My Best Worst Lent Ever

A friend in my morning prayer group is one of those "living saint" types of people. Watching how she lives her life, I can understand what Blessed Pier Giorgio meant when he wrote, "...every day I ought to thank God because he has given me men and lady friends of such goodness who form for me a precious guide for my whole life."

The other morning, as we headed to the chapel, she said happily, "This is my best worst Lent ever!" It is the worst because in addition to several other crosses she has been carrying, she just learned that doctors have discovered a tumor, likely malignant, that is going to require surgery. It is the best, in her opinion, because the Lord is allowing her to suffer with and for Him even more.

I can't say this has been my best worst Lent ever. I'm grateful that the Lord has been merciful and that He has given me many consolations during these weeks. One, in particular, has been to pray the novena in honor of Blessed Pier Giorgio during the Lenten season. It's been a wonderful sort of distraction. Nine days have flown by and now I am looking forward to celebrating his birthday tomorrow. It hasn't really felt like Lent.

All of this reminds me of something else that Pier Giorgio wrote in the last months of his life:

As long as Faith gives me strength I will always be joyful; every Catholic cannot but be joyful: sadness ought to be banished from Catholic souls. Sorrow is not sadness, which is a worse illness than any other. This illness is nearly always caused by atheism. But the purpose for which we have been created shows us the path, even if strewn with many thorns, it is not a sad path. It is joyful even in the face of sorrow.

It isn't so much the size or weight of our crosses but how we are carrying them. Finding a way to keep the joy is an essential ingredient in the pursuit of happiness and holiness. Joy in distractions and dryness that are so often Lenten companions. Joy in the day-to-dayness of life - that can sometimes be more difficult to deal with than the heaviest of crosses. And yes, joy in the face of overwhelming sorrow that enables us to say, "This is my best worst Lent ever!"

That sort of joy is the fruit of prayer and a grateful spirit. It's what St. Paul meant when he wrote, "Rejoice always. Pray without ceasing. In all circumstances give thanks, for this is the will of God for you in Christ Jesus." (1 Thessalonians 5: 16-18)

Pier Giorgio had it. My friend gets it. That means there's hope for me, too.  Verso l'alto! ///cmw