Sep 14, 2026 |
By Jennifer, CA.
Sometimes I can feel contradicted like Jesus, as He went through His Passion. Why is the Son of God being questioned, beaten, and condemned to die?! It takes faith and surrender to have the mindset to acknowledge that the unsuspected is happening to me, and it’s not up to me to fix it beyond my daily fiats. Because God is going to do the rest.
A definite example would be when I recall leaving religious life. Why is this happening? I am supposed to be a nun! It is when I can only raise my eyes up to the crucifix like Our Lady, and maybe like her, silently look on. Though, unlike her, it may be difficult for me to know what to think or do from there. But I am trying to remember that the key is, to still be confident in the God Who Loves me. And as I have heard so many times, He is God, and I am not.
I can give myself permission to not only be strangely beyond controlling of a situation, I can also carry on in that certainty that He has got this. That is definitely how Jesus hung on the cross, raising His eyes to the Father, did He not? (See complete Psalm 22, especially the ending.)
I share this after going through my own dark nights of depression, anxiety, and dread, and slowly learning the way to be “pulled back up” again. Sometimes I’ve got to recommit to letting go, even now. It takes grace, it takes confidence, and it takes recalling the goodness of God. Because guess what? He’s got this!
Even in the face of contradiction, I am called upon to keep going, and as I have learned time and time again from three simple words a beloved Sister once told me: Let Him Lead!
Jul 24, 2026 |
By Jennifer, CA.
This summer will mark eleven years since I left the monastery, hoping to re-enter after a year; but that never happened. I am now happily married to a wonderful man and we have two of the cutest little ones! Praise God! Everyone’s story and process of grief is different, but I’d like to share my thoughts at this point in my own journey.
I struggled with depression and anxiety when I left religious life, which I now see as a clear indicator that well… cloistered living is not my vocation. But it was a heartbreaker enough at the thought of being sent home for a time. In fact, when I met who would be my future husband only six months later, I did not realize the supportive guy standing right in front of me liked me, and desired to be more than just a friend.
The way for me was definitely bumpy, and spiritual direction and therapy alike could not seem to get through to me that I was not letting God down. There was a lot of guilt and despair in my heart.
After being friends, then dating two years, we spent a lot of time stating that we wanted to get married. And right before my boyfriend proposed, the Holy Spirit gave me the gift of peace when I found out from my novice mistress that I could never be a religious. It was like a long-awaited permission from my superiors to get married. Yes, there were still some temptations to feel guilty, but I feel so much freer to love this man, as husband and wife for almost five years now! And the peace continues to grow. Praise God!
A year and a half ago, I had the opportunity to be in the same part of the country as the monastery, and I made my first visit since leaving, and introduced my dear husband to the Sisters whom I had lived alongside for three incredible years. I am so grateful to God for this little reunion, and we continue to keep in touch.
What I have experienced and learned for myself is that God loves me unconditionally, He is not mad at me for leaving the monastery, and that He still has incredible plans for each and every one of us!
Jan 1, 2025 |
By Carolyn Humphreys, O.C.D.S.
This post was originally published in Catholic Journal. Reprinted with permission.
Horatio Spafford was a successful attorney and a happily married husband and father. Unfortunately, he lost a great amount of money in the Chicago fire of 1871. He thought a vacation would be beneficial for his wife and four daughters. He sent them on a ship to England and planned to join them after he dealt with unexpected business problems.
When crossing the Atlantic Ocean, their passenger ship collided with an iron hulled ship. After approximately twelve minutes, the passenger ship sunk beneath the waters of the Atlantic and 226 of the 313 passengers lost their lives, including Spafford’s four daughters. Miraculously, Anna, his wife, managed to float on a piece of the wreckage until she was rescued by a sailor in a small boat. His wife survived the tragedy. When she reached England, she wired her husband: “Saved, alone, what shall I do?” Upon hearing the news Spafford set sail for England. The captain of his ship notified Spafford when they were passing over the spot where the shipwreck occurred.
While passing through his grief, Spafford penned one of the most beloved hymns in Christendom. The words reveal his unshakeable, exemplary faith and robust, profound hope. Those words have proven to many people that joy can indeed come after sorrow.
Parents who have lost children, and all who have suffered losses, never forget their loved ones who have died. The German Lutheran pastor, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, wisely sums up the pain and consolation of these memories. “Nothing can make up for the absence of someone whom we love, and it would be wrong to try to find a substitute. That sounds very hard at first, but at the same time it is a great consolation. For the gap, as long as it remains unfilled, preserves the bond between us. It is nonsense to say that God fills the gap: he doesn’t fill it, but on the contrary, he keeps it empty and so helps us to keep alive our former communion with each other, even at the cost of pain. The dearer and richer our memories, the more difficult the separation, but gratitude changes the pangs of memory into a tranquil joy. We must take care not to wallow in our memories, or hand ourselves over to them. Just as we do not gaze all the time at a valuable present, but only at special times, and apart from these keep it simply as a hidden treasure that is ours for certain.”
