At a garage sale sometime around the age of 16, I bought a little green book called Wisdom of the Saints. I can’t say why I bought it at the time, because at the same garage sale I bought a print of a painting of Venice that wasn’t particularly good, and the book Coffee, Tea, or Me. But Catholicism had recently entered into my consciousness. I had a Catholic boyfriend who was in the process of re-discovering his Faith; I had just toured the Iberian Peninsula with my grandparents and fresh memories of cathedrals and Fátima were percolating quietly in the recesses of my heart. So for some pocket change, I bought this little book. It was like a saint appetizer plate, including brief bios and writing samples of some of the greats. I read a little here and there—my James Dean bookmark still holds my place.
At the time, the whole “saints” thing was one of those medieval Catholic inventions I had heard people talk about, things I knew we were supposed to snuff at as post-Reformation, American Christian people. We were smarter now, and knew it was all poppycock. Once you’re dead, you’re dead. Though, I did believe in an after-life, that souls went to either Heaven or Hell, which meant our souls kept on living in some kind of way. But Heaven was like a distant place, the “better place” which God lit up with his light and love. I think I pictured it like a drug-less Woodstock where everyone was blissfully happy and hugging each other. People I loved who had died had gone there and we would see them someday, but were for now off the radar, sealed away.
For me growing up, the only guarantee in the invisible, spiritual world was God and the angels, as well as the devil and demons. It made logical sense to me that if I really believed in the eternal-ness of our souls, just as I asked people to pray for me in the here and now, then I could ask the living souls to pray for me— those who had died, but whom death had not conquered through Christ’s salvific work on the Cross. Intellectually, I understood this. But the actual practice of it would take some time (and a little gumption). I could pick up a book like Wisdom of the Saints and appreciate the wisdom. But anything beyond that bordered the crazy.
The funny thing is, it seemed like certain saints started choosing me. I heard this from other people through the years, how it is true for them. Now that I’ve had children, I absolutely believe this to be true. For me, St. Faustina Kowalska and St. Thérèse of Lisieux were the two spiritual power-houses who caught my attention at first. I write more about that [here] and [here].
The communion of the saints changed the way I understood Heaven, and in so doing, how I related to the eternal on a daily basis. Heaven became a part of my life in the present, something not just to long for but also to experience here on earth. The communion of the saints is tied into the Mass: with the angels and saints we proclaim, “Holy, holy, holy!” While they kneel at the throne of God, we kneel to our humble Lord and Savior come to us in the form of bread.
When I started having children, I was at a loss as to how to teach them a number of Catholic things, but the Saints was something I was really eager to share with them. I’m so thankful they posses an awareness of this greater Christian family. Though we haven’t always been consistent, we try to celebrate all of their feast days (or name days). As they get older and are confirmed, they can choose their own feast. My eldest took Francis of Assisi as her special patron at her Confirmation, so now she considers October 4 her feast day. My second-eldest has a few namesakes, but has chosen St. Faustina’s feast most recently. Celebrating their feast day can be as simple as an acknowledgement, or they might get the day off from school (we home-school), sometimes we’ll have a special treat or something like that.
Through the years, at times during night prayer, each of the kids could pick a saint from whom to ask for prayers as part of a family-wide litany. As each of them gets older, I’m surprised sometimes by the saints they call on. Sometimes I know why that particular saint is on their mind, whether they just read about them in school, or they had a recent feast day, but there are times when it’s out of the blue to me, which is a lovely reminder that they’re on their own journey of faith. Last year I wrote up a family Litany of Saints to pray on All Saint’s day, November 1. It was alarmingly long, and really powerful to pray together.
As more people close to me have died, Heaven begins to feel nearer. Through childbirth, Heaven feels nearer. And the reality is, the veil that separates us from the eternal is thin. I could go through life without knowing about the saints, but I don’t know why I would. There is strength in numbers. And I need encouragement and guidance from my brothers and sisters here with me in this life, as well as those who have joyfully finished the race.