Let me tell you an amazing story about my dear friend, Lucia of Syracuse. I remember our time together like it was just yesterday. Lucia and I were born in AD 283 and we grew up together as best friends. We lived together in the town of Syracuse in Sicily. Lucia’s father died when she was just a baby, and was raised by her mother Eutychia, a pious and devoted Christian. Our parents were Christians, even though many people at the time were still pagans, who worshipped other gods. The ruler of the country was also a pagan and made it illegal to be a Christian. However, our parents loved Jesus very much, so they were Christians and taught us about Christ. One day, Lucia shared a beautiful secret with me, but she made me promise not to tell anyone. Lucia said that she loved Jesus so much that she wanted to give her whole life to Him. Out of her love for Christ, she offered her virginity to God and she also made a vow that she would remain unmarried. We kept Lucia’s vow a secret because it would cause her to be in danger since being a Christian was illegal.

One afternoon, Lucia came to my house with tears running down her cheeks; and told me that her mother, not knowing about her vow, promised a rich young man of Syracuse that Lucia would marry him. Lucia tried to persuade her mother that she did not want to marry anyone. She avoided seeing the man as often as she could, but this only made her mother and the young man very angry. Regardless, we still kept her secret and did not tell them of her vow. Lucia prayed, asking God for help, so that she would not have to marry the man.                         

Lucia’s mother became ill and was very weak with a hemorrhage. She reminded her mother about the story in the Gospels of the woman who was cured of a hemorrhage by touching Christ’s cloak. Lucia was very worried about her mother and she suggested that we make a pilgrimage to the tomb of Saint Agatha to pray for her ill mother to be healed. While we were at the tomb, Lucia’s mother, Eutychia, was miraculously healed! The next morning, Lucia came to me and told me something unexplainable! She said, Saint Agatha appeared to her in a dream and told her that she would be martyred for Christ’s sake. Lucia then told her mother of her vow and how she prayed for some way to change her mother’s mind. Grateful for being healed, Eutychia allowed Lucia to follow her vow.

Now that Lucia’s mother agreed she could keep her vow to God and did not have to marry, the rich young man became very angry. He turned over Lucia to the governor of the region as a Christian. When my dear friend, Lucia, was found guilty a judge ordered that she would be sold into slavery. He thought this would make Lucia change her mind about being a Christian. Soldiers came to take her away, but no matter how hard they tried, Lucia stood as if rooted to the ground. The soldiers were scared by this, a small young woman as un-moveable as a mountain! Then the soldiers poured oil on her head and tried to set her on fire. I was terrified and could not bear to watch my dear friend burn. Then I heard a soldier shout out “How was she not harmed?” I looked back at the scene to see Lucia still standing. It was miraculous! Lucia told the soldiers she was not harmed because the power of the Lord protected her. I began to cry with joy when I realized that Lucia really was protected by the Lord.

Despite this miraculous moment, my dear friend, Lucia was dragged away to prison even after surviving the flames of fire. In prison, Lucia plucked out her own eyes to stay chaste to the Lord. This was a great sacrifice to God. She was then beaten, tortured and stabbed in the throat. Lucia died in AD 304 and was received into Heaven. My dear friend died a horrible and painful death, but she will always be remembered for her bravery and dedication to Christ.

I will never forget Lucia. In my eyes, Lucia was truly a saint. She had always helped me when I was scared or afraid. She gave me the courage and bravery to concur the challenges of life. I truly believe she is still with me today, in my heart still helping me through any of life’s problems. I will always admire Lucia’s strength and bravery to overcome any obstacle in order to remain true to her vow. Lucia’s message to me was always to be strong and have courage in the worst of times. My dear friend, Lucia, also told me that if you want something, go for it and never give up because the Lord will always be there to listen to your prayers. Saint Lucia of Syracuse is my hero; she will remain in my heart forever.

The picture at the right in the middle shows a picture of Saint Lucia of Syracuse. She is holding a plate with two eyes on it in this picture because she was known for getting her eyes pierced out, after devoting herself to God, which was against the law at that time.I chose St. Lucia of Syracuse for my confirmation name after learning that she is the patron saint of eye aliments. I discovered the story of St. Lucia shortly after leaving the doctor’s office for an eye infection. Since I was nervous about my eye not healing properly, my mom purchased the St. Lucia pray card for me, so I could pray to her for help. In addition, to asking St. Lucia’s help with my eye infection which did completely heal, Lucia was also the name of my great-great grandmother. Lastly, the feast day for St. Lucia is during the month of December, which is the month I was born and I want to honor her for her bravery forever.

Saint Report

Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton

January 4, 1821

Today was a sorrowful day for everyone in Emmitsburg, Maryland. Elizabeth Ann Seton has passed away at the age of 47. I, Elizabeth’s best friend, have been through everything with her. That’s why I have been chosen to write a biography about Elizabeth’s life. It all began on August 28, 1774.

On August 28, 1774, Elizabeth Ann Bayley was born into a wealthy, Episcopalian family. The name, Elizabeth, means “worshipper of God”. Her father, Richard Bailey was a physician. Elizabeth’s mother died when she was three years old, and afterwards, her father remarried and she felt neglected by her stepmother. On January 25, 1794, at the age of 19, she married William Seton, a successful businessman. In time, they had five children, two boys and three girls. Elizabeth was a lively member of Trinity Church in New York City. She was devoted to the church’s religious and social activities that helped poor people. William Seton’s health began to fail in the winter of 1803. Elizabeth and I sailed with her husband and their oldest daughter, Anna, to a warmer climate in Italy. I came along to help take care of Anna. They decided that they would stay with the Filichi family and eventually became friendly during businesses. Elizabeth’s husband’s condition worsened during their voyage. When they docked at the port of Leghorn, Italy, they were immediately quarantined in damp, isolated quarters because of threats of a plague. On December 27, 1803, William Seton died. As a result, Elizabeth experienced increasing devotion to her family. Because of her stronger faith, she was drawn to the Catholic Church. 

Elizabeth returned to New York City in May 1804. On March 14, 1805 she became Catholic after enduring hardships within herself and with her family. She embraced her new faith and became member of the Church that had few members. Archbishop Carrol of Baltimore encouraged Elizabeth to open the first American Catholic school in Baltimore in 1808. Elizabeth established a religious community of women called Sisters of Charity in Emmitsburg, Maryland, in 1809. Elizabeth and I were the first of many to be involved in this community. This community grew and opened schools and orphanages in New York and Philadelphia. Mother Seton was called the founder of the Catholic school system in the United States. Her followers minister through the Church in the United States, especially through schools, hospitals, and various works of charity. Mother Seton remained devoted to her children and to women who joined her. As Elizabeth’s best friend, I was with her until she died on January 4, 1821 and Elizabeth was buried in Emmitsburg, Maryland. If Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton were alive right now, her message would be to stay brave and determined, and to always listen to God.

                                                              Postscript

My good friend Patrick was born in AD 387 at Kilpatrick inScotland. I also was born in Kilpatrick and we have been best friends since birth as both of our very loving Roman parents were in charge of the colonies and lived in Britain together.

He was a bishop for 40 years and converted thousands of people including myself to Christianity in Ireland. But well before this, Patrick dealt with adversity at a very young age. When we were 14, we were captured during a raiding party and were taken toIreland to serve as slaves in which we would tend sheep. While being held captive, he started praying to God for help. After serving Ireland for six years, he had an inspiring dream. In the dream, God was telling him to escape by going to the coast. I questioned him about leaving, but he said it was a message that God himself was giving to him and that we had to listen no matter what the consequences were. Sure enough, we escaped and went to the coast where we found a group of sailors who took us back toBritain where Patrick and I were reunited with our families.

While in Britain, Patrick had another dream from the Irish telling him to walk in their footsteps once more. With this dream, he decided to begin his studies to enter into the priesthood. He was ordained a priest by St. Germanus, the bishop of Auxerre, whom he studied under for many years before. Later, he was ordained a bishop and was sent back toIreland to preach the gospels. During his 40 years of inspirational preaching about God, I watched him perform many miracles and convert thousands of people to Christianity. Many people came to me saying how much Patrick had meant to them and how they noticed a significant difference in their lives after they started following God and praying to him on a daily basis.

I truly admire t he way Patrick dealt with his struggles and difficult times in his life. He prayed to God hundreds of times a day for the strength to help him through his difficult life. Not only were his prayers answered for him, but they helped Patrick inspire others to follow God and put him first in their lives. He was always there for me when I would have a question about my faith and I would follow his word because I knew that God was working through him.

Seeing the greatness that Patrick worked everyday made me want to be like him and become a saint one day. He never thought that any day was a bad day or that any person could not change if they put the effort into trying. He always believed that there was hope and that you could be anything that you wanted to be by putting your heart and soul into becoming it. He was the kind of man who could change a person who thought they had nothing to live for into someone that appreciated everything in life and never took anything for granted ever again.

Patrick was a gentle, pious, and humble man, whose love for God and for others should be an inspiration to everyone of us today in our daily lives. His courageousness helped me through difficult times especially during our captivity inIreland. He helped me become a better, more Christ-like person in all aspects in life. For this and all that he did for me I thank and admire him for helping me during all the days of his life.

