Newlywed Life | Checking in with Honors

KATE THIBODEAU

Every Sunday morning, my husband and I set aside time for a weekly check-in. We eat brunch, bring our coffee to the couch and sit. It’s a welcome ritual, a reprieve from the hustle and bustle of busy weeks and schedules.

PHOTOGRAPHY: KARLY JO PHOTOGRAPHY

We adopted this idea from a fellow couple, whose marriage is a bit more seasoned than our own. The point of the weekly check-in is to prioritize communication between the husband and wife in all areas (relationship, work, kids, faith, schedules, budget, etc). We use an agenda sheet to boot--which makes it quite official and structured!

Beginning this weekly check-in, we felt stilted and forced. It was great for practical uses and creating unity in our weekly schedules, however, we initially found asking the questions in our agenda to be awkward. 

1. What are two ways your spouse honored you last week?

2. What two ways did you try to honor your spouse last week? 

In our very first meeting, we stumbled over these questions. Who used the word “honor” in this way anymore? There’s something medieval--biblical--in it. Furthermore, what does honoring one another  truly mean to the modern Catholic couple? How are we to honor our spouses? What does that look like in practice? 

In a Catholic wedding Mass, the spouses vow to honor each other all the days of their lives. If you’re like me, you remember a blur of saying your vows on the altar; but while you promised yourself body and soul to your spouse, you did not take time to consider the meaning of “honoring” your spouse. I associated that word with something celestial. Maybe it meant placing your spouse above all worldly things, showing him the utmost respect and consideration. I had a vague understanding of the term, but an incomplete idea as to how that played out in the every day. 

The first several weeks of our meetings, my husband and I would half-heartedly laugh as we repeated the words of the prompt: “I noticed that you honored me...” or, “I tried to honor you by….”

This particular phrase became a sort of joke when we went about our daily activities and showed love by begrudgingly doing a chore for the other: “I’m honoring you by taking out the trash tonight,” and,“I was going to complain about this (minor inconvenience), but I won’t to honor you.” These moments gave us many a chuckle, and were passed. Sometimes we brought them up at our meetings, but for the most part they remained a running joke.

After several weeks of stumbling through  this ritual, I started to notice a difference in our meetings. Sharing was less awkward and formal, and we were beginning to learn more about each other. Vocalizing the moments we felt or showed honor was a window into the daily thoughts and actions of love we felt for each other, both mundane and extraordinary. Some Sundays I was surprised to hear the ways my husband chose to honor me, especially in actions that went unnoticed.

I was humbled and moved by his attention to my moods, my needs, my masked cries for help that past week. Some of the ways he honored me were simple, like picking up a pint of ice cream at the store (I usually noticed this), and some were more subtle and abstract, like listening to me vent when he could have used a turn at the mic himself.

We were able to name the little moments in which we actively chose to love and honor each other and recognize the ways in which we accepted this honor. This was more than a recognized pat on the back for ourselves: “I lived another day to out-honor my spouse”, but rather, a way to say: “I see you, I love you. I am trying to honor you. Help me to honor you better this week.”

Our personal love languages became more apparent and we were challenged to honor one another in ways that we truly desired to be loved and served, not just in ways that came most naturally to ourselves.

Similarly, our week-days apart and engaged in work became more devotedly invested in honoring each other. Maybe this would look simple, like preparing a favorite dish, or scrubbing a toilet after work, but the littleness of the action did not take away from the significance it held in our relationship.

I began to see my husband with a true servant’s heart, and I, in turn, wanted to honor him in a variety of different ways. I wanted to live each day of my week honoring him--and consequently, honoring the source and summit of our union: our Lord.

Additionally, our weekly meetings became more than an airing of grievances or a conference, but a vocalization of the ways in which we felt served, listened to, loved, suffered, and prayed for. We brought to light the struggles of our weeks and the victories and blessings that God gifted us. Our cups were filled by communicating not only the events of our weeks, but specifically where our family was headed and what particular areas were in need of work or healing.

Vowing to honor our spouses and living that out through our vocation is not always easy. It can be done in little or great actions. St. Therese is a great advocate for loving God in seemingly small or simple ways, and she serves as a model to us in our marriage

In honoring our spouses, we are actively choosing to see Christ in our beloved, and offering ourselves in service to them. Just as we should try to check-in with God through the sacraments, prayer, and adoration, it is imperative that we check-in with our spouses to see where they are and what help they need in their journey. Communication is as essential to marriage as honor is to God--and we hold them both dearly in this plight of vocation.

