“For when I am weak, then I am strong.” 2 Corinthians, 12:10

This “holy irony” may not be as shocking as “the poor inheriting the Kingdom of Heaven” or Our Lord’s invitation to share in a cross which He said, “is easy and its burden light.” But the concept of weakness bearing strength is more than a theory or irony and continues to stand the test of time.

Some of the strongest people I know are those who wrap their arms around some of life’s weakest, most vulnerable moments. I’d like to tell you their stories, for they are the stories of ordinary women living out extraordinary strength by the nature of their call.

A woman’s strength looks like my childhood neighbor named Cathy who watched my siblings and me play outside each afternoon from her big kitchen window. To me, Cathy was the “crazy sock lady” who wore a colorful scarf around her bald head. She let us swim in her pool, feed her dogs, and take care of her plants when she went on vacation. Cathy always returned the stray foam arrows that somehow escaped into her yard from my brother’s little bow. She laughed and waved to us as if she had a special place in this world – until one day, she simply left it in a silent, peaceful sleep. Her heart won every day that her body lost to cancer.

A woman’s strength looks like a mother I know, who once lifted the blanket from her newborn daughter’s carseat one last time before handing her over to her adoptive parents. The letter accompanying the baby explained it all – her love, faith, and the importance of the adoptive parents in her newborn life. It would be 31 years until this mother would see her daughter’s beautiful face again in a triumphant reunion.

A woman’s strength looks like a young bride from Indiana I learned about last year who called off her wedding a week before she was supposed to walk down the aisle. In the midst of her loss and pain she had the strength to turn her own marriage feast into a marriage feast for the hungry. This woman invited 150 homeless from the community to her wedding reception – attending the event herself and making sure they were served as her wedding guests.

These women live, without a doubt, unshakable strength, rising above fear, loss, comparison, and grief in challenging times. And they do so silently, unaware that they are exercising their heart and growing it’s capacity to endure. I am convinced that their superhuman strength comes from the weight of their love.

A woman can and should claim for herself the chief place in love.* This means that she governs, rules, and reigns in all things relating to the heart, which is in and of itself the very core of our human existence. A woman’s “weakness” comes from her ability to be to be vulnerable, which sometimes means getting hurt.  And what we see in the examples above are women who, without knowing it, have mastered the art of bearing and healing of wounds. It is because they love that they are wounded. And because they love – that they rise beyond the wound to a summit of strength.

Perhaps, in a work of perfect irony, they capture the essence of what it means to be a woman, who, when she is her weakest, is her strongest!

The women mentioned above are not unique to their sex. Far from it! They follow a long line of feminine force before them – from Esther and Judith to St. Joan of Arc and Mother Teresa. And Mary! It is the Blessed Mother’s supernatural mission that glorifies the strength of the “weaker sex,” standing firm at the side of her Son, at the foot of the cross, and in the glory of the resurrection. It is this figure of womanhood that glorifies weakness, prompting us to see the irony and consider her the “strongest sex.” (When I am weak, I am strong…)

Our culture is in a coma of denial and lies where the dignity of true womanhood is concerned. We’ve been given 50 shades of grey to define a lifeless face of femininity. The woman’s strengths are being redefined as weakness while her weaknesses are being hailed as strengths. We have to dig hard to find that heart, where suffering and love thrive and grow into something mysteriously “more.”

As women, what if we were to dig back into the holy irony of superhuman strength in weakness? What if we resolve to commit our lives to rule radically from the heart? What if we embrace the cross when it comes instead of trying to fix, fashion, or forge a new one? We could, no doubt find an awakening from this coma. We could enjoy new life pumping strength, joy, and resiliency throughout nations. 

You are that woman. You carry a burden that no one else knows to the same extent that you do. The very burden that seems to weigh you down at times is actually your secret strength! In the bearing of the weight, you are exercising the biggest muscles in your heart and capacity to love. In the mystery of your weakness, you are building strength that will minister to you, your family, and your community. Allow yourself the chance to take risk in loving, in good times and in the not-so-good times.

Dear sisters, will you join me in a mission of embracing our “weakness” in order to build strength? To own our unique and beautiful hearts that, no matter what comes, cannot be destroyed.

Let’s be okay with not being okay sometimes – mourn when we are called to mourn – cry when we are called to cry.  Every day, we can practice in the “weight-room” of virtue, building the muscles of generosity, the endurance of chastity, and the glow of perseverance. We can witness a bold surrender to God and trust in His providence, stretching out our whole hearts to the people we love and serve.  In this, we can and will truly reclaim our chief place as love.

