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Writer's pictureEmily Woodham

A thankful heart is a happy heart



By Emily Woodham

Staff Writer


One of my favorite Bible verses is from Psalm 73 “To be near God is my happiness” (verse 28). It is used as an antiphon in the Office of Readings in the Liturgy of the Hours, something I became familiar with only after I became Catholic in 2015.


It brings to mind a little song that premiered more than 20 years ago on the brilliant and erudite series, Veggie Tales. In an episode about contentment, a poor little girl celebrates her birthday with a humble piece of pie and sings, “A thankful heart is a happy heart.”


If being near God and thankfulness are keys to my happiness, then humility seems to be the door for both. But humility is not as easy as it sounds. So God, in His mercy, provides ways to keep us humble. For me, among His many tools for my sanctification, writing about the saints is most consistently humbling.


For eight years, every two weeks, I have done a deep dive into a saint’s life, which is often obscured by legends or forgotten texts tucked away in a museum’s website. It is a given that each saint will have an adventurous journey ready for me with highs and lows, sludging through literary swamps to get to the rivers of clarity, and mucking about in barren deserts of information to find treasure troves in oddly placed oases.


“Lord, if You want me to keep writing,” I often pray as the chaos of a large household usually unravels in the midst of writing saints’ tales, “then You’ll need to help me!” Trying to write about a saint immediately makes me feel like a five-year-old child who has been given an overwhelming task. I feel little, which, according to St. Thérèse de Lisieux, is exactly what I need. Perhaps we can only draw near to God when we are little?


To write, I need the help of the saints themselves. I pray a litany to St. Francis de Sales each Monday. St. Anthony is my go to when it is time to choose a saint for a story. He’s also my knight-at-arms when I’m battling my way through information (or lack of it) trying to find nuggets of truth. I ask the saint I’m writing about to pray for me and to

help me. The list goes on. I’m a wimp, and I don’t want to go it alone without their help.

Writing about the saints is a constant exercise of surrendering to Jesus—both the process and the outcome of each story. Added to that, each saint’s life has points of conviction and encouragement for me.


It is humbling overall, but I am thankful. Ultimately, I am honored that their stories have been entrusted to me to share with you. I write because I am so thankful to be able to know the saints. I don’t know that I would have paid so much attention to them or would have learned so much about Church history and liturgy if it were not my job to write about the saints.


Our family is just now coming out of what the Latin philosophers would describe as an annus horribilis (“horrible year”), which began in the summer of 2023. Health problems and other trials and tribulations over the last decade seemed to reach their pinnacle.


In that annus horribilis, there were periods of sunshine, touches of God’s grace, letting us know He never left us and never stopped loving us. There was a lot of loss,

and also a lot of gain. A few friendships that I cherished ended, while other friendships proved to be true gold. We mourned leaving the house that we had lived in for so long, but now we live closer to friends. Doors closed to certain hopes, and other doors opened to things I did not think possible. God is truly good, in and out of the storms of life, and He makes all things new.


To say we are thankful is an understatement.


About ten years ago when things were rough, I cried out to God, “What do you want from me?!” And as soon as my tears stopped, I felt the Holy Spirit say, ever so gently, “Everything.” It wasn’t exactly comforting.


But now, as we approach Thanksgiving at the beginning of a new season in our family’s life, my heart is so fit to burst with love and gratitude that I gladly give Him everything. “Everything” isn’t a burden anymore; giving Him everything is a relief . . . a joy. Stubborn as I am, this surrender in joy could not have come without the saints and their stories etched into my being from years of research and writing.


I am so thankful for St. Thérèse knocking me off my high horse and re-minding me to be little. I cannot say enough about what a hero St. Alfred the Great is to me for his courage to keep going after desperate failure. I love the saints who had a reputation for being salty, but God used them anyway. I adore the saints who ignored what people thought and did what God wanted. I am floored by the love, compassion and forgiveness that the saints had, even when they themselves were in deep pain from rejection and betrayal. From their lives, it was easier to understand that I owe God everything because it all came from Him anyway.


And I must not fail to thank the Queen of Saints, Mother Mary, who never left my side. She never gave up trying to show me how to be courageous, faithful and magnanimous, how to keep my eyes on her Son no matter what happens around me. (Thank you, St. Mother Teresa, for teaching me to ask Mama Mary to be a mother to me, especially when things seem most bleak.)


To be near God is truly my happiness. Nothing else matters. By His grace, may I always stay little so that I do not dare wander away nor forget to say, “Thank You.” Through His merciful love, I hope to always have a thankful, happy heart.


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