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About the Author: Recently married to her best friend and partner towards salvation, Kate Thibodeau is learning how to best serve her vocation as a wife while using her God-given talents. Mama to heavenside baby, Charlotte Rose, and new Baby Lizzy, Kate has an English degree from Benedictine College, and strives to live the Benedictine motto: that in all things, God may be glorified. Kate loves literature, romance, teaching, wedding planning, and building a community of strong Catholic women.

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Death to Control Freaks: Inviting Trust + Selflessness into Newlywed Life

KATE THIBODEAU

Have you felt a surprising sense of losing independence or control after your wedding day? If you’ve experienced this in uniting your life with your husband’s, I understand. 

Photography: Diane Murtha, seen in How He Asked | Ashleigh + Rodolfo

As an independent thinker and doer throughout my life, before marriage I took pride in going about my daily plans and crafting a great big future for myself. Seeing this resourcefulness bloom as a single adult, I enjoyed my self-reliance. I used my motivation to push myself in planning each future endeavor, from daily meals to progress towards my degree or future career.

Marriage throws a wrench in your independence when you realize you are no longer a lone ranger in complete control of your future.

While we usually recognize we are sacrificing ourselves, both body and soul, at the altar, this loss is felt more keenly in the field when we live out our marriage vows together day by day. 

 As a newlywed, I loved including my husband in my daily plans, spending as much time together as possible. Having survived a distance engagement, we were so enthralled by the opportunity of finally living as one and uniting our daily lives. 

However, after the first few months passed, I realized the difficulty of fully involving another’s thoughts, comforts, and wishes into my everyday decisions. Maybe I didn’t plan to cook tonight, for instance, but he would love a full meal after a hard day: a death to selfishness.

 These everyday inconveniences could be thrown aside with a bit of resolution and love for my spouse. Of course spouses want to accommodate and serve each other. However, the impact of losing this control over your own self and circumstances is a bigger trial. Life becomes completely shared with your spouse--something I was to learn sooner than expected.

My picture-perfect plans for my life, and our unified existence, was shaken by opportunities for trust. The first of these experiences came in the form of allowing myself to consider starting our family sooner than I had planned. In following Natural Family Planning, my husband and I were perpetually open to life, but coming into our marriage, we--rather, I--had been quite clear in the  expectation to attempt to delay pregnancy until a certain number of years had passed. 

 Marriage is compromise accompanied by trust. It shone through brilliantly when I quickly realized my husband’s desire to become a father was growing, and my preconceived notions were founded in a sense of doubt and denial that God could be calling us--calling me--sooner.

As a self recognized control-freak, I would gladly welcome our family’s future wrapped neatly in a box, signed, addressed, and dated with each big event dutifully marked in my planner. 

However, my vocation calls me to fluidity in our plans, to openness to the needs of my spouse and his ability to help support our family, and to patient trust in God’s providence. We must commit to ongoing communication about the direction of the adventure God should decide to take us. Whether that be moving where our careers call or sacrificing comfort for the security of our family, we must always trust in God’s leading hand to point us in the right direction. For when has he failed us before?

As newlyweds, our need to rise above the selfishness of our natures is a daily challenge. God does not call the weak to the vocation of marriage, but he does grant us regular opportunities to strive for virtue. Our vices in our single lives shine through more blatantly when met with the sacrifice needed for a fruitful marriage. 

 The drastic change from the single life to dependency upon your spouse can be jarring and uncomfortable. My experience, however, proves my husband and I feel most unified when allowing ourselves to be vulnerable, allowing God to direct our lives. 

Marriage is not only a death to self, but a death to pride, independence, and all the qualities that drive us to feel in control. 

It is a daily sacrifice to take my husband’s needs and desires into account, and a bigger challenge still to entrust our lives into the hands of an all-knowing God.

I do not pretend to be anywhere near overcoming my desire to be in control or in the know regarding our future. Yet I know the graces of marriage allow us to grow in virtue, both together and as individuals. 

 Rest assured that your vocation to marriage will lead you to a greater understanding of your personal vices, accompanied with a deeper desire to pursue a death to them. I challenge you, and myself, to continuously invite trust in God’s direction for your marriage, and seek to lift up selfishness in prayer. 

