providence

How to face tragedy and still affirm God is your friend? The answer of a Venezuelan mother #Catholic On June 24, 2026, María Elena Rocha was in Caracas. That Wednesday, a public holiday in Venezuela, she decided to set out on a pilgrimage with two friends to visit sites associated with Venezuela’s first saints: St. Carmen Rendiles and St. José Gregorio Hernández.Her devotion made the circuitous, hour-long  journey from her home in La Guaira to the capital city feel shorter. María Elena lived in La Guaira’s Caribbean Golf I building with her family: her husband, Wilson, and their sons, 25-year-old Ricardo and 22-year-old Enrique, all three of whom chose to stay home that day.In Caracas, the day unfolded normally. María Elena and her friends visited the Colegio Belén, where the remains of Mother Carmen rest. Afterward, they went to the José Gregorio Hernández House Museum and concluded their pilgrimage with a Mass at Our Lady of La Candelaria Parish, where the remains of the “doctor of the poor” also rest.Earthquakes and uncertaintyAt 6:04 p.m., María Elena and her friends were in line to buy ice cream. Dark gray clouds over Caracas signaled an approaching storm, but the roar would not come from the sky but from the earth. At that moment, the ground shook with extreme violence, and panic reigned. The three of them managed to get out of the shopping mall where they had been.Soon, the power grid failed and both the internet and telephone lines went down. Two hours later, the group was finally able to retrieve their car from where it was parked and began the journey back home, a trip that, this time, seemed to last forever. Wilson, Ricardo, and Enrique on vacation | Credit: Courtesy of María Elena Rocha María Elena told EWTN News Español, the Spanish-language sister service of EWTN News, that what she encountered in La Guaira looked like something out of a horror movie. Late into the night, only fires broke the darkness. Entire buildings had collapsed. People were searching desperately through the rubble, while others were stealing and looting. There were shrieks, wailing, and weeping.The journey home was difficult, not only because of the damaged state of the road, but also because of the shock evoked by the scene. Every meter covered, every sight of pain and destruction, dealt a blow to the hope María Elena still clung to: the hope of reuniting with her loved ones. She could only reach her home on foot.María Elena faces unimaginable painIt was nearly midnight when María Elena saw that where the Caribbean Golf I building had once stood there was now only a massive pile of rubble. The 49-year-old woman said that paradoxically she felt a great sense of inner peace despite the tragedy. Amidst the confusion, she was told that one of her children was alive but trapped in the rubble. With great effort, María Elena made her way to the spot.It was Enrique, her youngest son. He was severely injured but was able to communicate with his mother. The first few hours following the earthquakes were chaotic in La Guaira; rescue efforts had to be carried out by hand because the necessary equipment for a swift response was not available. It was a very long night during which Enrique asked María Elena not to abandon him. “Don’t worry, son, I will never leave you alone,” she told him. María Elena with Enrique | Credit: Courtesy of María Elena Rocha And so, morning came, followed by the afternoon. Trapped and in pain, Enrique could hold on no longer. María Elena, always close by, said she heard his final breath: “He waited for me to take his last breath.” Enrique died right there, alongside his father and his older brother. It was days later that rescuers managed to recover their bodies, which María Elena was then able to give a Christian burial.“My faith grew stronger,” María Elena said. Her journey, however, has not been easy. It has been filled with pain, reproaches, and at times even anger toward God. María Elena was left on her own, and many times she sought answers.“I fought with God. I was filled with rage. ‘Why did you leave me here? Am I so bad that I have to stay here?’ Yet, I surrendered all my suffering to God for the sanctification of their souls,” she shared.Her greatest refuge has always been faith. Now she regularly attends a prayer group at a parish in Caracas, which she says has been very beneficial. She seeks indulgences for her husband and children and says she always tries to be cheerful and “let others see God in me.”“Despite the great loss I’ve experienced, I’ve held onto my sense of humor. That‘s one of the things I asked of God when my son Enrique passed away. I accepted his death with deep pain and entrusted him to God, but I prayed that he wouldn’t take away my joy because I had always been the source of joy in our home. That’s what my children and my husband used to say,” she remarked.“I want my husband and my children to feel proud of their wife and mother. I know that if I am happy, they will be happy, too. Happiness is a decision, and I decided to entrust my happiness to God because he wants all of us to be happy,” she added.Oct. 24 marks four months since that terrible day. More than 6,000 Venezuelans lost their lives in a matter of seconds; thousands were left injured, and many others remain missing. “Despite everything, I thank God for the fact that I was able to speak with my youngest son at that moment. I am grateful to God for life,” María Elena says, though she adds with that sense of humor she hasn’t lost: “Although I do ask him to take me soon.”