I didn’t carry the processional cross,
But I carried burdens—quiet, unseen.
While others walked down marble aisles,
I walked through fire, clothed in routine.
I wore no robe of woven white,
No candle's glow to guide my feet,
Yet still I stood beneath the light,
And bore the ache of each heartbeat.
They saw the servers—neat in line,
With steady steps and lifted grace,
But who could see the heavy spine?
That bowed beneath a silent place?
I didn’t lift that wooden sign,
Emblem of salvation’s cost—
But oh, I’ve held a thousand cries,
And mourned the things that I have lost.
I watched the pews with hollow eyes,
As hymns rose like drifting prayer,
And wondered if my quiet sighs.
We have never heard or met with care.
I didn’t carry the cross of gold,
But I bore words unkind, untrue—
The ones that pierced, the ones that rolled
Like thunder breaking something new.
I bore the doubt, the questioning stares,
The judgments whispered after Mass,
The moments no one truly dares
To ask, "Are you okay, alas?"
They carried candles, and I had pain.
They lifted praise, and I bit my tongue.
While incense rose like gentle rain,
My grief within me always clung.
I bore the weight of being there,
While feeling lost, misunderstood—
Still showing up, offering care,
Still doing more than I thought I could.
I didn’t carry the processional cross,
But I carried silence, carried shame.
Carried hopes now cracked and glossed,
And bore the absence of a name.
And yet—I stayed. Through all the cost.
Through unseen tears and faith grown thin.
I bore the burden, never tossed,
And found a small light somewhere within.
So let them hold the cross with pride,
While choirs sing and bells arise.
I walk the aisles with none beside—
Still serving through these unseen cries.
For though I may not bear the wood,
Or walk in robes of sacred thread,
I carry love the way I should,
And lift the souls the world has shed.
I didn’t carry the processional cross,
But I carried burdens, day and night—
And in that pain, I found the gloss.
Of grace, of grit, of hidden light.
"I didn't carry the processional cross, but I carried burdens."
I've been an Altar Server before in our Parish, but they misunderstood my good intentions and judged me over my position. I received disrespect and humiliation from my co-servers and others. I hope they are happy now, because I have decided to resign and quit.