In those newlywed moments when you feel disconnected or disillusioned by the ideals of your perfectly planned life, know you are where God desires you to be. He is calling you to a greater future with your husband. A greater holiness.

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 About the Author: Recently married to her best friend and partner towards salvation, Kate Thibodeau is learning how to best serve her vocation as a wife while using her God-given talents. Mama to angel baby, Charlotte Rose, and new Baby Lizzy, Kate has an English degree from Benedictine College, and strives to live the Benedictine motto: that in all things, God may be glorified. Kate loves literature, romance, beautiful music, pretty things, wedding planning, and building a community of strong Catholic women.

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“The Artist of Love” | A Young Bride’s Reflection on Writings by Alice Von Hildebrand

KATE THIBODEAU

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A young bride faces a number of choices when it comes to defining her role within marriage. The conflicting worries and joyful surprises of marriage may become overwhelming when trying to establish a new role as someone’s wife and partner towards salvation.

PHOTOGRAPHY: HER WITNESS

I remember the first few months of marriage—working a new job and attempting to prove myself as a career woman, while also attempting to set up house, learn to cook and patiently maneuver through the transition. I found myself pulled in different directions while trying to solidify a mission statement or role for my new responsibilities as James’ wife. I pressured myself to strive for perfection in every field, while feeling limited by my inexperience.

The joy of my union to my wonderful husband was challenged by my personal expectations for perfection. In the tension, I lost sight of the sacred nature of being a wife.  

A gift from a friend offered a new lens for me to comprehend my stress and pressure. By Love Refined: Letters to a Young Bride, a novel by Catholic authoress Alice Von Hildebrand, spoke to the many fears, questions, and experiences of my newlywed life.

This little book is filled with letters by a long married widow to her newlywed goddaughter, Julie, who faces trials and questions in her vocation. The daily struggles and triumphs of Julie and her husband mirrored many of my own. I read through pages thinking to myself, “My James does that!,” or “We have had this conversation!,” and “I, too, am guilty of this mistake.”

Von Hildebrand offers powerful spiritual advice in each letter, encouraging marital relationships for self-giving love and mutual respect. She paints a vision of marriage as it should be: learning how to love and lead one’s spouse to heaven through sacrifice.

Julie’s experiences reflected many of my own struggles, from trying to balance work with being a homemaker, to accepting the habits of a permanent roommate, my spouse. I marveled how through her godmother’s writing, she discovers her true role as a wife—despite both internal and external pressures—as “an artist of love.”

Von Hildebrand explains the meaning of this title by describing her love for oriental rugs, and how their complex beauty is made through tiny snippets of fabric. This image is a symbol of the many small acts and deeds of a wife, the artist, as she weaves together her sacrifices, efforts, and decisions to benefit her husband and family.

I take this message to heart as my mission statement as both James’ wife and a child of God. My vocation calls me to regard every challenge and duty in life with deference to my marriage. How will this decision impact our relationship? Does this word or action detract from my mission as the artist in our home? Does this contribute to the art of our marital love?

Regardless of the field in which I may be struggling, I need only simplify my motivations and focus them towards my vocation. My beginner’s errors and the fear of unknowns matter so little when I realize each sacrifice and trial, suffered with love, is an addition to the “quilt” I weave for the good of our family. In this truth is an ever present joy.

Being “an artist of love” is applicable to every role I may take on as a wife, as a working professional or a stay-at-home mom. As we age and mature in our marriage, so will our metaphorical “quilt”.

As a young bride-to-be searching for a peace in the daunting new territories of marriage, I am grateful to know of Hildebrand’s novel. Her simple words help me find purpose and meaning in each new trial and experience.

In the transitions of marriage and family life, I encourage every woman to not be overwhelmed by the stress of a new role. Do not pressure yourself to be excellent in every new undertaking, but have patience in every little action and sacrifice. Accept each challenge and make every decision in the confidence of your new mission: to be an “artist of love.” May your marriage be joyful in this pursuit!

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About the Author: Recently married to her best friend and partner towards salvation, Kate Thibodeau is learning how to best serve her vocation as a wife while using her God-given talents. Mama to angel baby, Charlotte Rose, and soon-to-arrive Baby Thibs, Kate has an English degree from Benedictine College, and strives to live in the Benedictine motto: that in all things, God may be glorified. Kate loves literature, romance, beautiful music, pretty things, wedding planning, and building a community of strong Catholic women.

