728. Moments that People who Have Not Gone Through Them Cannot Possibly Understand

💌728. Moments that People who Have Not Gone Through Them Cannot Possibly Understand

Mr. Rufino had already used the bathroom at my home before we left for elderly man Bong’s house, but then he suddenly left again, saying he needed to use the bathroom once more. I was utterly exhausted and felt like I might collapse at any moment, but I did not want to waste even a second. “What if the elderly man notices the tiredness in my voice or on my face and starts to worry? I should quietly fetch some water first and then go greet him.”

I had to try even harder to make sure no sound came out as I carried the bucket out of the kitchen. My whole body was already drenched in sweat. But what could be more important than preparing the elderly man’s body and soul for the baptism he would receive tomorrow? I wanted to prepare the elderly man for his baptism by offering it up through the Prayers of Life—not only to cleanse his body, but also to purify his soul.

Entrusting myself entirely to Jesus, I gave it my all as I carried the bucket. The distance from the kitchen to the front gate was quite far. The roughly five meters from the gate to the spring was actually shorter. I walked for what felt like a long time, drenched in sweat. It was less like walking and more like inching forward—but in my heart, I was sprinting straight to the spring.

Practicing Semchigo as if the walk had been easy, I barely reached the front gate. I paused for a moment, struggling to catch my breath. Just a little way down the sloped alley past the gate was the spring. It sat about a meter below the roadside, with a knee-high cement wall next to it. “Jesus, please help me. Be with me,” I prayed. Once again, I moved my heavy feet little by little.

Carrying a bucket and struggling not to stumble down the slope, I made my way toward the spring. Crushed by pain, my feet felt as if they were glued to the ground, yet I desperately tried to move forward. Tears clouded my vision. 

“Oh! My beloved Jesus! How could I ever compare my suffering to the path You walked, bearing the heavy cross for the repentance of sinners? Yet You grant this unworthy me the grace to partake in the suffering of Jesus—whose whole body was torn and broken, disfigured by countless insults and scourging—and for this, I am infinitely honored. Beloved Jesus, please let my small sacrifice bring even the tiniest comfort to Your torn Sacred Heart.” I offered it up with a heart walking with the Blessed Mother along the way of the Cross that Jesus so sorrowfully trod, covered in blood.

Compared to the Lord’s Passion and suffering, my pain was utterly insignificant, yet all I could do was give thanks for the chance to offer even a small sacrifice. Dragging and forcing my feet to move hundreds, even thousands of times, I finally reached the entrance to the spring. What would normally take only a few steps had taken an agonizingly long time. A steep and narrow stone staircase led down to the spring.

The five stone steps, crudely fixed with what seemed to be a rough patch of cement, were coarse and uneven, their irregular surfaces and jagged edges littered with small pebbles and stones. With the bucket clenched tightly in one hand and the other bracing against the wall, I dragged my feet as if they were stuck to the earth. My body, barely holding itself up, felt on the verge of collapsing at any moment.

It was simply impossible to walk down the stairs standing upright. I pushed the bucket aside, sat down, and began descending the steps, supporting myself with my arms. Just to get down a single step, I twisted and pushed at my feet, which felt glued to the ground. At most, they might shift a centimeter. I could not move them down onto the next step—only scrape them downward with labored effort.

Exhausted beyond measure, I could barely hold myself up and leaned against the edge of the wall. Still, I could not stop there. Slowly, I managed to move one leg at a time and dropped it onto the next step with a heavy thud. Catching my breath and gathering my wits, I dragged my hips down, almost falling onto the next step. Just as I tried to lower the bucket to the step below, it slipped and almost fell onto the floor of the spring. I reached out to catch it at the last moment.

Unable to catch the falling bucket, I ended up tumbling down the stairs. “Ugh!’’ Amid the pain and dizziness, only praise for the Lord escaped my lips. “Jesus, thank You! Through this agony that feels like death itself, may You be praised and glorified! Please give me strength to draw the water to wash the elderly man who will be baptized tomorrow.”

My personal reflection note with Mama Julia🌹💗 

Link 👇🏻

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