Patrick could be considered a saint for his perseverance and lack of quitting even when times weren’t the greatest. He was always there helping and encouraging others to turn to Christianity. He preached God’s word to the absolute fullest and did not stop until he was sure that everybody understood what God’s message was. To go along with his kind and loving personality, was an inspiring man who converted thousands to Christianity in a special and unique way so that people could understand. Patrick died in AD 461 and his message to all was an inspiration that should never be forgotten.

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I have picked Saint Patrick as the saint I wish to choose for Confirmation. I chose this Saint because I was born the day after St. Patrick’s Day and since I was almost named Patrick I thought that it would be a nice way I could incorporate him in my life today. Another reason is because I come from a very Irish family and since Saint Patrick is the Patron Saint of Ireland, I thought he was a great fit for my Confirmation Saint. My image is very special as it is a statue of Saint Patrick at the Hill of Tara, Co. Meath, Ireland. The name I wish to be called at Confirmation is Patrick.

My childhood was a simple one. My mother, father, and I were peasants that lived in the tiny village of Nanterre, France, near Paris. I met Genevieve the day I was born (she was two days older than me) in the year 422. We grew up together and loved each other like sisters. We spent all our time together. Genevieve would always tell me stories from the Bible about God and heaven. She told me that she wanted to devote her life to Christ. I admired her and followed what she taught me. But it wasn’t until that day that I remember so vividly that I knew Genevieve was special.



We were seven years old. The village was buzzing with the exciting news that Saint Germain of Auxerre was stopping through Nanterre on his way to combat the heresy of Pelagius. This was one of the biggest things that had ever happened in the history of our tiny village. That day we stood there in the packed crowd, listening to Germain preach. Suddenly, he stopped talking and told the crowd to part. When the part got to us Germain halted Genevieve and told her to move forward.

She scurried up to him hastily. He kissed her head and asked her name. Genevieve and her parents, who followed her, were so shocked that they could not respond. That’s when I shouted out “Her name is Genevieve.” She looked back at me with an expression that clearly said “thank you.” Germain then said that her life shall be devoted to God and then asked her if she would like to live a life of virginity. She answered yes. Then Germain told her to keep firm belief in God, do good works, and preach in his name and he will give her force and virtue. Germain told her to come back to him in the morning and her parents assured him they would. After Germain left and the crowd cleared out, Genevieve was a local celebrity. She was very humble about all of this however. The next morning, Genevieve and her parents headed off to the town square. She asked me to come with her, but I said that it wasn’t my rightful place and I didn’t want to interfere with anything. Later that night, Genevieve came home and told me that the Bishop with Saint Germain led her to a Church and consecrated her to God as a virgin. For the next two months, Genevieve preached the good news of the Lord.



The village was in chaos and panic when Attila the Hun and his clan were said to be coming through Nanterre. Everyone was preparing to evacuate. Genevieve and her family were some of the few people that wanted to stay. The morning of the evacuation day Genevieve stood in the village square where everyone was getting ready to evacuate. She stood up and talked, saying that God will watch over us and protect us if we prayed and fasted. Soon a huge crowd gathered. At first, everyone thought that what she was saying was all nonsense, but they realized that she was right as she kept talking. So that night, the entire village sat in their homes, praying and fasting. The prayer paid off because Attila changed his course and never came to our little village. I was so proud that Genevieve had the courage to tell everyone the right thing to do.



Genevieve sadly died in the year 512, but her life and great accomplishes were not forgotten, and she will always hold a special place in my heart. She taught me how to be a better person, that God is always there for you in your times of need, and to stand up for what you believe in, even if everyone else is doing something different. These lessons have helped me throughout my life.

The picture above is a sixteenth-century painting of Saint Genevieve

 Image Credits: Saint Genevieve, By Musee Carnavalet, this image is in the public domain

My friend, Sebastian, is an inspiration to me because he stood up for what he believed in, even in times of grave danger. He taught me that you should stand up for what you believe in, despite possible consequences. He also taught me to always believe in God, no matter what the circumstances. Sebastian and I were friends since birth. We grew up together and we did everything together. Now he is gone, but he would want me to tell you about his life. Sebastian was born in Narbonne, Gaul in 256, but later moved to Italy. He was unfortunately killed a few years ago in 286. He was killed for trying to spread the faith of God. He was a very strong man, both physically and spiritually. Sebastian did so many great things in his life time. He was the bravest, kindest person that I ever knew.
 

I believe Sebastian became a soldier in the Roman army in 283. This was also the time when Diocletian, the Roman Emperor at the time, put all of the Christians in prison. At the time not many people knew Sebastian was a Christian, including Diocletian. I knew he was, but I didn’t tell anyone because I didn’t want to get him in trouble with Diocletian and be a prisoner like I was. While a soldier working for Diocletian, Sebastian encouraged all of the prisoners to remain firm in their faith and to not give up on God. Sebastian helped many people convert, including Nicostratus, who was in charge of the prisoners, and his wife Zoe, who Sebastian cured of deafness. He also converted Chromatius, who was the Prefect of Rome and controlled the prisons. Later Chromatius then let all of the prisoners free, a bold act of his faith.
 

After all of these incidents, Diocletian concluded that Sebastian was a Christian. He was furious! I was scared that they were going to do something terrible to him, and maybe even kill him; and kill him they did. They tied him to a tree with no clothes on except a cloth around his waist. Then, archers of Diocletian shot Sebastian with arrows in an attempt to kill him. At least, that’s what they thought. That’s what we all thought. I mean, how can you endure so many arrows and live? It just wasn’t possible, but somehow when Irene of Rome came to recover Sebastian’s body, she found that he was still alive. So Irene nursed him back to health in her home. When he recovered, Sebastian went to Diocletian and started to scold him about his anti-Christian ways. That was probably the gutsiest thing a person could ever do, especially after being executed. Diocletian was very surprised to see that Sebastian was alive, but after recovering from the shock of Sebastian’s survival, Diocletian again called for him to be put to death. This time, he had Sebastian beaten to death with clubs, and this time they made sure he was dead. Sebastian was my best friend and he won’t be remembered as just some guy, he will be remembered as the hero who fought for what he thought was right, the legend who lived through an execution and then wasn’t afraid to go back to fight again. Sebastian will always be remembered as a saint.
 

I started off the morning by praying, fasting, and meditating for hours in complete silence. It was a regular day for most nuns like me, except I was a different kind of nun. I am not from a rich family; I don’t have a mother who forced me to be a nun. In fact, I never knew my mother, so I just imagine her with beautiful long brown hair and big brown eyes like mine. I imagine her to love Jesus as much as I do now. I still hope that she didn’t want to leave me on the streets when I was young. I imagine maybe she lost me, or couldn’t afford to keep me. But how I got on the streets in the first place doesn’t really matter, what matters is how I became a nun, and that’s what I’m about to tell you. It was a cold winter morning, and I hadn’t found myself breakfast yet. I was sixteen and I had been by myself on the streets for as long as I could remember. I was sitting in an alley far away from the hustle and bustle on the streets of Cascia, Italy. There were many rumors that went around the streets of Cascia, one of them being a terrible rumor of two men who were forcing young girls to marry. I hadn’t known if these rumors were true, but I couldn’t imagine something so terrible happening to a girl like me or any young girl. And that is when I heard someone come up behind me. He was an older man with a scruffy beard and a long, black coat. And that’s when I realized that the man wasn’t going to welcome me into his house or offer me his black coat. He was one of the men who was forcing young girls to marry. He was going to force me to marry. I couldn’t think of anything to do but scream. As soon as I was about to yell, I saw another person. It was an older lady with black clothing covering every part of her body except her face. I had seen ladies like her praying and worshiping, but I had never seen one up close. The next hour was a blur to me, but soon enough I was in a warm building with a soft blanket around my back. 



The lady who had gotten me away from that man introduced herself as Sister Rita. After a few hours of explaining to Sister Rita who I was and where I had been for the past sixteen years of my life, I finally asked her what convinced her to become a nun. How could she worship some God who she has never even seen, but just has to believe in? A God who seems to not care about me. She started by telling me her story which was very similar to mine. She was forced to marry at a very young age to a cruel man; this marriage was arranged by her parents. She said that she had wanted to be a nun every since she was young, but she did as her parents said and married this man. She put up with him for many years and had two sons. But as her love for her sons grew, they died. Her husband died also, leaving her a widow. She took this as a sign from God to become a nun, specifically an Augustinian Nun of Cascia. It took her a while because she was a widow, but she eventually followed her dream and became a nun. During the years she was a nun, she meditated on Christ’s passion and cared for sick nuns. She also told me about and showed me the wounds she had on her forehead. Most people believed these to be the wounds from Christ’s crown of thorns. 



And that’s how I got here today, as a nun in the beautiful city of Cascia, Italy. Sister Rita inspired my life and will continue to inspire the hearts of many young girls around the world because of the way she suffered and worked for the Lord. 

Postscript:

 I chose Saint Rita as my saint because her story really inspired me to follow the plan God has for me. Not only did Saint Rita inspire me, but I like the name because it is my grandmother’s name. Saint Rita was an incredible person, and I plan on following Christ like she did. The image at the right is a picture of a Saint Rita statue located in the Chapelle Sainte-Rita, in Paris. This picture of Saint Rita  is owned by Willemdd  under the CC license.  

