He wept. It was the sobbing-kind of weeping where you can’t control what is happening to you. My husband, Phil, is not the kind of person to cry over his own life situations. Sure, he gets a little teary-eyed when he sees something sad, but now four years into our marriage, I had never seen this type of cathartic weeping from my husband. Crying was what I did. Regardless, here we found ourselves on our knees in adoration before the Blessed Sacrament surrounded by our youth group in prayer and my husband let it all hang out.
As I prayed in adoration beside Phil, I reflected on the beauty of this moment at the feet of Jesus in contrast with the pain of what we had been through. The last few months of fertility treatments had left us suspended in what felt like an eternal wave of darkness. I was struggling with people close to me who had no empathy for our sufferings. There was isolation in my life like I had never felt before. However, being among these young people for this weekend, my heart was filled with hope. The blessing of being called to share the Lord’s love to these youth brought immense joy and consolation. I wondered what weighed on my husband’s heart as I knelt next to him before Jesus. Was he bearing the weight of the darkness that I felt? Was he finally expressing his pain after so many nights of trying to be strong and carrying me through my tears?
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