May 15, 2025

ST. ROSE OF LIMA: Was She Too Extreme?

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On a warm, late April day in 1586, a servant woman in Lima, Peru experienced a miraculous vision while gazing upon the newest member of the noble Flores family. Before her very eyes the infant girl’s face seemed to transform into a beautiful rose in full bloom. The astonished servant rushed to share her vision with the child’s mother, who agreed it was a Divine sign. From that day forward, the baby, who had been baptized Isabel Flores de Oliva on April 20, was called “Rose.”

Rose’s father was Gaspar Flores, a Spanish Imperial Cavalry member, whose family had originated in Spain and later emigrated to Puerto Rico. Her mother, 26-year-old María de Oliva y Herrera, was a criolla, which meant she was a female of European, typically Spanish, ancestry who was born in Spanish America. She also had Inca blood. Rose was their seventh child.

The era of Rose’s birth was marked by stark contrasts. Fifty years after Francisco Pizarro’s conquest of Peru for Spain, Peru’s vast mineral wealth enriched Spain but left the indigenous people impoverished and oppressed. This period also saw the Catholic Church’s reform following the Council of Trent. The religious climate in Peru was complex, with Christianity thinly overlaying native beliefs and superstitions. The forced conversion of indigenous Peruvians to Christianity without proper instruction led to widespread reversion to pagan beliefs within fifty years of Spanish arrival in Peru. The Spaniards’ harsh response only intensified the Peruvian resistance, creating a seemingly hopeless situation for both parties. As little Rose grew, she would become keenly aware of her historical context, and would pray fervently for her homeland.

Rose was a child of extraordinary beauty, her pink cheeks indeed reminiscent of a blooming rose. Her heart was devoted to God from a tender age. At just three years old, Rose demonstrated remarkable fortitude when she endured a severe finger injury in silence, not informing her parents. When discovered, the injury required the removal of her fingernail, a procedure she bore without a whimper or tear.

Rose loved flowers and often used them in her spiritual practices. When she was five years old, she constructed a little chapel in the family garden, where she spent countless hours in prayer. At the time of her first Confession, it is said that, strangely enough, she got permission from her confessor to make a vow of virginity. Since, due to her young age, this would not have been any kind of binding vow, and it was unlikely that she even truly understood its meaning yet, the priest’s permission probably was just a way of pacifying her wishes and encouraging her piety.

When she was confirmed in 1597, she officially chose “Rose” as her Confirmation name. Her mother, Maria, proud of Rose’s beauty, adorned her with wreath crowns of the garden’s finest roses. Initially resisting elegant attire, Rose ingeniously concealed thorns beneath the rose crown, transforming it into her personal “crown of thorns.” When she made her First Communion, Jesus promised her that if she fasted for His sake, He would sustain her. From that time on, for the rest of her life she gave up eating meat.

Rose had a deep devotion to the Infant Jesus and His Blessed Mother and spent countless hours praying before the Blessed Sacrament. She received Communion three times a week. Although she would have liked to receive daily, in those days young girls were forbidden to go out unless accompanied by an adult woman, and Maria was not always available, perhaps deliberately. Later in her life, Rose was able to receive Communion daily, which was an extremely rare practice at that time.

After reading a book about St. Catherine of Siena, the impressionable young girl adopted the saint as her personal role model. Emulating St. Catherine, Rose fasted three times a week, donned coarse clothing, and cut her beautiful hair short. She concealed her cropped locks with a veil to avoid her parents’ disapproval. When Maria eventually discovered it, she was very angry.

In Rose’s teenage years, her family faced financial hardship when her father’s gold-mining venture failed, leaving them impoverished, with seven children still living at home. Rose, ever resourceful, stepped up to support her family by selling flowers from her own garden and creating exquisite lace and embroidery. Her needlework was of the highest quality, with remarkable beauty and delicacy. Despite long hours of labor, Rose dedicated her evenings to prayer and acts of penance.

Maria had grand aspirations for her beautiful daughter, hoping to secure a marriage into one of Peru’s wealthy and prominent families. She orchestrated opportunities for potential mothers-in-law to admire Rose, but these efforts were in vain, because, contrary to her mother’s wishes, Rose felt a Divine calling to a life of virginity.

When Rose realized she was attracting the notice of suitors, she attempted to deflect their attention by rubbing crushed hot peppers on her beautiful face and lime juice on her hands to roughen them.

SO WHAT DID ROSE REALLY LOOK LIKE?

We sometimes hear about saints, like Rose of Lima, who were said to be beautiful. But in most cases, we don’t have any idea what they really looked like. However, in a groundbreaking scientific endeavor, the face of Saint Rose of Lima has been reconstructed using advanced technology. A team of scientists from the University of Saint Martin de Porres in Peru collaborated with the Brazilian Anthropological and Dental Legal Forensics Team to analyze and reconstruct the saint’s facial features. Here I am showing two views of her reconstructed face.

The project involved not only Saint Rose but also two other saints. At the clinic, researchers employed CT scans to create detailed images of the skulls. This non-invasive technique, commonly used in medical diagnostics, allowed for precise 3D digital modeling of the saints’ cranial structures.

Saint Rose of Lima’s reconstructed face was the first to be unveiled. According to researchers, the reconstruction revealed “a pretty woman with soft features and a well-distributed face.” Notably, her eyes appear larger than in classical portrayals.

At age 17, with the help of her brother, Rose constructed a small hut in the family garden. This humble abode became her sanctuary where, with the permission of her confessor, she retreated to devote herself fully to work, prayer, and penance. She offered her life in reparation for the sin and corruption in her society.

Rose worked hard to support her household and was obedient to her parents, except in their insistence that she marry. This sticking point caused a decade-long conflict with her parents, during which Rose exercised great patience and prayed for guidance. She eventually discerned that it was not God’s will for her to enter a convent, and she received a sign that she, like her idol St. Catherine of Siena, was to become a Dominican Tertiary and continue to live at home.

At age 20, she finally received her parents’ permission to join the Third Order of St. Dominic, donning the habit and taking a vow of perpetual virginity. Instead of entering a convent, she stayed in the hut in her parents’ garden, intensifying her prayer and penances.

Despite her life as a partial recluse, Rose remained acutely aware of the oppression in Peruvian society. She became renowned in Lima for her virtue and acts of charity, caring for the sick and hungry in her community, often bringing them to her hut to care for them. Her garden soon became the spiritual nucleus of Lima. She learned how to make herbal medicines, which she distributed to the poor, and occasionally visited hospitals to nurse the sick.

Rose was blessed with miraculous abilities. Seeking Divine intervention from the Child Jesus to cure the sick, her prayers often were answered with remarkable healings. At times, she also worked wonders to provide sustenance for her family. One such example was when her father, Gaspar, had overextended himself financially outfitting two of his sons who had been granted the prestigious honor of joining a royal galleon to battle the British. In addition, the family had also recently celebrated the wedding of another daughter, further straining their already precarious finances. The normal income from Rose’s needlework was not coming in, because she was working on a trousseau for her sister. The situation reached a critical point when Gaspar received an ultimatum from his creditors: produce the money by ten o’clock the following morning or face dire consequences, including the possibility of imprisonment. Gaspar, his voice heavy with resignation uttered the despairing words, “All is lost! It is the end!”

