Jun 12, 2026 |
By Jennifer, CA.
“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction so that we will be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.” 2 Corinthians 1:3-4 NASB1995 (New American Standard Bible – NASB 1995)
I have been hearing a lot about encouraging one another, in the different podcasts and reflections I have been looking into. It made me recall St. Paul’s letter, about being encouraged by God. In the New American Standard Bible’s translation, they use the word “comfort,” though I don’t think he means the “get comfortable” kind of comfort. For Jesus does not promise us comfort on this earthly journey.
After doing some research, I learned that the technical translation from Greek means “to call alongside.” So this involves the confidence that we are not alone in our afflictions, but rather that we are accompanied and strengthened by the Holy Spirit. It is always reassuring that we are not struggling as isolated beings, with no purpose or positive outcome, right? And I think God has led us all to Leonie’s Longing to assure one another that He never leaves us.
I think it is so important to call upon the Holy Spirit to speak to us, to be open to Him sending people into our lives, and to be an encouragement to one another on this journey to the eternal goal.
God be Praised!
Image credits: Fafik, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons
Dec 13, 2024 |
By Mikayla.
“I am the Lord’s poor servant; to him alone, the living God, I have offered all in sacrifice; I have nothing else to give; I offer him myself.”
Antiphon for the Canticle of Zechariah, Memorial of St. Lucy
On this feast of St. Lucy I would like to take a moment to reflect on the virgin martyrs. The martyrs are the foundation.
In my own discernment after leaving religious life, I have lately been thinking of how the original form of the consecrated vocation began with the virgin martyrs. I think sometimes we talk about them in a way as if to say, “Well, their society didn’t allow religious so they had to wait until it was allowed, and they are so valiant for standing firm even when they knew it would not be accepted.” There are some precursors in the Old Testament, but as a whole virginity for the sake of the kingdom especially in large groups with a formal community was a very new concept once it started forming after the end of the persecutions in the tradition of the desert fathers. At least we can say for certain there were no vocation fairs (1) proposing the idea once Christianity was legalized. Religious life was not this preconceived notion, it was something that gradually took shape through the lives of the saints. When we look back it’s the virgin martyrs who are the foundation of religious life just as the martyrs in general were the foundation for the Church–“the seed of Christians.” (2)
Sometimes for those of us in transition, or those who perhaps feel called to a consecration to Christ but are not able to live as a religious for some reason, when the vocation fair comes around or the prayer for vocations in the petitions at Mass, we do feel forgotten. (3) For me even when a “singleness” vocation is mentioned it strikes the wrong chord because of how the secular world typically sees what it means to be single. To the secular mind it’s all about not letting yourself be burdened by other people, which is the very antithesis of a vocation. But here I am, single, desiring to be completely given to God but in a spousal way with no formal outlet that makes sense to anybody else. Or perhaps you are in a different situation and feel called to marriage, but you spent those years of your life when people normally meet their spouse in a habit, and socially you have to completely start over. This can be very daunting as well. Whatever your situation is, I think many of us can relate to feeling like we don’t have a place until we find that vocation that we were supposed to be in and it can be recognized by everybody.
To those around her in her own culture, St. Lucy’s call to remain unmarried must have seemed very strange and not a type of life that was recognizable. But she knew herself to be recognized by the Lord where she was. It was not about fitting into some sort of category, but about living to the full the radical vocation to holiness. All vocations are at the service of our primary vocation to holiness. And each person’s vocation is entirely unique. It’s not as if we could say, “Oh everyone’s called to holiness so that means it’s not that special of a vocation. It’s like the participation award for vocations. You didn’t make it in one of the other ones that gets mentioned in the petitions at Mass but you still slid into heaven!” Your call to holiness is completely radical. It is completely unique to you. And it doesn’t start tomorrow when you figure things out. It starts now. Saint Lucy became a cornerstone of consecrated life in the Church not because she knew what was going to happen, but because when God called she said yes in the here and now–even if she didn’t understand what it meant. This radical living of the Gospel by the saints was the seed.
