Thread by @Chris_SmithsJ

There was a time in my life after I finished college & lost my faith, when I struggled and fell going down a dark road of self-numbing & self-medicating, I was laid off from my chemistry job, and I returned home feeling shame (although it wasn’t my fault). My father lost (1/17)

His job after having a stroke, and my mother was at her personal breaking point working full time and taking care of her mother. Tired of feeling miserable, guilty, and directionless I went to one twelve step meeting of some sort. I don’t recall which (after it I realized (2/17)

that that wasn’t the program for me & eventually when I started teaching & believing I stopped/quit, but that’s another story). After the meeting, this huge hillbilly (& I’m from Appalachia, so I can say that, and I mean it) from a holler somewhere came up to me. (3/17)

I had shared about how miserable I was, and all of the many woes that I have to carry, and I had been feeling so so sorry for my poor self. This country man told me he’d like to share a story that he thought might help:
“A man prayed to St. Peter every night: (4/17)

‘Peter, help me, I’m struggling, I’m sinking, my cross is too heavy… I can’t carry it any longer. Please please let me exchange it.’ Eventually, St. Peter (probably sick of the photocopied novena prayers left in the church by the petitioner) appeared to him in a dream (5/17)

And led him into a fortified palace in paradise. ‘This’ Peter said, ‘is the vault of crosses…’ The man looked around in awe: some crosses were hundreds of feet tall, others were broad and thick. Some were made of pure lead, others of denser Osmium. Some had spikes. (6/17)

The man shuddered as he spied all of them in their gruesomeness. Eventually the man found a cross that was teeny-tiny: made of cloth, and tucked far back in a corner. ‘Ah’ the man said ‘Now THAT is a cross that I can bear. May I please exchange mine for that one?’(7/17)

‘As you desire my Son’ the Prince of Apostles answered. The man walked off joyfully and woke refreshed the next day. As soon as he left, God called to Peter, ‘How’d it go, Rocky?’ ‘Same as it always does—' Peter answered, 'He left with the same cross he came with’” (8/17)

I don’t remember how I responded, but, that story cut deep. In the group that night were people who had been to jail, who had experienced homelessness, and who had been given <.001% of the opportunities that I had been awarded. (9/17)

I always think of that story on this ancient and wonderful feast day. On my little (actual because it’s an actual altar stone) altar stands one of my most prized possessions: two tiny, extremely old, wooden splinters (10/17)

Arranged in a little cross, encased in a glass and brass reliquary: a relic of the true cross. Now… y’all know me. I don’t abide fantastic legends, fanciful apparitions, dubious devotions or questionable relics. I roll my eyes at the 5 skulls of the Baptist (11/17)

At anything that claims to be a piece of an apostle, and at the countless milkteeth and prepuces of the child Christ. I have no clue where this ancient wood actually came from. I do know that one of my dearest friends and spiritual mentors gave it to me when he retired.(12/17)

It was given to him by the Archbishop Bishop of Mobile Alabama when he retired. It was given to him by St. Paul VI at the end of the last session of Vatican II, and Paul took it from the relics of Santa Croce in Gerusalemme. (13/17)

Whatever its provenance, these splinters have been carried into battle, venerated by kings and saints, and lovingly passed on. If they weren’t from Jesus’ cross to begin with, they are certainly a part of the ‘true cross’ from all of the devotion that they have received. (14/17)

What a beautiful reminder to me this morning as I awake unable to fall back asleep. As I feel bad for myself as I dread a slight disappointment which will probably come today… as I start to feel sorry for poor poor me. Let me never forget: I carry splinters. (15/17)

And what a blessing to have such a little cross, because my cross is made of His. I can't carry it alone, but with him I can take another step. If I but carry it home, it will be transformed into glory: a little of the brightness of that new day where sorrow is no more. (16/17)

Thank you Lord for your cross and mine.
We adore you O Christ and we bless you, because by your Holy Cross you have redeemed the world. Hallelujah. Amen.
(ICUWW the Cross is the short one, Therese, Mary Margaret Alacoque and the North American Martyrs surround it). (17/17)