“I ask that I might fulfill my mission quickly so that I can go to Heaven, because that’s what I long for most these days. Even before, I had no fear of death, because that is our destiny: to die in order to live and I want to live with God,” she said.María Elena says she doesn’t yet know what will become of her life, but affirms that she has “surrendered herself” to whatever Providence may decide.A message on the value of sufferingThe Church teaches us that God does not desire suffering for its own sake, nor is he its direct cause. The explanation of how God can permit evil without being its author is profound, yet it does not fully resolve the pain of any given loss. Through faith, we believe that God can bring good even out of evil; however, this does not make the death of innocent people a good thing, nor does it justify tragedies.Such suffering can take on meaning when experienced in union with Christ. As has been evidenced in the case in Venezuela following the earthquakes, pain can awaken solidarity and mutual responsibility; it can even prompt a society to reflect on how it might improve. This is María Elena’s conviction.“We have been suffering for years. Just try it, you’ll see: when you entrust that suffering to Christ, all the little things we go through, those moments of anger and indignation, offering them to Jesus for the sake of someone else, you will see how the blessings follow,” she said. María Elena after recovering intact from the rubble a statue of Our Lady of Fatima which belonged to the Luso-Venezuelan Center of Vargas | Credit: Courtesy of María Elena Rocha “And another thing: thank God for everything. It’s incredible, when you thank God for both the bad things and the good, blessings will follow. I’m not saying that problems won’t continue to arise; I still have plenty of things to deal with myself, but when we are with God, our burdens are lighter,” María Elena reflected.“I am not alone, because I have God; I have the Most Holy Virgin Mary, who has always been with me and I have felt her presence. And who better than she who knows what this pain is like?” she said.This story was first published by EWTN News Español, the Spanish-language sister service of EWTN News. It has been translated and adapted by EWTN News English.
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How to face tragedy and still affirm God is your friend? The answer of a Venezuelan mother #Catholic On June 24, 2026, María Elena Rocha was in Caracas. That Wednesday, a public holiday in Venezuela, she decided to set out on a pilgrimage with two friends to visit sites associated with Venezuela’s first saints: St. Carmen Rendiles and St. José Gregorio Hernández.Her devotion made the circuitous, hour-long  journey from her home in La Guaira to the capital city feel shorter. María Elena lived in La Guaira’s Caribbean Golf I building with her family: her husband, Wilson, and their sons, 25-year-old Ricardo and 22-year-old Enrique, all three of whom chose to stay home that day.In Caracas, the day unfolded normally. María Elena and her friends visited the Colegio Belén, where the remains of Mother Carmen rest. Afterward, they went to the José Gregorio Hernández House Museum and concluded their pilgrimage with a Mass at Our Lady of La Candelaria Parish, where the remains of the “doctor of the poor” also rest.Earthquakes and uncertaintyAt 6:04 p.m., María Elena and her friends were in line to buy ice cream. Dark gray clouds over Caracas signaled an approaching storm, but the roar would not come from the sky but from the earth. At that moment, the ground shook with extreme violence, and panic reigned. The three of them managed to get out of the shopping mall where they had been.Soon, the power grid failed and both the internet and telephone lines went down. Two hours later, the group was finally able to retrieve their car from where it was parked and began the journey back home, a trip that, this time, seemed to last forever. Wilson, Ricardo, and Enrique on vacation | Credit: Courtesy of María Elena Rocha María Elena told EWTN News Español, the Spanish-language sister service of EWTN News, that what she encountered in La Guaira looked like something out of a horror movie. Late into the night, only fires broke the darkness. Entire buildings had collapsed. People were searching desperately through the rubble, while others were stealing and looting. There were shrieks, wailing, and weeping.The journey home was difficult, not only because of the damaged state of the road, but also because of the shock evoked by the scene. Every meter covered, every sight of pain and destruction, dealt a blow to the hope María Elena still clung to: the hope of reuniting with her loved ones. She could only reach her home on foot.María Elena faces unimaginable painIt was nearly midnight when María Elena saw that where the Caribbean Golf I building had once stood there was now only