Light of St. Lucy

I remember spending a lot of time picking out my new confirmation name. Among the saints, the holy men and women who have come before us to help intercede during our lifelong faith development, I was looking for someone a bit out of the ordinary. I had narrowed my choices down to two saints: one simply because I enjoyed her name, and the other, Santa Lucia — St. Lucy — whose name means light.

Ultimately, I asked for her patronage because people have often told me that I light up a room when I walk in. She also is the patron saint of eyesight, and as someone who has had glasses and contacts for over 15 years, that resonated with me. Both of these aspects remind me to look for goodness in the world. Even if I can’t see it, St. Lucy’s example encourages me to be the light in a darkened world.

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Image by Per Palmkvist Knudsen

As I got a bit older and had already selected Lucy as my saint, I started learning more about the traditions of Santa Lucia Day. In many Scandinavian traditions, St. Lucy Day is marked by the eldest daughter coming into a darkened room with a crown full of lit candles on her head. She then proceeds to light the other candles in the room and thusly ushers in the season for the family. 

My heart expanded with joy when I read this. Not only am I the eldest daughter, but I also have a tiny — not at all out of control obsession with Christmas. This information seemed to give me permission (that I wasn’t really seeking) to officially be the herald of the season for my family. They all take it in good fun, chalking it up to one of my quirks. (Make no mistake though, none of them would ever let me walk around with fire on my head. I am much too clumsy for that!)

Advent always seems to slip so quickly away from me. I feel like I never have enough time to truly prepare my heart for the coming of the Lord. But the day of St. Lucy, Dec. 13, always feels like a moment in the season that reminds me to pause. It’s true, The Light of the world is coming. He comes through Mary, through the Grace of God, and it’s up to me to help

It is so symbolic to me where this day falls in the season, only about a week out from the shortest day of the entire year — winter solstice. I have always known the shortest days to be the darkest ones. There is something so comforting in the reminder that the darkness will not last forever. There is something so majestic that from it comes this shining ray of hope.

As the Christmas holiday comes closer and the darkness gets longer remember the day, dedicated to the girl with lit candles upon on her head, right in the middle of it. She was a martyr persecuted for her faith, giving glory to God and physical light to her family and to her people.

Even though St. Lucy’s day is just one in the preparation for Christmas, it is the one that feels most like it belongs to me. It reminds me to ask my saint to help me see God’s glory and look for glimpses of his divine plan. This feast day helps me remember to let the light of Jesus shine through me and that no amount of darkness lasts forever.

In my mind, that is a lot to celebrate.

Alicia Grumley has been a friend of Sister Julia’s since they met at the Festival of Faith and Writing in Grand Rapids, Michigan. They remain connected as members of an online writing group. Alicia’s writing can be found online at OwnYourOxygen.wordpress.com (which is her self-care advocacy site) and AliciasAlleluia.wordpress.com (where she delves into aspects of the Catholic faith that interest her) You can also find her work at Sick Pilgrim.

 

St. Joe and me

I have been praying to St. Joe, the earthly father of Jesus, a lot lately.

I call him St. Joe instead of St. Joseph because shortening his name makes him more real to me, like a friend. When I pray to saints it is helpful for me to behave like we are in relationship; change occurs on a relational level.

I am a single, 27-year-old female who is not trying to sell a home or become a carpenter. Although I have little in common with St. Joe, we have been having a lot of chats.

I am a nanny by trade and the majority of my week is spent loving and taking care of other people’s children. I educate, wash the clothes and change the diapers of little ones.

St. Joe is my friend through all of this labor because, when it comes to loving the children of others, I am pretty sure there is no one better to model my heart after. I am often tired and drained in this work. The words I say seem to bounce right off the back of the energetic four-year old. Frustrated again and again, I turn to St. Joe:

“Please help me to love this child like you love Jesus.

Help me to not get caught up in the frustrations of the day-to-day.”

This simple prayer calms and encourages me to think more deeply about the dynamics of the Holy Family. I find myself wondering, just as I do about myself, if St. Joseph knew how difficult raising a child would be, if he ever doubted that what he was doing mattered and if the love he provided was enough.

While teaching children as a nanny, I am learning too. It shows me that loving people is messy and imperfect, that God gives us the saints to encourage us and to help us strive for holiness. They are given as gifts because God loves us so infinitely and provides examples of people just like us who have become saints. Similarly, as I explore and deepen my faith Jesus’ lessons on loving children, especially as a non-biological parent like St. Joe, inspire me.

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“I have had this Holy Family music box since I was two,” says Alicia, “I simply adore the way Mary and Joseph are looking at baby Jesus.” (Image courtesy Alicia Grumley)

And the more I talk to St. Joe about caring for children not our own, I realize we have even more in common. I am loved very deeply by a stepparent. As I look at the role St. Joseph plays in the life of Jesus and the role my own stepmom plays in mine, I realize that by taking on the responsibilities of loving another’s child we open our hearts to being conductors of the spiritual works of mercy. We embrace all seven of them: counseling the doubtful, instructing the ignorant, admonishing the sinner, comforting the sorrowful, forgiving injuries, bearing wrongs patiently and praying for the living and the dead.

I know that, throughout her marriage to my dad, my stepmom has and continues to do all of this for me and my brothers. I suspect that St. Joe would have also practiced these works of mercy with Jesus. I imagine that there were times when St. Joe prayed to be better at these things, just like I do.

So what do I, a single 27-year-old non-homeowner and non-carpenter have in common? Love. Lots and lots of love by the will of God, mercy. I know I need it, and I know I can grow by practicing it.

Thanks for the example, St. Joe.

ABOUT THE RABBLE ROUSER

Alicia Grumley has been a friend of Sister Julia’s since they met at the Festival of Faith and Writing in Grand Rapids, Michigan. They remain connected as members of an online writing group. Alicia’s writing can be found online at OwnYourOxygen.wordpress.com (which is her self-care advocacy site) and AliciasAlleluia.wordpress.com (where she delves into aspects of the Catholic faith that interest her) You can also find her work at Sick Pilgrim.