There are some kinds of suffering we talk about openly.
And then there are the sufferings people carry quietly.
The ones we whisper about.
The ones we aren't quite sure who is safe enough to tell.
The ones that leave us sitting in the pew on Sunday surrounded by people, yet feeling completely alone.
After my conversation with my dear friend Coach Crystal for Episode #178 of Cycles & Sanctity, I kept thinking about the Catholic mothers and families who are carrying one of those hidden hurts.
Their son or daughter identifies as gay.
A loved one identifies as transgender.
A spouse, sibling, or someone else they deeply love is living a life they never anticipated.
And suddenly they find themselves caught in what can feel like an impossible place:
I love my child. I love my Catholic faith. I don't want to lose either one.
Crystal hears this again and again from the women she serves.
She told me some of them come to her saying:
“I'm tired of walking on eggshells.”
Or:
“I'm so afraid to say or do anything because I'm afraid it will ruin the relationship with my child.”
That breaks my heart.
Because underneath those words is often a mother who loves deeply.
A mother who is grieving.
A mother who is afraid.
A mother who may be wondering, What did I do wrong?
And perhaps most painfully, a mother who doesn't know where she can safely say any of it out loud.
I Admire Crystal's Courage
This is one of the reasons I admire Crystal so much.
She has stepped into a community that is both hidden and hurting.
It would be easier to avoid these conversations. They can be complicated. They can be emotionally charged. People can be afraid of saying the wrong thing.
But Crystal isn't running away from the messiness.
She is walking toward the person who is hurting.
And I believe that takes tremendous courage.
But even more than her courage, I was moved by her compassion.
When Crystal described the families God has brought to her, she didn't talk about them as problems she needed to solve.
She talked about their grief.
Their relationships.
Their longing for peace.
And their need for a safe place.
She said:
“Having the safe space where they don't have to explain anything, where they can just tell their story, and be seen, and be heard, and be loved, and not be judged. So that's the starting point.”
That is the heart of a coach.
And I would say it is also the heart of accompaniment.
Tell me your story.
Let me sit here with you.
You don't have to pretend with me.
You don't have to have everything figured out before you are worthy of being loved.
“Your Job Is to Love Your Child”
There was one moment in our conversation that especially stayed with me.
Crystal shared the story of a mother who had received very different advice about how to handle her relationship with her child.
Then she shared the advice the woman's pastor gave her:
“Your job is to love your child.”
Crystal continued:
“That's where we start.”
Love.
Not control.
Not panic.
Not fixing.
Not manipulating another person into making the choices we wish they would make.
Love.
That doesn't mean we abandon our beliefs.
It doesn't mean difficult questions disappear.
It doesn't mean there won't be grief.
It means that before we decide what we are going to do, we remember who we are called to be.
We are Christians.
And we are called to love.
But What Does Love Actually Look Like?
This is where Crystal's coaching becomes so practical.
Because “just love them” sounds beautiful.
But when you're sitting across from someone you love and your heart is racing, you're afraid of losing them, and every part of you wants to jump in and correct, defend, explain, convince, or fix...
What does love look like then?
Sometimes it looks like listening.
Really listening.
Crystal explained that listening isn't sitting quietly while we're internally preparing our rebuttal.
She said:
“When you're listening for understanding, you're really trying to put yourself in their shoes.”
I loved that.
Because so often we listen in order to respond.
We listen in order to correct.
We listen in order to get our point across.
But what if, for a moment, I became curious?
What is this person trying to tell me?
What are they feeling?
What are they afraid of?
What is underneath these words?
And then there's another question:
What is happening inside of me while I'm listening?
Am I getting angry?
Am I afraid?
Am I becoming defensive?
Am I trying to control the outcome?
That is where our own interior work begins.
You Cannot Fix Another Person
As mothers, this one can be hard.
We are fixers!
When our children were little, they fell down and we picked them up.
They scraped a knee and we found the Band-Aid.
They were hurting and everything inside of us wanted to make the hurt disappear.
Then they become adults.
And suddenly we discover something incredibly humbling:
Their lives are theirs.
Their decisions are theirs.
Their relationship with God is theirs.
Crystal said something during our conversation that I think many of us need to hear:
“We're not going to change the circumstance. That's not our work to do. That's God's.”
Oh, friends.
How much suffering do we create when we try to do God's job?
We can love.
We can pray.
We can listen.
We can speak when God asks us to speak.
We can remain faithful.
We can work on our own hearts.
But we cannot force another person's journey.
There is tremendous freedom in finally allowing God to be God.
And There Is Hope
If you are reading this and this is your story, I especially want you to hear this:
God has not abandoned you.
Your family is not beyond His reach.
Your relationship is not beyond His mercy.
And neither are you.
Maybe you're angry with God.
Crystal told me she sees that, too.
The questions can come pouring out:
Why me, Lord?
Why my child?
Why did You allow this?
Why aren't You fixing this?
Crystal described the grief as sometimes coming in enormous waves—sometimes even feeling like a tsunami.
God can handle those questions.
Bring Him your anger.
Bring Him your confusion.
Bring Him your disappointment.
Bring Him your fear.
Bring Him the relationship you desperately want to fix.
His Mercy is never ending.
His Love is everlasting.
And He loves your child even more than you do.
You do not have to carry the responsibility of being their savior.
Jesus already is.
Maybe Crystal Is Someone God Wants to Put in Your Path
If you've been carrying this quietly, I don't want you to carry it alone anymore.
She created it to help people learn what it actually means to listen—to move beyond simply keeping our mouths closed and instead become curious about the person in front of us, seek understanding, and recognize what is happening within our own hearts as we listen.
If you have a son, daughter, spouse, sibling, friend, or another person you love who identifies as LGBTQ+, I want to encourage you to consider joining her.
Not because Crystal is going to give you a magic formula to change another person.
That's not what she promises.
Come because you may need a safe place.
Come because your heart may need healing.
Come because you want to learn how to listen differently.
Come because you want to love more freely.
Come because you want to remain close to Jesus while navigating a relationship you never expected to be navigating.
And if this isn't your story, perhaps you know someone whose story it is.
Sometimes one of the greatest acts of love is simply letting another person know:
I see you.
You don't have to hide.
You don't have to carry this alone.
There is room for your grief.
There is room for your questions.
There is room for healing.
And above all, there is always room in the merciful Heart of Jesus.
Because His Mercy is never ending.
His Love is everlasting.
And He is not finished writing your family's story.