Be those saints for this generation. The saints that are fully given to God in the here and now. It’s not as if St. Lucy and the other virgin martyrs were planning how their choice to follow Christ in this particular way would shape the world. Or even how they had to find the perfect situation in which to do God’s will. Could you imagine St. Lucy? “I can only do God’s will once this suitor lets me live my life of virginity in peace, once Christianity is legalized.” But no. God’s very will was for her to be misunderstood, for everything to seem to fight against her call, and it was in this very struggle that He made His power manifest.
As we celebrate this feast, let’s pray through St. Lucy’s intercession that those of us who are shrouded in the darkness of uncertainty may cling to the light of Christ which shows us the way to heaven. Lucy’s name – meaning light – comes to us in the liturgy at one of the darkest moments of the year physically. She also lived at a rather dark time for Christians as well – it being in the midst of persecution. However, in both cases she brings the light of Christ which she herself has experienced to those around her and to us today. I can’t help but think of the parable of the wise and foolish virgins which also very fittingly ties into this blessed Advent season. (And this parable is not just for the consecrated persons or religious, it’s for everybody.) Let us not be afraid this Advent and in our transitions from religious life to practice the “art of waiting.” Let us follow in St. Lucy’s footsteps, with our lanterns burning bright–no matter our situation, so that when Christ comes we will be ready to give Him everything. Because that is the radical call of every Christian.
- To this day I still love a good vocations fair.
- Yes, the Apostles are the foundation, but they were all martyrs by blood except St. John who received his white martyrdom, living through its attempt. Also. Yes, that’s a Tertullian reference.
- This of course is not through anyone’s fault, I think it just comes from a diversity of calls with so many different people. Only God knows every call that He’s going to make, so it can be hard for us as humans to include everyone. But that shouldn’t stop us from praying for vocations.
- A reference to Mother Mary Francis’ book Come Lord Jesus: Meditations on the Art of Waiting.
A good article on the life of Saint Lucy: https://www.newadvent.org/cathen/09414a.htm
Jun 19, 2024 |
by GA
Within my first year of leaving the convent, a well-intended person asked me, “What are the things you are grateful for from your time in religious life?” I chuckled, surprised at the question because it was one of those for which I had an answer before even having a question. “Nothing,” I said, fully convinced of my response. There was a part of me that genuinely could not find anything to be grateful for, and there was another part of me that knew that I was wrong. There is always something to be grateful for, especially because it all comes from God.
As time has passed, my mind has often found its way back to the memory of that question: “What are you grateful for, girl? There has to be something.” Every now and then I have been able to identify a thing or two to be grateful for, even if only for the time and love I received from sisters who have avoided contact with me since I left. I am grateful for them and their listening ears, despite the unexpected expiration date. I am grateful for the little space I was allowed to occupy while trying to flourish in my malnourished vocation. I am grateful for…
Unfortunately, almost anything I can be grateful for appears to be tied to a “but” statement that somehow diminishes, in my opinion, the fullness of gratitude. I can be grateful for the many novel experiences that I had with them, but these experiences also remind me of how much I was not a fit for the community.
There is, however, one experience that is not connected to a “but” statement: the privilege of being in such close contact with Jesus in the Eucharist. In addition to living only 40 steps away from a quiet chapel, I had the privileged opportunity of changing the tabernacle lamp when needed. That light, a sign of the real presence of Jesus, continues to be my best response to the gratitude question.
The candle by the tabernacle has captivated me for a long time. I once wrote a poem about it—praying that I can be light to others and that my life can be spent melting at His feet. Why is that task of changing the tabernacle lamp something I can be grateful for? Because the unfortunate circumstances inside the convent that were extinguishing the fire of my vocation only forced me to look at Him more intentionally. God in His mercy found a way of consoling my heart in the quiet, hidden task of changing the tabernacle light. God was with me. There are no “buts” to that, only “ands.” God was with me and consoled me. God was with me and gave me alone time with Him. God was with me, and that is all that matters.
This past Easter, my sixth after the convent, I had a special encounter with the tabernacle lamp at my parish. We had joyfully celebrated with the Exultet, the readings, the Gloria, the Alleluia, baptisms and confirmations, and finally Holy Communion. The thing is that I almost failed to notice, the most quiet of signs, was the lighting of the tabernacle lamp after Holy Communion. We were still kneeling, there was meditative music, and in the middle of the busyness of the moment, the deacon proceeded to return the Eucharist to the tabernacle for the first time since it was emptied on Holy Thursday. Immediately, he lit a new light for the tabernacle.
