I want to carry this for you. That would be your gift to me, is to accept my gift, and allow me to carry you and your cross. Please accept my resurrection gift, that I breathed to you... my peace."

And I'm all like, "No! I'm an American mother, for Pete's sake! This is my job!! Don't take my job away from me! I want to pretend like I have control over this difficult situation that I don't actually have any control over! I am going to keep pushing up, even though I am not strong enough to lift this and you are, because this is what I do. And if this cross goes away, I will find another one, because this is my vocation."

His response to that may be something like this:

O_o?


It's not my job to worry. It's not my fault that bad things happen to Julia sometimes. My worrying adds nothing positive to Julia's life. Does it matter that I care, that I advocate, that I pray? Of course. But after that? After that, there's no forward motion. There's only the isometric contraction, of trying to hold up a wall, or trying futilely to carry a cross. The weight of the world of my family is not supposed to be on my shoulders just because I'm a mother.

In God's eyes, I'm still a child. I may be a mother, but, first and foremost, I am a daughter. A daughter of God.

If I asked Julia to carry a very heavy suitcase, she would almost immediately tell me that it's too heavy, that I need to carry it for her. She would just flat up tell me that. She doesn't have some kind of martyr complex. She would ask me to carry it for her, and she would expect that if I really wanted it moved, I would do it myself. And, I totally would. I would scoop her and the suitcase up into my arms.

When God asks me to carry something large and heavy, he doesn't expect me to throw out my back trying to be some kind of crazed hero. All He wants is for me to ask Him to carry it for me. His power is perfected in weakness.

"He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.' I will rather boast most gladly of my weaknesses, in order that the power of Christ may dwell with me. Therefore, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and constraints, for the sake of Christ; for when I am weak, then I am strong." - 2 Corinthians 12:9-10

He is able to make His glory known if I allow Him to carry me and my burdens. The world, so in need of Him, will get to see Him, not me. Yes, this is still my cross, and yes, as a Christian, I still have to accompany Him to Calvary, but I do not have to walk weighed down with the emotional burdens of fear, anxiety, and guilt.

"Then Jesus said to his disciples, 'Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me." - Matthew 16:24

Deny can have two meanings. I always used to think of the more common English definition of the word, which means "to refrain from satisfying oneself."

Basically, I thought I needed to refrain from trying to make myself happy, stoically put the cross on my shoulder, and follow after Jesus.

However, my mom heard an awesome homily on the real meaning of this word "deny" once from a very holy priest and shared it with me. There's actually a great footnote about this in my Bible (NAB). "To deny someone is to disown him (see Mt 10:33; 26:34–35) and to deny oneself is to disown oneself as the center of one’s existence." It's not that being unhappy is a requirement of being a Christian (nay, it's really the opposite!), but rather that I acknowledge that I am nothing, and Christ is everything. I carry my cross by acknowledging my weakness and that I need Him to carry it for me.

"For through the law I died to the law, that I might live for God. I have been crucified with Christ; yet I live, no longer I, but Christ lives in me; insofar as I now live in the flesh, I live by faith in the Son of God who has loved me and given himself up for me." - Galations 2:19b-20 (emphasis mine)

And guess what? It's win-win. His glory becomes known, and I get to live in peace and joy, unburdened by the things of earth that are too sad for me to bear, too heavy for me to carry. Julia lives with such peace and joy because she doesn't have to worry about anything - where her next meal will come from, whether she'll wake up for school on time, what she'll wear in the cold. She simply trusts that her parents will provide for her, will carry those things that are too heavy for her to carry. God wants me to live like that. He's a much better Father to me than I am mother to Julia, so I should be living with at least as much joy as Julia is. I want to live in the freedom of the sons and daughters of God. I don't want to be a slave anymore to fear, guilt, or anxiety. And that's what Jesus wants for me. From the very beginning of His ministry,  he announced that He had come to "proclaim liberty to captives" and to "let the oppressed go free" (Luke 4:18).

I've been so worried about so many things. Lately, I've been so anxious about Julia's recently diagnosed scoliosis. Should I have noticed it sooner? If I had, would her prognosis be better? What will the future hold for her? How can I best care for her? What doctors should we see? How can I make sure she remains as unperturbed by this difficulty as possible?

The fear, the guilt, the worry... it has been crushing. Sometimes, I stop thinking about it, and then I almost feel guilty for momentarily forgetting about this huge. important. terrible. thing.


But why? It doesn't have to be this way. It shouldn't be this way.

All I can do is care, pray, and act. That's it. I love Julia so much. I schedule her appointments, I hold her through them. I pray for her multiple times a day.

But these terrible feelings that "deprive [me] of peace"? "What robs [me] of [my] peace of soul cannot come from God."

I thought those feelings were part of a package deal. That He gave us a cross to carry, and they went along with it. That I needed to enter into the feelings to fully embrace my suffering.

But, no. They "rob [me] of [my] peace of soul," ergo they "cannot come from God." Plain and simple.

Jesus brings peace. "My peace I give to you... My peace I leave with you... My peace be with you..."  He already conquered the world for all of time. These sufferings were already nailed to the cross. I don't need to hold up the cross, to prop up the wall. Yes, he is asking my family to carry the cross of Julia's scoliosis. But, all He is asking of us is to offer it back up to Him. He'll take it from there. That one act of faith, abandonment, and trust, is worth everything to Him. We trust our father God to carry these heavy things for us. We acknowledge that we're too small, and that He is big enough to carry us, crosses and all.

I will end with a few words from Saint Thérèse of Lisieux, a doctor of the Church who has expressed these thoughts on being a child of God far better than I could ever hope to do so:

"It is needful to remain little before God and to remain little is to recognize one's nothingness, expect all things from the good God just as a little child expects all things from its father; it is not to be troubled by anything, not to try to make a fortune. Even among poor people, a child is given all it needs, as long as it is very little, but as soon as it has grown up, the father does not want to support it any longer and says: "Work, now you are able to take care of yourself". Because I never want to hear these words I do not want to grow up, feeling that I can never earn my living, that is, eternal life in heaven. So I have stayed little, and have no other occupation than of gathering flowers of love and sacrifice and of offering them to the good God to please Him."

"I tell you that it is enough to recognize one's nothingness and to abandon one's self like a child in the arms of God."

"Merit is not to be found in doing much or in giving much, but rather in receiving and in loving much. It is said that it is far sweeter to give than to receive, and this is true. But when Jesus wants for Himself the sweetness of giving, it would not be gracious to refuse. Let Him take and give whatever He wants."