Like a deeply rooted plant that is uprooted and leaves a large hole, the deeper our love for another, the more painful the uprooting and the deeper the emptiness left behind. An especially large kind of hole is caused by the smallest of children, or parents’ children of any age. Loss of a loved one is assuaged by faith in God, knowledge of Christian teachings, and prayer. Far below the intense mourning there are seeds of new growth, unrecognized at present but waiting to develop and blossom with nourishment from grace and the passage of time.
Sorrows are a necessary process and an often present part of being human. Many things can cause sorrow: death of a loved one, onset of a chronic disease, moving from a treasured home, loss of a good job, death of a pet, or the closure of a beloved monastery or church. If we do not face our sorrow somewhere, it will wait for us. We must travel through sorrow in order to move forward in life. The passage of time softens a sorrow but does not totally alleviate it. After the death of loved ones, as time passes, their preciousness may become more treasured and we may love them more than when they were alive. As the years pass, we realize more and more what special people they were.
We respond to sorrow in different ways. Some negative responses are histrionics, poor self care, rash impulsive behavior, prolonged depression, or extended isolation. When the mind numbing emotions of sorrow decrease, positive responses can emerge, such as creating something to honor the memory of a loved one, planning a project for an upcoming event, or volunteering for a good cause. Acknowledging our sorrow, seeing beyond it, and remembering the good things that preceded the sorrow are essential in finding joy in sorrow. Sorrowful feelings can come at any time and in any place. If we have an episode of sorrowful feelings, doing a task that soothes and calms may alleviate it.
When we focus on faith in a loving God and trust in his help to get us through, we can see our tragedies and storms in a new light. Even in our darkest hours, God is with us. Therese of Lisieux keeps us on the right road. During the last eighteen months of her short life, she was ravaged by tuberculosis and experienced a dark night of faith. She wrote, “With daring confidence, and reckless of self, I will remain there till death, my gaze fixed upon the Divine Sun. Nothing shall affright me, neither wind or rain; and should impenetrable clouds conceal from my eyes the Orb of Love, should it seem to me that beyond this life there is darkness only, this would be the hour of perfect joy, the hour in which to urge my confidence to its uttermost bounds, for knowing that beyond the dark clouds my Sun is still shining, I should never dare to change my place. . . . O Divine Sun, I am happy to feel myself so small and frail in thy presence, and my heart is at peace.”
Our inner sorrows will be quelled if we are receptive to God’s grace as it develops, refines, and stretches us. As God’s timing and wisdom becomes our own, we become gentle with ourselves and our angsts. Gentleness is a many graced virtue as it guards our hearts against bitterness, resentfulness, or other life draining characteristics that erode our self respect and dignity as Christians. As we strive to be gentle, we find that sorrow is alleviated and difficulties easier to resolve. Gentleness of heart leads to kindly and sensitive thoughts and actions that heighten our ability to be at ease with our trials and content with ourselves. To release a tight grasp on things that grieve us clears the way for deeper reflection on current things that matter.
Another way we process and release our grief is through our tears. Shedding tears as a response to grief can be therapeutic. Tears are purifying because after our cry, we can look up and realize our grief can either damage us by self serving introspection or focus us by seeing the grief situation within
Divine truth. Tears can cleanse by providing a clearer vision on authentic realities. They release the stress of grieving moments so we can pay attention to direction signs on the road of faith. Tears are helpful because they can dilute negative feelings, release pent up anxieties, purge pessimism, remove unidentifiable fear, and be a guide to take the next good step. We need not be ashamed of crying, nor be surprised that a smile can break through the tears. Revitalized by hope, we smile and attempt to rise above the circumstances in which we find ourselves. With that smile, a new chapter can begin.
If we do not know the depths of sorrow, how can we know the heights of joy? Spafford found positive elements in his sorrow that brought forth a deeper expression of joy. The sorrows in life’s journey break the heart, but with grace, the heart mends. Sorrow darkens the mind, but dawn comes and brings rejoicing. Low energy is recharged with renewed hope. Joy lies unnoticed below the dark clouds of sorrow, but emerges as the clouds dissipate. There are many examples of how a well channeled sorrow can lead to a good cause or needed service.
Blessing God in the midst of sorrow is a praiseworthy manifestation of faith. As sorrows shake the landscape of our lives, through faith in God, serene joy is recognized at the depths of our souls. We remember the words on the headstone of a four year old boy who died unexpectedly—-budded on earth to bloom in heaven—-and rest, with comfort and hope, in the words of Spafford’s hymn.
When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well with my soul.
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
My sin—oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!—
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.
But, Lord, ’tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord!
Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul!
And Lord, haste the day when the faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.
It is well with my soul,
It is well, it is well with my soul.
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
By Jennifer, CA.
By Carolyn Humphreys, O.C.D.S.
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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