The scene took my breath away and brought tears to my eyes. What a joy! Oh, how I missed that simple task of bringing new light to the tabernacle! How I had loved that hidden and quiet task! How privileged was I in religious life for the times that I got to change the sanctuary lamp!
Dear friend, I can now answer that question. I am grateful for God’s love for us in the Eucharist, and I pray that you can also find a light of gratitude in your journey after the convent.
May 21, 2024 |
By Mikayla
This story does have quite a few details, and I’m aware of it. But stick with me—I promise there’s a reason for all of them.
At last, it was the weekend, and I was going hiking! Since discerning out of the convent the previous summer, I had been busy working at a homeschool resource center (and under the radar adjusting/ grieving). Over this summer I was grateful for the extra hours working on some projects, but I was ready for a break. Hiking had been a favorite pastime growing up, and since discerning out, had become a very freeing opportunity to immerse myself back in the silence that I had loved so deeply in the convent. After grabbing some Builders Bars from Publix, I jumped in my truck and was ready to execute all of my perfectly made plans and enjoy my hike by the Etowah River. But Jesus–He probably watched me and smiled, because He knew He had His own plans.
The mountains were about a two-hour drive from where I was living, but I am not afraid of long drives. I saw signs on the way to the Etowah River campground and excitedly knew that I should be getting close. When I arrived at the location where the maps on my phone had taken me, it was a dirt road going onto what looked like private property with a sign that said “no campground.”
Well, now what? Where could this campground be? It must be around here somewhere. I wanted to ask for directions, but there was not much more than some homes around the curving mountain roads. Luckily I saw a little sign (about the size of a yard sale sign) saying: “Annita’s Hair Salon: Walk-ins Welcome.”
Hm. Okay. I drove up the steep driveway and walked into the tiny little building. It was one room, with a half wall in between. There was a lovely lady doing a gentleman’s hair in the one solitary chair on the other side of the room.
“Can I help you?” she said as I walked in.
After asking for and receiving directions to the campground, I was quickly on my way again. The angels in heaven could practically have been singing as I drove past the sign—at least I was. But when I arrived, I quickly discovered there was nowhere to hike; I couldn’t even get by the river. It was really a campground, mostly for RVs with about five spots for tents.
The internet lied, I internally grumbled. I stood outside the locked office door trying to make acts of trust in the Lord, but I was really so full of frustration. It had ended up taking me three hours to get there, and it was unmistakably a dead end.
Why would you bring me all the way out here, just to bring me to a dead end? What do you want me to do, just turn around and go back to the city? Just a waste of all this money on gas! Why would you let this happen to me?
Just then the alarm on my phone went off to remind me that it was 3pm. The hour of mercy!
After listening to a great talk on the hour of mercy a while before, I had made a habit of saying some prayers in honor of Divine Mercy at 3 o’clock every day, so as usual despite the frustration, I stopped to really pray. Afterwards, I looked at the crucifix image on my little ring, and I stood there deciding—do I go home or look for another fun thing to do up here?
Don’t give up.
After a brief interaction with some lovely people from Arkansas staying at the campground, I was determined to at least try and find a cool waterfall. I needed a map or directions from somebody local (my phone was no help in this regard)—so first step: find civilization.
First, I encountered a solitary Dollar General where I went in looking for a map. Due to a lack of success, I went to the lovely purple-haired teenage cashier and began to ask her. “Um, I don’t really know, but if you want I can ask the manager.” It was sweet of her, but the manager didn’t know either.
A decent 20-30 minutes away, I knew there was a little mountain town that was rather touristy, so after my Dollar General excursion, I headed there. It was getting to be late in the afternoon when I finally arrived at the town’s information center. Not too long after looking around, I heard, “Can I help you with anything?”
“Um, yes, do you have any maps of hiking in the area?” I told her the story of my day so far. After giving me a glance up and down, she said, “You want to do some real hiking, don’t you?”
“Yes, if you know how to get to the Appalachian Trail I’d love to try that for just a little day hike. I couldn’t figure it out online when I tried to look it up before I headed out here. That was why I tried to hike by the Etowah river…”
“The Appalachian Trail?! Oh, I’ve hiked it a bunch of times!”
“The whole thing?”
