On Saturday, our Cursillo group held what was our combination of the weekend commissioning mass and holy hour. We also were able to attend the scheduled mass for the Assumption of Mary. It was held at a church of the same name – Our Lady of the Assumption. It turned into a wonderful morning of piety, fellowship, and friendship.
As I was leaving, I noticed a statue on the side of the church – there are a few points of interest on the grounds. I saw the statue, and the way it was standing, I felt that it was St. Kateri. I pulled over to take a picture, and then thought I’ve got time, and walked over to see it more closely.
It was indeed St. Kateri.
St. Kateri. (c)2026
There is something in the way her statues depict her that have her holding her blanket closed across her body with a cross resting near her shoulder that makes it distinctive as a Kateri statue. It was really nice, and I stood for a minute. I saw that immediately next to St. Kateri was a labyrinth! I didn’t know that this labyrinth even existed. It was the Chartres shape, but a smaller than usual one. I walked it, serenely and slowly, savoring the sunshine and the space, the sacredness coming naturally to me. I said a decade of the rosary – that was just the right amount of time to walk it through.
Labyrinth. (c) 2026
(c)2026
I took a few photos, and then of course of the statue with the labyrinth. It was a close moment.
As I was leaving and driving along the entrance/exit space, I realized they also have a painted walking rosary around the entrance driveway. More than a close moment, it is a special place that I will visit again, even without “a reason”.
Today is St. Kateri Tekakwitha’s Feast Day. This year marks the special occasion of the 350th anniversary of St. Kateri’s baptism here in New York. On Thursday, I’ll have a special travel edition with information on visiting her shrine for her feast day weekend happening in a few days.
In the meantime, I’m announcing a new page here on the website called Traveling with St. Kateri Tekakwitha found here. I wanted to celebrate and commemorate her baptismal anniversary while also including some of my visits to her spaces and the Mohawk lands as well as some of my research adventures as I write the book about her and her shrines.
A little something about St. Kateri:
She was born in 1656 in what is known as the Mohawk Valley region of New York State. Her father was a Mohawk chief and her mother an Algonquin Christian.
When she was about four, both of her parents and her younger brother died from smallpox. She contracted smallpox and survived with lifelong health ailments, a frail constitution, and semi-blindness.
She was adopted by her uncle and was raised in the Turtle clan longhouse.
When she was ten, the village moved across the Mohawk River and formed the village of Caughnawaga. This site is the only fully excavated Iroquois site in the world. In 1666/1667, the Jesuits came to convert the Native population. They were allowed into the village as part of the peace treaties signed with the French government.
Kateri was baptized on Easter Sunday, April 5, 1676 by Fr. Jacques de Lamberville.
In the fall of that year, she left the Mohawk Valley to live with her sister and brother-in-law in Kahnawake, a Mohawk/Jesuit village along the St. Lawrence River in what was known then as New France and known today as southern Quebec.
At Christmas of that year, she received her First Communion.
Despite being denied joining or forming a religious order, she formed a sisterhood with two other women and in 1679 took a vow of perpetual virginity, consecrating herself to Jesus, the son of Mary.
She died April 17, 1680. Her smallpox scars cleared up and she was in what was called the odor of sanctity.
The sketch below was done from memory by one of her spiritual directors, Fr. Claude Chauchetiere, SJ in 1685, five years after her death. She and her two companions watch as the mission chapel is being built.
The topmost photo is of the statue at the shrine at Sacred Heart Roman Catholic Church in Lake George, NY. The simplicity and elegance of the wood carving is an inspiration in my devotion to St. Kateri as well as the spiritual, sacred feeling it evokes when I visit it.
What if the last two years could have been like the last week or so?
Getting to know the astronauts of the Artemis II. The collaboration between two countries, the best friends for the ages…before. The three men and one woman, flying faster than any of us, save a small handful have flown before. Working together. Laughing. Joking. Talking to their families. Talking to us. Showing us the stars. As television studios think they know what we want, what we long for, we watch the livestream of a government department from the outskirts of our little corner of the solar system. We hang on every photo. We cried with joy and sadness when the friends named a crater after one of their team who didn’t live to see this moment. Carroll. She was a spouse, and she was part of the team, because none of us can get where we are, can do what we do with support, and for these four astronauts, their families are their support, taking care of the homelife. Sacrificing in different ways. Like us, holding their breath but never saying the scary parts out loud. It’s different for them.
The best of humanity looking at the rest of humanity. Words of wisdom, words of faith, words of friendship.
I love the moon. I’ve written about the moon several times right here. I’ve been in love with the moon since my first memory, although to be fair it’s a family memory that I’ve adopted as my own since it was about me. I have been told that I watched the moon landing in 1969. I was two and a half years old, and I was so excited. I have uncles, my father’s brothers who are named Neil and Buzzy, and I thought they were the ones on the moon. Easy to be confused. In our first real apartment, the moon shone in our bedroom window, something I really missed in every other place we’ve lived. I loved (and continue to love) to sleep in the moonlight. I will often hold my hand up just to see it in the light of the moon. In the coldest night, I’ve tried to watch eclipses, standing on my front porch going inside to warm up every few minutes until it was over.
