From a Mother's Heart

The third Sunday of Advent brightens the penitential journey we experience while faithfully waiting for the King. As we try to bypass the hustle and bustle, we face temptations to make lists, seek perfection, and measure happiness by excess. Gaudete Sunday reminds us that joy is found not in worldly attachments but in the nearness of Christ.

The Church gives us this rose-colored Sunday as a sign that the Lord is close. Rose, a lighter shade of Advent violet, is mixed with the white of the coming feast’s joy. It consoles us when we struggle with worldliness or find our pursuit of holiness marked by difficulty. Gaudete Sunday offers grace on the journey.

Just before Advent began 13 years ago, I was at the midpoint of my second pregnancy. Deep in self-inflicted chaos — over-shopping, over-decorating, over-calculating what life as a family of four would require — my husband and I learned that our unborn son had a fatal chromosomal condition. The prognosis was that he would be stillborn or die shortly after birth. That news forever changed my understanding of waiting in faith.

To state it mildly: the news was devastating.

The first weeks of Advent, I retreated into sadness and desperation. I cried out to the Lord, begging that the cup of suffering be taken from my motherhood. I was unable to imagine carrying a child to term only to lose him. I had never been asked to surrender so deeply, and I did not feel equipped to wait with any measure of faithfulness.

My spiritual director gently named what I was experiencing: my own small share in the Garden of Gethsemane, paralyzed by fear of the unknown path that would challenge and sanctify me in ways I had not seen coming. In a moment of grace, he reminded me of the words of the Angel Gabriel at the Annunciation: “Be not afraid.” After hearing those words, Mary offered her total fiat, a surrender that changed the world. I knew I needed to do the same — to trust the path God was preparing for me.

And then… Gaudete Sunday came.

Consolation abounded, and it became a turning point in the pregnancy. God felt near. I began to release the anxieties and fears I had been holding so tightly and rejoice in God’s goodness. Regardless of how long my son’s life would be, I rejoiced knowing I was his mother and he was my baby. I was grateful his heart was beating inside me. I rejoiced that Mary’s fiat brought Christ into the world and that both were teaching me about surrender and suffering. That joy freed me.

I lived the rest of that Advent season and pregnancy with greater authenticity and grace. I let go of what I thought I knew and controlled and embraced the holiness God was offering.

What do you need to release to rejoice in God’s presence? What must you surrender to make room for Him? Wherever you find yourself this Advent, may you know that God is near as you journey onward. Gaudete! Rejoice!

In October 2024, Pope Francis gathered bishops, other clergy, and lay faithful from around the world for the final assembly of the Synod on Synodality, completing a multi-year process of prayer, listening, and discernment that began in 2021. This global journey unfolded through parish, diocesan, and continental phases before concluding with two sessions in Rome. Each stage invited Catholics to reflect on how we walk together as Church and how we can more fully live our shared mission of proclaiming Christ.

From this worldwide dialogue, Pope Francis offered a powerful definition: “Synodality is the walking together of Christians with Christ and towards God’s Kingdom, in union with all humanity.” It is not a single event but a way of being Church — one marked by listening, dialogue, discernment, and shared responsibility. In simple terms, synodality is a path of spiritual renewal and reform that helps the Church become more participatory and missionary, so we might accompany everyone, radiating the light of Christ in our world.

Here in the Diocese of Crookston, this same spirit animates our Planning for Mission efforts. As Bishop Cozzens has shared, our goal is to ensure that the Church in Northwest Minnesota remains vibrant, sustainable, and missionary for generations to come. Planning for Mission calls us to pray deeply, listen carefully, and discern together how God is inviting us to renew parish life, strengthen leadership, and form communities that evangelize.

Our process mirrors the synodal method: we gather, we listen, and we discern together. Consensus is not about compromise but about recognizing Christ’s living presence among us. In this way, diocesan planning becomes not just an administrative process, but a spiritual one — an act of faith and trust in God’s providence.

To explore the spiritual heart of this journey, I encourage you to watch The Art of Synodality, a video (and podcast) series from Fr. John Riccardo and ACTS XXIX. With prayerful insight, Fr. John reminds us that genuine renewal begins with personal conversion and openness to the Holy Spirit.