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Grief + Grace: Suffering a Miscarriage as Newlyweds

KATE THIBODEAU

As newlyweds, we approach our first years of marriage in a blissful state of faith and hope. We make vows to our spouses to remain with them for better or worse, richer or poorer, till death do us part.

Photography: Rachel Gallic Photography, seen in How He Asked | Katherine + Dominic

I specifically remember the utter happiness of my wedding day--the very best day of my life--with no thought that sadness could so easily creep into these early days of joy and peace.

God gifts to married couples a specific store of grace to carry them through the learning curves and the hardships of creating a life together. These graces  help us to learn sacrifice and charity and to offer ourselves and our desires up for the better of our spouse.

It is through these graces we are able to heal from wounds given to each other, the daily hardships we encounter, and for my husband and I, the greatest trial of all--the loss of our children.

 A few months into our very ordinary and blissful marriage, my husband and I suffered the miscarriage of our first baby. We had not planned for this little one; in fact, we had prayed for clarity in our decision to start our family and discerned that waiting was in God’s plan for us. However, the short duration of our unexpected baby girl’s life tugged at our heart strings. Despite God’s prudence to call her home so soon, we grieved the loss of his gift.

In our sorrow, I remember both a spiritual darkness and an overwhelming shower of grace that affected not merely my personal grief, but our marriage. My husband and I were called to grieve together; to openly suffer and mourn in a new way.

I remember thinking the honeymoon phase was officially over as I sat speechless, watching my husband sob for our baby girl.

There was no more need for blithely skirting around each other and putting on a happy face, confident our love would overcome hardship. Our strength now was found in experiencing, together, God’s change of plan for our lives.  

Sorrow and tears were followed by anger with God, frustration with my body, and an overwhelming sense of questioning our loss. I found myself sitting in the confessional, telling the priest through tears that I struggled with doubt in God’s decision, failing to understand how his sense of timing could be just or correct.

I fought fears that my husband could not suffer in communion with me, as he did not physically carry our child as I did. I listened to songs that made me think of my girl. I wrote letters to her that she would never read, bought a Christmas ornament to suffer through the holidays without her, and I cried through the Joyful Mysteries of the rosary, searching for the joy in my life.

My husband and I sought out the sacraments for graces and worked together to grow through our loss. We prayed a novena for answers, we picked a name for our little one (Charlotte Rose), inspired by St. Therese, who gave us great peace. We asked Charlotte’s intercession in her closeness to Jesus, that she may petition for the safety of her brothers and sisters to come. My husband and I prayed together through the tears and questions.

Our miscarriage journey is the greatest test of our faith as a couple so far: faith in our strength as a team, faith in our Catholic family, and most importantly, faith in God’s ultimate timing in our lives. 

We are daily showered in grace upon grace. We are gifted humility in trust of God’s plan and his full control of our family. We are gifted patience as we yearn for another child following baby Charlotte Rose. We are gifted contentment in approaching our newlywed existence sobered and stronger to pursue God’s mission for our family.

In sharing our loss with other newlyweds, I hear a common cry of families who suffer their losses both in silence and in community. Their relationships are tried by fire and strengthened by God’s infinite store of grace given through the sacrament of marriage. God calls couples to the joy and pain of marriage together. He does not give us tasks that are beyond our reckoning.

While there is no deadline to the grief that comes with the loss of our child, my husband and I are still learning to grow as one in our suffering, having found a new depth in dependence on each other and God’s mercy.

With the blessing of our “rainbow baby” to come this fall, I am daily reminded of the gifts of life and love to marriages, and those that are taken too soon.

May we always keep those couples suffering in our prayers, that they may not lose faith in God’s timing, but to be encouraged to look for the grace and strength that follows the storm. May we ask our angel babies to intercede for us from their blessed seat with God. May we ask Mary to bring joy into our newlywed struggles and fill us with restored hope.

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About the Author: Recently married to her best friend and partner towards salvation, Kate Thibodeau is learning how to best serve her vocation as a wife while using her God-given talents. Mama to angel baby, Charlotte Rose, and soon-to-arrive Baby Thibs, Kate has an English degree from Benedictine College, and strives to live in the Benedictine motto: that in all things, God may be glorified. Kate loves literature, romance, beautiful music, pretty things, wedding planning, and building a community of strong Catholic women.