There is something special about the moon and the people who travel there and beyond.
Remember their names:
NASA astronauts Commander Reid Wiseman, Pilot Victor Glover, Mission Specialist Christina Koch, and Canada Space Agency (CSA) astronaut Mission Specialist Jeremy Hansen.
We were in Canada a couple of years ago and visited the Canada Aviation and Space Museum in Ottawa, and the one pin I collected from there was the Canada Space Agency, so when it was mentioned this week that Jeremy Hansen was a Canadian astronaut and part of that agency, I went to my pin collection and began wearing this one.
I’ll keep it on for a few days or longer past splashdown which is tonight at 8:07pm. As GenX, I may wait until they are safely out before I turn on the television. This has been a remarkable week. It has brought me a peace in the chaos, a stop on the journey, and something I haven’t felt for a long time – a lifting up; aspiration and inspiration. As I implied at the beginning, we can get through anything together.
We can. We will. We are.
I leave you with the words of astronaut and pilot for this mission, Victor Glover who said earlier this week:
“I think these observances are important, as we are so far from Earth and looking back at the beauty of creation. I think for me, one of the really important personal perspectives that I have up here is I can really see Earth as one thing.
And you know, when I read the Bible, and I look at all of the amazing things that were done for us, who we’re created, it’s…you have this amazing place, this spaceship. You guys are talking to us because we’re in a spaceship really far from Earth. But you’re on a spaceship called Earth that was created to give us a place to live in the universe, in the cosmos.
Maybe the distance we are from you makes you think what we’re doing is special. But we’re the same distance from you, and I’m trying to tell you—just trust me—you are special. In all of this emptiness—this is a whole bunch of nothing, this thing we call the universe—you have this oasis, this beautiful place that we get to exist together.
I think as we go into Easter Sunday, thinking about all the cultures all around the world, whether you celebrate it or not, whether you believe in God or not, this is an opportunity for us to remember where we are, who we are, and that we are the same thing, and that we got to get through this together.”
Photos from NASA.
(c)2026
Go to nasa.gov/artemis-ii for more photos from space.
I didn’t start out writing a book about St. Kateri. I’d never heard of her before a chance encounter with a random church in 2012, but that is an entire other story and a lifetime away, or at least that’s how it seems. As
I’ve written about before, I was drawn to her at the time very near to her canonization, and when I went through the conversion process, RCIA at the time, she was on my short list for confirmation saints. I went in another direction, partly for my attachment to Wales and partly because I still held onto the fear of appropriation. That might have been that, but in my discernment of joining the Catholic faith, I visited the shrine of the North American Martyrs and discovered holiness there. I found out that this palisade was the footprint of the original Mohawk village, Ossernenon where Kateri was born. She was born about ten years after the Jesuits martyrdom, but it never really resonated with me as her place. Over time, I discovered the Fonda shrine where Kateri had grown up. I visited the museum, the archaeological site, had a picnic there with the Cursillo group, a Catholic organization, and gradually began to read about her life. Her life in Fonda, her ‘escape’ to Quebec, the reception of her sacraments as a young adult, and her death at a very young age.
I’ve written about a lot of this, and some of it will feature in my book, but through it I learned more and more, and thought I’d visit her shrine in Canada to complete my journey with and alongside Kateri.
I’ve spent many meaningful hours at the shrine in Fonda, New York and the people there have been gracious and generous with their time and resources as I continue my research and writing. I feel a part of their community, and the first time I received an unexpected hug it came with a large smile welcoming me back. I felt it deep inside. I am drawn there more and more, each visit a gift. Learning about Kateri through different sources is also a gift.
She was born in 1656, parents died in 1659; she was baptized in 1676, received her first communion in 1677, and died in 1680. In 1980 she was beatified, and in 2012 canonized.
I give you the litany of her statistics to remind when big things happened in her life in order to inform that this year is a big deal anniversary. One member of the community did some math and as I said, Kateri was baptized in 1676. This was an Easter Sunday, and the date was April 5th. Because of that uncovering, it was realized that this year Easter Sunday also falls on April 5th! It is exactly to the day, and the Easter celebration that St. Kateri was baptized three hundred fifty years ago.
To commemorate this event, once in a lifetime I dare say, the Kateri Shrine in Fonda, NY requested ad received permission from the bishop of the Albany Diocese where the shrine resides to hold an Easter Mass on that auspicious day. The Shrine typically doesn’t open it’s buildings until May 1st when the weather is warmer as the public buildings have no heat, so this is a special day in so many ways.
The presider will be Fr. Michael Heine, OFM Conv., the Minister Provincial of the Conventual Franciscan Friars. They are the custodians of the shrine since its founding in 1938 by Conventual Franciscan Friar, Fr. Thomas Grassman.