As we move forward, may this be a true synodal moment for our diocese — a time to listen to God and to one another with humility, courage, and hope. May our local Church embody what Pope Francis envisioned: a community of missionary disciples walking together with Christ and toward his Kingdom, radiating his light across the Northland.

There are mornings when I pray for patience before the missing shoe is found, evenings when I ask for courage as my children face new challenges, and quiet nights when I thank God for the small, ordinary moments that shape family life. In these moments, I often turn to the saints — not as distant historical figures, but as friends who know the struggles of life and who stand ready to intercede for us.

That is why I am filled with joy to emphasize a truly historic moment for our local Church: the opening of the Cause for Canonization of Sister Annella Zervas, OSB. As you may have read in this e-newsletter and elsewhere, Sister Annella — a Benedictine of Saint Benedict’s Monastery in St. Joseph, Minnesota, and originally from Moorhead — lived a brief but holy life, offering her suffering with deep trust in God. Nearly a century later, many continue to seek her intercession and report graces received through her.

I warmly invite you to join Bishop Andrew Cozzens and the faithful of our diocese for the Opening Mass of the Cause for Canonization of Sister Annella Zervas on Thursday, October 9, at 6:30 p.m. at the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception in Crookston. Your presence and prayers will be a powerful witness as we take this significant step together.

The Sister Annella Guild has worked faithfully to preserve her memory and promote devotion to her life. Once the Cause is opened on October 9, the Church will begin the careful process of examining Sister Annella’s life and virtues. God willing, she will someday be beatified, then canonized as a saint of the universal Church.

This moment also reminds us that God continues to raise up saints for our own time. Earlier this month, we celebrated the canonization of Saint Carlo Acutis and Saint Pier Giorgio Frassati — two young people who lived with deep faith and showed the world that holiness is possible in ordinary life.

As a mother, I am consoled knowing that my children can look to the saints — and now, to Sister Annella — as examples of faithful discipleship. I invite you to pray for Sister Annella’s Cause, to bring your own petitions to the Opening Mass, and to allow her quiet holiness to inspire you to seek God in the hidden and humble moments of daily life.

For more information about Sister Annella and how you can support her Cause, visit the Sister Annella Guild’s website at sisterannella.org.

Labor Day has come and gone, and with it the long days of summer. School supplies are already well in use, routines are finding their rhythm, and family life has shifted into the steady pace of another academic year. I find myself grateful for the fresh start September brings, yet still a little wistful at how quickly another summer slipped away.

Labor Day is often thought of as the “unofficial end of summer,” marked by cookouts or one last trip to the lake. But more deeply, it gives us a chance to pause and reflect on the gift of work — both the kind that provides for our families and the hidden, everyday work that sustains them.

Packing lunches, washing baseball uniforms, sounding out spelling words at the kitchen table, keeping the peace between siblings — these ordinary labors of love can feel unending and unnoticed. Yet Christ Himself spent years in the hidden life of Nazareth, sanctifying the daily tasks of home and workshop. Our family work, too, carries dignity. It is part of how we share in God’s ongoing creation and care for one another.

The Church reminds us that work is not simply about earning a wage; it is a participation in God’s plan and a path toward holiness. Pope St. John Paul II wrote that through work we discover fulfillment as human beings. I see this truth not only in the ways my husband and I earn a living serving the Church, but also in how our children are learning to contribute. Whether it’s gardening, setting the table, sweeping the floor, or helping with laundry, they are discovering, little by little, that work is not a burden but a gift when done in love.

This transition in season has reminded me of those whose work is more physically demanding than mine, or whose labor is undervalued. Many families struggle with wages that cannot meet basic needs, or parents working multiple jobs just to make ends meet. Others carry the stress of unemployment or unsafe working conditions. Still others suffer the effects of trauma in the workplace. The recent tragedy at Annunciation School in Minneapolis is a painful reminder that teachers, staff, students, and families have experienced violence in the very place where learning and community should flourish. As Catholics, we are called to stand with all who labor under such burdens, to advocate for justice and safety, and to pray for healing and peace.

