I laughed and joined the chanting with my kids.

“Thirty more feet! Thirty more feet!”

It was day two of the National Eucharistic Congress (NEC) in Indianapolis, and our entire crew was ready to head home for the night. It isn’t easy to keep seven kids pointed in the same direction, but we were fortunate to have our dear friends, Chad and Catherine, assisting us throughout the event. Every time the eleven of us got forward momentum, we’d walk about thirty feet before the next joyful interruption. This became our norm, and on day two, we created our new celebratory chant of progress – Thirty more feet! Thirty more feet!”

The NEC was held in mid-July, less than three weeks after our son Benny had completed his thirty-three days of radiation treatments for brain cancer. We hadn’t recovered from the months of exhaustion related to the accidental (miraculous) finding of Benny’s tumor, followed by his brain surgery, diagnosis, and subsequent treatments. If this had been any other event or vacation, we would have canceled our plans and stayed home to rest, but we knew God was calling us to participate.

This was the Tenth National Eucharistic Congress, and the previous one was held over 80 years earlier. We had purchased tickets long before we learned of the challenging health issues we would face with Benny that year. Now, here we were, together as a complete family in a time dedicated to prayer, worship, and community. The timing was perfect; this was our first family pilgrimage, and it came at a time when our family needed healing.

While we expected to see friends from various pockets of the US and figured that many of them would already know about Benny, we could never have predicted what would happen once we arrived. From the very first hours of the NEC, I was stopped by complete strangers, letting me know that they were following our family’s journey and that they prayed for Benny every day. The first of these encounters happened as we waited in line to check in and retrieve our event passes.

Over and over, I would hear something like, “I’m sorry to interrupt you. We’ve never met, but I want you to know that I read your LinkedIn posts, and my entire family has been praying for Benny. How is he doing?” Or a stranger would stop me and exclaim, “Jeff, wow, praise God you’re here. I thought you’d have to stay home with Benny. How is the little guy doing?”

Each time I was stopped for one of these powerful moments of support, I would first share my gratitude for the prayers and love we had felt throughout the trials, but what always happened next was almost indescribable. I would turn towards my wife and kids and say, “Benny is doing really well right now, and you can see for yourself. That’s him right there.”

That moment was always followed by -

• Instant tears streaming down smiling faces.
• Shouts of praise to the Lord.
• Adults kneeling to get down on Benny’s level.
• Prayers over Benny and our family.
• And Benny would often open his arms and offer hugs in return.

Heaven on earth. These moments felt like Heaven on earth.

“This is the little boy we’ve been praying for from Texas,” a lady shared with her family and the pastor from her parish. “Come meet Benny and join me in praying for his healing.”

“Bishop, could you please join us in praying with Benny,” another group requested as they prepared their hearts to ask for God’s mercy and comfort over my family.

Every. Thirty. Feet.

Every thirty feet for three days, we faced joyful interruptions of prayer and support from the Church alive at the NEC. And then we would start walking and chanting, “Thirty more feet!”

My wife and I often talk about loving God’s will and the joy we experienced throughout that time of suffering. In no place was that paradoxical feeling of joy amidst the pain more evident than during the NEC. Thanks to the widespread sharing of our story and the overwhelming belief in the power of prayer, friends and strangers worldwide gave my family the greatest gift by remembering to include Benny when they talked with God.

As you go about your workday or struggle to figure out where you are being led next in your career, I pray that Benny’s story can help you step back and keep it all in perspective. Yes, your job is important, and the stuff you will produce this week matters, but none of these details of your life come close to the value of your faith, your commitment to family, and your pursuit of life’s higher purpose.

Thank God it’s Monday. Or Tuesday. Or whatever day. Thank God it’s sunny. Or raining. Or windy. Or whatever the weather is today. Thank God for my job. Or my job hunt. Or my retirement. Or whatever you face today in employment. And thank God for you, a human person uniquely crafted and called to serve.

If today is hard for you, just make it thirty more feet.

If today is easy for you, stop to give thanks every time you make it thirty more feet.

Thirty more feet. Thirty more feet.