Saint Martha

              Martha of Bethany was made a saint, not for her miracles, but for her love and compassion toward others and especially for her love and faith in Jesus. No one knows when her birthday was but it was sometime in the first century. I met Martha when she and her sister, Mary Magdalene, would come to my stand and buy fruits and vegetables. I would dine with them often and provide fresh produce sold at my stand.

I remember the time Martha invited me over to dinner one night along with Mary Magdalene and Jesus. She wanted the food and the table to be perfect for Jesus. As she was rushing around and trying to make everything perfect, Mary and I were listening to Jesus preach. Martha got irritated and came to Jesus and told him that Mary should be helping her because there was still work to be done. I, of course, was not asked to help considering I was one of the guests. Jesus responded by telling Martha that she is too worried about things that she should not be worried about. He said that Mary and I had chosen the right thing for listening to him. This story is a perfect example of her personality: active in making things perfect for others. Even though she did not do the best thing, I feel that it proved she loved and cared for Jesus so much that she wanted to have everything perfect for him.

There was another time when I was at Martha's house after her brother, Lazarus, had died and I told her that Jesus was coming. She got up right away, went to the door, and walked out. I followed her until she stopped. I asked her what she was doing and she replied that she was going to wait there for Jesus. When Jesus arrived, she went up to him and said "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But I know that even now God will give you anything you ask." Jesus told her on reply that her brother will rise again. Martha and I knew that heaven was to open up in the resurrection on the last day, but I knew that she wanted him alive with her then and there. When Mary Magdalene arrived she said the same thing as Martha. Jesus told them to remove the stone from Lazarus' tomb. He shouted "Lazarus, come out!" and so he did. The moment I remember the most in this story was when Jesus told her that He is the resurrection. She replied, "Yes, Lord. I have come to believe that you are the Messiah, the son of God, the one who is coming into the world." It was a strong statement that showed how much faith she had.

              Martha was a person of great faith and lived to be an old women and died of natural causes. Those who knew her declared her a saint before that official process was enacted. We remember her in a special way every July 29. She is a great person because she had faith in Jesus and showed love and compassion to all. That is why we should all follow in the path of my dear friend Martha.

I was captured by the Roman army when I was seventeen for preaching God's word. When an Imperial officer named Sebastian heard that I was captured he asked the guards to bring me to him. I thought for sure he was the one that was going to kill me. This was not a good time to be talking about God. If you were caught doing this you were sentenced to death. During this time about 20,000 Christians were killed for believing in God.  Sebastian told me that he wanted me to be part of his army. I was very surprised and grateful that he did not kill me. I told Sebastian I would do whatever he asked of me. When I saw how much Sebastian believed in his faith and was not afraid to help those in need. It made me stronger. I realized he was doing the right thing so I helped him.

             While I was part of his army we visited the prisons where they kept the Christians. He asked me to help him bring them supplies and comfort to the Christians. When Sebastian saw how nervous I was he told me the story of his life. He was the son of a wealthy family. When he was out of school he became an Imperial officer of the Roman army. Sebastian was also the captain of the guard . Knowing this personal information about Sebastian helped me to feel closer to him and what he believed in.

             I was there when he  healed the sick Christians by making the sign of the cross over their heads . I wasn't just a member of Sebastian's army  anymore I was his best friend. Sebastian was able to convert many soldiers and a governor to Christianity. The word started to spread of what  Sebastian and I were doing. One night when Sebastian was out talking to his friends, the army came and found him guilty of  being a Christian. He was sentenced to death. He was tied to a tree and shot with arrows and left for dead. When I heard of this I went right away so that I could bury his body . But when I got to the tree, I found him still alive and with the help of his friend Irene we nursed him back to health. Sebastian recovered and returned to preach to Diocletian. Then the Emperor realized that Sebastian was alive, so he sent his army to kill him by beating him to death. I was very sad to hear of his death but I was inspired by his bravery and strength. I was spared death because of Sebastian and because of Sebastian I went on to preach about my faith in honor of my friend. Sebastian's message to us today would be to never stop believing in what you believe is right and to not let anyone put you down for what you believe in.

Postscript

               I have chosen  Sebastian as my Confirmation name. St Sebastian lived from  256 to 288. He did not live a long life, yet he did many amazing things.  I admire St. Sebastian because during a time  when you knew you would die if you preached God's word he still preached.   St. Sebastian is considered the Patron Saint of athletes because of his physical endurance. Knowing that I have Sebastian as my name will help me to try my best even when I feel like giving up. Sebastian was not canonized as a Saint but considered a Saint because of his martyrdom. His feast day is January 20th.

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When people question how I came to know St. Teresa of Avila, I instantly flashback to the day when my big sister, Maria, told me a new family had moved in two houses down with a girl my age, Teresa, and a boy her age, Pedro. We soon became great friends.

Teresa and I had a knack of getting into trouble. She was upset that her mom was sneaking romance novels. Her mother had forbidden her from telling her dad. Teresa felt that she was disobeying her dad because he told her to always tell the truth. She had decided that “we must go with Pedro to the land of the Moors and beg them, out of the love of God, to cut off our heads!” We had just stepped outside the city gates when their Uncle Jose came up behind Teresa and Pedro. He was upset with them and brought them back to their house as I followed silently.

Though this event wiped away any idea of us trying to sneak out again, it didn’t prevent us from getting into trouble and being rebellious. This led to Teresa’s dad sending her to a convent at age 16. I decided firmly that I couldn’t let her leave by herself. We both hated life at the convent, but we came to enjoy it as our interest in God started to grow. Soon, it was time for Teresa to make a decision between marriage and religious life. She had seen her parent’s unhappiness and, she decided on religious life since it was the only safe place for someone as prone to sin as she was. I stood beside her and made the same decision.

Teresa and I found it extremely hard to practice mental prayer. I soon found out that it was the convent’s atmosphere. The other nuns decorated their veils attractively and wore jewelry. We believed prestige depended not on piety but on money. There was a steady stream of visitors in the parlor and parties that included young men. What spiritual life there was involved hysteria, weeping, exaggerated penance, nosebleeds, and self- induced visions. This atmosphere soon affected Teresa. I found her slipping into a society-run life and ignoring God. The convent encouraged her to have visitors to whom she would teach mental prayer because their money helped the convent’s economy. Teresa got more involved in flattery, vanity and gossip than spiritual guidance; this must have been what kept her from God.

Teresa suddenly fell ill with malaria and had a seizure. When the nuns dug a grave for her I didn’t have much hope for her prestige. She woke up on the 4th day but was paralyzed. For three years she was bed ridden and discouraged. This hurt her spiritual life, since her sickness became an excuse to stop her prayer completely. When I begged her to keep praying she said, "Prayer is an act of love, words are not needed. Even if sickness distracts from thoughts, all that is needed is the will to love." For years she hardly prayed at all. She felt she was a wicked sinner and didn't deserve favors from God.

I rejoiced when a priest finally convinced her to go back to prayer. Even though she found it difficult, she kept at it. She explained to me in secret that as she started to pray again, God gave her spiritual delights such as the prayer where God's presence overwhelmed her senses and the prayer of union where she felt the sun of God melt her soul away.

Some of her other friends did not like what was happening to her. They sent for a Jesuit because they thought she was being led by the devil instead of God. The Jesuit told them that her experiences were from God but soon everyone was making fun of her. Teresa told me that she was more afraid of those who are terrified of the devil than she was of the devil himself. She also claimed that since the experiences gave her peace, inspiration, and encouragement they must be from God.

At the age of 43, she decided to reform her Carmelite order and found a new convent that focused on a simple life of poverty devoted to prayer. We were shocked when plans leaked out about her first convent, St. Joseph's. She was then denounced from the pulpit. She was threatened with the Inquisition and the town started legal proceedings against her. It was amazing when in the face of this open war; she went on calmly, trusting in God.

Teresa had an odd way of running her convent. Her spiritual life was an attitude of love, not a rule. Although she proclaimed poverty, she believed in work, not in begging. She believed in obedience to God more than penance. When someone felt depressed, her advice was that they go some place where they could see the sky and take a walk. When someone was shocked that she was going to eat well, she answered, "There's a time for partridge and a time for penance." To her brother's wish to meditate on hell, she answered, "Don't." This shocked many but I felt that she was truly doing what she believed was right.

At the age of 51, she decided to spread her ideas. In 1582, she was invited to found a convent by an Archbishop, but when she arrived in the middle of the pouring rain, he ordered us to leave. Though very ill, she was commanded to attend a noblewoman giving birth. By the time she got there, the baby had already arrived. Teresa said, "The saint won't be needed after all." Too ill to leave, she, to my sadness, died on October 4th at the age of 67. As an old woman of 87 I was glad when my dear friend was canonized in 1622 as St. Teresa of Avila; she is also known as St. Teresa of Jesus. I believe that St. Teresa would have wanted us to know to always have faith in God even in the hardest of times.

The Picture of St. Teresa of Avila:

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My friend Louis just died a few months ago. He was born in Poissy, France on April 25, 1214 and he died August 25, 1270. He was the fourth child but since the first three died, he was heir to the throne. His father died when he was 12. His mother Queen Blanche of Castile stepped in until he was of age. Blanche taught him to be a kind and thoughtful Christian. We both had privileged childhood learning from the best tutors who taught us geography, history and literature. He married a girl named Margaret on May 29, 1234. Louis and Margaret had eleven children together. I remember his wedding it was very nice



He always talked about how much he loved God. He wasn’t a liar either He would spend countless hours alone talking to God. His connection with God was so close he made a promise to God to be a King of Peace. So in first years as a king when there was rebellion he put a stop to it and made peace. He was always helping his people whenever he had the chance. He established hospitals and took care of the sick. He was always so thoughtful. I remember how he fed 120 poor people every day including 13 poor people who ate at his table. He would wash his guests’ feet as an imitation of the Last Supper. For a long time, France was peaceful because of him and his holiness. He wasn’t perfect though he had a quick temper and was a glutton.



