As I love God so much, I find it hard to offer up my pains and troubles to him

There is a strange and quietly painful contradiction in the Christian life that we don’t often talk about. It’s this: sometimes the deeper our love for God becomes, the harder it feels to bring Him our sufferings.

It sounds illogical at first. 

Shouldn’t love mean we share everything? 

Shouldn’t a child run to their loving Father when they are hurting? 

Yes, of course - and we know this in our heads. But in the depths of our hearts, many of us who are striving to live closely with Christ, especially in the Catholic tradition, can feel an invisible wall when it comes to offering up our own pains.

We hold back, not because we don’t trust God, but because we love Him so much that we simply don’t want to cause Him any more sorrow.

An easy prayer to remember...

For the souls in purgatory suffering there,

the cleansing furnace which they bear,

Father quench those flames for their pain to cease,

and lead them home... to Heaven... and peace. 

Praying for the souls in Purgatory

For the souls in purgatory suffering there,

the cleansing furnace which they bear,

Father quench those flames for their pain to cease,

and lead them home... to Heaven... and peace.

The 24/7 Catholic Monthly - 1st November 2025 - All Saints and All Souls

Welcome to the November edition of The 24/7 Catholic Monthly. 

This month, the Church turns her gaze toward heaven and eternity. It is a time of joyful honour and solemn prayer.

 The glory of All Saints Day meets the compassion of All Souls Day, reminding us that we are all on a journey—pilgrims bound for glory, with the communion of saints cheering us on.

November is the month of the Holy Souls in Purgatory, a time to remember those who have gone before us, and to lift them in prayer and love. It is also a month to renew our own longing for heaven. The saints show us what we are called to be. The souls remind us to live well, and die in grace.

What If?

Imagine that we are told — with absolute certainty — that tomorrow is our last day on this earth. Not a warning, not a guess, but a certainty. We know that when the sun sets tonight, it will be the last time we draw breath, the last time we hear the voice of a loved one, the last opportunity to embrace, to pray, or to repent.

If we truly believed tomorrow was our final day, how many of us would hesitate to go to Confession today? How many of us would allow pride, embarrassment, or fear to keep us from this beautiful sacrament of mercy and healing?

He stays close to us, wanting us to obey him so that we can spend eternity with him.

He never leaves our side for long. His presence is constant — a whisper in the quiet, a shadow at the edge of thought, a suggestion just when we're weakest. 

He doesn't always reveal himself in obvious ways, but he's there, patient, persistent, persuasive. 

He seems to know us better than anyone else, and at times it feels as though his will for our lives might even align with our own desires. After all, he speaks in the language of comfort, ease, and self-justification — and who could resist something that feels so familiar, so reassuring, so much like what we already want?

He tells us that obedience to him will bring us peace. That if we follow his lead, we will find freedom from guilt, acceptance from others, and the joy of doing what feels right. His voice rarely shouts — it murmurs. It adapts. It bends itself to suit our mood and moment....

The Golden Glow Of Autumn In Our Blessed Mother’s Garden

There are the days in October when sunlight feels almost sacred — when it lingers longer than expected on every leaf, softening the edges of the world. It is as though Heaven itself leans a little closer to the earth. 

This is the golden glow of autumn — that brief and holy time when creation bows gracefully toward its rest, clothed in splendour before surrendering to stillness.

In such light, even the simplest corner of the parish can seem touched by eternity. Behind Our Lady of Lourdes Catholic Church in New Milton lies a quiet space that seems made for this season — Our Blessed Mother’s garden, wild yet peaceful, small yet filled with meaning.

It is not the kind of garden you find in glossy books or perfect rows. It is the kind of place where beauty whispers, where holiness hides among fallen leaves, and where anyone weary in soul can sit for a while and simply be.