“You never have to change anything you got up in the middle of the night to write.” -Saul Bellow

My manuscript is very, very close to completion, and I wanted to share the chapter in which I write of St. Teresa of Avila.

The year is 1573, and it is a tranquil, serene day at Convento de San Jose in Ávila, Spain. The gentle chirping of birds and the sweet scent of blooming flowers create a peaceful atmosphere. Mother Teresa of Ávila, in her late 50s, strolls through the garden grounds with Sister Guadalupe. They seem to be engrossed in a deep conversation, undisturbed by the church bells calling them for their nightly prayers.

Guadalupe, gathering her skirt as she walks, asks, “Mother Teresa, do you think God hears us even in our thoughts?”

With a wise chuckle, Mother Teresa responds, “Ah, my dear child, it is often in silence that God’s voice is the clearest. Have you ever observed a seed in the dark soil? It may not see the light, but it grows steadily over time.”

“I often wonder if I am worthy of His love, and some days my heart feels as heavy as a stone,” Guadalupe confesses, her uncertainty weighing heavily on her. “Perhaps I should have just stayed back home in Italy with my family.”

Smiling gently, Mother Teresa responds, “Ah, my dear Guadalupe, it is often in our doubts that we find the most profound truths. Remember, even the greatest saints faced uncertainties. What we must do is navigate through it and not give in to that doubt.”

“Yes, but what if I remain in the shadows and my growth is stunted?”

Looking deeply into Guadalupe’s eyes, Mother Teresa reassures her, “Growth is seldom a direct path, dear. It is filled with twists and turns. Embrace these shadows, Guadalupe, for in them you will learn the most valuable lessons from our Lord.”

Guadalupe (sighing) voices, “I long to feel that illumination, to find my way through the darkness.”

Nodding, Mother Teresa, “Then continue your journey. Each prayer, each moment spent in stillness, even when you feel lost, is a step toward that light…Remember, God’s journey is not ours, and we must trust the journey itself… It is through cracked pots that the greatest rays of light emerge, remember?”

Smiling faintly, Guadalupe responds, “Thank you, Mother, your words always bring me such solace.”

Mother Teresa, with warmth, responds, “My beloved Guadalupe, it is not my words, but the grace of God that comforts us. Let us sit here together in stillness and allow that grace to engulf our very souls right now.”

They take a seat on a bench beneath a blooming tree, closing their eyes for a moment of prayerful silence as the convent bells remind them of their afternoon’s reunion with the other sisters.

Guadalupe Aguilar, a young girl growing up in a small Italian town, was a typical, rambunctious child. Her journey to the convent was not a straightforward one. She had to overcome personal struggles and doubts, but one day, she was touched by the voice of the Virgin Mary, a prophecy that would shape her life. 

“When you are in your early twenties, your heart will begin to yearn for Spain and only you will know where to go,” she recalls hearing. This intensely personal prophecy, shrouded in uncertainty, was a turning point in Guadalupe’s life, leading her to the Monastery of La Encarnación and her spiritual journey. 

***

Mother Teresa would pass away on 10/4/1582, at the age of 67, but not without first impacting Guadalupe in a profound and lasting way. 

On a beautiful fall day in Avila, Guadalupe, now a grown woman in her early 30s, spoke to the townspeople about a significant moment from her early 20s when she first met Mother Teresa.   

She recalled standing outside the imposing stone walls of Convento de San Jose that Mother Teresa had helped establish in 1562.  Dressed in a simple, brown habit that contrasted her pale complexion, she clutched the tightly folded letter from the abbess that accepted her into the community.  The sun filtered through the tall oak trees, casting dappled shadows on the cobblestone path that led to the entrance.

Growing up in a quiet village,  Sister Guadalupe had always felt a profound connection to her faith, yet her shyness always held her back from expressing her thoughts and emotions. At home, her voice was barely a whisper, and the prospect of entering a cloistered life among a group of vibrant and spirited women both thrilled and terrified her.

As she stepped through the heavy wooden doors, her heart raced.  The air was filled with the scent of polished wood and beeswax, mingled with the faint aroma of incense.  The chapel enveloped her in a sense of peace, and the muted sounds of sisters in contemplation created a comforting backdrop.