He thought of new ideas such as having written records in court. He had people write down the law so people were clear as to what it was. He started hospitals one of them is Quinze-Vingts. It was for the poor, blind, and the sick. Also enjoyed his faith he had people build the great Gothic cathedrals in France.



I remember how strongly he felt about taking the Holy Land from the Muslims. He thought that the Holy Land should be under control of the Christians. I was with him when he went on the two crusades to take control of the Holy Land. When we left for our first crusade the people he put in charge of France abused their powers. They used their power to make a profit in gambling. I can see his face in my mind and see how angry he got when he had found out what they had done. He had royal investigators watch the officials and make sure they didn’t cheat the people anymore. During our first crusade his army took the city of Damietta, Egypt. When we went to capture the citadel al-Mansurah it took a long time to capture so his army was exhausted. His army was struck with disease and exhausted by the attack and they retreated to Damietta. We were later captured by the Egyptians and had to pay a ransom to be set free.



On our second crusade we went to Tunisia. He chose Tunisia because he thought it was a good place to begin and get victories. It paid off because we had many victories in Tunisia. We had confidence to capture the Holy Land but our army was struck with disease and died.



I remember the day Louis died I was kneeling next to him praying that he wouldn’t die. He died on August 25, 1270 at the age of 56. He died on foreign land in Africa during the second crusade. The disease that killed my friend was the Bubonic Plague. He gave his son Phillip instructions to take care of the poor. When his body was brought back to France people knelt as the procession passed. I remember his funeral and how everyone was crying I couldn’t cry anymore because I had already shed all my tears. His funeral was held at Notre Dame de Paris. He was buried in the tomb of the kings of France.



My dear friend Louis did so many great things in his life. He was a king who used his power for good. He told me that he wanted people to give more to charity. He talked about doing more for the people who are less fortunate. He was always looking for ways to give to his community. He let the people who lived on the streets have a nice meal at his table.





Postscript

I chose Saint Louis of France as the Saint I would like to be and take the name on my confirmation day. I am impressed by his devotion to God and his people. I think it is important to love people as much as you love God. He also gave important ideas such as having written records of what happened in court. He wanted the law to be written down so it was clear what the laws were. He also helped many people that he invited to eat with him; he visited the sick, and established hospitals. He showed great care and compassion for everyone even those who aren’t royalty. Doing this research reminded me of the importance of helping those who are less fortunate then me.

 The following story is of my good friend, Daniel the Stylite. He lived with his parents in his birthplace: Maratha, Syria. He came to the monastery when he was only twelve and we became friends right away. I was 15 when I met him. He told me all about his life before he decided to come to the monastery. We prayed at the monastery together for thirty years, where he became an abbot. We then both decided to go to Jerusalem to practice our faith. On the way there, we were stopped by a monk who convinced us to go to Constantinople. There Daniel did some amazing things. First, Daniel rid the Church of the Archangel Michael of demons. Then, through prayer, he helped heal the Patriarch Anatolius. Soon after, Daniel had a vision, marking the most important time of his history. The vision was of Simeon the Stylite with whom we had previously spent two weeks. A Stylite is a religious person who practiced their faith by living and preaching continuously at the top of a pillar for many years. His vision was of Simeon standing on a pillar with men in white on either side of him. Simeon spoke and then was taken up into heaven leaving Daniel on the pillar with the two men. Daniel realized this was his future and he would follow Simeon’s lead and make his own pillar, which would give him a stance high above the ground.

Through the years, I could tell Daniel had many struggles. They included many common mental and physical problems experienced by other Stylites such as weather, temptation, and privacy. Weather was a major physical issue. Daniel would stay on the pillar no matter if it were burning hot or freezing cold. At one time, I even climbed up on his pillar and found him covered in ice. Also, temptation was another struggle. After many years on the pillar, Daniel would often talk to me about his temptation to come down and live among the people. I can tell the lack of privacy was another burden endured by Daniel.

With help, Daniel was able to overcome these challenges. A few years into his time on the pillar, I convinced Daniel to allow a covering to be built to protect him from the harsh weather. Also, his strong belief in God grew stronger everyday on the pillar. Through his commitment to God, Daniel was able to live and grow in faith. Even though some people might say this kind of practice is crazy, Daniel’s faith was strong enough that he could withstand any challenge and not be ashamed.

I think Daniel the Stylite should become a saint because he healed the faithful, drove out demons, and healed the sick by the Hand of God. Also, his selfless faith permitted him to devote thirty-three years of his adult life to delivering the Word of God from a pillar. He helped people, including me, understand God and their faith. Even though Daniel the Stylite observed many changes over his years on the pillar, he had one constant message for all of his followers. His message that stayed consistent though the years was that God is the most important thing in life. His message would be that God is there with those faithful to him during their struggles and be there to celebrate their accomplishments.

POSTSCRIPT:


I have picked Saint Daniel the Stylite as the saint I wish to choose for confirmation. I chose this saint because of his devotion to God, his courage, and how well he spread his faith. Since my dad’s name is Daniel, I wanted to take that name. After observing each St. Daniel, I knew that Saint Daniel the Stylite was the saint I wanted to use. As I was reading the information about him, it spoke to me in a significant way. The thought that someone’s faith was strong enough that they would stand on a pillar for thirty-three years preaching inspired me. I was astonished by how devoted Daniel was to God and to his own faith. The name I wish to be called at Confirmation is Daniel. The image above is of two Stylites in the center of a town on their posts preaching to the people just as Saint Daniel the Stylite did.

 Image: Simeon Stylites Stepping Down from Wikimedia Commons in the public domain.

I am saddened to say that my very humble and courageous best friend Rose has passed away today, on August 24, in the year 1617. Rose has definitely been my inspiration throughout our years together. She is the humblest and bravest person I have met in my entire life. She taught me how to overcome temptations from the devil. I definitely saw a spark in her eye when she talked about the Lord. Rose had a great and radiating love for Him. I admired how her heart was set straight on the Lord, and no one else. Although I mourn over her death, I know she would have wanted me to spread the word of our Lord to others. She would have wanted me to be out in the world, helping others, and forever praying and doing my penance, which she stressed. Rose would have wanted me to have immense faith in our Lord.

 I will always remember how much of an influence she had on me before she passed away. She was born on April 20,1586, two days before I was born in our town of Lima in Peru. She had once complained to me about how everyone called her Rose, because of how beautiful she truly was, even though her real name was Isabel.While I was talking to a servant, he claimed to have seen her face transform into a rose when she was a small child! In 1597, we were both confirmed personally by the Archbishop of Lima. She finally came around and also formally took the name Rose. Rose went through some temptations from the devil, though. She went through a phase a loneliness and sadness but with the help of the Lord, she overcame them. Rose really looked up to Saint Catherine of Sienna. So much that she began to fast three times and week and performed severe penances in secret. She rarely talked about this though. Even though I told her not to, she cut off her beautiful, long hair and disfigured her face with pepper and lye.Rose also wore a silver circlet of silver, studded on the inside, like a crown of thorns. She hurt herself in many other ways, despite my objections, so that no one would want to marry her.She also took a vow of virginity, which completely surprised me since both of our parents expected us to find good suitors.

 Even when Rose found time to talk to me, most of the time it was about the Lord. Her face lit up when she told me about Him. We both also enjoyed helping out the sick and hungry in our town. Rose loved her parents dearly and sold her needlework and lovely flowers she grew to help out her family. As time drifted on, we only saw each other on the way to church due to the fact her nights consisted of prayer and penance in a grotto she had built and her days she mostly stayed in her room apparently, and only left when she went to church. As the years went by she finally decided she would join the Third World of St. Dominic, even though her father had a different future planned for her. I was very proud of her. In a letter she had sent me, she had stated that she finally took the vow of perpetual virginity. The thing that surprised me the most though, was that she wrote me a letter telling me how she was to get ready for her death. A few weeks later I got a letter stating Rose had grown severely sick and had passed on the exact date that she prophesied.

Postscript

 I chose St. Rose of Lima as the saint whom I would like emulate and take the name of on my confirmation day. I am inspired by her willingness to put God before her beauty and by her pure devotion to the Lord. She truly represents someone with an amazing connection to God, which I strive for always. I also admire her willingness to help others. St. Rose of Lima is a truly courageous, faith-filled, loving, and humble person.She devoted her entire life to one person, the Lord. I pray that one day I will be like her. I want to take her name so I can always remember how much of an inspiration she is in my life.

Above is a stained glass window at St. Paul the Apostle Catholic Church of St. Rose of Lima.

 St. Rose of Lima window by Steve Grant under CCL

It was a crisp fall day in Syracuse, Italy when I walked home from grade school. Lucy came rushing out telling me it was time. It was time to go to the Shrine of St. Agatha in Catania to pray. Mother was constantly bleeding day after day and we told her that if it wouldn’t stop by that afternoon we were going to the shrine the next morning. Upon arriving there early in the morning, we sat and prayed continuously until night fall. When we awoke mother was miraculously healed! What great joy we had! These last years were tragic and terrible to watch. It was hard on Lucy and I especially because we loved our mother with all our heart and prayed that God would keep her with us.