As the school year continues to settles in, I want to carry gratitude into this season — for the gift of meaningful, mission-driven work, for the chance to shape my home with love, and for the example I am entrusted to set for my children about what it means to labor with dignity. Whether we earn a paycheck or not, our daily work matters to God. Joined to Christ, even the smallest tasks are holy.

May we all remember that in our labor — seen and unseen — we honor both God and one another. And may we remain in prayerful solidarity with all who have suffered in their workplaces, especially the Annunciation School community.

Independence Day is often marked with parades, fireworks, lake vacations, and family barbecues. These are good and joyful traditions, and this year, my family looks forward to celebrating at the home of my in-laws in southern Minnesota. But as a mother striving to raise children in the Catholic faith, I pray my kids will grow to someday see beyond the red, white, and blue to the deeper meaning of this holiday — one that touches the soul of our nation and our mission as American Catholics.

Our country’s founders, with all their human imperfections, recognized a profound truth: that our rights come not from governments, but from God. As stated in the Declaration of Independence, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights…” Those words resonate with our belief in the dignity of every human person, made in the image and likeness of God (CCC 1700).

As Catholics, we are called to stand for truth, justice, and the moral law, even when it is difficult. This nation was founded on the hope of freedom — not just political freedom, but freedom rightly ordered toward the good. Pope Saint John Paul II reminded us that freedom is not the right to do whatever we want, but the liberty to do what we ought. That distinction matters, especially today.

This Independence Day, I give thanks for many freedoms: to worship openly, to raise my children in the faith, and to speak the truth without fear of persecution. I continue to pray for this nation, especially as these freedoms are increasingly challenged or misunderstood. As a mother, I sometimes worry about the world my children are inheriting — but I also trust in God’s providence and in the enduring strength of truth.
Patriotism, rightly understood, is a virtue. Love of country does not mean blind allegiance, but a commitment to helping our nation grow in justice, compassion, and holiness. It means speaking out for the unborn, the poor, the elderly, the immigrant, and for the dignity of marriage and family life. It means forming our children to be faithful Catholics and responsible citizens.

May our celebrations this July 4 be joyful, but also prayerful. May we teach our children that true independence is found in surrender to God’s will — and that our nation’s hope lies not just in strong institutions, but in holy families.

May God bless you, the Diocese of Crookston, and this nation we call home.

For as long as I can remember, spring has been my favorite season. So much excitement fills the air when another Northland winter is over. Students and educators at all levels can see that there is an end to the school year. Families begin planning for summer camps and summer vacations. We celebrate First Communions, Confirmations, and Graduations. Increasing sunlight means the days become longer and brighter.

Springtime equates to new life and new hope. (See Song of Songs 2:11-14)
 
I would be remiss if I didn’t also mention that while basking in springtime excitement, we honor and seek the intercession of our Blessed Mother in a special way all through May. As a Church, we have done this since at least the 13th century, paying homage to Mary for the new life and new hope she brought to the world in Christ’s Incarnation.
 
It is fitting that we lift up motherhood in May with Mother’s Day, recognizing the invaluable contributions of mothers, grandmothers, Godmothers, aunts, and spiritual mothers of all kinds. However, this annual celebration can also be challenging for those who have lost their mothers or their children, those who are struggling to conceive, or those who have difficult mother-child relationships.  
 
As a mother myself, I can attest to the joyful and sorrowful parts of motherhood, as well as the temptation to concede to feelings of overwhelm, overstimulation, and exhaustion arising from a flurry of springtime events and expectations that I am chief cheerleader, summer activities director, and milestone party planner for my children and others. Consolation has come for me, though, when I have meditated on the infancy narratives of Christ. The depths of Mary’s interior understanding of what she has been entrusted with are revealed in her reflective and receptive posture; she avoids anxiety and treasures humbly in her heart that she is set apart by God for a unique mission not entrusted to another. 
 
May we do the same here in northwest Minnesota. Without fear and anxiety, may we reflect on the great mission God has called us to in forming and equipping missionary disciples after Christ’s most Sacred Heart. With abundant hope may we offer our peace-filled prayers and daily fiats, no matter the season.