They endure it. They survive it. They get through it and then move on like it was just something that happened to them, something random and pointless that they had to power through. 💔

My faith offers me something different. It doesn't take the pain away—that would be a lie I can't tell. But it gives the pain meaning. When I suffer and I can offer it up, when I can say "this matters, this connects me to something deeper, this is part of something larger than my own small hurt," it changes everything. 🕯️

I'm not grateful for suffering. That would be twisted. But I'm grateful for a framework that lets me transform suffering into something that serves a purpose. That lets me say my pain isn't wasted. It's not just happening to me—I'm choosing to let it matter. 💫

When someone I love is struggling, I can sit with them and offer more than just sympathy. I can offer the understanding that their struggle, if they choose to see it this way, can become a form of prayer. It can become a connection to something sacred. It can become the way they grow, not just the way they break. 🌿

Without this understanding, pain is just pain—pointless and cruel. But with it? Even the hardest moments become part of my spiritual life. They become proof that I'm becoming stronger, deeper, more like Christ in my willingness to carry a cross. 🙏

Is it possible that the suffering we think is senseless could actually be shaping us into better versions of ourselves? 💭✨