Before she was healed, our mother was always telling us to forget about her and go on with our lives. It was especially hard for Lucy but, she somehow allowed herself to fall deeply in love with a young nobleman. The incident at the shrine changed everything though! Lucy spoke to him and broke off the marriage. She also took a vow of poverty and gave all her worldly goods to the poor. She was now following in the footsteps of the Lord, even though it was against the law to practice Christianity. I on the other hand was much younger and was only in my third year of grade school. I was constantly told that practicing another religion was against the law in our country and to never do it because of the great consequences you could suffer.

Gregory, her betrothed, was furious at her decision. He was handsome and about the same age as her. They were both out of grade school and both had siblings. He was tall, stocky and always obeyed the law. He accused her of practicing Christianity before the Roman council. She confessed to this at once. Lucy was sentenced to be tortured by fire and boiling oil. When I heard this it was too late. My poor sister had already suffered enough in her lifetime. First having to drop out of grade school to care for mother and now this. I was raving but terrified at the same time. She had given up so much for mother and for the Lord and was now sentenced to be tortured. She was strong and I knew that if she did die it wouldn’t be because she was giving up it would be because she was devoted to our Lord and wanted to be with him from now on.

Gregory told me after the trial that she had said these words, “God has granted that I should bear these things in order to free the faithful from the fear of suffering.” At this I was moved. I knew it was the end. She was ready for God to take her to heaven. Though her life was cut short, she lived it to the fullest. She cared for me, my mother, and when she was with Gregory, she even cared for him. A sword was thrusted into her throat and she still managed to survive. Lucy survived until communion was brought to her bedside for her final journey to heaven. She died a young, Christian, with her head held high the entire time in 304 during the persecution under Emperor Diocletian.

Lucy died on December 13. Her trust in God shows us that we should never give up on him and to always pray. Her bravery also shows that we as Catholics should be willing to die for our faith too. Today and everyday, I remember her through this prayer as I too am the Lord’s poor servant and have nothing else left to give except myself....



“I am the Lord’s poor servant,

to him alone I offer all in sacrifice.

I have nothing left to give except myself.”

Saint Philip Neri
Philip Neri was born on July 22, 1515 in Florence, Italy. We grew up together and we both received our teachings from the friars at San Marco. Later in life when we were 18 years old, Philip was sent to his uncle, Romolo, a wealthy merchant at San Germano. He was to help assist Romolo in his business. Philip hoped to inherit his uncle’s fortune. But shortly after arriving in San Germano, Philip had a conversion. He no longer cared for things of the world, and chose to relocate back to Rome in 1533.



After arriving in Rome, he became a tutor in the house of a Florentine aristocrat named Galeotto Caccia. After two years Philip began to pursue his own studies for a period of three years under the guidance of the Augustinians. Following this, I watched him begin to help the sick and poor which got him later in life the title of “Apostle of Rome.” In 1538 he started mission work for which he became famous.



In 1548 he founded the confraternity of the Santissima Trinita de’ Pellegrini. Their main objective was to provide the needs of the thousands of poor pilgrims who went to Rome and those who were discharged from hospitals but were too weak for work. In 1551 Philip passed through all the minor orders, and was ordained as a deacon, and finally a priest in on May 23. He thought of going to India as a missionary, but was persuaded not to by me and his friends who saw that there was a lot of work to be done in Rome. Philip settled down with some companions at the hospital of San Girolamo della Carita. While there he began, in 1556, the Oratory. The plan at first was no more than a series of evening meetings in a hall, at which there were prayers, hymns, readings from the scripture, followed by a lecture, or discussion of any religious question. Philip also spent much of his time hearing confessions, and effected many conversions in this way.



In 1564 the Florentines requested that Philip should leave San Girolamo, and to oversee their church in Rome, San Giovanni dei Fiorentini. He was at first reluctant, but by permission of Pope Pius IV he accepted. In 1587 my friend Philip was nominated superior for life. On May 25, 1595 it was a very sad day for me and others. My best friend Philip Neri died around the end of the day. If Philip were to leave a message for the future it would be to always be joyful and to help others as much as I can. He told me, “ A joyful heart is more easily made perfect than a downcast one.” I will remember that quote for the rest of my life. Philip was a great example for how we should all live our lives.

Postscript

 I chose Saint Philip Neri for my confirmation saint name. He was such a fantastic person with all of the great things he did. He helped others and always was willing to talk to anyone. He was a social person and liked to be the one to read out loud from the bible or give speeches about Christ your faith. He inspires me greatly and I want his name to be with me at all times. This picture of Philip Neri is a photograph taken of a painting of him.

Image- http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Philip_Neri

   Saint Report   

I remember that day as if it were yesterday. I was walking on the green, rocky hills of my home, Ireland, when I saw a boy. He was tall and thin and looked the age of sixteen or seventeen, older than I. He was staring up at the sky with a fascinated expression on his freckled face, holding his shepherd’s crook and surrounded by sheep. I had never seen him before. The boy snapped out of his daydream when he saw me walking towards him. He grinned and extended his hand to shake mine“My name’s Patrick,” He said in a interesting brogue. "Born in Scotland, just got here. I’m a slave." That handshake began a friendship that would last my entire life. Patrick was my best friend throughout my youth. When he was out in the fields with his master’s flock of sheep, we’d talk from when the sun rose to when the sun set. Patrick was born in Scotland in the year 387. At the age of sixteen he was captured by pirates and sold as a slave to a chief named Miliucc here in Ireland. I loved the time we spent talking in the fields. Yet, every time we spoke, there would be one moment when Patrick’s face would brighten, his eyes starry, and he would look up into the sky. I would shake his shoulders to take him out of his trance. I’d say, “Patrick, are you alright?" He’d nod and grin. Yes, I’m alright." One day I walked upon the green grass to where Patrick watched Miliucc’s sheep. Patrick was on his knees, arms lifted, and staring up at the sky. When he noticed me, Patrick said, “I’ve heard a voice, Sharon! It’s the voice of God, I know it is. He says that there is a ship here to take me home! And I’ve seen it. There it is, Sharon!" He pointed to where a ship floated on the water, not too far from the shore. I was bewildered. Patrick was hearing voices? And who was this God he spoke of, I wondered. “If this God of yours has given you a ship home,” I said, “board that ship. I hope to see you again one day, my friend." We embraced and I gave him a teary kiss on the cheek. Patrick dropped his crook and ran down the green hills and to the shore, where he waited for the boat to come closer. Tears ran down my face as I turned away and walked home.  I did not see Patrick for a long, long time after that day. Years went by and I grew up. I was married to a chieftain named Dichu and he was a good man. One day I saw a ship sailing on the waters. When it reached the shore, many people got off the ship, yet one man stood out. He was wearing robes, a tall hat and was holding a beautiful shepherd’s crook. When he came closer, I realized it was the friend of my youth, Patrick! We embraced, crying and smiling. “Oh, Sharon,” Patrick said, “I have so much to tell you." We were standing on the fields where Patrick used to watch his master’s sheep. As we walked, Patrick told me that he had boarded that ship and soon after reunited with his family. He heard a voice telling him to return to Ireland. Patrick realized that it was his duty to spread the new faith by teaching it to the Irish people.He first became a bishop in England and served in Rome for many years. Then, he boarded a ship, leading many followers, and returned to Ireland, to his people. Patrick and Dichu became very good friends. Dichu gave one of our farm houses to Patrick, who turned it into the first church in Ireland. Patrick told me of God and Jesus, Mary and Joseph, heaven and hell, of the Holy Spirit, and the devil, Satan. Dichu and I followed this faith. Patrick preached the Catholic faith to a multitude of Irish. He was kind and caring, and the best man I ever knew. On March 17,461, Patrick died. His death was of natural causes and I was right beside him when the Lord took Patrick to join Him in heaven. I loved Patrick, and when it came time for the Lord to take me, I saw Patrick, his arms outstretched, smiling and ready to take me into his arms with God. Patrick taught me and thousands of Irish who God was, and I know that if he were still on Earth, he would want to preach that good news to the rest of the world.

 I chose the name of Saint Patrick as my confirmation name. Saint Patrick was an extraordinary and passionate man who changed the lives of many Irish people. My ancestors where Irish, and I have a passion for Ireland, the Irish people, and their culture. My father’s name is Patrick and I thought it would be an honor to him if my saint name was the same has his name. Saint Patrick was a wonderful man and will be in my heart all my life.  

The stained glass window of Saint Patrick can be seen inside of the St. Anthony of Padua Church. The Catholic church is located on 1360 Pleasant Valley Way in West Orange, New Jersey, USA.

Photograph Copyright 2010 Loci B. Lenar.  It is under a CC license.  I got the image here-www.flickr.com/photos/lenarpoetry/4561606943/

 

We continue to mourn the death of my most dear friend, Juan Diego, who passed away last year, 1548. Twenty-five years ago, after Juan’s wife had passed away, I became Juan’s closest friend. He shared many of his religious beliefs with me as we walked 15 miles to mass every day. Juan was a holy and humble man who had a great love for the Eucharist, as well as for the Virgin Mary.