Sister Guadalupe’s initial moments within the convent were filled with a mix of awe and uncertainty.  She observed the other nuns-each, each with their own distinct personalities, but all dedicated to the same purpose of deepening their spiritual lives.  There was Sister Elena, whose laughter could brighten any room, and Sister Agnes, whose quiet wisdom seemed to command respect without a word spoken. 

During the first few days, Sister Guadalupe stayed close to the sidelines, absorbing the rhythm of convent life and never taking her eye off Mother Teresa.   In the quiet hours of prayer and reflection, she found solace, feeling the warmth of her fellow sisters as they embraced their roles with such fervor that their conversations flowed effortlessly, often punctuated by gentle humor and shared stories of faith.

Slowly, with each passing day, Sister Guadalupe began to shed her timidity.  The sisters encouraged her, offering kind words and gentle nudges.  They invited her to join in communal prayers and moments of joy, teaching her that even the softest voice could carry strength when rooted in love and compassion.  Over time, she discovered her own voice, gradually participating in discussions and sharing her insights, often drawing on her introspective nature.

As the weeks turned into months, Sister Guadalupe’s timid exterior gave way to quiet confidence.  Inspired by her interactions with Mother Teresa, she found courage in vulnerability, embracing her identity as a beloved child of God within this sacred space.  No longer just an observer, she became an integral part of the community, learning that faith was not about perfection but about connection with God, with each other, and with oneself.  The convent, once an intimidating place, became home, where Sister Guadalupe blossomed in grace and love, discovering the luminous strength of her spirit. 

On the day of the gathering, the chapel filled with the sweet aroma of fresh bread and blooming flowers carefully arranged by the sisters, Guadalupe stood at the front, her hands no longer shaking.   The community’s familiar faces looked up at her with kindness and anticipation.  Taking a deep breath, she opened he mouth, sharing stories of her time with Santa Teresa, a warm wave of confidence washed over her.  Words flowed from her heart, and she looked into the eyes of her sisters and townfolk, seeing nods of understanding.  She felt the truth of her experiences resonating in the room, creating a web of connection that pulsed with empathy and encouragement.

When she finished, a gentle applause filled the space, but what touched her the most was the sparkle of joy and acceptance mirrored in the faces around her. It was not perfection they celebrated, but authenticity—the very essence of human experiences intertwined with the divine.

As the months continued, Sister Guadalupe thrived in the nurturing embrace of the convent and the community.  Her friendships deepened, collaborations in prayer flourished, and her unique contributions were celebrated. 

Through her growth, Sister Guadalupe embodied the teachings of Mother Teresa, understanding that faith, at its core, was about relentless love—for God, for herself, and for those around her. The once timid young woman became a source of inspiration for others, showing that every voice, no matter how quiet, holds the power to illuminate the darkness with love and hope.  And in the heart of the convent, Sister Guadalupe flourished, a testament to the enduring strength of the human spirit when anchored in love.

Guadalupe Aguilar, born in 1550, is Sadie’s 12th Great Grandmother. At the age of 72, on March 12, 1622, she witnessed a canonization described as “a celebration at the Vatican like no other.” Pope Gregory XV solemnly recognized the holiness of three men and one woman, specifically a Carmelite nun named Teresa of Avila.

As Sadie completes her manuscript, she is excitedly planning a pilgrimage to St. Teresa’s Basilica in Avila, Spain. The church was built on the house in which Teresa de Cepeda y Ahumada was born and is part of the Carmelite convent. Underground, the large vaulted burial crypt, which is currently used as the Museum of St Teresa, is the only example of its kind in Spanish religious architecture. The work was directed by the Carmelite architect Fray Alonso de San José and began in 1629. The building was opened on 15 October 1636.

St. Teresa’s writings are regarded as masterpieces of 16th-century Spanish literature and spirituality. Her reflections on the process of progressing toward God through prayer and contemplation are considered benchmarks in the history of Christian mysticism. In 1970, she became the first woman to be declared a “Doctor of the Church.”