Crosses Come in All Shapes and Sizes

I generally don’t like sermons (also known as “homilies” if you’re Catholic). It is rare when what the priest or minister or rabbi or Zen master says really strikes home with me. In fact, I often suffer from amnesia after walking out of the service. It’s not necessarily the fault of the person doing the preaching. It’s all a matter of timing, of saying the right words at exactly the right moment.

Father Michael scored with me at Mass this morning.

Father Michael gave his homily as I was sitting with my wife in the pew, holding Asher in my arms. The little boy was tired, and he snuggled with me. Karin and I listened to the priest as Asher laid his head on my shoulder.

The topic of the sermon was about embracing the cross. Christians often talk about emulating Jesus by “carrying their cross” Father Michael attempted to differentiate between “carrying” a cross and “embracing” a cross. It might seem nitpicky, but as the priest said, “Words are important.”

Father Michael gave the congregation the hypothetical example of a young family who seemed to have everything going for it. Then, the father is diagnosed with a debilitating and chronic illness. He can’t work anymore, and the comfortable life of the family members is shattered.

Enter the cross.

I was told once that when something terrible happens to a person, that event, in and of itself, is not about carrying a cross, much less embracing it. The person has no control over the misfortune. However, the person has a choice about what to do about that crisis. The person might accept it, with reluctance and resentment. In that case, the individual is just carrying the cross. If a person responds to the situation with love and compassion, then he or she is embracing their cross. That makes all the difference.

As Father Michael spoke, I thought back to February 2nd, 2021, when a lady from CPS was at our kitchen table asking if Karin and I would agree to be Asher’s foster parents. The woman was asking us for an open-ended commitment to raise the baby boy. We immediately said, “Yes.” There was no question in our minds about doing that. Did we know what we were doing? No. However, we embraced the cross that day, and we have never looked back.

As I listened to the homily, Asher nuzzled some more, stroking my forearm with his small hand. It’s hard in a way to think of Asher as a “cross”. He is both a blessing and a burden. Father Michael remarked that, by embracing the cross, a person ends an old way of life and starts a new one. It’s both a Good Friday and an Easter Sunday. Crosses came in all shapes and sizes. Ours is a toddler with a strong will and unlimited energy.

Karin was listening too. She took a long look at Asher. As the priest talked about the cross, she asked me, “Asher?”

I nodded. Both of us had wet eyes.

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This first appeared in Frank’s Blog on September 3, 2023.

Frank (Francis) Pauc is a graduate of West Point, Class of 1980. He completed the Military Intelligence Basic Course at Fort Huachuca and then went to Flight School at Fort Rucker. Frank was stationed with the 3rd Armor Division in West Germany at Fliegerhorst Airfield from December 1981 to January 1985. He flew Hueys and Black Hawks and was next assigned to the 7th Infantry Division at Fort Ord, CA. He got the hell out of the Army in August 1986.

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