a massive pile of rubble. The 49-year-old woman said that paradoxically she felt a great sense of inner peace despite the tragedy. Amidst the confusion, she was told that one of her children was alive but trapped in the rubble. With great effort, María Elena made her way to the spot.It was Enrique, her youngest son. He was severely injured but was able to communicate with his mother. The first few hours following the earthquakes were chaotic in La Guaira; rescue efforts had to be carried out by hand because the necessary equipment for a swift response was not available. It was a very long night during which Enrique asked María Elena not to abandon him. “Don’t worry, son, I will never leave you alone,” she told him. María Elena with Enrique | Credit: Courtesy of María Elena Rocha And so, morning came, followed by the afternoon. Trapped and in pain, Enrique could hold on no longer. María Elena, always close by, said she heard his final breath: “He waited for me to take his last breath.” Enrique died right there, alongside his father and his older brother. It was days later that rescuers managed to recover their bodies, which María Elena was then able to give a Christian burial.“My faith grew stronger,” María Elena said. Her journey, however, has not been easy. It has been filled with pain, reproaches, and at times even anger toward God. María Elena was left on her own, and many times she sought answers.“I fought with God. I was filled with rage. ‘Why did you leave me here? Am I so bad that I have to stay here?’ Yet, I surrendered all my suffering to God for the sanctification of their souls,” she shared.Her greatest refuge has always been faith. Now she regularly attends a prayer group at a parish in Caracas, which she says has been very beneficial. She seeks indulgences for her husband and children and says she always tries to be cheerful and “let others see God in me.”“Despite the great loss I’ve experienced, I’ve held onto my sense of humor. That‘s one of the things I asked of God when my son Enrique passed away. I accepted his death with deep pain and entrusted him to God, but I prayed that he wouldn’t take away my joy because I had always been the source of joy in our home. That’s what my children and my husband used to say,” she remarked.“I want my husband and my children to feel proud of their wife and mother. I know that if I am happy, they will be happy, too. Happiness is a decision, and I decided to entrust my happiness to God because he wants all of us to be happy,” she added.Oct. 24 marks four months since that terrible day. More than 6,000 Venezuelans lost their lives in a matter of seconds; thousands were left injured, and many others remain missing. “Despite everything, I thank God for the fact that I was able to speak with my youngest son at that moment. I am grateful to God for life,” María Elena says, though she adds with that sense of humor she hasn’t lost: “Although I do ask him to take me soon.”“I ask that I might fulfill my mission quickly so that I can go to Heaven, because that’s what I long for most these days. Even before, I had no fear of death, because that is our destiny: to die in order to live and I want to live with God,” she said.María Elena says she doesn’t yet know what will become of her life, but affirms that she has “surrendered herself” to whatever Providence may decide.A message on the value of sufferingThe Church teaches us that God does not desire suffering for its own sake, nor is he its direct cause. The explanation of how God can permit evil without being its author is profound, yet it does not fully resolve the pain of any given loss. Through faith, we believe that God can bring good even out of evil; however, this does not make the death of innocent people a good thing, nor does it justify tragedies.Such suffering can take on meaning when experienced in union with Christ. As has been evidenced in the case in Venezuela following the earthquakes, pain can awaken solidarity and mutual responsibility; it can even prompt a society to reflect on how it might improve. This is María Elena’s conviction.“We have been suffering for years. Just try it, you’ll see: when you entrust that suffering to Christ, all the little things we go through, those moments of anger and indignation, offering them to Jesus for the sake of someone else, you will see how the blessings follow,” she said. María Elena after recovering intact from the rubble a statue of Our Lady of Fatima which belonged to the Luso-Venezuelan Center of Vargas | Credit: Courtesy of María Elena Rocha “And another thing: thank God for everything. It’s incredible, when you thank God for both the bad things and the good, blessings will follow. I’m not saying that problems won’t continue to arise; I still have plenty of things to deal with myself, but when we are with God, our burdens are lighter,” María Elena reflected.“I am not alone, because I have God; I have the Most Holy Virgin Mary, who has always been with me and I have felt her presence. And who better than she who knows what this pain is like?” she said.This story was first published by EWTN News Español, the Spanish-language sister service of EWTN News. It has been translated and adapted by EWTN News English.

