Small Struggles....Great Rewards!

If you haven’t read Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables, then you really should.  Believe me, I understand the fear and intimidation that a veritable brick of over 1,000 pages inflicts.  When I first set the book down on my desk, it made an audible “thunk.”  Despite the fact that I am morally opposed to abridged versions of any book, for the sake of expediency most of my seniors and I have been reading an abridged version of roughly 830 pages.  Logistically we couldn’t afford the number of reading days it would take to get through the unabridged version.  At 30 pages a day, 7 days a week, it will take us roughly 27 days to finish the novel….the unabridged would take us around 46 days.
 
Despite reading a shortened version, Hugo has inspired me with his stellar storytelling skills and his passion for the plight of the poor.  His elaborate novel follows the newly-released prisoner, Jean Valjean, who is on the razor’s edge of being an embittered, lifelong criminal.  After stealing bread to feed his sister and her children, Valjean is thrown into prison.  After a handful of escape attempts, his prison sentence reaches the double-digits.  When he is finally released, he despises the “system” and those in charge.  He trusts no one.  But he is brought to salvation by the Christ-like Bishop Bienvenue, who passes the light of redemption to Valjean with an iconic (and symbolic) pair of silver candlesticks.  From then on Valjean lives a life of benevolence, saving a desperate Fantine and her enslaved daughter Cosette and helping the poor.  The story follows the lives of the suffering and the villainous; we watch as characters struggle in a world that is designed to exploit the poor and reward the rich.  Some characters (the Thenardiers) turn to crime and deception; other characters (Marius and little Gavroche, for instance) struggle to live morally upright lives in spite of it all.  This novel is the story of struggle.  Some characters succumb, others sink into the mire, and still others rise above their misfortunes. 

You will find yourself in Hugo’s tale.  You will recognize your own struggles, even though this isn’t the 1800’s, and we are not in the middle of the French Revolution.  And Hugo’s writing is incredibly captivating.  Though I am a typically slow reader, the pages turn quickly for me (especially as Jean Valjean is about to be buried alive in a coffin or is trying to escape the dogged police officer Javert, or Marius is tormented by his love of an unnamed girl in the park who we know is Cosette). 

This week I found a little piece of myself in Les Miserables.  Let me set the scene for you:  Before Marius lays eyes on the young beauty Cosette, he had a fight with his grandfather.  They disagreed with each other’s politics for one thing.  For another, Marius’ grandfather had kept him from his own father, Pontmercy, due to political conflict.  Marius’ father supported Napoleon.  He even fought in the war for Napoleon’s army.  Marius’ grandfather was so opposed to this, he kept Marius away from his father his entire life.  When Marius discovered this deception, it was too late.  His father had died and Marius never enjoyed a reunion.  But he discovered his father’s devotion to Napoleon (and his father’s devotion to him…each week Pontmercy had snuck into the church to watch his son Marius sing).  Marius took up his father’s Napoleonic devotion, which caused a rift with his grandfather.  Marius ran off to Paris and lived in poverty.  He sold his possessions for food, often went days without eating, struggled to find a roof over his head, and lived like the poorest of the poor.  These experiences gave the once privileged Marius a new look at life, and an up-close view of the plight of the poor.  His sufferings made him a better person in the long run.

Hugo tells us of Marius, “For there are many great deeds done in the small struggles of life.”  This is true of Marius.  He manages to earn a law degree, he manages to find love…but I don’t want to spoil it for you.  Most importantly, Marius avoids becoming an embittered young man.  Despite his conflict with his grandfather, his “abandonment” by his father, and his extreme poverty, Marius fights for what he believes in.  His small battles don’t break him; they make him stronger. 

I’ve had some small struggles recently.  In the grand scheme, my struggles are what they call “first world problems,” really non-essential, non-life-threatening things that we who live an overall good life consider problems:  dogs not getting along with cats and chewing up innocent books, piles of papers to grade, not enough hours of sleep, car repairs…nothing mind-blowing.  But, big deals or not, the small struggles of life can be discouraging.  I should assure you that things have gotten a lot better.  In fact, just the other day I was thanking God for hearing and answering my pathetic little pleas for help.  After all, there are a lot of suffering people in the world, and the fact that my God heard my cries in the midst of all the others is quite amazing.  But I shouldn’t be surprised….He’s a creative and powerful God. 

Our struggles can teach us a lot of things if we are willing to listen.  They make us more empathetic.  We can understand the suffering of others when we ourselves have endured suffering.  Struggles make us more creative.  I’ve learned a lot about dog obedience ever since Noel has come into my life.  We have quite an impressive gate system in our house, which prevents impromptu cat chases.  And I’m crazy impressed with my successful scheme to teach Noel to poo outside.  Struggles help us forge deeper relationships.  When my husband saw that I was having difficulty, he stepped alongside me as a support system.  My family and friends offered assistance and a listening ear.  My dog Noel and I are closer now that we go to obedience school together every Saturday and learn sit, stay, heel, and come.  Yesterday I lay on the floor with her and giggled for five minutes as she stuck her nose in my ear, licked my face, and took a short nap on my hair.  Without the gray days of struggle, we can’t fully appreciate the sunshine.  They give us patience and endurance.  They often produce good fruit if we look hard enough.          

Most importantly, though, my struggles are a reminder that I need others, that I need God.  I often resist revealing my struggles to others.  I don’t want to look weak or flawed or needy.  But when I reach out to others (usually when I am at my wit’s end), I am reminded just how many friends and allies I have.  I have family to offer sound advice, friends to empathize, a husband to make me laugh, and a God who hears even the smallest prayers in a veritable ocean of prayers, and reaches out His hand to rescue me.