Determined to help, Rose accompanied her equally dejected brother to church, continually encouraging him to keep faith. In church, Rose prayed harder than she ever had before. As they exited the church, a stranger approached Rose, pressing a packet of money into her hands, saying, “I have this package of money for the señorita. Give this to your father for his present needs.” To the family’s astonishment and relief, the sum was exactly the same as Gaspar’s debt.

Rose’s boundless charity and selfless devotion to the needy earned her the affectionate titles “Mother of the Poor” and “The Rose of Lima.” Her commitment to the sick was particularly noteworthy. She personally dressed the wounds of those suffering from cancers, ulcers, and repulsive sores. Her compassion knew no boundaries. Although many of these women were beyond medical help, Rose provided comfort and solace in their final days. She dedicated herself to caring for the most neglected and abandoned women in Lima, regardless of their race or social status. She would seek out these women, bring them home with her, and tend to their needs with tireless dedication. She devoted considerable time to caring for the indigenous women of Peru, who were often the most forsaken in society. Her compassion and love for God deeply impressed those who met her, and her works of mercy laid the foundation for social work in Peru.

Maria found her daughter’s work distasteful, but Rose, guided by Divine inspiration, found ways to overcome her mother’s objections. However, the intensity of her charitable work took a toll on Rose’s health and appearance. Her once rosy cheeks and fair complexion faded, leaving her looking pale and gaunt. One day, while walking to church with her mother, Rose overheard someone commenting that her altered appearance was a sign of sanctity. Troubled by possible temptation towards spiritual pride, Rose fervently prayed to God to restore her healthy appearance. She wished to keep her work and fasting hidden from others, and God granted her request.

One day, a miraculous event unfolded that would forever be associated with Saint Rose. Dutch pirates, emboldened by their victory over the Peruvian fleet, set their sights on the city with sinister intent. Driven by the fervor of the Reformation, these marauders sought not only to loot Lima but also to desecrate its sacred churches.

As fear gripped the city, women, children, and members of the religious sought sanctuary within the city’s houses of worship. In the church of Santo Domingo, young Rose took charge, rallying the terrified refugees to prayer. As the pirates breached the church’s threshold, they were met with an awe-inspiring sight. Before them stood a young girl holding aloft a monstrance containing the Blessed Sacrament, her form radiating a brilliant, otherworldly light. Without a word, the terrified pirates turned on their heels and fled back to their ships. As quickly as they had arrived, the pirate fleet set sail, leaving Lima untouched and its people in awe of the miracle they had witnessed. This reported miracle is similar to one that took place in Assisi in 1240, when Saracen soldiers threatened the convent of San Damiano, only to turn and flee when St. Clare held up the Blessed Sacrament.

Forever afterwards, whenever earthquakes struck close by Lima, people believed that Rose’s prayers were the reason Lima was spared.

Whenever Rose spoke about Jesus, her face would radiate with an intense glow, reflecting the profound love she held for Him. Beyond her spiritual fervor, Rose had a special affinity with nature, finding solace and inspiration in its beauty. She was gifted with a melodious voice and composed a beautiful hymn in praise of God, which became her solace during times of suffering. As she struggled through painful illness during the final years of her life, she would sing it many times, pouring out her heart to God in song. It is said that at sunset each day, as she sang from within her room, a small bird would appear at her window. Drawn by the sweetness of Rose’s voice, and perhaps sensing something Divine emanating from it, the bird would join its own sweet song to hers.

Two fellow future saints played crucial roles in Rose’s spiritual journey. St. Turibius de Mongrovejo, the Archbishop of Lima, who confirmed her in 1597, was known for his religious and social reforms, particularly in defending the Indigenous people. Rose prayed fervently for God to sustain him in his trials. The second saint was St. Martin de Porres, a fellow Dominican. He shared Rose’s deep devotion to the Holy Eucharist and dedication to caring for the sick and poor and became her great friend and confidante.

Rose’s devotion to her faith was marked by extreme acts of penance and self-mortification, practices that were not uncommon among devout Catholics of her time, but which she pursued with exceptional intensity. Because she could not be a missionary as she longed to be, she turned to penance instead. “As I cannot do any good,” she said, “is it not just that I should suffer whatever I am capable of suffering?”

She subjected herself to severe physical discomfort, wearing a hairshirt to irritate her skin, an iron chain tightly wound around her waist, and a silver crown of thorns concealed beneath roses. Her dietary habits were remarkably austere for her era; when she wasn’t fasting, she consumed only the bare minimum of food and water necessary to sustain life. When she could no longer stand, she rested on a bed of broken tiles she had made. She later confessed, “The thought of lying down on it made me tremble with dread.” Despite her feelings, she maintained this practice for an astonishing fourteen years. I’ll be addressing Rose’s extreme penances a little later in this episode.

Physically, Rose suffered simultaneously from asthma and arthritis. But her spiritual trials were equally challenging. She endured disturbing dreams and intense temptations against purity and faith, experiences that tortured her mind and left her soul desolate. At times, she felt abandoned by God, believing herself to be revolting in His sight. These periods of anguish were so severe that they visibly altered her appearance, shocking those who observed her tortured expression. Her only earthly support came from her close friend, Brother Martin de Porres, who reassured her that her visions and periods of spiritual dryness were signs of God’s highest favor.

Paradoxically, these trials only drove Rose to intensify her mortifications. Yet, she also experienced profound spiritual consolations. Christ often appeared to her, offering strength and encouragement. She also was comforted by visions of the Virgin Mary and St. Catherine of Siena. One day, Rose found herself deeply troubled, her mind consumed with worries about her eternal salvation. Suddenly, Christ Himself appeared before her, His presence radiating Divine love and compassion. With gentle reassurance, He told her: “My daughter, I condemn only those who will not be saved.” He then bestowed upon Rose three extraordinary promises: First, He assured her of her place in heaven, dispelling her fears of eternal separation. Second, He promised that she would never fall from His grace through mortal sin. Finally, He pledged that Divine assistance would always be available to her in times of need. He also revealed to her the exact day and hour when she would die. This knowledge, far from being a burden, became a source of peace for Rose. It allowed her to approach her remaining days with a sense of purpose and anticipation, knowing that each moment brought her closer to eternal union with her Beloved. During this period of intense spiritual experience, Rose received the grace of mystical marriage with Christ. To commemorate this union, she had a ring engraved with Christ’s words to her: “Rose of My Heart, be My spouse.”

Rose’s extreme practices did not go unnoticed. Concerned individuals suggested that ecclesiastical authorities should investigate her conduct. Summoned before the Archbishop of Lima and a panel of theologians, Rose responded to their questions with brevity and humility. The examiners were impressed by her selflessness and her profound understanding of religious matters, and she was allowed to continue her way of life undisturbed.

Reflecting on the Divine influence that guided her, Rose wrote, “That same force strongly urged me to proclaim the beauty of Divine Grace.”

As Rose approached her twenty-eighth year, she became very sick, causing those around her to fear for her life. However, Rose, with the profound spiritual insight granted to her, knew that her time had not yet come. During this period of illness, her mother seized the opportunity to persuade Rose to part with her hideously uncomfortable bed of broken tiles. Though Rose agreed to have her old bed removed, she remained steadfast in her commitment to self-mortification. Refusing the comfort of a mattress, she instead compromised by accepting plain boards as her new resting place for the duration of her illness.

