I’ve got some more from Fr. Bonaventure today because it was just too good not to share. The next piece that stuck out to me is a whole paragraph, but read it slowly- there’s so much there: ⁠
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“Our cross is usually given to us in installments, weighing differently at different times: it is made up of small cells, little fatigues and worries and things that go wrong. We have to try to put them together so that one day they will add up to a glorious cross, shaped like Christ’s. We cannot see the proper shate yet, partly because we are too close; in our self-pity we see each little bit magnified and distorted, and anyhow, our loving Father will not let us see it as a whole yet, we would think it too big and heavy, and so lose courage. But we can carry our little crosses, little parts of the cross, and trust that in doing so we are growing like our Master.”⁠
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I had never thought of the cross this way, of my own cross this way, and the beauty of these words touched my heart.⁠ To think that each little annoyance, each frustration, each time that something small goes wrong, that each of those has value, can become part of my larger cross is wholly encouraging.

I know that St. Therese must be disappointed in me, but sometimes I forget that the small sacrifices have value. And I don’t offer them up cheerfully to the Lord.

It’s encouraging too, as someone with a pretty small life. I don’t mean that in a negative way, but rather, in the way of St. Therese- my life and sphere of influence is quiet, small, and there are very few large crosses in my life. We have not been struck by terminal illness and my husband has a reliable job that pays enough for our family to have what we need. We have a large safety net of family and friends. In short, we are incredibly blessed.

But even so, there are small crosses. And they have value too, depending on how I choose to respond to them. Do I rebel against them? Passively accept? Or do I bend down and pick them up, engaging these crosses with my will and all of my faith? As I said in the last post, I’m working on doing the latter this Lent, and I hope that these small pieces will someday form a great and glorious cross like Jesus’.
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I’m also overwhelmed by the wisdom and mercy of God, who doesn’t allow us to see the whole picture in any given moment. He’s right- I would think it too much and give up. But I know already, that looking back on events in my life that I would have sworn would be insurmountable, turned out to be quite possible.

So this Lent, I’m trying to re-train my brain to consider all of the little daily fatigues and worries as a piece of the larger cross that God has planned for me, and that’s helping me find meaning and purpose in the smaller sufferings of each day that often just seem really annoying, but not quite big enough to count as suffering worthy to offer up. ⁠