My life was transformed one miraculous day, when Juan and I found ourselves walking once again to mass. First, we encountered a glowing cloud surrounded by a rainbow, and then we heard a woman calling Juan’s name in our native tongue. We were flabbergasted at the sight of what appeared to be an Aztec princess. Juan knew right away that she was our Mother Mary. I couldn’t believe my eyes and ears; it was so unbelievable to me that Mary should appear to Juan, a simple and humble man who had only converted to the faith less than ten years before. Mary spoke directly to Juan, and requested that he instruct our bishop to build a shrine in her honor, at our very feet! Mary assured us that she wanted to be near our Native people; she wanted to show us her love, help solve our problems, and support us in our times of trouble. 

Juan asked me to accompany him to speak with the bishop, who was kind to Juan but was not impressed by Mary’s apparition. He demanded that we bring him proof of Mary’s appearance. We were about to revisit the hill where we first saw Mary, when Juan received news that his uncle was dying. While Juan ran to be with his uncle, I left for the hill to ask Mary for help. Mary was waiting for me, and assured me that Juan’s uncle had already been cured. Soon after, Juan joined us elated by his uncle’s miraculous recovery.

Feeling unworthy, however, Juan asked Mary to allow me to speak with the bishop on his behalf. Nevertheless, Mary insisted that Juan was especially chosen for this undertaking, and with that she directed Juan to the beautiful red roses that were growing in the frozen ground. Juan gathered up the roses in his cloak; I carried a few in my hands, and we set off to meet with the bishop once again. Upon entering the bishop’s quarters, we let the roses fall at the bishop’s feet. Expecting the bishop to be moved only by red roses in winter, we were in awe at the glowing image of Mary that remained embossed on the inside of Juan’s cloak. With that, the bishop dropped to his knees, and we all wept at this miracle. Soon after, the Bishop had the shrine built in Mary’s honor, precisely where Mary had originally appeared to Juan and me. One of the greatest accomplishments of my dear friend’s life is that, by his being chosen by Mary, Our Lady of Guadalupe, he caused the eventual conversion of thousands of Native people to Christianity. Juan Diego’s spiritual message for all of us might be to live a faith-filled life, showing trust and perseverance in God’s will.

Go to Saint Juan Diego, owned by Wikimedia commons, image (or other media file) is in the public domain because it's copyright has expired.

Today was a very sad day for me; I have just seen my dear friend Gemma Galgani go to be with the Lord. I am replaying the memories over and over again in my head. I remember the first day I met Gemma. We were students together. Oh, let me tell you about Gemma Galgani; I want her story to be known!

I remember Gemma told me her birthday was March 12, 1878. She was born in Camigliano, a small town outside of Lucca, Italy. I lived in Lucca so I did not know her yet. Gemma had developed a love for prayer at a young age. On her Confirmation day, Gemma's mother was very sick. While Gemma was praying, the Lord asked her if He could take her mother to be with Him. Gemma asked then if she could go, too, but the Lord answered her, telling her He just wanted her mother now. Gemma agreed, and so, on Gemma's Confirmation day, her mother died.

After her mother's death, Gemma's father sent her to a Catholic half-boarding school run by the Sisters of Zita. This is where I met my beloved friend. Gemma taught me how to have a strong relationship with God, like her. She made her First Communion on June 20, 1887, at age nine, which was earlier than most children did, including myself. I remember what she told me that day. “It is impossible to explain what then passed between Jesus and me. He made Himself felt, oh so strongly, in my soul.”

Gemma's father died in 1897. She had to care for her younger siblings, and quit her studies. This was also due to her becoming very sick around the same time. She had developed meningitis. Gemma's condition just grew worse. I visited her a few times, what an unpleasant sight. I thought her end was near. Little did I know, she was praying devotedly to Venerable Gabriel Possenti of the Sorrowful Mother. He cured her miraculously. She went on with her life, in good health.

Gemma had always wanted to be a consecrated nun. However, this was not in God's plan for her. Gemma told me the Lord came to her after receiving Communion on June 8, 1899. He told her she was not to become a nun. Then Gemma went home that evening, praying wholeheartedly. Then came the stigmata. Gemma had received the wounds of Christ. Each Thursday evening, the bleeding would start again. It would continue through Friday. Then, it would abruptly stop and she was left with whitish marks on skin over the wounds. This continued until the last three years of her life, though the whitish marks remained until today.

During this time, Gemma remained faithful to God. She went to Mass twice a day, while receiving communion once. She always said the rosary in the evening, and then she would go to vespers. I would join her at vespers sometimes, and we would sing joyfully together. She also maintained a friendship with her guardian angel. She talked to her angel daily, sometimes aloud. People misunderstood her because of this, but she still kept her guardian angel close.

In January 1903, Gemma was diagnosed with tuberculosis. I cried that day. Gemma didn't lose hope, though the devil was tempting her. He made her illness so dreadful, trying to make Gemma think the Lord had abandoned her. She remained prayerful, and then, today, April 11, 1903, Gemma Galgani left the earth, with a smile on her face. And so, now you know Gemma's story. It isn't just a story, though. I know my dear friend would want the world to realize that her life is an example of never losing faith in God, something I think I have now learned, though Gemma Galgani is gone.

 My name is JP and I am an 8th grade student. I chose Saint Gemma Galgani as the Saint for whom I would like to emulate and take the name of on my Confirmation day. She did many great things but I really admirehow she persevered during her hard times and did not lose faith. Gemma is also the Patron Saint of Students, so I can ask her to guide me. She loved school, and I really like learning, too. She is truly an inspiration to me and I want to have her name with me always.

The above image is a picture of St. Gemma. 

Image Citation: Gemma Galgani by Philippe Plet under CC license

      The worst thing in the world, that anyone can ever imagine has just happened. My best friend has died. To a stranger, this would not mean as much but to a relative or someone as close to her as I, it would mean time of depression, not being sure of the weeks or maybe months that would come to follow. Telling this to you, with tears streaming down my cheeks, is a horror that one should not be summoned to do. I feel as if I had known her my whole life. She was so young and she loved to help me or anyone else with anything we did. Anyway, I must start telling you of this tragic tale before I get caught up in my happy memories and forget to tell you her story.

      ‍It all started in 128 AD in the country of Italy. That was when Charity was born; a year earlier her sister, Hope, was born; and her oldest sister, Faith was born two years prior to Hope. I didn't know her very well because we didn't have much time together but she told me that it was a truly special time because now they had a family. Their father died shortly after Charity was born so they did not know him well. The sisters helped their mother, Sophia, around the house and did their chores along with their studies for each day. Charity and I liked to go out and listen to the Apostles and Prophets preach, but could not go very often because of our responsibilities to our separate households and families. Occasionally we were able to sneak away and listen. Having Charity with me made it seem like treat!

      ‍We were both baptized and believed faithfully in God, like trusty servants. While we were growing up, many people sought the wisdom that Charity learned from her mother. Then as time went on, people sought her faithfulness to God as well. It seemed as though everyone wanted to talk to her. They wanted to test her by seeing if she was as smart as some had said. When they sought her wisdom, and she would give it to them, hoping that they will use it for good and not evil. She was very polite about it though and cared enough to explain the meaning of the words to them.

      ‍We got to spend more time with each other because of the permission granted to us by our mothers when we asked. We would go on long walks but never too far because of our shared fear of thieves. We talked about everything from family life to the interpretation of the message we had heard from the Prophets. Charity told me about her visit to Eparch Antiochus that went very well and how pleased the Eparch was to see the wisdom that was passed down through the generations. It was only until the most heartbreaking day, in all of my nine years, two weeks after that conversation, that when I was on my way to Charity's household I heard the pounding before I saw what was going on. I quickly hid behind a bush so I was not to be seen. On that very day, I saw two guards breaking down Charity's household door and carrying her, her sisters and mother out while they prayed loudly to God for protection. That melted my heart and I started to cry. I knew that they would be taken to Emperor Hadrian, who was ruler at the time. I was never to hear from Charity, her sisters, or her mother again so I assumed the worst had happened to them. It was not until the following week that I knew what had truly happened to her. She had been placed in a furnace and when the guards saw nothing had happened to her, they took her out and beheaded her.

      ‍For the time that we were together, Charity was my best friend. We did everything together and had very emotional talks about different topics. She taught me and many others that God was always there for us, even during our times of doubt. I mourned her loss years after that tragic day and was usually left alone by most people for the tragedy had left me sensitive. I will always cherish everything we did together; all the happy memories will stay with me forever and I cannot wait until the day we are reunited in heaven. Charity will always be in my heart no matter where I go or whatever will happen to me. If Charity was alive today, she would tell me that I should respect and love everyone, no matter what wrong doings they had bestowed upon me.

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   Post-Script

      I choose Saint Charity because she never stopped believing in God and died being a believer. She was immensely wise because her mother, Sophia, was incredibly smart too. I also like that she is a named after one of the three main virtues and with that, her name will encourage me to do great things for people all over the world. Saint Charity is truly an inspiration to me and I would like for her name to be with me forever.