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NFP = Nervous Family Planning? The Joys and Struggles.

KATE THIBODEAU

You’re newly engaged; glowing with happiness, showing off your glimmering left hand and so excited to start this new journey with your fiancé. You’ve met with your priest, set the date, and expect marriage preparation will be a wonderful experience. One in which you’ll grow as a couple on this adventure to heaven together. Everything sounds like the fairy tale you’d always dreamed of.

Photography: Her Witness Photography

You’re set to take your Natural Family Planning course, eager to prepare for becoming a responsible and pro-life Catholic family. You can totally tackle NFP! A mix of science, faith, and marital self-sacrifice: what could be a more simple, practical, and generous method in which to grow a fine and faithful Catholic family?

Those feelings and emotions are all good, beautiful, and true. NFP is an enormous gift to the families who desire to be prudent and selfless, cooperating with God to bring children into the world.

However, after taking my NFP course during engagement, and then after actually following it as a married woman, I found that the glamorous reports of success I’d heard took me by surprise. Instead,I found myself struggling--failing, even--to learn and practice it..

 Thanks to my mother, I grew up well aware of my body’s fertility signs and familiar with NFP since I was a little girl. When trying to learn it four months prior to my upcoming wedding, I started with typical complaints, particularly taking my temperature each morning at 6 A.M, even on days when I could have slept in. Early wakeups became a daily cross. I became aware of my  daily routines that needed to be changed. I quickly realized the inconveniences of this new, constant awareness of my own body and of sharing my findings with my husband.

Conversations before marriage about NFP don’t always illuminate the little mistakes and troubles found along the way: forgetting to take your temperature, inconsistencies rooted in  stress, an inability to understand your fertility symptoms and record them correctly, a lack of full understanding. I realized there was a myriad of ways in which I personally could fail in the practice, not just the idea, of NFP--ways I was unaware of in the past, when my knowledge was more limited.

I found myself disheartened, especially when listening to other couples tell me of their great successes. I felt like a failure for being unable to clearly read my fertility signs, and felt the weight of guilt when I opted to switch to a different method. I doubted my ability to enter into a self-giving marriage with my husband, where we would be responsible in the task given to us as future parents.

It took several months, a loving and supportive husband, and God’s severest of mercies on my beginner’s errors to find peace in my mostly complicated relationship with the amazing gift of Natural Family Planning. Here are my takeaways, from much trial and error:

Be patient with yourself!

NFP is not supposed to a one time victory, but many monthly victories that allow you to know your body and your spouse better with each cycle. Don’t allow stress or fear of failure to dampen your resolve. I found the stress of learning NFP greatly affected my fertility, which made it all the more difficult to track. Had I more patience and forgiveness with myself, my learning curve might have been more even-keeled.

Comparison is the greatest fiend of self confidence, and I found it took a toll on my process.

I was too busy shaming myself for my struggles and comparing them with my peers’ successes to see the benefits of NFP. The method you choose and your discernment is dependent on you, your spouse, and God. Ask--and trust in--Christ to guide  your instincts.

Every woman’s body is different, just as every couple expresses love in different ways. Allow your couple friends to empower and encourage you in your quest, but do not succumb to self-doubt from comparison. I found sharing in vulnerability allowed me to see how pointless my tendency to compare really was. 

NFP is ultimately a blessing and a sacrifice.

NFP is truly a fruitful way to work with God and your spouse to determine when you are called to bring forth children. It is difficult in practice, but its fruits include a more valued intimacy and understanding with my husband, a sacrificial death to desire, and a dependence on God’s timing. We are grateful for the work and frustration, as well as the unity we have found through this journey together. We’ve been able to love each other better, knowing we’re in support of God’s will for our future family.

 I’ll continue to sing the praises of NFP even in my vulnerability and perceived failures. To all brides who are struggling, know you are not alone!

 Have patience with yourself, seek out support, and ultimately trust in God’s mercy. Natural Family Planning should not be a cause for anxiety or stress concerning perfection, but a gift to you and your husband as holy and responsible parents. You--with God--have got this!

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About the Author: Recently married to her best friend and partner towards salvation, Kate Thibodeau is learning how to best serve her vocation as a wife while using her God-given talents. With an English degree from Benedictine College, she strives to live in the Benedictine motto: that in all things, God may be glorified. Kate loves literature, romance, beautiful music, pretty things, wedding planning, and building a community of strong Catholic women.