“Well, pieces of it…” She then proceeded to pull out a map of the town and circle the entry points to hiking the Appalachian Trail. Following this, she pulled out a packet with directions to every place you could possibly hike in the area and started circling the directions that were applicable to me.
“It’s about a thirty-minute drive up to this mountain. And once you start hiking it, you’ll want to be really careful because so many people go there and make different trails that go off the marked trail.”
My gratitude was through the roof! And at this point I was thinking, “What’s another 30 minutes in the car at this point? Might as well!” Through my brother, I knew where a little Eucharistic Adoration chapel was in this town, so I walked past the square to go express my joy and gratitude to Sweet Jesus.
Not long after, I was headed further north into the mountains, going higher and higher through the S-curved mountain roads. I arrived at the little mountain store at the foot of the trail at 4:45pm…15 minutes before they closed. Just in time to talk logistics about parking and where to get water. There was a stunning view by this store with picnic tables where I sat to say Vespers. At that point, the 4 hours in the car were all worth this view already. But then, I was on the move.
Oh! It was steep! But it was amazing! I was continually grateful for the lady in town who had warned me about staying on the correct path. It was definitely tricky at parts, and I was intentional about remembering how I had come, knowing that I would be coming down the mountain at dusk.
How does one convey any “mountain top experience?” I don’t think I can. It wasn’t flashy or exciting. Just simple, peaceful, and splendidly beautiful. At the top, I had almost a complete three-sixty of the Appalachian mountains. The sun was setting behind clouds with soft gold streaks coming through the breaks in the clouds. It was so much better and more perfect than anything I could have planned on my own.
Now, you may be thinking, “Well that’s nice for you, but what’s the point?” God ruined my plans to give me something better. It was a great reflection on being asked to leave a convent. Some people have very healthy, good experiences where they and the superior mutually decide that this particular life is not their calling. I was not one of those people. Being told that I was not admitted to renew my vows was the most excruciating “dead end.” I felt like I had nothing left to live for.
“Why would you bring me all the way out here, just to bring me to a dead end? What do you want me to do, just turn around and go back home? Just a waste of all this time, energy, and love! Why would you let this happen to me?” Only, this was a bigger deal than driving out to the Etowah River for three hours and hitting a dead end.
My dear sisters in Christ, God has not abandoned or rejected you. Just because you owed obedience to your superiors does not make them equivalent to God. People may leave you behind, screenshot you out of community photos, and pretend like you never existed.
But He. Was. There. In fact, He was there with you on the cross, His heart breaking alongside yours. Why does God not spare us suffering? Why doesn’t He get rid of it? He did something much better. He touched it with ETERNAL GLORY. The glory and radiance of His merciful love. The cross cannot be overlooked, but neither can the resurrection. Why did you leave me dead and all alone, Jesus? My God, my God, WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?
My beloved bride. I allowed this for something beautiful beyond belief. I WANT YOU TO RISE FROM THE DEAD. Reality is so much better than anything you could possibly imagine.
He ruined your hiking trip so that he could take you to the highest point of the Appalachian Trail to enjoy the sunset with Him. But we’d never have made it to the top if we hadn’t set out to begin with. So sisters, further up and further in. I know it’s all uphill. But I trust that it is worth it. Are you in?
Dec 14, 2023 |
by GA
I left the convent five years ago. It was still Advent. Christmas never came to my heart that year. The sense of a perpetual, watchful waiting for the “what next?” was far from comforting.
Like many, if not most of you reading this blog, I have asked God why He would call me into that life, only to call me out and back into the restlessness of the world that I once knew. It still makes no sense to me. Countless times I asked why He changed His mind, but I couldn’t hear an answer.
It took five years to hear an answer, and it came through the fire in an old fireplace.
If Moses found God in the burning bush, I can say found Him in the request of a priest to “keep the fire going.” And like Moses, I had little idea about where the answer to the call would lead.
It was the last night before the end of an extended weekend retreat. I was enjoying the crackling sound of the wood burning in the fireplace of the old house that quietly saves the story of that sacred place. In the burning silence of that evening, my mind couldn’t help but wander into memories of being a postulant and enjoying the novelty of a real and old fireplace at the Sisters’ retreat house.