After recovering from this bout of illness, Rose’s living situation changed. She left the small hut in her family’s garden and, accepting the hospitality of Don Gonzalo de Massa, a Spanish government official, and his wife, she moved into a room in their home. Despite her new living arrangements, Rose’s compassionate spirit remained undiminished. She continued to transform her room into a sanctuary of mercy, welcoming society’s most vulnerable – homeless children, the sick, and the elderly – to provide them with care and comfort.

Rose’s position as a guest in the home of a Spanish official did not temper her outspoken nature. She fearlessly raised her voice against the harsh practices of the Spanish overlords, pointing out their greed as being the root cause of the poor’s suffering. Her courage in speaking truth exemplified her commitment to justice.

On July 31, 1617, Rose fell gravely ill, marking the beginning of her final days on earth. As her condition worsened, she endured intense suffering, including a raging thirst when the doctor forbade her to drink water. Despite her physical agony, Rose’s spiritual radiance seemed only to intensify. Those near her often heard her voice murmuring a poignant prayer: “Lord, increase my sufferings, and with them increase your love in my heart.”

After receiving the holy sacraments, she humbly addressed those gathered around her, seeking forgiveness for any faults and urging them to love God above all else. As death approached, Rose’s joy grew as she anticipated being united with her Divine Bridegroom. Shortly before her passing, she experienced a state of profound religious ecstasy. Upon emerging from this state, she confided to her confessor, “Oh! How much I could tell you of the sweetness of God, and of the blissful heavenly dwelling of the Almighty!” These words offered a tantalizing glimpse of the celestial visions she had seen.

In her final act of earthly penance, Rose asked her brother to remove the pillow from beneath her head, so she could die on bare boards, just as Christ had died on the cross. With the pillow removed, Rose bid farewell to her loved ones and asked God to comfort her mother. In her final moments, she uttered the words: “Jesus, Jesus, be with me!” Rose passed away just after midnight on August 24, 1617, the feast day of St. Bartholomew the Apostle.

Remarkably, Rose’s mother did not succumb to grief upon her daughter’s passing. Instead, she was overcome with an inexplicable joy, so profound that she hurried to another room to conceal her emotions. This joy spread throughout the household and the town, with a collective decision made to forgo mourning in favor of celebration. The profound impact of Rose’s life and death, and the esteem in which she was held, was evident in the extraordinary nature of her funeral procession. The Canons of the Church led the way, carrying her body for part of the journey. They were followed by the Senate, evidence of how Rose’s influence had reached even the highest echelons [ESH-ah-lons] of civil authority. Finally, the Superiors of various religious orders took their turn, each group eager to pay homage to a woman whose holiness had touched and inspired so many. This remarkable funeral procession, with its diverse participants, was a fitting tribute to a life that had bridged the gap between the earthly and the Divine, between the humble and the exalted.

The impact of Rose’s life and death was immediate and profound. Abundant miracles began to occur following her death. There were reports that she had cured a leper, and that the city of Lima smelled like roses; some claimed they witnessed roses falling from the sky. The people of Lima clamored for her immediate canonization; however, due to a recent Papal ruling requiring a 50-year waiting period between death and canonization, Rose’s official recognition as a saint was delayed. She was beatified by Pope Clement IX in 1667 and canonized by Pope Clement X in 1671, becoming the first person born in the Americas to receive this honor.

One of the most popular saints in the history of the Church, Rose of Lima is the patron saint of Latin America and the Philippines, of embroiderers, gardeners, florists, people who are ridiculed for their faith, and those who suffer with family problems. Her feast day has undergone several changes in the liturgical calendar. When first inserted into the General Roman Calendar in 1729, it was celebrated on August 30. This date was chosen because August 24, the anniversary of her death, was already occupied by the feast of Saint Bartholomew. In 1969, Pope Paul VI revised the liturgical calendar, making August 23 available for Saint Rose’s feast day. This change was implemented worldwide, including in Spain. However, Peru and some other Latin American countries continue to celebrate her feast on August 30, which remains a public holiday in her honor.

In art, St. Rose is often portrayed wearing a crown of roses and holding a cross, or a heart with a cross. Her symbols also include roses and lilies, and she is often portrayed with a brown habit, as a reference to her religious vocation as a Third Order Dominican.

WAS ST. ROSE TOO EXTREME?

Since I always strive for honesty with my readers, I must confess that I sometimes struggle to relate to saints like Rose of Lima who engaged in extreme, even bizarre, practices of penance and mortification. While I deeply admire these saints, their behavior can seem peculiar, even potentially unstable, when viewed with the perspective of modern times. Moreover, it’s challenging to see them as relatable role models, because their practices appear far beyond what most ordinary 21st-century Christians could or would aspire to.

In researching St. Rose of Lima for this episode, I was genuinely shocked by some of the facts I uncovered. In a book called Voices of the Saints, author Bert Ghezzi writes of St. Rose: “She fasted often. Sometimes she made herself vomit after meals, which today would probably be regarded as bulimia. She prayed long hours and frequently beat herself with a little whip.” Other sources mention that a spike in the silver crown she wore became so deeply embedded in her skull that its removal was extremely difficult. Then there’s the matter of her “bed” – used for only two hours of sleep a night – filled with broken tiles, pottery shards, and thorns. She also suffered from scrupulosity, today considered a form of obsessive-compulsive disorder, which involves excessive guilt and anxiety about sin and moral or religious issues.

This all seemed so extreme that I nearly decided against producing this episode. However, in my quest to better understand the saints, I delved into the subject of asceticism, which is the practice of self-discipline and self-denial, and the issue of extreme mortifications. I’d like to share my findings and conclusions with you.

Lest we think that asceticism is something peculiar to Catholic Saints, it’s important for us to realize that it has its roots in ancient human attempts to achieve various goals and ideals. Originally, it was closely tied to athletic training, where Greek athletes would abstain from gratification and endure physical challenges to prepare for competitions like the Olympic Games. Warriors also adopted similar practices to excel in combat, with ancient Israelites even abstaining from carnal relations before battle.

Over time, the concept of asceticism expanded beyond physical training to encompass mental, moral, and spiritual development. Across many religions and times, people have used asceticism to grow spiritually and connect with the Divine. In older tribal religions, asceticism was important too. Coming-of-age rituals play a significant role in many cultures, particularly among Native American tribes. These ceremonies mark the transition from childhood to adulthood and often involve challenging physical and spiritual experiences, such as the Vision Quest. This consists of isolation in nature for 2-4 days, often at sacred sites; fasting and prayer to seek spiritual guidance; hoping for a vision or dream that provides life direction; and guidance from elders in interpreting the experience. This closely resembles the visions and revelations of many of the saints who practiced extreme fasting, prayer, and isolation.

In major religions like Hinduism, Buddhism, and Christianity, people turned to asceticism because they realized life on Earth is fleeting, so they wanted to focus on the afterlife. They pushed back against worldly things, believing a simple life was more spiritual. In Christianity, asceticism took many forms. In the Gospels, Jesus did not directly talk about asceticism, but His followers were inspired by His simple life. St. Paul, in his letter to the Corinthians, compared Christian life to an athlete in training. Early Christians often fasted, stayed up all night praying, and avoided physical gratification. Some Christians took these practices to extreme levels. The Desert Fathers (early Christian monks) taught that self-denial or “mortification” is a tool, not the main goal. They advised being careful with these practices and said that harsh forms should be done only with guidance from an experienced spiritual teacher. They believed it is wrong to practice self-denial for physical gratification or because of scrupulosity.