Image: Karp Zolotaryov Sophia Faith Hope Charity from Wikimedia Commons public domain

Saint Report

I wish I could see him one last time. My brother, Raymund Kolbe wasn’t always honorable and polite. I remember when he was very mischievous. That was until mother scolded him; that would change the rest of his life. He described it like this: “That night I asked the Mother of God what was to become of me. Then she came to me holding two crowns, one white, the other red. She asked if I was willing to accept either of these crowns. The white one meant that I should persevere in purity, and the red that I should become a martyr. I said that I would accept them both.” `I never believed that that would be one of the most important decisions of his life. Although his willingness to follow the Lord was great, it is what he did later in life that I must tell you about.

Maximilian Maria Kolbe or Fr. Kolbe was what he called himself. He chose Maria as part of his name because he respected the Virgin Mary very much. He was born on the 8th of January in 1894. He was the second oldest of five. Well, three now, my 3rd brother Walenty only lived a year and Andrew my youngest brother died when he was 4 years old. Raymund wasn’t really the same after Andrew’s death; he was more silent and reverent. He and my other brother Francis joined Conventual Franciscans. That is where it all started for Maximilian.

In 1918 Maximilian was ordained a priest. During the Holocaust, Maximilian hid over 2,000 Jews from Nazi Persecution. Maximilian was arrested on February 17, 1941. In July 1941 three prisoners were found missing from the Nazi camp. Ten prisoners were to be locked in a death chamber where they were to be starved and worked to death because of the escapes. One of the ten cried out “My wife, my children”. At this, Maximilian asked to take that man’s place in the chamber. In the chamber Fr. Kolbe became the leader of the sentenced men. As the leader he tried daily to keep everyone’s spirits up. Over time the prisoners died, leaving Maximilian alone in the chamber. Eventually the Nazis needed the cell to be emptied for other victims. Maximilian was to be injected with sulfuric acid. I heard that when it was time for the injection, he willingly and calmly gave the guard his arm to be injected with acid. If he was to leave a message for the future I think he would want people to stay calm even in the hardest of times and trust in God.

Postscript



I'm an 8th grader getting ready for Confirmation. I chose Saint Maximilian Maria Kolbe as my Confirmation name because I really admire what he did. I want to save others like St. Maximilian did. I want to become a firefighter so I can save lives. Ever since I was little I loved what he did. I think St. Maximilian Kolbe is a great role model and I want him to be with me forever. The picture at the top right shows him with a prison outfit on his shoulder which represents his time in prison before he was killed. http://www.catholichomeandgarden.com/costumes_for_other_popular_saints.htm-Image top right

Vibia Perpetua was a courageous, compassionate, and spirited soul. Called Perpetua by most, she and I had been friends from when we were born just a month apart in 181 to her recent repose. We were both brought up in noble families and we never had to worry about much. Everything we’d ever wanted or needed was provided for us, and the future was looking great for the both of us. That is until around the year 202 when we were about 22 years old. Perpetua’s husband had just died and she was left to care for their child who was just a baby at the time. She was not discouraged though, for she had found the new love of her life. Perpetua had discovered Christianity. 

Whenever we were together, she would talk on and on about the wonders of Christ, the miracles he performed, and the good news that he proclaimed. Most of all, she would talk about his death. She marveled at his courage to suffer for his Father and die for our sake. Although she was excited about her newfound faith, I began to worry. The Romans, who currently had control of our city of Carthage, did not like Christians. The new anti-Christian edict of 202 allowed Roman soldiers to arrest any Christians they found. After they were arrested, they could face torture, even execution. I feared for my dear friend, and I was not the only one. Perpetua’s father, who was pagan, was especially worried. He tried to talk her out of it, but it was no use. As much as I love Perpetua, I must admit: that girl was too stubborn for her own good. 

Things grew worse when she met some new friends who were also Christian. Among them were Felicity, a married slave who was pregnant, and three men, Saturninus, Secundulus, and Revocatus. Perpetua was so delighted to have friends who were as excited about Christ as she was. She begged me to join them, but I would not take the risk. Although I was secretly amazed by the stories of Jesus that Perpetua told me, I stayed away from all things Christian. I feared the Romans’ promise of punishment, so I obediently followed their religion and worshipped their gods. Perpetua and her new friends were not as careful as I. They refused to sacrifice to the Roman gods and openly professed their faith and so, one day, they were arrested. My best friend of all time was taken away from me. She was a criminal.

At first, they were kept in a private house so I could not visit them. Once they were moved to the public prison I came to them every day. Perpetua told me they had been baptized in the private house and she was ecstatic. Even though the conditions were awful Perpetua and her companions felt honored to be persecuted for Christ. They were always cheerful. One day, they were taken to trial. If they didn’t sacrifice to the Roman gods they would be condemned to be thrown in with the beasts at the games on March 7, the feast of Geta Caesar. Perpetua’s father tried to dissuade her once again, but, unsurprisingly, she held her ground. The group was sentenced to be killed and my worst fears and worries had become reality.

That day I went home and cried. I was so distraught that I didn’t visit Perpetua for a whole month. I couldn’t face my friend knowing that soon she would die. When I did finally return to see her, I learned that Secundulus had died and Felicity had had her child. Perpetua also told me she had been having visions. In one she defeated a dragon to reach the Lord in Heaven. In another she saw her brother (who died when he was seven) in torment, so she prayed for him and, a few days later, saw him again in happiness. The day before the tournament, she had a vision of victory in the amphitheater, but not victory over the beasts. She saw victory over the devil.

At the games, they walked in looking triumphant and cheerful. They were happy to suffer as a sign of faith. As I watched in horror, Perpetua and Felicity were thrown in with a mad cow. When they were tossed in, Perpetua saw Felicity on the ground and helped her up. After being torn up and tossed around by the cow, they were allowed to walk out for a moment. Then Perpetua said, “When are we to be thrown in with the cow?” only to look down at her cuts and scrapes and realize they had already been thrown in. I was amazed. It was as if someone else had been living through her… someone like Christ.

Perpetua and two of her friend survived the games and so they were to be beheaded the same day, March 7. This I could not watch. Later I was told that when the executioner came to Perpetua, he missed her neck. Then Perpetua did a most shocking thing, she took his hand and guided to the right spot. This time he was right on target. My best friend was dead.

After she died, I converted to Christianity and now practice my faith in secret with other Christians I have met. Although I miss her dearly, I know that she would not want me to be sad. She would want me to remember her life and be happy. Perpetua would tell me to never give in, to stand up for myself and for Christ. Most of all, she would tell me to have courage and to live my faith in happiness, not fear.

Postscript

I chose St. Perpetua as the saint whom I would like emulate and take the name of on my confirmation day. Her tenacity and courage amaze me, and I admire her cheerful willingness to serve the Lord. I hope that one day, if my faith is ever tested, I will have half as much strength as Perpetua to stand up for our Lord. Perpetua was a strong, compassionate, and daring young woman. She is my inspiration in faith and I will always strive to be like her. I want to take her name so that I may always be reminded of Perpetua and her life’s message. The picture in the top right is an icon of St. Perpetua by the hand of Fr. Andrew Tregubov.

Image Credit

Icon of St. Perpetua by Andrew Tregubov used under Public Domain

Today, January 4, 1821, my dear friend Elizabeth Ann Seton has passed away. She had just celebrated her forty sixth birthday on August 28. I know she will be happy in heaven with God. She was always very religious and kept God close in her heart, even when she was a child. I will forever cherish all of the wonderful memories we shared. It only seemed like yesterday when she introduced me to her new husband, William Seton. She often told me how happy she was and how much they loved each other. They had five children together- Anna Marie, William, Robert, Catherine, and Rebecca. Even though things were tough, she helped form a group, "Ladies of Charity, as it was informally called, that helped people in need. It was inspired by St. Vincent de Paul, in France, in the seventeenth century. 

Unfortunately, about four years into their happy marriage, Will's father died, leaving them in charge of his seven half-brothers and sisters and along with it the family importing business. Things just got worse from there! The business had failed, which means they had to file for bankruptcy and Will's health declined with it. In order to try to save Will's life, Elizabeth and their eldest daughter, Anna Marie, sailed to Italy for the warmer weather. Unfortunately, Will passed away from tuberculosis.

  Elizabeth decided to stay in Italy for a while. We wrote back and forth. Italy seemed like a lovely place. I've always wanted to go there and learn Italian. My grandparents are Italian ao I think it would be so cool to speak to them in Italian. In Italy, everyone was captivated by her kindness, patience, and thoughtfulness of others. While she was there, she became more interested in the Catholic Church. Over a period of months, her Italian friends taught her the ways of the Catholic Church.

                                    

Two years later, when Elizabeth returned to the United States, she became a Catholic on March 14, 1805 and was confirmed a year later by the first bishop of Baltimore, Right Reverend John Carroll. I was so proud of her and I knew her family was too. When Elizabeth learned about the Blessed Virgin Mary, she took comfort in the thought or idea that Mary was her mother because Elizabeth had lost her mother at a very, very early age. She was only about three. I am a few years older and I remember how hard it was for her and her family.

The president of St. Mary's College in Baltimore suggested that she open a school of her own. With the help of two other women, they began to plan a Sisterhood. They eventually established the first free Catholic School. It was initially called the Sisters of Charity of St. Joseph. Elizabeth then pronounced her vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience on March 25, 1809. It was binding for one year and she was called Mother Seton for that time period. The Sisterhood was officially ratified in 1812. It was based upon a rule that St. Vincent de Paul had written.
             