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Maria Elena Rocha recounts how despite the tragedy of losing her husband and two sons in last summer’s earthquake in Venezuela, her faith and trust in God still sustains her.

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The enduring appeal of St. Thérèse of Lisieux, one of France’s most beloved saints #Catholic During the First World War, before being proclaimed a saint, devotion to St. Thérèse of Lisieux became particularly widespread in France. Soldiers carried medals and images of her, and many French Catholics saw her as a spiritual companion and intercessor.The Carmelite nun, patron saint of missions, and the youngest doctor of the Church died at the age of 24 and was canonized in 1925 by Pope Pius XI. She was declared the second patron saint of France in 1944, during the Battle of Normandy, by Pope Pius XII.The town of Lisieux, a 90-minute train ride from Paris, is where Thérèse spent her entire religious life. It is the second most visited pilgrimage destination in France, after Lourdes, with over 2 million pilgrims every year.Last year, in Pope Leo XIV’s message on the occasion of the 10th anniversary of the canonization of St. Thérèse’s parents, Louis and Zélie Martin, he called the faithful to “put Jesus at the centre of your families, your activities, and your choices. Help your children discover His boundless love and tenderness, and strive to make them love Him in return as He deserves: this is the great lesson that Louis and Zélie teach us today, and which the Church and the world so urgently need. How could Thérèse have loved Jesus and Mary so much — and then passed on such a beautiful doctrine to us — if she had not learned it from her saintly parents from an early age?”Thérèse lost her mother when she was just 4 years old and endured periods of illness and intense emotional sensitivity as a child. At 14, however, she experienced a moment of spiritual transformation where she received a special grace from God. In France, young children left their shoes by the hearth at Christmas, and parents would fill them with gifts. But her sister Celine didnʼt want Thérèse to grow up, so they continued to place gifts in “baby” Thérèseʼs shoes. As she and Celine climbed the stairs to take off their hats their fatherʼs voice rose from the parlor below. Standing over the shoes, he said: “Thank goodness thatʼs the last time we shall have this kind of thing!” Thérèse froze, and her sister looked at her helplessly, knowing that in a few minutes she would be in tears over what their father had said. But the tantrum never came. A special grace came over Thérèse as Jesus had done what she could not do herself. She swallowed her tears, walked slowly down the stairs, and went over the gifts in the shoes, as if she had never heard a word her father said. In her autobiography, “Story of Soul,” she referred to that Christmas as her “conversion.”From childish to childlikeIn his book “The Way of Trust and Love,” French priest Jacques Philippe explores St. Thérèse of Lisieuxʼs “Little Way” to holiness. He recalls that “through seemingly insignificant events, God can heal us deeply. Sometimes we feel a call from the Lord to step outside ourselves, to take a step forward, to become more mature, more free. There are times in life when we dwell on our immaturity, our complaints, our laments, our dependencies, and then suddenly one day we are given grace, a gift from God, but one that also calls upon our freedom. There is a choice to be made; it is both healing and conversion: freedom must choose to perform an act of courage.”He then later proposes: “Let us then ask God this question: What is the ‘yes’ you are asking of me today? What is the small act of courage and trust you are asking me to do today?”For St. Thérèse, it was about overcoming her emotional sensitivity. For others, it might be learning to control their tongue, be more optimistic, or manage their temper.A ‘Little Way’ for everyoneFrom the very beginning of her life, Thérèse desired to be a saint; still, when she entered the convent, she also thought how inaccessible and unrealizable it was when she compared herself to others.And here, perhaps, is where we can learn one of her most powerful teachings: never lose courage.She goes on: “Instead of being discouraged, I told myself: God would not make me wish for something impossible and so, in spite of my littleness, I can aim at being a saint. It is impossible for me to grow bigger, so I put up with myself as I am, with all my countless faults. But I will look for some means of going to heaven by a little way which is very short and very straight, a little way that is quite new … It is your arms, Jesus, which are the lift to carry me to heaven, and so there is no need for me to grow up. In fact, just the opposite: I must stay little and become less