As I examined the life stories of saints who engaged in extreme penances, I noticed a pattern. Many, though certainly not all, were initially young, healthy, and born into households of wealth and luxury. Given that adversity and some degree of suffering are necessary for spiritual growth – a belief shared by many religions – it appears that these individuals, lacking natural hardship, felt compelled to reject their comfortable lifestyles and create ways in which to suffer. But the idea of manufactured suffering can seem perplexing and unnecessary for those of us born into less fortunate circumstances, who have experienced struggle and adversity in daily life, have serious disabilities, or who are experiencing the aches, pains, and health problems that come with simply growing older.

Many saints besides Rose of Lima engaged in severe forms of self-mortification as a means of spiritual growth and penance, including Gemma Galgani, Catherine of Siena, Ignatius of Loyola, Dominic, Francis of Assisi, and Thomas More, to name just a few. Today, such extreme practices might be viewed as symptoms of mental health issues like obsessive-compulsive tendencies, eating disorders, and self-harm behaviors. But it’s important to view them in the context of their own times, realizing that these practices often were accepted and even encouraged in certain historical and cultural settings.

Saints typically undertook these penances out of deep devotion and a desire for spiritual growth, not due to mental illness or reasons of vanity or physical gratification. For instance, anorexia and bulimia normally arise from a distorted body image and excessive fear of weight gain, whereas spiritual fasting is practiced in many religions as a way to deepen one’s connection with God, cultivate humility, resist temptation, and seek God’s guidance. St. Rose of Lima’s actions to spoil her beauty were primarily motivated by her determination to avoid marriage and fulfill her vow of virginity, rather than for self-harm purposes. Since young women of her time had very little say in choosing their own path in life, they sometimes had to resort to desperate measures.

The saints believed that anything that might jeopardize their relationship with God had to be eradicated. Prayer, fasting, self-denial and mortifications were their way of achieving this goal. Most of the saints practiced mortification under the guidance of spiritual directors, showing a level of restraint and obedience. Many saints were discouraged from severe mortifications by their spiritual directors, St. Francis of Assisi being one notable example of this. St. Rose’s obedience to spiritual authority, too, was absolute. When her confessor forbade a particular penance, she would immediately cease the practice until given permission to resume or substitute another form of mortification. (We can only imagine the practices she was forbidden to do)! By the time of her death, she had nine spiritual directors, and all of them testified that her penances had been Divinely inspired, because of her humility and obedience.

While we can appreciate the devotion of these saints, in modern times it’s important to approach such practices with caution and discernment. Canonization does not imply that every action of a saint should be imitated; it simply affirms that the person is in heaven. Stories of extreme mortification often capture our attention and stick in our memory, which may lead to their overemphasis in religious instruction.

The Church has shifted focus towards emphasizing the fundamental goodness of the body and creation, and discourages extreme forms of bodily mortification that could be harmful or counterproductive. Mortification should be purpose-driven, a means to spiritual growth, not an end in itself. It should be part of a balanced spirituality in which the focus is on overall virtue and holiness, not just physical austerity.

Many Catholics practice “everyday internal mortification” by offering up daily discomforts or challenges as a form of spiritual discipline. I always like to start my day with a prayer called “The Morning Offering,” which offers to Jesus all the prayers, works, joys and sufferings of the day. Although this seems pretty lame in comparison to St. Rose’s heroic penances, on days when my joints hurt or I’m facing a particularly stressful situation, I like to think that my offering it up to God will at least make it a little more meaningful.

Modern Catholic devotional practices that aim to foster a deeper spiritual connection and devotion to God without resorting to extreme physical acts include: Novenas dedicated to specific saints or intentions; Eucharistic adoration; praying the Rosary; making the Stations of the Cross; wearing scapulars or religious medals; and pilgrimages to holy sites or shrines; fasting and abstinence during Lent and other prescribed times; voluntary acts of self-denial, such as giving up certain comforts or gratifications; offering a sickness or discomfort for our own sins and those of others; and practicing patience and charity in difficult situations. This last one is especially challenging for me, so much so that I have created an episode about it called “How to Become More Patient.” If patience is difficult for you as well, you might be interested in checking it out. I have included the link here: HOW TO BECOME MORE PATIENT: 7 TIPS | Everyday Life Spirituality

In this day and age, when most of us live in relative comfort, we are subject to temptations to overindulge in many things: Food, drink, entertainment, physical relationships, attachment to electronic devices, etc. We are bombarded every day by ads urging us to acquire more and more “stuff,” most of it trivial, useless, and excessive. Although we might shudder in horror at the voluntary disciplines undertaken by St. Rose of Lima, maybe it can at least inspire us to practice a little self-restraint and self-denial as we are able, for the benefit of our own souls.

Rather than merely dismissing her as too extreme, we can remember St. Rose of Lima’s admirable spiritual virtues and the way she lived out her life in true imitation of Jesus Christ, rather than just her severe penances. Although her earthly journey was brief, the impact of her immense faith, compassion, charity, and courage in the face of opposition, ridicule and severe temptations, has endured over the centuries. Let’s ask her today to make us stronger Christians, too.

February 19, 2025

PT. 4 of 4: ST. FRANCESCA CABRINI – THE FINAL YEARS

To watch the YouTube video, which includes BOTH Parts 3 & 4, click arrow in thumbnail below:

Click here to read the previous three parts:

Part One: https://everydaylifespirituality.com/2024/12/15/st-francesca-cabrini-part-one/

Part Two: https://everydaylifespirituality.com/2024/12/22/st-francesca-cabrini-part-two/

Part Three: https://everydaylifespirituality.com/2025/01/26/part-3-of-4-st-cabrinis-excellent-adventures/

Although she had become a public figure celebrated for her accomplishments, Mother Cabrini hated the spotlight and refused to allow her picture to be published in newspapers. By this stage in her life, she yearned for a retirement of peaceful contemplation, hoping to pass on the mission work to her younger and stronger nuns, This dream, however, would never materialize.

At the end of 1907, Francesca Cabrini once again set sail for Buenos Aires to visit her school—this time by boat from Barcelona instead of by mule across the Andes! After her visit, she continued on to Brazil, where her Sisters had established a school in São Paulo. Her journey then took her to Rio de Janeiro, but during the train ride through mosquito-infested marshlands, she contracted malaria and fell ill for several weeks. Despite her weakened state, she managed to open a school in Rio; however, shortly after its opening, a smallpox epidemic swept through the city, affecting several of the nuns. The first Sister to contract the disease tragically died because the authorities insisted she be taken to the public plague house, where she received inadequate care. Distraught over this, Francesca quickly arranged for a cottage outside the city for the remaining sick nuns, nursing them tirelessly just as her sister Rosa had cared for her during her own battle with smallpox decades ago in Italy.

After returning to the United States, Francesca dedicated the next two years to visiting all her houses across the country. In 1910, she was approached by the Archbishop of Chicago with a request to open a second hospital. She discovered a prime property in an affluent neighborhood, which was generously donated to the Sisters. However, local wealthy residents opposed having a free hospital in their community and attempted to dissuade Mother Cabrini through bribery and political pressure. When these tactics failed, they resorted to vandalism by cutting the water pipes on a frigid night. The resulting flood froze into thick layers of ice, which Francesca and her Sisters, along with some immigrant supporters, laboriously hacked away with pickaxes. After repairing the damage and making a few rooms livable, Francesca moved in, to ensure that the building remained guarded at night.

