800 Years of St. Francis · Day 28 of 31 · Wednesday, October 28, 2026
In September 1224, two years before he died, Francis went up the mountain of La Verna to pray through a long fast. There, around the Feast of the Holy Cross, he had a vision of a seraph, and afterward he bore on his hands, his feet, and his side the wounds of the crucified Christ.
What strikes me most is what he did next. He hid them. He covered his hands and walked carefully. The wounds weren’t a trophy. They were intimate, the visible trace of a love he had carried so long it had finally marked his body.
In those same days he wrote a small parchment for his companion Brother Leo, who was struggling. On one side are the Praises of God, and on the other a blessing written in his own hand. That scrap of parchment is still preserved in Assisi. Even marked by the Cross, Francis turned his attention to a brother in need.
We are all marked by what we love, though rarely so visibly. A parent’s shoulders carry years of worry. A caregiver’s hands bear the work of tending. A heart grows gentler because it has been broken open. These marks aren’t failures. They are footprints left inside us by the love we have given.
Notice today: What has your love left marked on you? Can you honor those marks rather than hide them?
We are marked by what we love. The marks are the proof that we loved.
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Day 28 of 31 · 800 Years of St. Francis: A Daily October Companion · spiritualbreak.com
Reflection © 2026 Michael J. Cunningham OFS.
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