I told my daughter I liked that song, but there was one word in it that struck me as inaccurate, and I asked her what she thought it might be. She answered, “Alone.”

When I asked her why she zeroed in on that word, she said, “Because we don’t walk with Jesus alone. We need each other and all the angels and saints.”

I was delighted that Mary Catherine had internalized this concept, which as Catholics we have always affirmed.

The accompaniment of the saints was illustrated in my own life in a way that makes me feel blessed and grateful. When this same little girl was a baby, I turned to my two spiritual mothers, Mother Mary and St. Elizabeth Ann Seton — whose 50th canonization anniversary is this year — to help us when my daughter developed a bewildering illness. This came at a time in my life that was fraught with tensions, and I began dreading each new day, struggling to stay strong in my belief in the words of Romans 8:28, “All things work for good for those who love God.”

My History With the Saints

The saints were not very important to me as a young person, even when I picked my confirmation name, Elizabeth. The concept of a patron saint and the role of the saints in general had not yet sunk into my head. As a young adult, I started to learn more about the saints and developed a beautiful relationship with the Blessed Mother. By the time I became a mother myself, I found myself viewing all of the saints as friends and companions.

This relationship with the saints took a new turn as we moved our family to Maryland just after Mary Catherine was born. There, St. Elizabeth Ann Seton (often called “Mother” Seton) appeared on my radar for the first time, partly because her shrine was less than two hours away. I started thinking of her as my patron saint. My very own Elizabeth.

Imagine my surprise when I realized how much St. Elizabeth Ann Seton and I had in common: She had been a New Yorker who moved to Maryland, just as I had done. Like me, she had been a wife, a mother of five children and a teacher. Finally, Mother Seton was an Episcopalian who converted to the Catholic faith, and I always considered myself a convert of sorts. While I was born a Catholic, I had been highly influenced by Protestant thinking as a young person and didn’t discover the wealth of my Catholic faith until I was in college. I even began to sense that God was giving me Mother Seton as a kind of “spiritual director.”

Around that same time, on the Blessed Mother’s birthday, I asked Mother Mary for a special favor. (Yes, it was her birthday, but I asked for something for myself!) I asked God to provide me with a “real” spiritual director through her intercession. I was hoping for a flesh-and-blood person — someone I could sit with over a cup of coffee.

That same day, after attending Mass, my 1-year-old daughter found something on the ground outside of the church and handed it to me. Dirt-caked and tarnished, it was a religious medal of Mother Seton. It seemed to me that the Blessed Mother was saying to me, “Use the spiritual director God has provided for you. It is enough for now.”

“In my distress, I called out: Lord! I cried out to my God” — Psalm 18:7.

The four of us, Mother Mary, Mother Seton, my little daughter and I continued on this journey together. When my daughter was almost 2, my husband and I noticed her having strange seizure-like episodes. She would appear pale, ill and shaky as her pupils constricted. Afterward, she would rest in our arms for 10 minutes before acting perfectly normal again.

This started happening several times a day, four or five days out of the week.

Eventually, we took our daughter to Baltimore’s Johns Hopkins Hospital, but even those doctors couldn’t determine any reason for her symptoms. These disturbing circumstances took place during a time in my life that was already filled with difficulties. I found myself on the verge of falling apart.

One day, I was holding my little daughter after Mass, and I coached her to say, “Jesus, heal me.” Instead, she lisped, “Jesus, heal mommy.” I repeated, “Say, ‘Jesus heal Mary Catherine.’” She said, “No, Jesus heal Mommy.” I tried to take that to heart and to allow God to heal me from my fear and anxiety, but it wasn’t easy.

Prayer — and Peace

Both the National Shrine of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton and a replica of the Lourdes Grotto (after the Marian shrine in France, formally the National Shrine Grotto at Mount St. Mary’s University) were only a few hours away in Emmitsburg, Maryland, and my husband and I had often wanted to visit. As our daughter’s condition continued, I felt motivated in a particular way to go and ask Mother Seton and the Blessed Mother to pray for our daughter’s healing.

My husband and I set aside a day to take Mary Catherine, along with her four brothers (all under the age of 12), to the Seton shrine. Usually, the kids traveled well, but this car trip was chaotic and miserable, and I was out of sorts when we arrived. We had come to the shrine to have a spiritual experience; instead, we resembled a three-ring circus, complete with a grumpy momma bear.

As we approached the large basilica, we noticed how few cars were in the parking lot. I had a strange, sinking feeling. The children tumbled out of the van and ran toward the church, most of them unable to read the sign that said, “Closed for Renovations.”

I became a snarling , grumpy bear.

The doors to the church were locked, but eventually we found an open door and slipped inside, trying to keep our brood somewhat contained. We knelt down at a special altar, where Mother Seton’s remains are entombed, lit a candle and prayed. We were only in the church for a few minutes when a religious sister approached us, confused as to how we had gained entrance and politely asking us to leave. It was all quite awkward.

We then drove to the Lourdes Grotto nearby with its huge golden statue of the Queen of Heaven reaching up into the sky. It was breathtaking. When we pulled into the parking lot, we learned that the grotto would be closing in five minutes. We piled hurriedly out of the van, looked up at the towering golden figure of our Blessed Mother and prayed for Mary Catherine to be healed. Then we piled back into the van and made the trip home. So much for our special family pilgrimage.

Early the next morning, Mary Catherine vomited several times and acted sick all day, but after that point, there was no sign of her previous condition for more than a month.

The spells did return rarely and sporadically for the next nine months, during which time we tried to focus on being grateful for her healing rather than panicking. She had her last episode on Thanksgiving Day of that year.

We firmly believe she was healed through the intercession of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton and the Blessed Mother.

Whenever we are overcome with fear for the well-being of our children and we turn to God, he not only wishes to bless our children, but the circumstance becomes an invitation for our own healing. I hope and believe I received a healing in my spirit through that dark time as well.

Thank God for our friends in heaven.

Now, I share this story to keep a promise that I made to God. It is a testament to his goodness and power and the intercessory power of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton and the Blessed Mother.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church tells us that the saints “contemplate God, praise him and constantly care for those whom they have left on earth. When they entered into the joy of their Master, they were ‘put in charge of many things.’ Their intercession is their most exalted service to God’s plan. We can and should ask them to intercede for us and for the whole world” (2683).

What a consolation it is to know we can rely on those who are in heaven, both those recognized formally as saints by the Church, as well as our own family members and friends.

These spiritual mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers accompany us on this journey of life, enthusiastically cheering us on.

One day, they, we hope and pray, will welcome us home to eternal life, with the God and Father of us all.

As Mother Seton once wrote: “Confiding hope and consoling peace have attended my way through storms and dangers that must have terrified a soul whose rock is not Christ … .”

Visit her author webpage at ChristineHanus.com.