“Revival: A Lenten Devotional for Eucharistic Renewal,” is a series of simple, daily reflections that will help Catholics rekindle a living relationship with Jesus by reflecting on their relationship with the Lord, the Eucharist, and our missionary call to share the love of God with our neighbors.
“Medically, there’s nothing more I can do for you,” my doctor, Mary Jo, said to my husband and me. “You just have to go home to rest and heal,” she gently explained.
“But you must be able to do something!” I implored her as the tears poured down my face.
“I’m sorry, Julianne,” she said, “there are some things that not even we doctors know how to fix.”
My husband’s face was gray and ashy as he held my hand. We left the hospital and headed home.
My husband and I were expecting our second child, and I was entering my second trimester. Our pregnancy seemed to have been progressing normally until one day I woke up and knew that I had to get to the hospital. Our kind and compassionate doctor confirmed that we were losing our son. No medical procedure could stop this from happening, we were told. We prayed and prayed for a miracle. Through this process, our kind and gentle parish priest was by our side both physically and spiritually, offering the gifts of prayer, his presence, and the strength of Jesus in the Eucharist.
On the day our son was born, he passed into eternal life. Yet his life was, and still is, full of meaning and dignity. My husband cradled his tiny body—our child, our son—who fit so perfectly in the palm of his father’s hand. Christopher Joseph’s burial was simple and carried out by our priest with great care and compassion.
Throughout this painful time, I began to see miracles of grace that carried us through the worst of days. Flowers from a friend, a comforting note from a family member overseas, and our parish family inviting my husband and me to an infant loss and memorial service were just a few of those timely graces. Mass took on a new meaning for us. We knew we are joined in eternity to Jesus Christ through his life, Death, Resurrection, and Ascension. The words of the embolism at Mass resonated as if I was hearing them for the first time, especially as the priest prayed: “Graciously grant peace in our day that by the help of your mercy, we may be always free from sin and safe from all distress, as we await the blessed hope and the coming of our Savior, Jesus Christ.” In our own distress, we waited in hope to see our son again.
“My soul is deprived of peace, I have forgotten what happiness is; I tell myself my future is lost, all that I hoped for from the Lord. But I will call this to mind, as my reason to have hope: The favors of the Lord are not exhausted, his mercies are not spent; They are renewed each morning, so great is his faithfulness. My portion is the Lord, says my soul; Therefore I will hope in him.” (Lamentations 3:17-18, 21-24)
