I rocked my son for hours in the dark the first autumn of his life. He spent those long nights in pain from cutting eight new teeth, and I sat half awake, praying Rosaries and “flying novenas” of Memorares, waiting for him to sleep so that I could sleep.
I spent countless hours sitting with my daughters while they agonizingly sounded out each little sound in every word of book after book. I explained the math concepts waiting for them to grasp the ideas. I worked carefully through the catechism with them all, teaching the precepts of the Faith. We stopped in our work every afternoon for silent, meditative prayer.
I made sandwich after sandwich, prepared the cut fruits and veggies, poured the milk, baked the cookies, cooked the dinners. I cleaned the messes—kept up with the daily house cleaning. Sometimes I offered these moments to God consciously, but usually they were for His glory because I lived faithfully in my vocation.
I lay in bed for weeks, my whole right leg throbbing from the bacteria penetrating into my deep tissues because of a deer tick bite. I prayed the Stations of the Cross, Rosaries, and, when my mind could not focus, just felt the offering of my suffering.
I have lived for two years with a rare mastitis in my breast—often in pain, frequently with oozing wounds, always with lingering, deforming scars. The world does not see my suffering, my offering. No one sees these hidden things, but Him. He sees them all.
The life of holiness, for most of us, is hidden from the world. The Lord just calls us to live faithfully where we are, in each day, in each hour. Our conversation with Him, our prayer, hidden in the recesses of our hearts, can be wherever we happen to be. He also desires our full attention in set-aside, quiet prayer before Him. This prayer keeps us close to Him.
Our Father in Heaven sees all of these hidden things and pours out His love (Matthew 6:18).The life of holiness, for most of us, is hidden from the world. // Susanna Spencer Click To Tweet