The fire had been started by one of the priests directing the retreat, but he had to step away and needed for someone to keep vigil. I happen to be there accompanied by another retreatant. He turned around, asked us to “keep the fire going,” and left. My eyes wandered around studying the scene in front of me, planning on how to engage and respond to the request to keep the fire going. Whispering, the other retreatant acknowledged that she had no clue about how to keep the fire alive, but she volunteered to bring in the wood from the pile outside.
While she did that, I played around with the instruments at hand, and made sure to be successful at my entrusted task. In my mind, I was to keep the fire alive for the benefit of all retreatants present that night. Eventually, I would have to leave my task to participate in a healing service that would soon start in the chapel, so somebody else would have to keep the fire if they wanted.
Little did I know that what I had done by adding wood to the fire until I walked away would keep it alive until the moment when it would be needed in the healing service.
The retreat director announced his plan for the service. After some singing and praying, we were to respond to some questions on a sheet of paper, walk to the fireplace, and offer our writing in the fire. Ah… that’s why the fire was needed. The fire was needed for the healing.
Father didn’t have to explain why it was important to keep the fire going when he asked me to do so. He just asked, and two of us responded—not knowing how to perform the task fully, and not knowing why we were entrusted with such task.
I found some peace in this experience. While I continue without an answer for why God called me into religious life only to call me out again very soon, I trust that in my responding wholeheartedly to His request, I was instrumental in Him accomplishing something for myself and for others.
I just have to trust that this is true—just as it was true that I needed to keep the fire alive that night. Rather than continuing to ask the question without an answer, I trust that God will reveal Himself at the right time. I just need to keep the fire going.
May you have a blessed Advent. May you find peace in the fire that burns within you.
Oct 26, 2023 |
by Katita Luisa
The year to the day after I entered the convent, back in the world, the day’s Gospel spoke to me deeply. It was the healing of Jairus’ daughter and the hemorrhaging woman, and I needed the faith that they had. I heard Jesus speaking the same words He spoke to the official to my own bruised heart: “Do not be afraid; just have faith” (Mk 5:36).
“I’m sick of healing!” I told a priest a few months prior. “Well, sorry to break it to you”, he began in his Texan accent, “but life’s all about healing. We’re gonna heal until we die.”
Healing is tough work and can be exhausting. Plus, I admit I was sick of asking Jesus to heal me and asking others to assist in that process. Some days, I still am. But it’s part of the process. And it’s worth it—in His way and in His timing. Otherwise, we reject the Master Physician (and deprive Him of being such) and just end up more broken.
“Do not be afraid; just have faith.”
I used to fear the things God was asking of me, and I’m sure I still do in some ways. But what about the things He wasn’t asking of me anymore?
I had entered the convent. I left my job, sold my car, gave away belongings, moved away from my community, and said countless goodbyes. I happily left it all behind to follow Jesus. I thought I was doing what He had asked of me. I thought I had faith—until He would eventually tell me to leave and trust even more.
“Do not be afraid; just have faith.”
My biggest fear of entering religious life was that I would be asked to leave. When that became a reality, I was ashamed. But I also became amazed at where Jesus would take my little “yes.” It was never wasted.
“Do not be afraid; just have faith.”
I can reach for Jesus’ cloak, confident that He wants to heal me. I can already see evidence of His healing as each year passes since leaving the convent. Even better than that is more intimately knowing Jesus’ Heart, and my own heart.
I know the joy of His will and the freedom of forgiving my former sisters. I entered to answer His call, and I am glad I answered His call to leave. And just maybe, I will continue to answer His call to be healed.
Photo by Allen Taylor on Unsplash
By Mikayla.
As we celebrate this feast, let’s pray through St. Lucy’s intercession that those of us who are shrouded in the darkness of uncertainty may cling to the light of Christ which shows us the way to heaven. Lucy’s name – meaning light – comes to us in the liturgy at one of the darkest moments of the year physically. She also lived at a rather dark time for Christians as well – it being in the midst of persecution. However, in both cases she brings the light of Christ which she herself has experienced to those around her and to us today. I can’t help but think of the parable of the wise and foolish virgins which also very fittingly ties into this blessed Advent season. (And this parable is not just for the consecrated persons or religious, it’s for everybody.) Let us not be afraid this Advent and in our transitions from religious life to practice the “art of waiting.”
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