When your Heart Hurts and you Don’t Understand God’s Plan

By Peggy Sue Mutchler
Program and Events Coordinator

Growing up as the youngest of ten children had its perks, and it had its downfalls, but I did learn from an early age how precious life was — is. I had the privilege of going everywhere with my Mom: luncheons, appointments, Mass, funerals. Being the youngest in my family was similar to growing up as an only child; there are six years between the youngest boy and me.  Why six? Because my Mama lost a child prior to being pregnant with me — to be precise, my Mama’s heart hurt a lot; not only did she experience three miscarriages, but my older brother Joseph passed away as a baby, barely a month old; later in life, my oldest sister Carleen unexpectedly passed away from a brain aneurysm shortly after my Dad passed away. My Dad had been diagnosed with cancer and had a paralyzing stroke after the cancer-removal surgery. We brought my Dad home to die, as his kidneys were shutting down.  Home. Home was a place of comfort – although still paralyzed on one side of his body, he lived almost two years more before passing away. My Dad looked at his suffering through a lens of having lived a great life, and it was now time to suffer for Christ. And he did.

We can sit with God by uniting our suffering with Christ’s, recognizing He is present even in our darkness, and trusting that He can and will bring good from it.

November is the month of Saints and Souls. I firmly believe my Mama can take claim to saints and knows souls. Growing up, I was reminded that I was brought into this world by prayer. My middle sister/Godmother actually takes credit for my life because of her fervent prayers for a little sister, and I am thankful. Knowing that my life carries the touch of both love and loss, I hold it as a sacred gift, and I am forever grateful to God for this opportunity to serve Him by serving you.

What do we do when our hearts hurt and we do not understand God’s plan for our lives? My Mom handled hurt with much grace; not everyone can, and that is okay. The key is to be faithful and trusting in God. God will meet us where we are and walk with us, whether we feel His presence or not. Growing up, I did not know God the way my Mom did, and I can’t pretend I do now. However, I watched my Mom carry herself in a way that benefited everyone around her. She walked with Christ, and at the young age of ninety-one, she still does.

How can we, too, live a beautifully grace-filled life in suffering? I find this thought to be a deeply human and holy place from which to reflect. When our hearts are heavy and God’s plan seems hidden, how can we cope with it gracefully? Thankfully, the Church gives us a language to help steady the soul. What is this language, and where can it be found? This language is rooted in Scripture. It is also found in the stories of the Saints, but even more simply, it is found in prayer: prayer rooted in humility, love, and trust.

In October’s reflection, I wrote about how God is present even in the silence. Well, that was my silence; my non-ability to call upon Him, yet He was there anyway. What about the times in our lives when we are crying out for help, but He seems very, very far away?

“How long, O Lord? Will You forget me forever? How long will You hide your face from me? How long must I take counsel in my soul and have sorrow in my heart all the day?”~ Psalm 13:1-2

Well, God’s silence is not His absence. Even when He feels far away, God is often doing His deepest work in silence. Think of Holy Saturday — the day between the Crucifixion and the Resurrection — when Heaven seemed quiet, but salvation was unfolding . . .

“Be still, and know that I am God.” ~Psalm 46:10

Has anyone told you that Faith is not a feeling, that it is a trust in the dark? The Saints remind us that faith grows strongest when it cannot see. Saint John of the Cross called this the “dark night,” when God purifies us from self-love so we can love Him for Himself alone.

“We walk by faith, not by sight.” ~ 2 Corinthians 5:7

What about all of those tears I shed, day in and day out? I am reminded that Jesus Himself wept too. Think about Lazarus and his death. Jesus, miles away, did not rush to fix things. He entered into grief. Our tears are not a sign of weakness but a participation in Christ’s compassion.

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” ~Matthew 5:4

When we are suffering, we usually want it to stop, to go away. But it doesn’t. There are times when we think it has subsided, but then we are triggered by a memory or by a word. People look at us and say, “You should be over that by now.” Suffering has no timeline. Healing is not immediate. Everything happens in God’s time, not ours. We often cry out for answers, but what we get instead is God. God offers Himself.

What often feels like an empty space is actually God drawing us closer to Him. God is preparing a space for divine growth in Him. Look at Mary’s “yes” at the Annunciation in the scripture passage Luke 1; we too are called to say “yes.”

“Let it be done unto me.” ~ Luke 1:38

So, even when we do not understand God’s plan in our hurt, remember that we actually do not need to understand everything to remain faithful. God transforms our painful endurance into holiness. Simply say, “Jesus, I offer this suffering to you. Jesus, I trust in You.” This is something I learned from both my Mom and my Dad. It has served me well in my own sufferings, especially in my own miscarriages, in the death of my sister, and in witnessing the great suffering my Dad went through prior to his death— my Dad’s suffering is rooted in my heart, and so is Christ’s suffering on the Cross. I have learned to unite my suffering with Christ’s. I have learned to “give it to Him.” Christ wants our suffering. God made us each unique and so vastly different, but He also made us each to have a heart like His. It is in our free will to choose how we are to act upon our suffering. How to carry ourselves in Christ. Please know that every sorrow carried can be in union with Christ, even if He seems hidden now; your pain can bear fruit because of Christ.

There is a pattern in our faith — through suffering, there is glory.

The Cross always precedes the Resurrection.

“If we died with Him, we shall also live with Him.” ~2 Timothy 2:11

May the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. ~Amen.