After a picture-perfect wedding, my wife and I traveled to what we thought would be honeymoon paradise — Victoria Island, Canada. But our first night there, I contracted vertigo, a dizzying disorder of the inner ear. It not only killed the romance of our 10-day stay but also left me unable to fly home.

So we rented a car. And my saintly bride, Sarah, drove me from Canada to our house in Ohio — 2,500 miles over three grueling days and nights. Since motion aggravated my dizziness, I felt nauseous the whole way. And Sarah, who had been catching only a few hours of sleep each night at Motel 6s, was dead tired. It was a long and painful ride.

Remembering that experience reminds me of how suffering often makes the road to our heavenly home long and arduous. Suffering’s sharp tendrils reach us all. And we groan, says St. Paul, as pilgrims in a painful world en route to our eternal dwelling with God (see 2 Corinthians 5:2).

When Sarah and I finally made it home, we did our share of groaning. My condition took more than a year to improve. And it imposed an unwelcome lifestyle on us — confinement to the house, doctor visits, painful tests, physical therapy. We wanted to be active newlyweds, but suffering put the brakes on. It seemed so counterproductive and senseless.

Since then, reading Pope John Paul II’s apostolic letter Salvifici Doloris (On the Christian Meaning of Suffering) has helped me discover new insights about the “journey” of suffering.

The Holy Father wrote that suffering, or our “experience of evil,” is an essential part of being human. Facing suffering, even though it hurts, is a part of life. I always thought talking about my pain or asking for help was a sign of weakness. Yet the saintly Pope said that acknowledging my suffering doesn’t make me a wimp; it means I’m human.

As to the meaning of suffering, John Paul said love gives the best answer. We see this first in the love of God, who gave his Son to save us from sin and death for all eternity (John 3:16). God’s love took on flesh in Jesus, whose cross became our fountain of life. In his sacrifice, we see God’s love for man. And we find solidarity with him, knowing that God suffered, too.

John Paul the Great also wrote that suffering “calls forth human love.” Our suffering helps us empathize with others’ pain. Like the heart of the Good Samaritan, our hearts must open with compassionate care for suffering neighbors. Sarah showed me the meaning of this teaching during my bout with vertigo. She stood by me — loving, hoping, sacrificing. It is in such acts of self-giving, John Paul taught, that we find our true selves.

The most striking of the Pope’s teachings, for me, is that I can turn my suffering into an act of love by prayerfully uniting it to Jesus’ saving cross. Our suffering, as members of Christ’s body, isn’t useless. Offered in union with Jesus, it becomes a means of grace for the Church — a window of God’s blessings and an “irreplaceable service” for our brothers and sisters.

This Gospel or “good news” of suffering can be hard to embrace. How can we hope when the road seems so long? I think I find the most comfort knowing that Jesus is with me along the way. He’s there in the driver’s seat, taking me home safely to my final destination.

Robert G. Schroeder writes from Cincinnati.