Loss and the suffering associated with it rains down upon us in many forms from virtually the first moment of our births. As a child, we play simple board games and lose half or most or some of the time. We experience injustice, illness, pain, the passing of loved ones (even the young), and family strife. Even siblings can be mean, selfish, nasty, and inconsiderate of each other. Parents routinely lose sleep for the sake of their children and spend entire days fatigued as a result. Virtually all of us lose our jobs or incomes at some point, experiencing material privation. Even the very act of aging, day by day, is a gradual loss of vitality, causing melancholy, bitterness, or useless vanity.

"Days turn to minutes and minutes to memories. Life sweeps away the dreams that we have planned." (John Mellancamp)

Ah, the loss of dreams! Unfulfilled dreams of having professional success, or of finding a spouse, or of having children--these are among the worst losses. Or, having achieved worldly success, we realize too late that our earlier, empty sacrifice of time could have been better spent in prayer and with family.

Two common human reactions to the injustice of loss are anger and despair, in all their degrees and categories. Frustrated, parents give up on reigning in their child's sinful behavior, and thus neglect them. Embittered and humiliated, the formerly hardworking man might become lazy and withdrawn over the years. The Church has long taught that anger is actually a legitimate emotional reaction to injustice. But that does not mean we should be slaves to this emotion. Adults who give in to the anger that arises from mistreatment at the hands of others will become malicious, sullen, and vindictive.

Faith in Jesus in conjunction with our humble acceptance of loss, just or unjust, in all things great and small, is the only mature Christian response. (We are referring here to our internal spiritual response. Injustice often requires us to take steps in our practical actions to correct injustices, or, to make prudential decisions to address the loss--that is, if your child breaks his arm, you must take him to a doctor.) Our faith that God will restore all things (even if only in heaven after our death) opens the door in our soul for hope. We beg you, do not let that word, hope, slide by your mind. Hope is a supernatural virtue, a gift that flows from faith--a powerful reality available from God in matters of loss. When was the last time you felt the awesome power of supernatural hope?

These might sound like lofty and idealistic words, but you will experience (or witness) some kind of loss today, or this week, perhaps in a small matter. When this happens, attempt to examine your internal emotional and spiritual reaction. Then, make an act of faith--tell God that you believe in Him, and that you believe He can and will restore the loss, and remind yourself that God often uses loss (if we accept it correctly) to teach us something, or to prepare the path to some future greater good that is unfathomable at the current moment. After your act of acceptance and faith, make sure your internal spiritual radio is tuned into Channel Hope. Discern hope, feel hope, wait for hope. It will come. If you react this way often enough, hope will begin to shine through your eyes. People will turn to you in times of loss to see and feel the reality of hope in your eyes. In other words, when people see you, they will see ... a saint.
A timely message from Catholic City.
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