From the age of 7, I saw a full-size picture of the Divine Mercy Image in my grandmother's room (since her death last year it has now been moved to the dining room). This image probably didn't cause much contemplation for me at the time. Yet, having that image and learning, vaguely its origins, likely contributed to the choice of my confirmation saint, St. Faustina Kowalska. Now, my discernment process for choosing my confirmation saint was not at all the most efficient process. I, more or less, took every saint book in my house and searching all those Catholic sites where you can find lists of saints, particularly I wanted a female saint (I was very adamant about not choosing a male saint, as I was a woman and under the impression that meant I should choose a female saint). At one point, I believe I had at least fifteen potential confirmation saints; to filter them, I ended up saying I wanted a saint that was from one of the countries where I have heritage in my family, well, ok I really went with Poland as I'm 50% Polish. The final choices were either St. Faustina and St. Edith Stein/St. Theresa Benedicta of the Cross. The choice was made because I liked Faustina's story more (well, I hope it was) and perhaps because my grandmother had such a strong devotion to the Divine Mercy. Though, I really only vaguely knew St. Faustina's story and did not read her Diary until years later, I believe I did not choose St. Faustina but she chose me, specifically because her whole mission was to educate others about the Divine Mercy of Jesus Christ. Read on if you want to discover more.
From a very early age, I have been hard on myself, unduly so at times. Even if I knew I didn't know how to fix something I didn't know how to verbalize it. For instance, to this day I remain a person who struggles with keeping organized. This caused much tension between myself and my older sister, Veronica growing up as she's generally highly organized. We shared are room until about my eighth grade year or so and I was nearer to the door. I often would have my clothes strewn all over the floor as if a bomb went off (it still gets this way sometimes, but I'm somewhat better at letting the situation get this chaotic). This would end up getting on her last nerve, and we'd get into, honestly, petty fights about it. I vividly remember one about "sides of the room" where, grasping at straws, I argued that because the bookshelf in our room was really all my books, that is how far my "side" went or that there were no sides. Looking back she was right, there were "sides" but since I didn't really know how to control the disorganization and ask to help to change that, it was easier to say there were no sides. Yet, I also believe the disorganized way I lived was an external sign that inside I felt out of control. I wanted to fix something I didn't know how to and was overwhelmed, and since all I seemed to hear that I needed to change this and I didn't feel like I could, I gave up and simply, identified with it so no one could change it; it was just who I was, a mess. I know super pessimistic, but I think through this haze St. Faustina perhaps, saw a soul that needed her more than she knew. Cause from that age, this one aspect, disorganization was something I couldn't forgive myself for., it meant I was a failure cause I could not manage something that should be simple to do, but the truth was all I needed was mercy, someone to reach out and say "Mary, you seem to have difficulty with this do you know how to handle it? do you need help? how can I help?"
St. Faustina certainly saw a soul in need of mercy early on. One of my earliest memories I can remember feeling like I was failing goes back to third grade. That year several rumors circulated among my peers about me. The most difficult to dispel was the one that I said I was rich (though my family is definitely not poor we are by far not rich). This rumor I believe was a noxious twisting of a conversation I had a lunch with one of my friends, Chloe, in the first few weeks of school. Being young children, we had a conversation discussing what we would do or what it would be like IF we were rich I don't remember the specifics of the conversation just that these fantasies were weaponized in order to spread a harmful rumor. One day during recess, I was watching classmates play kickball when on confronted by a classmate about this rumor. In trying to defend myself, I got tongue tied, and to this day it is one of the times I felt the most alone as no one came to my aid, many instead laughing at me in my distress. Can I say I have forgiven myself for this moment, not exactly. I didn't really think it was something I needed to be forgiven for. Yet, I wonder why it has stuck with me for over fifteen years, perhaps it has something to do with self-forgiveness.
Moving forward.
My seventh and eighth grade year, the girl who chose to be unkind to me, was integrated into my friend group. Now for over ten years, several of those memories will plague me from time to time. One of my biggest regrets you could say is that during that time, this girl managed to get myself and a few friends to "play" the silent game from lunch time on. It was immensely embarrassing and when I broke in the car and talked to my mom, I felt so foolish when she pointed out that the girl was obviously being malicious. Regardless, I being too much of a goody-two-shoes still held up the losers end of the bargain. The other day I regret the most per se, is the day I stood up to her. I do not regret standing up to her, but for taking so long to do so and for not being able to hold it together afterwards, breaking down in tears in front of the whole cafeteria. I have forgiven the bully, but some part of me still holds on to that pain, in a way, and refuses to be compassionate to a teenage girl who was too hard on herself, because she had dealt with bullying before so should have been able to handle it on my own, not expecting peers, or teachers to step in.
Then comes high school.
My freshman year i had two different crushes. The first a boy who I met at freshman orientation and the other one who was in my biology class. The former had my number but didn't text me all that much (a bummer at the time). The other was actually the one I may have liked more if I really think about. Now, when the Christmas dance came around, as it was Sadie Hawkins dance (where the girls ask the guys), I wondered if I'd want to go with anyone. Now crush number 1 to me wasn't an option because he had a girlfriend or had recently gotten out of a relationship. So I ended up admitting to crush number 2 and some other boys that I had wanted to ask crush 2 but he'd been asked so it wasn't an opiton. They ended up suggesting crush 1 as a potential ask. I did end up asking crush number 1, though not without extreme anxiety and disappointment when he said no. I guess I first couldn't forgive myself for yet again revealing to other boys who I liked, and then for asking someone to a dance who I pretty much knew was going to be a no. Maybe Faustina knew this was hard on me and wanted to help me be more gentle with myself.
Finally one vignette from College. To some extent, I still haven't fogiven myself for this. But when I roomed with a girl named Hannah, I ended up putting my foot in my mouth in a big way. She was in a relationship with someone of the same-sex and in the past had people judge her for her attractions. Not knowing, she'd grown up Catholic, when she'd mentioned her mother beting Catholic, or maybe I was the one who first mentioned Catholicism, I tried to defend the faith, only to find out she'd been made to feel like her attractions were sinful, and therefore, she was sinful though she can't technically control who she is attracted to. I wish I had simply listened rather than trying to defend the faith, because it wasn't the right time to be an apologist for Catholicism. I now see this a learning experience of how to interact with those who may be doing what I think is wrong or for people who struggle with Same-Sex attraction. Perhaps, secretly, or in a way i'm not quite certain of, my prayers or rather musings to St. Faustina at the time made this one an easier mistake to forgive mysefl for. Who knows?
With all of this, I see her fingerprints and those of God, leading me to a place of grater self-forgiveness. I may still struggle with self-forgiveness, especially after events that occurred in the last 2-3 years, but everything in life takes time to learn. Therapy, Spitirual direction, and the sacraments are great aids in my journey, yet, I know ST. Faustina is a major player in my growth in this area. St, Faustina, Pray for us!
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