Holiness: The Healing You Need

(1,569 words, 8 minutes read time.)

In my Carmelite formation this morning, we delved into the reality of our attachments and how God strips us of them, each of us personally.

Gradually.

Thread by thread.

Like the bird tethered to a string and breaking free.

It brought me back to the tragedies the Lord has permitted along my journey…

I’ve lost my mind,

literally,

and landed in the hospital.

Repeatedly.

Nearly two months at a time.

I ended up homeless several times

and temporarily in an abuse shelter.

All this, coupled with debilitating Lyme disease and chronic fatigue syndrome (among others!)

I can’t think of a worse situation than what I’ve been through, at least for me personally.

Unable to take care of myself or sign myself out. Not having a place to stay and be safe.

The total loss of security, possessions, and right mind can be an unbearable cross for many.

All without a spouse or grown children to be there.

For someone else, another scenario may terrify them more.

The Lord knew what trials I needed to help me learn trust in Divine Providence. I’m still learning!

He knew I needed to face my fears, as suffocating and unbearable as they were. They engulfed me and kept me up at night, seized in terror. The agonizing thoughts would not stop. Medicine does not fix that.

But each time I was lost, after a period of challenge, the Lord came and embraced me. It may not have been everything I wanted, but it was sufficient to get by. And a little less, to feel the pinch.

I had to walk everywhere for appointments, having no transportation, and that caused severe pain in my legs and crashes afterward.

But my prayers would soon be answered in a deeper way.

My old home was a painful mess.

I left the hospital in a taxi paid for by staff who loved me. They supported my decision and wanted the best for me.

Sr. Theresa appeared at the Catholic church around the corner, the very Sunday after I arrived at a shelter. She rarely attended anything outside seminary Masses, but this was an unusual occasion. She glimpsed me entering the church and heard, “She has a vocation!” After Mass, she heard again, “Can you help me discern a vocation?”—whichever kind it was. It was the Divine Appointment I had prayed for!

When she first met me, she did not judge me. I appeared deeply wounded and traumatized by life, yet she accepted me as I was and loved me with a mother’s heart.

When Sr. Theresa and Fr. David entered my life and repeatedly took me into their home, it helped me truly see God’s love for me and believe that He hears my prayers—my gut-wrenching cries for a holy home and for the person who could help me live a better life for God.

She really stretched me, helping me become more disciplined and independent. It was painful, but I knew she was building me up.

The Lord is so good. In one way or another, He provides, if we pray and trust. Prayer is our lifeline! Read that again!

A year later, I fell horribly ill again and was hospitalized after a vocation trial at a convent with a nursing home. Sr. Theresa and Fr. David repeatedly drove six hours through heavy traffic and across state lines to help me. Holy, heroic souls!

Tears streamed down my face in utter relief and love when they arrived at my bedside.

It would be nearly two months of poor treatment and the most severe my mental illness had ever been before, but thanks be to God, Sr. Theresa fought off a dangerous treatment and eventually brought me back home.

We learned it was not possible to stop medication for convent discernment. And heartbroken, we ruled out religious life as a vocation.

A few years of deep struggle followed as I grieved what my life would become since religious life was not possible. I had felt it was the only possible plan given my disabilities—and the only way to holiness, and to be precise, salvation, for me.

Recently, the exorcist Fr. Dan Reehil shared a profound truth on Raymond Arroyo’s show. He spoke about the abuse he suffered as a child. What struck me most was that he said he would not ask God to remove it from his past. Not because the abuse was good, but because God has healed him, and he can now see the great good that has come from it in his ministry to others.

Reflecting on my own life—the abuse, a family that did not support my faith, chronic illnesses, and many sufferings—I realized something similar. If my past had been different, I may never have received the miraculous gifts of Sr. Theresa and Fr. David, my spiritual mother and father. These holy souls have been a saving grace in my life and have helped lead me closer to Jesus and to Heaven.

I am still coming to terms with much of my suffering, but my heart increasingly recognizes that God has brought graces from it that I would never want to lose. If changing my past meant losing these gifts, I would not choose another path. The suffering itself was never good, but God’s love has been so great that He has drawn blessings from it beyond what I could have imagined.

Living with Sr. Theresa, the Lord eventually led me to gratitude for my life, to living more in the present moment, and to the realization that contemplation and holiness are the call of all, including the laity.

Gradually, I grew stronger and learned to live it better. I learned to receive and give love through Sr. Theresa’s heartfelt motherly friendship.

For seventeen years, the Lord also brought profound growth and healing through the deep spiritual fatherhood of Fr. David. His guidance and love were transformative, and I continue to grieve his loss.

The Lord provided greater stability over the many years I sought Him. One merciful summer, He led me to a Carmelite community for the laity. That would turn my world upside down and teach me the narrow way deeply. It is lifelong learning and growth.

Nowadays, everything is going well enough.

I’m mostly stable in my Carmelite community, after a few rocky years of severe battle and growth. I’m preparing to take Carmelite permanent profession. A few years ago, I made a permanent vow of celibacy. My chronic illnesses are still a struggle, but livable. We’re attempting adjustments, and I try to persevere with the heaviness of the crosses. Not fully functioning, but doing what I can in the Little Way.

The Lord has given me all these crosses to offer Him in love and in intercessory prayer for others.

Yet the stability of this holy way of living is at stake.

The individual who has long supported all my needs says they have put off retirement for years, but are now elderly and worn out and need to retire.

Their generosity has been a beautiful and profound sacrifice of love. The situation grieves me—for their sake as well as my own.

Nearly two decades later, I am at that familiar crossroads again, wondering how God will provide for true stability.

Homelessness is possible for ANY OF US.

When we lose a job and lose our health.

Or become disabled.

Or experience a house fire.

Or an ill family member drains our retirement.

And we have no significant support.

Government isn’t much help without work credits.

The world can fall away from beneath our feet.

So yet again, with St. Thérèse and St. Faustina, heroines of holy dependence, I place my trust in Thee.

There are many kinds of trials the Lord may allow to strip souls of attachments, purify their love and humility, and deepen their virtues.

The Lord desires to draw us close and lead us into Divine Union through contemplation. This will be the SAIL that helps our boat reach Total Union one day, if we survive the many great trials along the way.

One day, God willing, we shall reach shore and say:

“Yes, Lord! It was all worth it! The beauty of Heaven and its constant joys send my soul into unceasing praise of You! Glory to God in the Highest!”

Today, will you reflect on past trials and how God came through for you?

Reflect on the growth that came through the beautiful struggle of growing in holiness.

Consider what areas you currently struggle to trust Him in and depend upon Him.

St. John of the Cross wrote not only about physical attachments, but also about attachments to sleep, food, people, consolations, and many other created things. His goal is to help the soul become free of every disordered attachment so that it may seek its ultimate joy and fulfillment in God alone. In this sense, he is radical about finding one’s deepest pleasure in God.

Keep in mind, however, that detachment means freedom from slavery to created things, not freedom from enjoying them in moderation. In fact, some Catholic writers teach that when we are detached, we can enjoy created things even more, because we receive them gratefully as gifts from God rather than clinging to them as necessities.

Ask Him to help you, in little ways each day, to detach, surrender in trust, and depend on Him.

Perhaps He will not need to send gigantic, life-jolting trials if we chip away at our attachments little by little.

And if He does send some of us large trials by surprise, work now on trust and love, that you may always be ready to cling to Him no matter what.

May He teach us to walk—not sink—upon the water!

God be praised, now and forever!

Amen.