Suffer Well

Getting comfortable with being uncomfortable

Hello friends! This is Peregrino, a newsletter about the journey. You’re about to read essay #35 of “40 Before 40,” a memoir I intend to finish before I enter midlife in Q1 2024. The previous 34 essays in this series can be found here.

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There are right and wrong ways of doing something. You can use a butter knife as a screwdriver, but that's not what it was made for. It’ll do in a pinch, but it’s not optimal. I spent most of my twenties using butter knives when I needed a screwdriver. In my thirties, I started understanding that the right tool for the right job makes a lot of difference. It’s okay to channel your inner McGyver when needed, but we’d be better off doing things well in the long run.

I have been mulling over the idea of suffering, particularly a phrase that sounds like it belongs on a bumper sticker or a motivational poster: suffer well. Suffering is unavoidable; it is a part of the human experience. The part of my brain that cares about efficiency started spinning when I considered the right way to suffer.

Right after I reverted to the faith, I learned about redemptive suffering, the Christian belief that human suffering, when accepted and offered up in union with the Passion of Jesus, can remit the just punishment for one's sins or the sins of another, or the other physical or spiritual needs of oneself or another. We can profit from our suffering; that’s excellent news.

I’m not someone who seeks to suffer voluntarily. However, I’m glad I can draw something good out of suffering—for example, hunger pangs. Food is good. Fasting, voluntarily depriving ourselves of food, is also good. Still, fasting can lead to hunger pangs. What do we do when that happens? We could break our fast and have some food. We could also train our bodies to ride the wave, drink water, go for a walk to get our minds off food, and continue our fast. Add prayer and fasting becomes even more beneficial. 

With fasting, we decide when to stop eating and break the fast. We have control over it. How about minor discomforts and annoyances that happen throughout the day? Of course, we can offer them up, but I rarely remember to do so. Why? Because I have the wrong disposition. I’m not St. There of Lisieux offering the pains caused by tuberculosis for the conversion of sinners. I’m over here, bothered because my daughter has asked for a snack for the nth time today, the dishwasher is leaking, and my favorite Indian restaurant is closed.

I like to think of voluntary mortification as insurance for future suffering. Granted, I still soothe myself with either entertainment, scrolling on my phone, or food, but I have been working on small changes to help me better handle being uncomfortable. Programs like Exodus90 have helped me tap into asceticism as a remedy for my addiction to comfort.

So far, God has been merciful to me. There have been a few occasions that have made me very uncomfortable, like Diana having two high-risk pregnancies with Lucia and Mateo or Oliver and Lucia needing to stay in the NCU because of jaundice. Everything is fine now, but going through it was not pleasant. I had to dig in and cling to the Lord, especially when I couldn’t see the big picture. Trusting God in those moments has brought me so much joy that I’m thankful for those events. 

I remember talking to another dad while riding the Phoenix Children's Hospital elevator during our 24-hour stay with Lucia. This man had a kid who had been living in the hospital for years, yet he seemed optimistic they could all go home soon. I got a lot of perspective from that man. It can always be worse.

The best and closest example of suffering well has been my parents. Seeing how they handled my sister’s accident and its aftermath is remarkable. They did what had to be done. They’re also very stubborn, which, in this case, was a positive thing. It’s a good reminder that we can do hard things and that everything is possible with God.

I don’t want to live fearing the obstacles or trials God will send. I know he’s infinite goodness and wants what’s best for me. And because he wants what’s best for me, he allows certain things to happen that will lead me closer to him. The problem is I have difficulty remembering that God’s will is better than mine. And that sometimes, to get this exceptional thing, we must go through some pruning to appreciate what we receive.

I’m striving to get comfortable with being uncomfortable. It sounds dumb, but it makes sense to me. I feel invited to go deeper and seek God’s will more perfectly in my life. And since I like a good challenge, I’m working through these thoughts on suffering, silence, and joy. I have most of the puzzle pieces but haven’t even started putting them together.