Their adversaries were undeterred, and one night arsonists broke into the basement and set it on fire. Fortunately, the Sisters and the fire department managed to extinguish the blaze. The following evening, however, the arsonists returned. This time, Francesca was prepared; she dashed into the street shouting for the police. The frightened criminals fled, and although they were never apprehended, they never returned. Ultimately, the hospital opened and was so well-received that many individuals and organizations within the community rallied together to support its ongoing operation.

Once the hospital was established and thriving, Francesca returned to Italy with plans to announce at the Rome motherhouse her intention to retire, and to request that a replacement be elected as Superior General. However, the Sisters were shocked and dismayed at the thought of losing their beloved Mother-Foundress. They conspired to fulfill her request by electing a Superior who would serve for life—but that Superior turned out to be Mother Cabrini herself! Surrounded by her joyful Sisters at her birthday celebration, where she was informed by the Cardinal of this decision, she graciously accepted their choice and relinquished her dream of a peaceful retirement at West Park.

While in Italy, Francesca sought out Antonia Tondini—her old nemesis who had caused her so much distress while she was a young woman caring for orphans at the House of Providence. Antonia was brought into the convent’s reception room, where Francesca warmly embraced her and said, “Please forgive me for any trouble I involuntarily may have caused you.” Confused, and overwhelmed with emotion, Antonia began to tremble and weep. Afterward, a nun asked Francesca, “Didn’t she make you suffer terribly?” To which Francesca replied with remarkable grace: “Antonia Tondini was given by God not to know any better. She truly thought that when she treated me as she did, it was for my own good.” This exemplified the profound forgiveness that dwelt in Francesca Cabrini’s magnificent heart. She recognized that all she endured at the House of Providence had been a crucible, preparing her for her great mission.

That summer, she embarked on a journey to Paris and London, seeking new houses to replace the original ones that required expansion. Her stay in London lasted 10 months, but before returning to the United States, she was compelled to return to Italy for some much-needed rest. In December, she visited Rome, where she fell gravely ill. By mid-March, her health had improved somewhat, and she abruptly announced her need to return to New York, because the hospital there required her presence. On March 27, 1911, she set sail from Naples on what would become her final sea voyage. She had a strong sense that she would never return to her homeland. As usual, the sea air invigorated her, restoring some of her strength.

Back in New York, she faced challenges in raising the necessary funds for a new Columbus Hospital to replace the old one, whose needs had outgrown its capacity. Undeterred by these obstacles, she enlisted a young architect to design a 10-story building that would eventually rise at 227 E. 19th St. Unfortunately, due to delays caused by World War I, she would not live to see its completion.

In July, while visiting West Park, she burst out of her room one morning, exclaiming that she was dying. Though she did not pass away at that time, the nuns insisted on sending her to the Mount of the Holy Cross in Colorado—a health refuge for sick nuns donated by a benefactor. Once well enough to travel, she made her way there. A fellow nun tended to her needs in a log cabin nestled among glistening snow atop the mountain. She cherished the tranquility of the place and especially loved watching the eagles soar high above her. She spent much time in peaceful meditation, gradually regaining her strength.

As soon as she was able, she ventured to Los Angeles, where another school was desperately needed. She purchased four lots, but struggled to gather enough funds to construct the school. Lacking money for a contractor, she sent for Sister Salesia, a bricklayer’s daughter with considerable building skills. At that time, the Luna Amusement Park was slated for demolition. Mother Cabrini negotiated for the rights to salvage the wooden structures set for destruction. She hired skilled Italian carpenters and laborers on a daily basis and arranged for horses and wagons to transport the materials. The parish community rallied together as well, helping dismantle the frame structures of Luna Park. Francesca was often on-site supervising the work, sporting a wide-brimmed Mexican sombrero and carrying a bamboo cane. At noon each day, she drove a horse and cart between Luna Park and the new building site, delivering wine, coffee, sandwiches and sweets to everyone laboring there. Despite the strenuous work, laughter, singing and prayer lightened their spirits. After a month of hard work collecting building materials, Francesca found herself with more than enough for the Los Angeles school, so she arranged for the surplus materials to be shipped by freight car to expand the Denver orphanage.

Leaving Sister Salesia in charge, Francesca traveled to Seattle, where an orphanage was threatened by a planned highway expansion. The orphans needed relocation, prompting her search for a new site. Exhausted from countless trips through the city, Francesca spread a map of Seattle on the table, pointed to a spot, and instructed the Sisters to explore that location and report back. That evening, the excited nuns returned with news—they had discovered what they called “a little paradise on earth.” With a knowing smile, Francesca replied, “Yes, I knew it would be beautiful. I saw it all in a dream last night.” The following day, they visited the villa, perched on a hill with breathtaking views. The owner revealed that it belonged to his wife who loved the place and would never part with it. As they descended the hill back into town, Francesca firmly declared to her Sisters, “That paradise will be for our orphans…somehow or other.”

As dusk fell, streetcars became scarce. Although hiring a taxi felt extravagant, the exhaustion of her companions made it seem to Francesca the only alternative. But just then, a limousine carrying an elegantly-dressed woman approached them. On impulse, Francesca raised her cane, signaling for assistance. The car stopped, and the lady offered them a ride back to the convent. During their drive together, the woman learned that she was speaking with Mother Cabrini—a woman she greatly admired. When Francesca mentioned the beautiful estate they had seen earlier that day, the woman’s eyes widened in astonishment; it turned out that she owned that very property! After conferring with her husband, they offered Mother Cabrini the estate at an exceptionally reasonable price. A week later, two wealthy American men donated $160,000—sufficient funds for establishing not only an orphanage on the property, but also an adjoining chapel.

Once back in New York, she resolved to establish another orphanage closer to the city. During her search for suitable properties, she stumbled upon a stunning estate right by the river in Dobbs Ferry. One of the Sisters informed her that it was a neighborhood of millionaires, and the prices would be exorbitant; moreover, the building she admired was a private school for affluent Protestant boys. Undaunted, Francesca rang the bell, which was answered by a young man whose father was the president and owner of the school. Initially cool in his demeanor, he informed Francesca that the estate was not for sale. However, as their conversation progressed, Francesca’s charm began to work its magic on him. He graciously offered to give her and the other nuns a tour of the impressive building, which included classrooms, dormitories, a kitchen, dining room, chapel, gymnasium, and swimming pool—all in excellent condition. As they departed, Francesca handed the young man her card, in case his father would consider selling. Just before leaving, she bent down to tie her shoelace, and discreetly pushed a medal of St. Joseph into the soft earth of a flower bed. A few days later, she received a letter from the owner, asking her to make an offer on the property. Armed with her plan, Francesca approached several wealthy businessmen and successfully secured the necessary funds.

With financial backing in place, she and her nuns set to work on the improvements necessary before the March 31st grand opening of what would be known as the Sacred Heart Villa at Dobbs Ferry. Francesca felt inspired by Jesus to undertake the whitewashing of the building herself. Wearing a painter’s cap and pinning up her skirts, she joyfully began painting. However, the can slipped from her hand, splattering paint all over her from head-to-toe. Laughing, she wiped at her clothes and continued with determination. The nuns held the ladder steady as she climbed up; but when they offered to take over for her, she insisted that the whitewashing was her special task. For the next 15 days, she diligently applied her brush until the job was done.

During the opening ceremony, Francesca stood alongside the Cardinal. It was at this time that the last photograph of Francesca Cabrini was taken, capturing her shining eyes and serene smile as she stood observing the happy orphans around her.