and less.”But by “little,” Thérèse does not suggest we think of ourselves as of small value; instead, she reminds us of an unchanging truth: We are children of God.As St. John Paul II on his apostolic trip to France in June 1980 recalled: “There is something unique about it, a characteristic of St. Thérèse of Lisieux. In it, one finds both the confirmation and the renewal of the most fundamental and universal truth. What truth in the Gospel message is more fundamental and universal than this: God is our Father, and we are his children?”And like children who trust, even if thrown into the air, in the safety of returning to their parents' arms, we must trust in the providence of our Father, with a deep knowledge of his unlimited and unconditional love for us: “In truth I tell you, unless you change and become like little children you will never enter the kingdom of heaven” (Mt 18:3).A missionary without ever leaving homeProclaimed the patron saint of missionaries for her support of the missions through constant prayer and sacrifice despite being a cloistered nun who never left her convent, she said: “My strength lies in prayer and sacrifice; they are invincible weapons, and touch hearts more surely than words can do, as I have learned by experience.”To many, even in the convent, she seemed like an average, ordinary person. Her greatness showed in the constancy of her love for others in the simplest ways. Perhaps some of the missionary work we are called to do today doesn’t necessarily begin externally but within our hearts. As the saint herself wrote: “A word, a kindly smile, will often suffice to gladden a wounded and sorrowful heart.”Thérèse also found strength in Scripture: “But above all it is the Gospels that occupy me during my prayers; in them I find everything that is necessary for my poor little soul. I constantly discover in them new lights, hidden and mysterious meanings.”Her life was characterized by austerity, far from recognition and noise from the world. She died anonymously in 1897 at the young age of 24, and no more than 30 people attended her funeral.This saint’s life and journal is a legacy for all who want to learn a simple and practical approach toward their relationship with God. Her advice is for everyone: “Miss no single opportunity of making some small sacrifice, here by a smiling look, there by a kindly word; always doing the smallest right and doing it all for love.”
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The enduring appeal of St. Thérèse of Lisieux, one of France’s most beloved saints #Catholic During the First World War, before being proclaimed a saint, devotion to St. Thérèse of Lisieux became particularly widespread in France. Soldiers carried medals and images of her, and many French Catholics saw her as a spiritual companion and intercessor.The Carmelite nun, patron saint of missions, and the youngest doctor of the Church died at the age of 24 and was canonized in 1925 by Pope Pius XI. She was declared the second patron saint of France in 1944, during the Battle of Normandy, by Pope Pius XII.The town of Lisieux, a 90-minute train ride from Paris, is where Thérèse spent her entire religious life. It is the second most visited pilgrimage destination in France, after Lourdes, with over 2 million pilgrims every year.Last year, in Pope Leo XIV’s message on the occasion of the 10th anniversary of the canonization of St. Thérèse’s parents, Louis and Zélie Martin, he called the faithful to “put Jesus at the centre of your families, your activities, and your choices. Help your children discover His boundless love and tenderness, and strive to make them love Him in return as He deserves: this is the great lesson that Louis and Zélie teach us today, and which the Church and the world so urgently need. How could Thérèse have loved Jesus and Mary so much — and then passed on such a beautiful doctrine to us — if she had not learned it from her saintly parents from an early age?”Thérèse lost her mother when she was just 4 years old and endured periods of illness and intense emotional sensitivity as a child. At 14, however, she experienced a moment of spiritual transformation where she received a special grace from God. In France, young children left their shoes by the hearth at Christmas, and parents would fill them with gifts. But her sister Celine didnʼt want Thérèse to grow up, so they continued to place gifts in “baby” Thérèseʼs shoes. As she and Celine climbed the stairs to take off their hats their fatherʼs voice rose from the parlor below. Standing over the shoes, he said: “Thank goodness thatʼs the last time we shall have this kind of thing!” Thérèse froze, and her sister looked at her helplessly, knowing that in a few minutes she would be in tears over what their father had said. But the tantrum never came. A special grace came over Thérèse as Jesus had done