Our Small Calvaries

Divine Appeal Reflection - 236

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 236: "Suffer and learn, united with the sufferings of My Mother at the foot of the Cross. I will not abandon you until I have led you to the room of My Eternal Splendours."

There are moments in life when pain seems to press so deeply into the soul that words fail. These moments—the death of a loved one, a betrayal you never expected, a chronic illness, a prayer that goes unanswered for years—are our small Calvaries. They may not make headlines or attract sympathy, but they cut deeply and demand much. And yet, in these very places, our Adorable Jesus stands beside us. His invitation in Divine Appeal is not one of resignation but of profound intimacy: Suffer and learn, not alone, but with Him—and with His Mother, who knows what it means to watch Love suffer.

To suffer with Mary is to stand in the storm and refuse to let go of God. She didn’t collapse beneath the Cross—she remained. She didn’t fix the suffering—she embraced it with her Son. Suffering is not always something loud or visible, as demonstrated by saints like St. Charles de Foucauld, who lived among the forgotten and suffered martyrdom in silent, or St. Gemma Galgani, whose body bore the wounds of Christ. Often, it’s a slow offering, a hidden sacrifice, a whispered fiat in the middle of an ordinary, painful day. These saints did not suffer perfectly—but they suffered with love. That’s what transformed them. And that’s what will transform us.

In daily life, our small Calvaries look like forgiveness that costs us our pride, patience in traffic when we want to scream, holding on to faith when God feels distant. We may feel abandoned, but we are never alone. The Catechism tells us that by suffering with Christ, we are drawn into the mystery of His Passion and His power (cf. CCC 1505). St. John Henry Newman, who endured loneliness and misunderstanding, once wrote that suffering is the way God writes His truth onto the soul. And isn’t that what our Adorable Jesus is doing? He is not merely allowing pain; He is carving eternity into us, shaping us with hands marked by nails.

And amid all of it, our Adorable Jesus reassures us: I will not abandon you. We are never alone at our small Calvaries. He is there in the silence, guiding us toward “the room of My Eternal Splendours.” This promise is not distant or vague—it begins in the soul that consents to love in suffering. Our crosses are not detours from God’s plan; they are the way. If we cling to Him, as Mary did, we will find that even the darkest pain becomes luminous with divine purpose. Let us embrace our small Calvaries with courage, knowing that every tear shed in faith builds a bridge to glory.

Prayer

O our Adorable Jesus, in the loneliness of our hearts and the ache of our small Calvaries, draw near. Help us suffer with love, as Your Mother did. Give us strength to learn through pain and grace to never let go. In our sorrow, in our surrender, and in our hope—we are Yours. 

Sr. Anna Ali of the Most Holy Eucharist, intercede for us.