On June 28, 1914, the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand of Yugoslavia marked the beginning of the First World War. From that day on, a shadow was cast over Francesca’s heart and she was burdened with sorrow and concern for her Missionary Sisters in Europe. She prayed ceaselessly for their safety, entrusting them to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, their Divine Protector. Her usual smile was now tinged with sadness, and restful sleep eluded her; only her work provided a semblance of relief.

In August 1915, Francesca traveled to Seattle with plans to open an orphanage. The train journey proved arduous as she battled intermittent chills and fever, coupled with excruciating discomfort from sitting upright in coach for days on end. “If my Lord wants this mission accomplished,” she confided to one of the Sisters with her, “He will return to me the strength which has almost totally abandoned me.” In Seattle, she found a fine building in the heart of the city—the former Perry Hotel, which had gone bankrupt. Her discreet inquiries revealed that the principal trustee was a Mr. Clarke based in New York. Although lacking his first name, Francesca refrained from further inquiries to avoid alerting competing interests to her intentions. She telegraphed her nuns back in New York with a clear directive: “Find a certain Mr. Clarke, who is in possession of the Seattle Hotel Perry, and ask it as a donation to charity.”

This task proved daunting with no first name, as the New York City directory listed at least 200 Clarkes! Undaunted, the Sisters patiently called each number until they finally located the right party—a shrewd Protestant man, who was taken aback by their request for such a large donation to a Catholic charity, and adamantly refused. When they reported back to Mother Cabrini, she instructed them to return and propose the lowest price he would accept. This time, he was struck by their sincere humility and agreed to negotiate. After numerous visits from the Sisters, and exchanging 90 telegrams with Mother Cabrini, he ultimately bypassed the other trustees and offered her the property for $150,000—a bargain at the time. Even the Archbishop encouraged Francesca to accept this deal. Despite her persistent fatigue, she reached out to rich and poor alike, and was able to raise $10,000 as a retainer, which Mr. Clarke accepted. However, opposition soon arose. The other trustees were furious, and influential local figures vehemently opposed an Italian orphanage in that location, out of fear it would diminish property values. They ensured that all banks in Seattle would refuse to issue a loan to Mother Cabrini. From November through April, Francesca faced relentless struggles in securing financing for the property. During Lent, she gathered all her nuns and orphans to pray before the Blessed Sacrament, placing their hopes in Jesus, while she prepared herself to accept His will—whatever it might be.

In the Seattle convent stood a statue of St. Anne holding a book and teaching young Mary to read. In desperation, Francesca wrote “$120,000” in the book held by St. Anne and spent the evening in fervent prayer. While she was praying, the doorbell rang. A young nun entered to inform her that a gentleman wished to see her. When Francesca greeted him, she discovered that he was Mr. Chilberg, the Jewish president of the Scandinavian Bank. He bowed respectfully before Mother Cabrini and apologized for being out of town when she had previously visited his bank. Upon his return, he had learned about her loan denial. He expressed complete faith in her mission and offered to arrange any amount she needed. Leading him to St. Anne’s statue, Francesca told him that the amount she needed was written in the book. He read it and nodded. She then invited him to join her in the reception room for a glass of wine, which he gratefully accepted. The following day, the contract was signed, and on April 30, Mother Cabrini officially took possession of the Perry Hotel. Together with her Sisters, she prayed for abundant blessings upon their great friend Mr. Chilberg for his generous support of their mission.

It became clear that the turmoil of wartime was not an ideal backdrop for fundraising efforts aimed at establishing an orphanage. One night, Francesca had a profound dream. As she recounted to her Sisters, “…St. Anne instructed me to relinquish my desire for a foundling home, and indicated instead a hospital that will do acts of mercy and yet sustain itself.” However, this goal proved to be as challenging as her initial one. The presence of an existing Catholic hospital in Seattle led some within the Church to deem another one unnecessary and unwelcome. Additionally, those who had previously opposed her acquisition of the Perry Hotel were now rallying against her new plans. These factions exerted pressure on local doctors, causing them to withdraw their support from Mother Cabrini’s Seattle Columbus Hospital. The situation escalated to the point where even the Archbishop forbade the opening of the facility. Although initially disheartened, Francesca soon decided to pivot her approach. Instead of a general hospital, she resolved to establish a center focused on physiotherapy and electrotherapy treatments—services that were in high demand and would not directly compete with the other Catholic hospital in Seattle.

One day, a young pregnant woman from a respectable family approached the convent with a request: she wanted her baby to be born at Mother Cabrini’s hospital. Several weeks before the delivery date, Mother Cabrini felt inspired to send a Sister to visit the young woman’s home with an urgent message to summon her doctor and come immediately to Columbus Hospital, where a bed awaited her. The young lady complied, and just hours later, she gave birth to a baby girl. Due to her premature birth, the infant’s survival was uncertain; thus, Mother Cabrini herself baptized the child, naming her Columbina, which means “little dove.” The joyous event of the baby’s birth, and the happiness of the young parents, their family, friends and doctor, significantly eased the initial hostility towards Columbus Hospital. Over time, as word spread about the Sisters’ compassionate care, the hospital began to flourish.

In the fall of 1916, Francesca sensed that her life was nearing its end and felt compelled to visit some of her other houses. She informed the Sisters in Seattle of her intention to travel to Los Angeles. Her pale and fragile appearance alarmed the nuns in California, who had eagerly awaited her visit. Standing in the garden, she gazed lovingly at the Sisters gathered around her. The orphans burst into the garden, running toward her and joyfully shouting, “Mama Cabrini is here!” Francesca spent the winter in the warm California sun, enjoying long hours of deep meditation amidst the beauty of the garden. The orphans frequently visited her, and she delighted in sharing candy and telling them funny stories. Birds flocked to her feet, drawn by her quiet gentleness as spoke softly to them, scattering crumbs and seeds on the ground.

One of her nuns in Los Angeles, Sister Euphemia, suffered greatly from varicose veins, despite years of treatment from numerous doctors. Francesca suggested that she try wearing silk stockings to ease her discomfort. Taking this advice a step further, Sister Euphemia borrowed a pair of Mother Cabrini’s own cotton stockings and put them on. To her amazement, she found immediate relief. She shared this with Mother Cabrini, who laughed off the notion, but then gently admonished her: “I hope you’re not going to be so foolish as to say that my stockings cured you! It was your faith that did it.”

As Spring approached, Francesca realized she needed to travel to Chicago, due to issues arising at the new hospital. By the time she reached the Chicago Columbus Hospital on April 18, 1917, she appeared thin, bent, and frail, relying on a cane for support as she struggled to walk. The doctors quickly recognized that her malaria had worsened significantly and insisted on immediate treatment. Although the chills and fever eventually subsided over the following weeks, the treatment left her exceedingly weak. She also was suffering from chronic endocarditis, an infection involving the heart’s valves and lining.

Despite her frailty, Francesca rallied enough to participate in spiritual exercises at the convent that summer, being the first to arrive at the chapel each morning at 5:00 AM. Following medical advice, the Sisters arranged for her to be driven into the countryside daily, where she gathered wildflowers to adorn the chapel. Nostalgic for the farm life of her youth, she was inspired to purchase a farm for the Institute that would provide fresh produce for the hospital. After exploring rural areas further afield, she discovered a lovely farm in Park Ridge, Illinois, which she purchased in October. She found immense joy in stocking the farm with horses, cows, goats, pigs, and chickens.