what she could not do herself. She swallowed her tears, walked slowly down the stairs, and went over the gifts in the shoes, as if she had never heard a word her father said. In her autobiography, “Story of Soul,” she referred to that Christmas as her “conversion.”From childish to childlikeIn his book “The Way of Trust and Love,” French priest Jacques Philippe explores St. Thérèse of Lisieuxʼs “Little Way” to holiness. He recalls that “through seemingly insignificant events, God can heal us deeply. Sometimes we feel a call from the Lord to step outside ourselves, to take a step forward, to become more mature, more free. There are times in life when we dwell on our immaturity, our complaints, our laments, our dependencies, and then suddenly one day we are given grace, a gift from God, but one that also calls upon our freedom. There is a choice to be made; it is both healing and conversion: freedom must choose to perform an act of courage.”He then later proposes: “Let us then ask God this question: What is the ‘yes’ you are asking of me today? What is the small act of courage and trust you are asking me to do today?”For St. Thérèse, it was about overcoming her emotional sensitivity. For others, it might be learning to control their tongue, be more optimistic, or manage their temper.A ‘Little Way’ for everyoneFrom the very beginning of her life, Thérèse desired to be a saint; still, when she entered the convent, she also thought how inaccessible and unrealizable it was when she compared herself to others.And here, perhaps, is where we can learn one of her most powerful teachings: never lose courage.She goes on: “Instead of being discouraged, I told myself: God would not make me wish for something impossible and so, in spite of my littleness, I can aim at being a saint. It is impossible for me to grow bigger, so I put up with myself as I am, with all my countless faults. But I will look for some means of going to heaven by a little way which is very short and very straight, a little way that is quite new … It is your arms, Jesus, which are the lift to carry me to heaven, and so there is no need for me to grow up. In fact, just the opposite: I must stay little and become less and less.”But by “little,” Thérèse does not suggest we think of ourselves as of small value; instead, she reminds us of an unchanging truth: We are children of God.As St. John Paul II on his apostolic trip to France in June 1980 recalled: “There is something unique about it, a characteristic of St. Thérèse of Lisieux. In it, one finds both the confirmation and the renewal of the most fundamental and universal truth. What truth in the Gospel message is more fundamental and universal than this: God is our Father, and we are his children?”And like children who trust, even if thrown into the air, in the safety of returning to their parents' arms, we must trust in the providence of our Father, with a deep knowledge of his unlimited and unconditional love for us: “In truth I tell you, unless you change and become like little children you will never enter the kingdom of heaven” (Mt 18:3).A missionary without ever leaving homeProclaimed the patron saint of missionaries for her support of the missions through constant prayer and sacrifice despite being a cloistered nun who never left her convent, she said: “My strength lies in prayer and sacrifice; they are invincible weapons, and touch hearts more surely than words can do, as I have learned by experience.”To many, even in the convent, she seemed like an average, ordinary person. Her greatness showed in the constancy of her love for others in the simplest ways. Perhaps some of the missionary work we are called to do today doesn’t necessarily begin externally but within our hearts. As the saint herself wrote: “A word, a kindly smile, will often suffice to gladden a wounded and sorrowful heart.”Thérèse also found strength in Scripture: “But above all it is the Gospels that occupy me during my prayers; in them I find everything that is necessary for my poor little soul. I constantly discover in them new lights, hidden and mysterious meanings.”Her life was characterized by austerity, far from recognition and noise from the world. She died anonymously in 1897 at the young age of 24, and no more than 30 people attended her funeral.This saint’s life and journal is a legacy for all who want to learn a simple and practical approach toward their relationship with God. Her advice is for everyone: “Miss no single opportunity of making some small sacrifice, here by a smiling look, there by a kindly word; always doing the smallest right and doing it all for love.”

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The beloved Carmelite nun, patron saint of the missions, and youngest doctor of the Church is celebrated in the universal Church on Oct. 1.

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