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Newlywed Life | A Letter to the Wife Striving to Be Like Mary.

KATE THIBODEAU

To the wife striving to be be like Mary,

Twenty-three years old, Catholic, and married to a wonderful Catholic man seems like ad ream, one I’m blessed to experience day by day. I met my husband in college, and we became friends. In the crazy hectic time of our senior year we fell in love, getting engaged shortly after graduation.

Photography: Dennis Crider Photography, c/o Spoken Bride Vendor The Mantilla Company

In one quick and eventful year, I graduated, carried on a distance relationship, worked multiple jobs, lived alone, moved home to my parents’ house, got engaged, planned a large wedding, moved belongings into our new apartment, and married my best friend. It seems like a beautiful, chaotic whirlwind. Yet as a millennial introvert, plagued with a one-track mind and fear of change, I find myself married and unsure of what on God’s green earth I’m doing.

So much happening in my life at once was possibly God’s greatest challenge to me: a challenge to come out of my stationary existence and instead pursue greatness.

In moments of self-doubt, I still wonder how I got here. How I could be seen as worthy to be a good wife to my husband; his greatest helpmate towards heaven?

The most obvious sign my husband and I experienced in knowing we were called to this shared vocation came through daily opportunities to better our individual spiritual lives. We held each other to high standards of holiness, knowing we each desired a saintly spouse who would raise a faithful family.

During engagement, we prayed for chastity and for the strength to reach the altar as the best versions of ourselves. We appealed to the saints for their assistance and implored Mary’s divine aid through consecration. We received the sacrament of confession within an hour of our nuptials and made it to the altar in a state of celestial happiness and joyful hope for the future.

 With the honeymoon over and our lives settling down from the highs and stresses of wedding planning, I realize so much has happened, and feel like I still do not know how to be a wife. I am a terrible cook, an “adequate” housekeeper, and more than a little overwhelmed by the new changes my life has undergone--trying to find a new normal.

I find myself worrying about the novelty of married life: what can I make my husband for dinner today? Would he like this painting hung here? Am I giving him the support he needs? When will we know God is calling us to parenthood? Where will we live in five  years?

I find our anxieties and worries are rarely from heaven. In moments of stress, we tend to assume we are alone or that no other person could have experienced exactly what we are going through. However, that is simply not so.

My consecration to Mary in the 33 days preceding our wedding brought such peace; a peace I hope will always remind me to dismiss my negative thoughts and focus on Mary’s example.

In reflecting on the Joyful Mysteries of the rosary alone, I recall the challenges presented by Gabriel’s announcement and Mary’s  forthcoming marriage to Joseph. I cannot imagine a more stressful scenario than being told you are to carry the Son of God, along with the typical changes that accompany married life.

Mary rises to the occasion without question, and with a grace-filled yes. She is the ultimate example of a selfless, worthy wife. She was not ready for such an urgent and special task and did not know how to be the perfect wife or mother. Yet her trust and faith in our Lord proved her an ideal woman, a  model to all young and inexperienced wives.

 The greatest takeaway from my consecration came from Mother Teresa’s prayer to Mary to “lend me your heart.” I find myself praying these words whenever I struggle with patience, stress, anxiety, or self-doubt.

To young wives unsure of what they are doing or what their new vocation entails, I encourage you to join me, asking Mary to lend you her heart.

 Let her fill you with her virtue and grace to approach marriage as our husbands’ best friends and helpmates. Do not allow fear to paralyze you or doubt to detain you from serving God through your vocation. God calls us only to missions he knows we can gracefully undertake. He provides us with examples by which we can accept and rise to the occasion, with Mary’s yes as our wifely motto.

To new brides, know you are not alone. Look to Mary’s example and allow your vulnerability to help you love your husband through a season of change. I promise I will be praying along with you as we tackle the beauty of this: our vocation.

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About the Author: Recently married to her best friend and partner towards salvation, Kate Thibodeau is learning how to best serve her vocation as a wife while using her God-given talents. With an English degree from Benedictine College, she strives to live the Benedictine motto: that in all things, God may be glorified. Kate loves literature, romance, beautiful music, pretty things, wedding planning, and building a community of strong Catholic women.

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