By November, Francesca’s health had once again deteriorated. One morning during Mass, just after receiving Communion, she nearly collapsed. The Sisters quickly carried her to her bed. Though her strength waned daily, she yearned to be with her daughters during their recreation periods. She loved these times with the Sisters, and in the past had delighted them with her stories, and liked to play cards, although she was terrible at it and never won unless her opponents secretly let her. Mother Antonietta Della Casa, the Superior of the Hospital, now implored her to reconsider and conserve her energy. But Francesca firmly replied, “Oh, no! It is only now at their recreation that I can be together with them. If I am not, they will think I do not love them.”

During these cherished recreation times, she would bring them small gifts of fruit, candy, cake, or cookies—tailored to each Sister’s preference—as they gathered around her affectionately. On December 8, the feast of the Immaculate Conception, she asked the Sisters to write verses about the Virgin Mary. This would be the last time she could join them for recreation. Subsequently, she quietly withdrew to spiritually prepare herself for Christmas—a feast that held a special place in her heart. She ordered new habits for all of the Sisters, including one for herself, secretly knowing she would be buried in it. For the Order’s Christmas cards, Francesca requested a verse from the Psalms to be printed: “Oh, send out Thy light and Thy truth; let them lead me; let them bring me unto Thy holy hill, and to Thy tabernacles.” When a Sister objected that the verse seemed more fitting for a funeral than for Christmas, Francesca smiled and insisted, “Yes, I know, but this Christmas that verse goes well. Leave it the way it is.” Upon learning that the 500 children of the parish school would have to go without candy due to the difficult times, she exclaimed, “Oh, no! They must have their candy! Christmas would not be Christmas for them without it!”She instructed the Sisters to purchase the candy at her expense.

On December 21, despite suffering from the final stages of malaria, Francesca attended Mass and joined the Sisters in preparing the Christmas packages of candy for the children. The following morning, December 22, 1917, Mother Della Casa visited Francesca’s room to greet her and consult about the day’s tasks. A young nun came in to ask if Francesca wanted a bowl of broth. She agreed, and requested that her room be tidied so she could sit in her rocking chair. Mother Della Casa returned at 11:40 AM with a question for Francesca. After she left, Francesca locked the door and returned to her chair to pray and meditate in solitude. While sitting there, she felt a sudden pain in her chest and got up to unlock the door and ring for help. When a Sister entered, she found Francesca slumped in her wicker chair, her nightgown and handkerchief stained with blood. The young nun rushed to summon Mother Della Casa, who immediately sent for both the priest and the doctor. All the nuns hurried to Francesca’s room, finding her unconscious. The priest administered Last Rites just as Francesca opened her eyes one final time. She leaned her head against Mother Della Casa’s arm and cast a loving glance at all her Sisters before drawing her last breath.

A solemn Requiem Mass was celebrated by the Archbishop of Chicago, after which Francesca’s body was transported to New York for a second Requiem Mass conducted by Bishop Hayes at St. Patrick’s Cathedral. In accordance with her wishes, her body was interred at her beloved West Park on January 2, 1918. Hundreds of orphans dressed in white, carrying lilies and candles, followed her casket from the convent chapel to her tomb. In 1930, her remains were moved to their current location in the chapel of Mother Cabrini High School (formerly the Sacred Heart Villa) at 701 Ft. Washington Avenue.

In 1928, the process for her canonization began. Two miracles are required for sainthood, and in Francesca’s case, the first miracle involved an infant named Peter Smith, who was born at the New York Columbus Hospital on March 14, 1921. As was customary at the time, a nurse applied a solution of silver nitrate to the infant’s eyes. As she put the bottle down, she realized with horror that in her haste she had used a 50% solution instead of the intended 1%, resulting in severe chemical burns to the baby’s eyes. An eye specialist, along with other doctors, concluded that there was nothing they could do—the corneas of the eyes were destroyed, and the child would be permanently blind. The Mother Superior rushed in with a relic of Mother Cabrini, placed it on the baby’s eyes, and then pinned it to his nightgown. She and the Sisters, along with the nurse involved, spent the entire night praying in the chapel for a miracle.

The following morning, when the doctors returned to examine baby Peter, they were astonished to find his eyes intact and perfectly normal. However, that same day, the infant developed double pneumonia, with a temperature reaching 108°F—just one degree short of fatal. The doctor advised the Mother Superior to start praying again, as the baby’s condition was critical. “Doctor,” she replied confidently, “Mother Cabrini has not cured his eyes just to let him die of pneumonia!” They prayed once more, pleading for a second miracle. By morning, all symptoms of pneumonia had vanished. Peter Smith grew up healthy with normal vision, and as a young man, served as a soldier in the Army. The only remnants of his hospital ordeal were two small scars from the silver nitrate that had leaked from his eyes.

The second miracle involved Sister Delfina Grazioli, who had suffered since 1915 from adhesions of the gallbladder and intestines. Despite undergoing four surgeries, her condition showed no improvement, and she was painfully wasting away. By December 1925, doctors had given up all hope and predicted she had only a day or two left to live. Funeral arrangements were already underway; however, on the night of December 16, after praying to Mother Cabrini, Sister Delfina saw her in a dream. The next morning, although still very weak, she announced that she was cured. The instantaneous healing was confirmed by the doctors, and she never experienced a recurrence of her illness. Mother Francesca Xavier Cabrini was beatified on November 13, 1938, and canonized on July 7, 1946.

Throughout her life, Francesca believed that faith, simplicity, humility, and obedience were the foundations of all spiritual power. She often reminded her Sisters that the only necessary mortification was to perfectly observe the Rule of the Order and wholeheartedly carry out their daily tasks. She prayed fervently that she would never ask her nuns to do anything she herself was unwilling to do. Francesca valued openness and candor in others and detested any pretentious displays of piety. She did not want to see her Sisters carrying rosaries unless they were actively reciting them. Always gentle and kind in her approach, she never hesitated to speak her mind, but did so with compassion. Rather than giving orders, she made requests that were promptly obeyed. She discouraged self-pity and long faces among her Sisters. A sense of humor and fun bubbled out of her spontaneously, gladdening the hearts of everyone who came under the spell of her infectious smile.

In my research for this video series, I came across a quote from one of her biographers that described her life as “a quiet whirlwind.” I can think of no better description. Francesca Cabrini perfectly fulfilled the hope she once wrote in her notebook: “I wish to die of love after a life of total surrender to God….Oh Jesus, I love you so much, so much!….Give me a heart as large as the universe, so that I may love you, if not as much as you deserve, at least as much as I am capable of.”

May 22, 2023

INVITING THE HOLY SPIRIT: A LIFE-CHANGING DECISION

Are you looking for guidance and direction in your life? A deeper connection with God? Are you ready for a life-changing experience? In this blog post, I share how I invited the Holy Spirit into my life and experienced the transformative power of His presence, and how you, too, can cultivate a relationship with the Spirit, allowing Him to touch your life in ways you never imagined, through His powerful wisdom, guidance and great love. Let the Holy Spirit be your companion on life’s journey; He is the best friend you’ll ever have!

Some years ago, I experienced a time of intense spiritual searching. I had always believed in God and had always been able to speak to Him as a Friend and Father. However, at this time I had many unresolved questions about my destiny, my purpose, and life in general. I was at the time of life that many of us eventually encounter, when we search for deeper meaning and purpose in our existence.