Six years later in1818 the Sisters of Charity had established two other orphanages and another school. Elizabeth believed that God was calling her towards the end of her life. She came down with tuberculosis, like William, and passed away. She always told me never turn away from God even in the worst situations. Always believe and trust in Him.

    "We must pray literally without ceasing—without ceasing—in every occurrence and employment of our lives . . . that pray of the heart which is independent of place or situation, or which is rather a habit of lifting up the heart to God as in a constant communication with Him." 

-Elizabeth Ann Seton

Postscript

My name is Francis; most people would know me as Saint Francis. My close friend and spiritual student, Clare, passed away today on the 11th of August, 1253. Throughout my life I met many people but it’s not every day that you meet people like Clare. She was humble, optimistic, and charming yet so devoted to God, even as a child. Clare would want people to follow her in her footsteps and have as much faith and trust in God as she did. I won’t forget the things she did.

Clare was born on July 16, 1194 in Assisi, Italy and was the daughter of a count and countess. I won’t forget the day Clare and I became friends. I was preaching the word of God on the streets and after I finished she came to me and confided her desire to live for God. I could see it in her eyes as she told me that she truly was devoted to our Lord. On Palm Sunday of 1212, Clare’s Bishop presented her with a palm which she took as a sign. I cut off her hair and clothed her in a rough tunic and a thick veil. In this way Clare vowed herself to the service of Jesus Christ. Later that night she and her cousin, Pacifica, ran away from her mother’s place that night to enter a religious life.

Clare founded and led the Order of Poor Ladies at San Damiano for forty years, I was happy for her. Her sister, mother, and other noble ladies joined her as they lived a life of silence and fasting. Clare made a brave move the day the enemies of the church were about to attack the covent. She had placed the Blessed Sacrament in a monstrance above the covent gate, kneeled before it, and prayed for help. All of a sudden the enemy fled, just like that! 

On October 4th, 1226 I passed away, but that didn’t mean I stopped caring for Clare, I watched over her. After her illness of twenty-eight years, and having the Holy Eucharist as her strength, I led Clare’s soul into the light at her death. 

       Postscript

I choose Saint Clare of Assisi as the saint I would like to emulate and take the name on my confirmation day. I respect and admire Saint Clare for being an optimistic, humble yet brave person willing to give up her life to God. I wish I was more like her in the way that she believed and trusted in God so much, that courage to pray to God for help that the enemies wouldn’t attack. I suppose I need the reassurance in times of need from St. Clare that God will be there for me when I need him, and that’s why I would like her name with me always.

 Image Credit

The first time I met Angela Merici, I was fourteen years old and she was twenty. Angela spotted me in town, and when she approached, she asked if I would like to learn about God. I had admired Angela’s kindness and attentiveness to other’s needs, so I agreed to let her take me to her house where I would be taught. Angela told me that it upset her that none of the young girls in our village had been taught religion. She said that she and a few others would gather girls and teach us all about God. Angela was admired for her charm and beauty, but she was never boastful and as I learned the very first time she taught me. She made each and every one of the girls she taught feel important.

As Angela taught me we grew closer. She told me to always be sympathetic and to listen to others. I learned about the death of her parents when she was ten, and how it troubled her that her sister died without receiving the sacraments but that God had spoken to her and assured her that her sister was safe. I learned about how she had had to leave and live with her uncle before his death and her return. We talked regularly and she told me about her membership to the Third Order of Saint Francis, and how she wished to live like Saint Francis, owning nothing. Angela had a vision about a religious community that she would start in Brescia one day, so when she got an offer to go and live there, she quickly accepted. Angela asked me to continue her teaching work in our village and to remember that the young girls in our village needed someone to look up to. The image at the right is a pastel painting of Angela as she teaches a young girl.

I missed Angela terribly, but I continued to help teach the girls. I remembered her lessons and I tried to teach the girls in the same way she taught me. Angela became well known for her work and teachings, and I would occasionally hear news about her. My contact with Angela was limited to the sporadic news heard from travelers passing through, until I received word that Angela was making a trip to the Holy Land and she requested that I come to assist her. I looked forward to seeing my good friend again, and I knew that the girls I’d been teaching would be left in good hands.

    Angela and I had a joyful reunion and she told me that my job on the trip would be to keep a record of our journey and to be her personal companion. The trip went smoothly until we reached Crete. Upon arrival, Angela was suddenly blinded. Although it would be much more difficult for her, Angela wanted to continue the trip, and it was required of me to be with her at all times. As we continued the journey, Angela’s constancy and ardor for the trip only increased with every shrine and holy site we visited. On the trip back, we returned to the site where Angela had lost her sight. She knelt down before a crucifix to pray, and when she rose, her sight had been returned. 

    After her trip to the Holy Land, Angela traveled to Rome in the jubilee year to get the indulgences, and I accompanied her again. Pope Clement VII had heard of Angela’s work, and he asked her to remain in Rome to continue her work there. I was terrified that I would lose my role model and friend for good, but Angela declined the offer, saying that it wasn’t what God intended for her. She and I returned home, and she gathered twelve girls, including me, to a house in Brescia where we would help her in her work.

    After years in Brescia, continuing her work for the Lord, helping to educate the young women and girls, and our group having expanded to twenty-eight girls, Angela changed the name of our group to the Company of Saint Ursula or the Ursulines. The Company of Saint Ursula was focused on giving girls strong Christian educations that they could share with their families and carry with them for the rest of their lives. We, the Ursulines, lived at home, took simple vows, and wore no special dress, but that doesn’t mean that we were any less committed to our work. We were the very first religious group of women to work and teach outside of a convent. 

    As Angela grew older, the other members and I feared for her health, and just when she was offered to stay in Rome, I was terrified of losing my friend and role model. Angela, ever attentive to others feelings, noticed this fear in us, and lent us comforting words. She told us, “I shall continue to be more alive than I was in this life, and I shall see you better and shall love you more the good deeds which I shall see you doing continually, and I shall be able to help you more.” In 1540, my dear friend, teacher, mentor, role model, and woman who had become like family to me, passed away.

    Angela taught me to listen to what people had to say, value their words, pay attention to their needs, and recognize the importance in a strong education. I continued to work in the Company of Saint Ursula for the rest of my life and I tried to incorporate Angela’s lessons into the way I taught girls.

Image: Angela Merici from Wikimedia Commons in the public domain.

On this date, December 6, 343 A.D in Myra, Lycia, a man largely dedicated to the Lord has passed. He was one of the greatest and kindest friends to ask for. Nicholas, also known as Nikolaos the Wonderworker, started his close relationship with God at a young age. He was later raised by his uncle after his parents fatally passed. His uncle, also named Nicholas, shaved his head and made him as a reader and soon as a priest where his faith and love of God grew even stronger. Perhaps my friend is best known for his secret gift giving, such as putting coins in shoes of those who left them out for him. That seemed to always give me a laugh. Or maybe he is known for one of his many generous deeds. Once I heard the story of a citizen of Patara had lost all his money, and had to support three daughters who could not find husbands because of their poverty. So the wretched man was going to give them over to prostitution. I told this story to Nicholas, who thereupon took a bag of gold and, anonymously, threw it in an open window of the man's house. Here was a dowry for the eldest girl and she was soon married. At different times Nicholas did the same for the second and third daughter. The last time the father was on the look-out, recognized his kind Samaritan and overwhelmed him with his gratitude.

Coming to the city of Myra when the clergy and people of the province were in session to elect a new bishop, St. Nicholas was called upon by God as the man they should choose. This was at the time of the persecutions at the beginning of the fourth century. As he was the chief priest of the Christians of this town and preached the truths of faith with a holy liberty, the divine Nicholas, along with me, was taken by the magistrates, tortured, and then thrown into prison with many other Christians. But when the great and religious Constatine assumed the imperial thrown of the Romans the prisoners were released from jail and with them was Nicholas. . He was the guardian of his people as well in spiritual concerns. The governor Eustathius had taken a bribe to condemn to death three innocent men. When their time for execution appeared Nicholas came to the place, held back the hands of the executioner, and released the prisoners. This was absolutely amazing. The courage he showed was very moving.

One of the greatest miracles I remember was during a great famine that the Bishop of Myra experienced; a ship in the port at anchor was loaded with wheat for the Emperor in Byzantium. Bishop invited the sailors to unload a part of the wheat to help in time of need. The sailors at first did not agree to this request, because the wheat had to be weighed correctly and delivered to the Emperor. Only when Nicholas promised them that they would not lose any cargo of wheat for their thought, the sailors agreed. I for one thought they would never agree to this! When they arrived later in Byzantium, they made a surprising find. The weight of the load had not changed. The removed wheat in Myra was even enough for two full years and could even be used for sowing. That absolutely astonished me! Nicholas was a great friend and I pray that one day he will be greatly appreciated for his kindness for all and generosity. One day maybe people will look back at him as a model for giving to others. For those who look for someone to follow, Nicholas is your guy.

Postscript:

 I am a student at Our Lady of Perpetual Help School. I chose St. Nicholas to be my Saint because I believe he was a very generous man with a kind and compassionate heart. St. Nicholas also greatly loved the Lord and did everything in his name. I wish to be just as generous to others as he was. All of the great miracles he did really spoke to me that with God anything can happen. I would love to have his cheery character with me to remember why life is worth loving others and serving the Lord forever. The picture abova and to the left is an icon of St. Nicolas at the Church of St. Nicholas in Lipno Novgorod