I had been working with teens at our church for a couple of years when she started coming. It wasn’t that I had “favorite” teens, but somehow I knew that she was one that God wanted me to get to know better. I knew she had problems. Some she told me about. Others were only hinted at. I tried to always make her feel welcome and let her know that I was glad she was there. Her attendance was sporadic. She might come for a few weeks, and then not show for two. I knew she was depressed, cutting, and I worried about her.
This came at a time in my life when I had other things to worry about. My son had had asthma since he was four, and his pulmonologist was having several tests run. He was talking about eventual lung transplants. He thought it was that bad. I never believed the asthma was as bad as that, but what did I know? (It turned out that I was right, but I did not know that at the time.)
One particular Sunday, she came to mass so that her mother would think she was staying for the session, but she left shortly after. Once again, I was worried about her. Where had she gone? What was she doing? Was she okay? All of these things stayed in my mind as I went through the night with the other teens. Finally, she showed up before we were going in for adoration. She had to come back to pick up her brother.
I tried to get her to come in for adoration. I used every argument I had, and I prayed for more. I told her how I prayed for her every day of my life. I told her that some days I prayed more for her than I did for my own children. She still refused. She was going to stay out until it was over and then drive her brother home. Finally, I gave up.
I had a sick feeling in my stomach. I actually hurt. I sat at the back of the chapel and cried as our musician sang and our Lord was brought out. I asked God why he had made me care so much about this one. I didn’t want to care so much. I had my own children to think about. Why did this hurt so much? I didn’t want to feel the pain of caring for a child who clearly had problems beyond my ability to solve and I hadn’t even raised. Take the pain away, I cried, I don’t want to care this much.
Then this thought came into my head: But, my dear, this is what you are supposed to do. You are supposed to take on the pain of others in order to relieve theirs. It is what Jesus did for you and what you all must do for each other.
Then I understood. He had taken on all the pain of our sins so that we would be able to feel the joy of His love. “Love one another as I have loved you.” (John 13:34) I still didn’t want the pain, but I was suddenly willing to bear it.
The girl’s family soon moved away, and I lost contact. Years later, I still think of her sometimes. I still pray for her when I do.