Let me begin the story...

Where it began many years ago and why I'm here today.

I remember sitting as a teenager with my grandma Dolores, my dad’s mom to be exact, in the back of the Jeep, just talking. As I often did, I listened to her stories - many of them I knew and had walked beside her during - and during those stories I distinctly remember wishing one thing: that my life would never be like hers.

You see, her life was filled to the brim with suffering. Surgeries gone wrong, illness all her life, near death experiences leaving her in and out of the hospital (she had 9 lives, I tell you), the loss of her spouse suddenly and in the prime of their older years. Remarriage and the loss of her second husband. Her diagnosis of breast cancer. At the end of it all, she wanted to die at 80…and that she did. With the Sacraments of the church and a faithful life’s offering of great sufferings, she went to meet her Creator.

My grandma was dear to me. Ever since she called me out for not going to Mass on a Sunday (at age 16), we grew closer and were like two peas in a pod. (For the record I never missed Mass after that lol.) But even though we were close, and I learned from her immense wisdom and example, deep down I didn’t want her life. I mean, who would? Who would want to go through trial after trial, so much loss, so much suffering??

Fast forward to today. I too, had a misdiagnosis in my early 30’s that led to a life-changing surgery that left me unable to have more children. I, too, suffered from mysterious illnesses while taking care of my babies and was in and out of doctor’s offices until I was finally diagnosed with Lyme disease. I, too, lost a husband in the prime of my young life, and I, too, was diagnosed with breast cancer. And there’s more…job loss and adoption loss and trauma at the hands of others and all the other trials of life you and I face on a daily basis.

And yet, here I sit. Happy. Thriving. Sure, the weight of grief is enough to render me helpless some days…it’s enough to leave me paralyzed under the fear that more is around the corner. Sure, I’m human and haven’t always dealt with it well.

But despite, no because of, all these sufferings and trials one after another, I am here.

I’m here not to brag about what I went through (I mean that would be silly, plus who in their right mind would envy my life!) but rather I’m here because of you. I’m here because there were those who walked with me and now it’s my turn. I’m here because, in the trials and challenges I’ve been led through, I have been taken deep into the castle, into the matrix that is Christianity. And that’s something I talk a lot about - this matrix. Much like the movie, there is another world, one we don’t physically see but by the grace of God. A world where God’s life comes to touch ours and one where we see this life through a different lens - the lens of the cross and resurrection, the lens of eternity. It is a beautiful world, one that can only be entered through the cross and yet a world where we can experience bits and pieces of the resurrection here and now.

While I can’t physically come and take you out for coffee and I can’t physically hear your story, maybe we can share them here. We can come together and talk about life and all its complexities and we can struggle with those difficult questions like “Who is God?” and “Why do bad things happen to good people?” and “How can I abandon myself to God when life gets hard?” and everything in between and we can find answers that not only leave us satisfied but answers that leave us glorified, in and through Jesus Christ.

Way back in college, while taking out the trash, I was stopped in my tracks. I had a vision of sorts, maybe more like a thought. I saw myself at the end of my days, standing in front of the Father in my particular judgment after death. And I was shown two experiences of mine. The first was of elation. It was the joy in knowing I had fulfilled the specific mission God laid out for me. The second was disappointment - and the knowing I fell short. That I had chosen the road of mediocrity and fear and wasn’t able to give it all.

I distinctly remember, at that moment, asking God to make me a saint. I mean, I don’t really care about the title, I’m more talking about reaching the level of holiness, the fulfillment of His Will in my life so fully and completely, that I could be worthy of the fullest of lives with Him for eternity.

What I failed to realize in that asking, in that vision of sorts, was that to be made a saint we must be made like Jesus. (be careful what you wish for, right?!) And to be made like Jesus we must endure the cross. The real, ugly, brutal, heavy cross. This cross comes in many forms big and small and unfortunately, it’s the only way. I fought that truth for so long - that the cross is the way. Always holding out hope that the difficulties would pass and I could settle into “normalcy,” I battled the way my life unfolded. The acceptance came only after Mike’s death - an acceptance that broke me and humbled me.

But even through this acceptance I continued to hope. For in my own death of sorts I longed for the resurrection all the more. And I knew that God not only fulfills His promises in the age to come but He is also God here and now. “I believe to see the good things of the Lord in the land of the living.” (Psalm 26: 13, Douay-Rheims) THIS is what I would repeat to myself in the darkness, THIS is what I would remind God of when all seemed lost.

And, wow, has He surely come through.

And this is what I long to unpack for you.

I want to take you through my story - one of loss and brokenness, one of searching and longing and unfulfilled dreams, one of provision and providence and restoration. A story that continues with the cross but doesn’t end there. It is one that has seen and heard, touched and felt the Lord. It has known His chastisements and intimate love. It has known the ugliness of humanity and the beauty of divinity. It has known this in and through the Catholic church, which was/is a journey in and of itself, especially as our family found Tradition and the incredible fruits that have come from knowing Catholicism at its roots.

I want to talk with you about all those things in and through the real day-to-day that we all experience: marriage, family life, personal struggles, seeking health, striving for dreams, religion and faith, and more. I want these letters to be a harkening and a challenge to further unity with God in all we do. I want them to show that holiness is possible in the day-to-day happenings that is life. I want them to be proof that while the cross exists, it’s not the end. In fact, the cross is ultimate love and will refine us to loving in ways we never could imagine. For the greatest of these is love.

As I look back on that moment in my college house driveway, trash bag in hand, I wonder now what the future will hold and how much left I have yet to do in this world. Yes, my primary job is to be the best wife and mom I can. Yes, my primary role is daughter of God, refining my own soul, and helping lead my family to heaven. But there is more. The call to write has been heavy on my heart for quite a long time and recently God opened the doors and now I’m walking through. Who knows where it’ll take us but if I can simply make known the beauty of God’s providence in the cross, how to show up in the day-to-day when life gets hard, and give hope that resurrection is possible, I will have done my job.

In my next two letters I’ll briefly share my story, to catch you up if you’re new here or to perhaps shed more insight if you’ve walked with me for a while. And, then, after that we’ll dive in to the nitty gritty of this beautiful, messy, challenging, hope-filled thing called life.

So let’s journey together on this narrow way, chasing sainthood together and keeping it real.

Love, Kristine Nicole