In church one day, during this period of questioning and searching, I found a prayer to the Holy Spirit written by Cardinal Mercier, a Belgian Cardinal of the Roman Catholic Church, who lived from 1851 to 1926. The prayer was short and simple and promised to be a life-changer if said faithfully every day. The prayer card quoted Cardinal Mercier as follows:

“I am going to reveal to you a secret of sanctity and happiness. For five minutes every day quiet your imagination, close your eyes to everything visible, and your ears to all external sounds, and withdraw into the sanctuary of your baptized soul, which is the temple of the Holy Spirit, and say to Him:

‘O Holy Spirit, beloved of my soul, I adore You. Enlighten, guide, strengthen and console me. Tell me what I should do; give me Your orders. I promise to submit myself to all that You desire of me and to accept all that You permit to happen to me. Let me know only Your Will.’”

Cardinal Mercier went on to say that if you said the prayer daily, you would receive the serenity, consolation, grace and strength of the Holy Spirit, even in the midst of trials.

I didn’t know much at that time about the Holy Spirit, except for what most Christians know: He is the Third Person of the Trinity, He came to the Apostles at Pentecost, and at Confirmation He infuses us with His gifts of wisdom, understanding, counsel, knowledge, fortitude, piety, and fear of the Lord (awe). But all of these were only facts I had learned in Catechism class, not truths that I felt or understood on a deep, personal level. However, I decided to say the prayer every day and see what happened.

What gradually did occur when I put my trust in the Holy Spirit transformed my life and my relationship with God in ways I never imagined. I didn’t get all the answers to every question I had, but insights started to emerge – not the faltering human attempts at reason that the conscious mind produces, but serene, gracious, perfectly wise and loving answers that I knew were coming from a Source far greater than anything in my own power. I knew with deepest certainty that they were the true answers, because they reflected only the highest values and motives that I knew to be Truth, even at times when my human, conscious mind had been thinking just the opposite or had no answers at all.

Other changes began occurring. Because of the loving wisdom I was now perceiving in my life, God’s love became truly personal to me, a tangible thing, not merely the abstract concept I had grasped only partially before, which had consisted of thoughts like, “Yeah, I know God loves me. He has to love me, since God is Love and He created me.” Now God’s love and guidance became a real, vibrant force, not just an idea or theory. Now when I heard Scripture being read or a sermon being given, I was grasping them with an understanding that really related them to my own life. I became aware that I was surrounded by love, protection and guidance from unseen sources that were as real as anything that existed in the material world – actually, more real! The gifts and fruits of the Holy Spirit took on meaning as powerful graces that were alive and working in my life and were mine for the asking, not just words to be memorized. I entrusted my life and my future to the Holy Spirit’s guidance, and asked Him to bless me with the gifts necessary to do whatever work God had planned for me.

At this time, I was also doing a lot of dream work, studying about dreams and keeping a dream journal. Many times, I would pray and meditate upon a question at bedtime and see what insights I might receive in my dreams. I was a vivid dreamer, and would often have detailed dreams full of personal symbolism and meaning, which I faithfully recorded and worked on interpreting (more about dreams in a future blog post)!

I began praying to the Holy Spirit at bedtime, asking Him: “Please help my unbelief, and show me what serving You will mean to me.” I also requested that the Holy Spirit would show me a way to visualize Him that would be more personal than the customary depiction of Him as a dove, tongues of fire, or wind, which were hard for me to relate to. I asked Him to send me a “Divine dream.”

One night shortly thereafter, I received an answer in the form of the following dream, which I call “The Smiling Man:”

In the dream, I am in a building that resembles an office building. I don’t know where or why I am there. As I walk through this building, I pass a man dressed in a business suit, who is looking at me with a big, friendly smile. I don’t recognize him as anyone I know. I am wondering who he is. He certainly seems to know me, since he is smiling at me in such a familiar way. So I ask a woman nearby who that man is. She replies, “Oh, that’s the Holy Spirit!” I am thrilled and awed to be seeing Him, yet I’m surprised that he looks like a mortal, human man.

I don’t recall now exactly what He looked like, but the thing that stands out in my memory was that radiant smile He was directing at me. He looked like an ordinary person – no fanfare, no great rays of light beaming from Him, no resplendent garments, nothing “biblical” in the least – just an ordinary man with a beautiful smile.

In the next scene of the dream, I am starting a new job in that same office building, and I am introduced to the group of men for whom I will be working. They all look like the man who had been identified to me as the Holy Spirit! I remark to someone standing nearby, “Well, since they all resemble the Holy Spirit, at least I’ll get a chance to see what it’s like to work for Him! I’ll see what kind of a boss He is!” There the dream ended.

Upon awakening from this dream (it was the middle of the night), I immediately closed my eyes again to see if I could get back into the dream or see some imagery to expand upon the dream. After a few seconds of lying there with my eyes closed, I suddenly saw an image of a page with writing on it that looked like a piece of verse. I barely had time to read it before it faded and I woke up completely. I grabbed my notebook and wrote down the words of the verse:

“Every time you hear selfless human words,

Feel loving emotions,

Or help another soul,

I am there.

My Truth is in everything you do with high motives.

Live your life with spiritual Light –

You will know Me.”

These beautiful words made clear to me the meaning of the dream: The Holy Spirit had looked like an “ordinary person” because He wants me to know that God is within every person we meet. We don’t always recognize Him — as I didn’t recognize the man in my dream as being the Holy Spirit — but He knows us intimately and loves us with an unsurpassed love, symbolized by the man’s bright, beautiful, loving smile.

In the dream I was working for men who also “resembled the Holy Spirit” and I was curious to see what working for Him would be like, what kind of “boss” He would be. To me, this part of the dream symbolizes that when we serve our fellow humans, we are serving God as well. The opportunities to serve God are often disguised as ordinary tasks of daily life. This answered my bedtime prayer of asking the Holy Spirit to “show me what serving You would mean to me.” (Thank You, Holy Spirit!)

I later came across this quote by Chip Ingram, American Christian pastor, author, and teacher: “As you spend time in God’s Word and understand his love, the Holy Spirit will create new desires within you to love and serve others like never before.“

As Pentecost Sunday approaches, I share this dream as an encouragement to anyone who has not yet discovered what a wonderful Friend (and “Boss”) the Holy Spirit can be. I urge you to seek Him out, ask Him to manifest in your life and draw you closer to Him. He will enlighten and guide You and share His marvelous gifts with you, if you will only open up and let His light in. He will also pray on our behalf when we cannot find the words. As St. Paul wrote in his letter to the early Christians in Rome: “Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.“ Romans 8:26. As my dream symbolized, by serving our fellow humans and living in the light of the Holy Spirit, we will find true happiness and peace, and we will know God.

Let this Pentecost Sunday be the day that you let the Holy Spirit unleash his great power in your life. Invite him to reveal his great love and caring wisdom and guidance. He’s the best friend you’ll ever have. As my dream symbolized, by serving our fellow humans and living in the light of the Holy Spirit, we will find true happiness and peace. And we will know God.

In the words of Robert Tillman Kendall, Christian writer, speaker, and teacher: “The Holy Spirit has His own personality. He therefore moves in at will when we least expect it, and sometimes when we are least deserving of it.“

Happy Pentecost!

Have you experienced the Holy Spirit in your own life? Comment below!