It is a day or so away as I write this, but I am beyond excited to be going to the mass and to be part of this extraordinary event commemorating her baptism and we renew our own baptismal vows.
Last Thursday I attended mass. After some questions and wanderings, I found the side chapel which I hadn’t known existed at this church. I wasn’t late, but I was barely on time. The way the room was set up I didn’t know how the communion would go, but I put that aside.
This was my first visit since I made the commitment to attend Thursday mass throughout Lent. You can see the photos above that show you the spareness of the Lenten decor, and it was lovely to be in the simplicity with no distractions from the Word.
When mass was over, something unexpected happened. The monstrance was set up for adoration. I hadn’t known that there was an adoration period, and since I had no other plans, I thought I would stay, and what I found was peace. Contentment. In this moment, this unexpected comfort and full of comfortable sitting.
Some who stayed were sitting, some were reading, all praying.
I was sitting with prayer and some were also; some of us were just sitting with Jesus.
This was the second time in a year that I found myself accidentally at adoration, and it seems to me that in these two times, this is where I was meant to be. I could feel the presence of the holy spirit. It didn’t occur to me to leave, and so I stayed, and when I felt the call end, I went about my day.
I also wondered: could I read my current book? Reading a book, sitting side by side with Him.
In this regard, I would like to invite you to a very practical and frequently unappreciated form of abstinence: that of refraining from words that offend and hurt our neighbor. Let us begin by disarming our language, avoiding harsh words and rash judgement, refraining from slander and speaking ill of those who are not present and cannot defend themselves. Instead, let us strive to measure our words and cultivate kindness and respect in our families, among our friends, at work, on social media, in political debates, in the media and in Christian communities. In this way, words of hatred will give way to words of hope and peace.
Lent has snuck up on us again this year. It is quite early with Easter happening the first weekend in April. I just finished listening to Fr. James Martin’s Ash Wednesday podcast, and it reminded me of many of the things that I want to do to make my Lent intentional. As with the last few years, I am not giving anything specific up. I am going to continue to be intentional in what I am taking in whether that is food, candy, drink, or media. I want to put more thought into the things I’m doing, saying, and bringing into my life.
This year marks the 800th anniversary of the death of St. Francis, and Pope Leo has declared this to be a Jubilee Year in his honor from January 10, 2026 through January 10, 2027. There are all kinds of ways to earn plenary indulgences and what not, but that’s for someone else.
Another exciting event this year is that it is the 350th anniversary of St. Kateri Tekakwitha’s baptism. This happened right here in New York state, and the shrine in Fonda will be celebrating. One way is by having mass on Easter Sunday, which is her baptismal anniversary to the day.
I’m seeing a lot of concerns and posts on Threads (which is my main source of social media) about suicidal ideation, reaching out, is reaching out a codependency or a cry for help, is it merely speaking your truth “into the void”. I am not suicidal, any more. I am hyperaware of my mental health, and when I feel it diminishing, I reach into my coping tote bag (or toolbox) and see what will work *this time*. (For my story, you can search my tags for /my42, /mental-health) My evergreen go-to is writing, lists, and me time away from work and home. I must admit that I’ve adopted “me time” from my daughter. She is fierce about her space and her alone time, in her private room in the evening, and on her days off. She has taught me so much about how important self-love and self-care is.
As Lent approaches (T-minus two days, one and a half really), again, I have not decided on an item to give up, I have not decided on a spiritual practice to adopt for the next forty days, I have not moved into a Lenten mindset. Home is harried. Work this week is harried. My writing classes and groups that I’ve committed to are harried. And I love all three of them, so my object isn’t to make the times in them go away, or worse or negative for me or the people around me. It looks like it’s time for a few lists.
But lists aren’t the only mental health tool or adaption that I’ll need this week.
I’ll also need time.
We all do.
Even when I was a stay-at-home mom and my kids were in school for most of the day, I still needed to make time, bide my time, reserve my time, reclaim time. How is time simultaneously fleeting and standing still? Of course, it matters what we are doing with those times – vacations speed by, the work day slides along slowly. Paychecks come late,and bills come early.
For the next forty days, we of the Catholic faith will try to be better, with the help of G-d, but truly for ourselves. What can we do to make ourselves better? What can we do to make our lives better? What can we do to make the world better?
Whether you follow the forty days of Lent until the Resurrection of Easter or it’s just almost spring for you, think about how you can rest in yourself, how you can reset, and recover your mental health, to be healthy in ways that work for you.
I’ll return to this subject on Wednesday when Ash Wednesday begins the Lenten season, and I will hopefully have something to add that I’ve come up with for myself.
Until then, do something quiet and peaceful for yourself, and be.
When I recently saw these two pictures they struck me deeply. I was seeing things that I hadn’t considered before; hadn’t noticed, but then when I’d finally seen what was there all along, it was like a revelation. A sunrise. A shining spiritual moment.
