Being dependent on others is spiritually difficult. That’s just one of the lessons I’ve learned during my summer of suffering.

It started in late spring when I experienced debilitating back spasms. I was prescribed a muscle relaxant that induced a violent physical reaction, causing my family to call 911 and sending me to hospital for 12 days. I was virtually immobilized for well over a month and discovered what it’s like to surrender a busy work agenda and summer holiday plans.

Throughout a hot summer, I was almost totally dependent on family and friends. All of my life I’ve worked hard to be in control. But I had to learn how it felt to have little control over your life.

Over the years I’ve read many books about saints who said suffering is a gift. But between rounds of morphine, medical appointments, medical tests and excruciating pain, this gift has been hard to accept. Still, I’m trying. And there has been some joy among the pain.

One night, I was crying out with despair. My teenaged son looked me in the eye and said: “Mom, offer it up! Do you know how many people you can help with this? Offer it up! That’s what you always tell me. Offer it up as a sacrifice.” 

As a mother of two teenagers my heart soared to heaven and back again. It was the same when my daughter brought me my favourite candy bar, Coffee Crisp, after school just to cheer me up.

I have become particularly grateful for the sacrament of marriage and the gift of family. Who else besides my husband and children would help me do all the things I’ve been physically unable to do myself? Early in my ordeal, I laughed when my husband remarked: “How in the world have you made dinner every night for all these years? I’ve made dinner for three days in a row and I am already running out of ideas?”

After a recent appointment with an orthopedic surgeon, feeling a bit confident about using my new walker, I thought I’d try to run an errand. With my husband out front and me wobbling behind, I made my way through the mall to update my driver’s license. It was overwhelming to see people moving so quickly while I shuffled along in my walker. Everyone seemed in such a hurry. 
I ended up stepping on something that tweaked my back and pinched a nerve. I screamed. I was standing in my walker, in the mall, screaming in pain.

When I found a chair, a little old lady, probably in her mid-80s, wearing a pink blouse, with silver hair, all sorts of delightful jewelry and just the right amount of makeup, sat right down beside me. My eyes were closed and tearing up, and I was praying under my breath. She put her hand on top of mine and gently said: “God will help you through this!”

Her face was angelic. She said a few things to encourage me. Before long we were both in tears, talking about our love for Him. Her name was Iva. I will never forget that precious moment when a stranger, a sister in Christ, reached out to ease my suffering. It made me think of all the times I ignored people because I was in a hurry.

After some rest, I wheeled to a mall exit while my husband got the car. Another woman approached me. She told me about the time a few years ago that she was rear-ended by a drunk driver. She understood pain and she consoled me.
Moments later I noticed a man walking stiffly with a grocery cart. I asked him, “Do you have a back injury?”
“Oh no, I had a stroke a few years ago,” he replied.
 That night I prayed the chaplet and the rosary, praying for my family, my new friends at the mall and all people who are suffering, sick or lonely.

My injury, the ordeal in the walker, the entire summer of pain, has opened up a new world.
There have been bittersweet moments of joy amidst the pain. I thank God for each and every one of them.

My husband and I come from different backgrounds and we often have lively discussions. But one time I blurted out something that left us both stunned.

We were attending the Ontario University Fair at the Metro Convention Centre in downtown Toronto. Along with thousands of others, we came to speak with representatives from Ontario’s 21 universities. We have two kids in high school and, like most kids, they have multiple options after graduation. At the fair, students trudged from one booth to another seeking an answer to the question all young people face at some point: “What do I want to do when I grow up?”

As a young mother I was warned about the “terrible twos.” When my children got older, I was cautioned about the challenging teen years.

But I found raising a two year old exhilarating, not terrible, and the same goes for raising two teenagers. But that’s not to suggest we don’t have our moments.

My mother has always said that many Catholics “go looking” for specific penances to perform during Lent although God Himself will bring opportunities for sanctification right to our doorstep.

She has often suggested that rather than pre-determining specific resolutions, prayers, sacrifices or donations, why not approach the grace-filled season of Lent with openness and a commitment to lovingly respond to that which God brings? Her basic premise is this: while someone is spending time searching how to best serve God, they might be overlooking an opportunity to serve Him that lies right in front of them.

It’s not often I get to exchange thoughts with a prominent Catholic philosopher and theologian, but since writing my book Motherhood Matters I have done exactly that. Getting to know Dr. Alice von Hildebrand has had a dramatic impact on my life. 

Von Hildebrand, 89, spent 37 years as a professor of philosophy at Hunter College in New York, where she authored several books. Her husband, Dietrich von Hildebrand, was considered among the great Catholic philosophers of the 20th century. In retirement, she became a sought-after lecturer and TV commentator who speaks passionately about true Catholic femininity.

There is a new social phenomenon affecting thousands of families. For many, it is bewildering, even infuriating. For others, it’s addictive.

I call this new phenomenon Together but Texting — people socializing through text messaging. We’ve all seen it and, quite likely, been with people while they’ve had their eyes, minds and fingers focussed on their cellphone, Blackberry or iPad. Sometimes it’s as if their very soul is immersed.

Anyone who has been passing newsstands lately will have noticed that magazine covers aren’t what they used to be. They’re more showy and sensational, much different from days gone by.

At Christmastime especially I have noticed more magazines and advertisements shouting out “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas.” It drives me crazy.

My 86-year-old mother has also noticed this change. She made a comment the other day that made me pause.

At Advent I’m flooded with memories of childhood and growing up in a devout Polish immigrant home. My family’s life revolved around Toronto’s St. Stanislaus Kostka Church at Queen and Bathurst. I would be there several times a week for catechism classes, Polish school, youth group, Polish folk dancing, my dad’s choir practice, mom’s Legion of Mary.

During Advent there were church rehearsals for the parish Nativity play, one of the biggest Sunday afternoons of the year when we’d await the spectacular visit from St. Nicolas. Dressed like a bishop, he brought goodies for all the kids.

There really is such a thing as the sound of a jaw dropping. And you can hear it over the phone.

“Dorothy, you’re home? You are not in Spain? I just wired you $500!”

That’s when my friend’s jaw dropped, and I got an instant pain in my stomach. Earlier that morning I learned that hackers had invaded one of my e-mail accounts. A professional ring of scammers, pretending to be me, told everyone in my address book I had been burglarized and left stranded at the embassy in Valencia. And I was desperate for financial help.

The following is an edited excerpt from Motherhood Matters: Inspirational Stories, Letters, Quotes & Prayers for Catholic Moms by Dorothy Pilarski and published by Catholic Register Books.

At the beginning of November we celebrate All Saints Day and All Souls Day, and Remembrance Day follows soon thereafter. These three days remind Catholics to be united in mind and heart with both the saints in heaven and the souls in purgatory. We should be thankful for those who died as martyrs defending our faith and those who died to preserve our freedom.