I was so touched by the preaching of our retreat master this morning about the little crosses that we carry. I thought of writing a little bit about this.
In the past, the cross was seen as a punishment, a defeat or a loss. Many were crucified for public scandals. But after the death of Jesus, the cross became a symbol of victory. Jesus triumphed over death.
Today, as I was reflecting on the cross, few things came into my mind. I went through some little crucifixions in my journey to priesthood and as a missionary in Africa. I have shared these things many times to you.
Just when I joined the seminary, my mother had her final stroke that completely made her paralyzed. I was even asked in the seminary if I want to leave. I said I will continue, I trust that the Lord will take good care of my mother. She was almost dying on my first holiday, and my relatives asked me if I have to go back to the seminary. I said “yes”, but that was the most painful yes I have ever said in my whole life.
On that same holiday, both my parents were on bed. My dad was full of bandages and wounds because of vehicular accident. That was another cross that I had to carry on my way back to the seminary. My parents were my biggest and heaviest crosses. So I asked the Lord to help me.
On my first Christmas in England, my cross was doubled, as my mom died on Christmas Day, and I could not even go home for her funeral. Not even a year after, my priest uncle also died. Which was another cross that was added on my shoulder.
Anyway, I pressed these crosses close to my heart. I was ordained and was sent to Malawi-Zambia province in Africa. I love my mission, first evangelization mission. I was so happy there, but my happiness was also tainted with sufferings, which were little crosses for me. I was constantly attacked with malaria, which almost cost my life. I developed severe allergies in few things. I had to be in the villages most of the times, and also the great inconvenience, the absence of necessary things and the great difference of lifestyle. But these crosses, I carried happily with full conviction.
When I was transferred to the Philippines, my soul was longing for the mission. Though some were crosses, I realized that while I was carrying these crosses on my back, I was suffering joyfully. My soul was restless, and the missions was its home.
I went through a lot recently, but I trust also that I would surmount them all. I bloom where I am planted. What is my secret? Just carry your crosses with faith and happiness. They are no longer as heavy as you think. When you learn how to suffer joyfully, your crosses lighten. They can destroy your body but not your soul.
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