Yours, Mary

*Casti Cannubi, Pope Piux XI

603.78 miles. That’s the final count for miles walked in 2018 on my fitness app. (That’s almost like walking across the entire state of Texas!) This year was a year of walking – physically, emotionally, and spiritually. As a result, my feet, heart, and soul went on all kinds of adventures! Some steps were those of a daily routine and training while others were steps into places of wonder and joy. Still others led me to challenging and sad places, where love was tested and courage wavered. 

Instead of counting the places and scenes from this past year (because yes, that includes the Camino! The Grand Canyon! Zion National Park!) my heart simply rests in the greatest gift of them all:

I can walk!

That’s a lot more than I could have said in years gone by, crippled in one way or another by physical, emotional, or spiritual wounds.

If you told me in 2013 that I would walk the Camino five years later, I would have thought it a joke (or had visions of being pulled by oxen). Because at this time five years ago, my right foot and leg were extended in a big black “boot” cast, healing from a fracture caused by too much walking. In September of that year, I had the great privilege of walking my first big “hike” which was actually nothing like a hike at all. It was a pilgrimage in upstate New York. I walked about 65 miles in 2.5 days from Lake George to Auriesville in the company of dozens of fellow Catholics – men, women, and children. It was an incredible experience. We walked the same route on which many of the North American Jesuit martyrs were led toward their martyrdom, hundreds of years ago.

While the experience was fruitful for my soul, the walk itself was too much for my feet to handle. At some point in the journey, I developed a fracture. Thinking my pain was no different than anyone else’s (and not wanting to take the “wimp wagon”) I finished the route, walking on the fracture. I couldn’t have done it without the help of a few gracious souls who encouraged me along the way. My cousin in particular was a lifesaver to me. He would walk behind me and “lift” my backpack off my shoulders whenever we came to a steep hill. (Thanks, cousin!)

When I came home from the pilgrimage and couldn’t walk at all, the doctor immediately put my leg in a cast. The injury left me homebound – dependent on others for rides and unable to climb a simple flight of stairs in less than 20 minutes. My hopes and dreams of making any journey by foot, let alone my longstanding dream of one day walking the Camino, seemed to vanish in a fog of pain, healing, and host of complications that ensued in years to follow.

This place of “sedentary confinement” was a physical one by nature. However, I can relate this time in my life to others, where suffering, loss, or even sin made me feel like I was broken, stuck, and officially beyond repair. And I bet you know what I mean, don’t you?

Those times in my life seemed like they would last forever. And to be honest, I cannot quite recount the moment I actually started limping out of those debilitating places in my life. But the when doesn’t really matter, because:

I am walking! Moving from right to left, up and down, limping along (usually out of breath), and every once and awhile soaring above the clouds.

And this year alone, my once broken foot took me across 603.78 miles by just placing one foot in front of the other. With the proper care, time for healing, and carefully calculated training, my foot did not waver. And just like that, my heart too, has recovered.

I may not be able to place when it happened, but I can tell you it didn’t happen overnight. It took a lot of patience, a whole lot of waiting, and the willingness to let some of those dreams go. The time spent tending to these wounds proved to be one of the greatest healing agents of them all. And the same foot that broke in the Adirondack Mountains on pilgrimage made it through the hills of Galacia Spain to the foot of the Cathedral at Santiago de Compostela – five years later. That, my friends, is nothing short of a miracle.

Perhaps your eyes will open upon this new year 2019 in a state of stillness. Maybe you are unable to move from trauma of loss, suffering, or sin. Your feet might be broken and the cast might still be on from your past falls. If this is the case, dear reader, do not lose hope. Let the new year greet you as it will… in this year, you WILL learn how to walk again. Be they baby steps or running leaps, you will begin to move forward in the exact time needed to make a full (and even more complete!) recovery.

Allow yourself the receptivity to time and healing. And who knows? Maybe 2019 will be the year you walk again!

Mark my words: you WILL go places and distances you never thought possible. Like 603.78 miles – or more!

~~~~~~~~~~~

And oh, how aware I am that I am not here alone. Like my cousin, a few dear souls have, without being asked or rewarded, encouraged me to take steps, joined me on the journey, and have taken delight with me in the wonders along the way. I wouldn’t be here today were it not for these dear friends. As 2018 comes to a close and a new year dawns even brighter on the horizon, I thank God for the gift of walking and the movement that drives me always forward. Come, join me!

Verso l’alto!

Happy New Year! ~ Mary