My Best Saint Friend -- St. Dymphna -- #ForAlltheSaints

I was going to write about All Souls Day yesterday, but to be honest, my friends, I had a really really bad day. Some of you who are reading started reading during my 31 Days series last month which was a chronicle of my journey through a particularly dark episode of depression. As I said during that series, that journey is ongoing even now. As of November 1st, it has been 22 months of putting one foot in front of the other and trying to make my way through this. Some days are kind of okay, but I have a lot of days where the struggle is super real and super hard. This past weekend has been like that but in particular, Sunday. All this is to say that I just didn't get anything written like I had planned.

One of the things I wanted to do as a part of this series is feature some of the saints and tell their stories. I love to read the stories of their lives because so many of them are really fascinating in addition to being inspiring. Since the reason for my lack of writing the last day or so is depression, it seems only natural that I should introduce you to my saintly best friend -- St. Dymphna.

See the four leaf clover? Yeah, she's Irish. :)

St. Dymphna is my saintly BFF because she's a patroness for people who suffer with mental illness and mental health workers (as well as those with epilepsy, sleepwalkers, victims of rape and incest, those who have lost parents, and possessed people). I first encountered her in the months after I withdrew from college. I had withdrawn from school because of severe depression and struggles with self-injury. I had gotten to a place where I just could not continue to handle the demands of classes and schoolwork and continue to stay alive and healthy. In the days and weeks following that decision I was meant to be trying to get help to get better. I went to an appointment with a psychiatrist which was a huge disaster and left me not wanting to go back. I was in counselling with a student who was finishing his master's level degree in counselling, but wasn't finding much help in that at all. To say that I was desperate for some kind of relief is an understatement. I found some comfort in going to church on Sundays and to the small group I was a part of during the week, but I was still miserable.

My college friend Sorella, a devout Catholic, had already introduced me to the saints by way of a small medal of St. Cecilia which she gave me just before my senior voice recital. After receiving that, I looked up St. Cecilia to find out more about her and was astonished to see just how many saints there were and their various patronages. It occurred to me to see if there was a patron saint of depression and in my reading, I discovered St. Dymphna. I became intrigued by her story and thought that if I were Catholic, she would probably be my personal patron saint. Intrigued though I was, I didn't really give it another thought until one day when I ran across her again.

I had been out to meet a friend for coffee and afterward, I wasn't really ready to go home. I was struggling with an intensely sad, dark mood and I just started driving. As I drove, I found myself in the area around EWTN studios and decided to stop there and pray. It might seem like an odd thing to stop at a television network, but they have a beautiful little chapel there and the grounds are absolutely lovely with lots of little places where you can sit in solitude and quiet to pray. I parked the car and went inside a building that looked like it might contain the chapel.

It was the right place, but the entrance I went in led me to their bookstore rather than the chapel. I'd never been in a Catholic bookstore, so I went in to have a look around. On a table toward the middle of the shop, I saw a large bin divided into smaller bins and each bin was filled with small silvery looking medals that looked very much like the St. Cecilia medal that Sorella had given me. The sign said that they were each 50 cents and each smaller bin was labelled with a hand-lettered label that indicated which saint's medal was in that bin. I read over the bins...St. Anne, St. Andrew, St. Bernard, St. Benedict, and oh look, St. Cecilia! I grabbed a medal from that bin and gazed at it more closely. It was, in fact, identical to the one I had tucked into my purse. As I went to put it back, my eyes roved over the other bins beside it and suddenly a name jumped out at me...St. Dymphna. I grabbed one of the medals out of the bin and gazed upon the image on it. She looked exactly like the picture I had seen on the internet. On the reverse of the medal was a simple phrase, "Pray for us." I didn't understand it, but I felt compelled to buy one, so I took it up to the register.

As I paid for my purchase, I caught sight of a book sitting on a table not far away with a picture of a priest in the traditional clerical attire on the cover. Something inside me began to wonder if I oughtn't to maybe speak with a priest about what was on my heart, that perhaps, being a minister, he might offer some counsel that would be helpful to me. I asked if I could speak with a priest and after a quick phone call by the clerk, a man in a chocolate brown monastic habit came strolling into the shop and the clerk introduced him to me as Father Bartholomew Mary. We adjourned to a nearby hall outside the chapel and sat down on a bench to talk. I told him that I wasn't Catholic, but that I was a Christian and some of what I had been going through. I don't recall exactly what he said to me that day, but something in the act of talking to him helped a lot.

Before we parted company, he asked what I had bought and I told him. He told me a little bit about St. Dymphna and how appropriate a saint she was given what I was dealing with. I asked him to pray for me and he not only said he would pray, but he took that moment to pray over me and gave me a blessing before we said goodbye. I eventually found my way to the chapel and knelt there for the longest time in prayer, clutching the little medal as I prayed. I felt a sense of peace come over me as I prayed. I wasn't asking her to pray for me, but I like to think that somehow she was praying for me anyway as I knelt there that day with her medal in my hand.

So who is this saint?

She was the daughter of an Irish chieftain who lived during the 7th century. Her mother was a Christian and her father a pagan. Dymphna's mother raised her in her faith and at age 14 she took a vow of chastity. Not long after this, her mother died. Her father's grief over her mother's death caused his mental health to decline and his advisors persuaded him to remarry. He left home to look for a new wife, but finding none to his liking, eventually returned home to his daughter. While he was gone, Dymphna grew into a beautiful young lady and looked so like her mother, that her father began to desire her and decided to take her as his wife. Dymphna fled Ireland with her confessor Father Gerebernus and took refuge in Gheel, Belgium. Her father discovered their flight, eventually traced them to Belgium and pursued them both there. When he arrived, he instructed his men to kill Father Gerebernus and then tried to force Dymphna to return with him to Ireland. She resisted and in a fit of rage, her father struck off her head. After her martyrdom, the residents of Gheel buried her remains along with those of her confessor there in Gheel. After her death, people began to seek her intercession and a number of miraculous cures of mental illness took place. Eventually a church and a hospital for the mentally ill were built in Gheel near where she was martyred and became the site of many more miraculous healings for those suffering from mental illness, epilepsy and other neurological disorders. Because of these miraculous healings, she has become well-known as the patron saint of those suffering with mental illness and mental health workers.

When I converted to Catholicism, for whatever reason, our religious education director didn't ask us what we wanted to be called for our confirmation name, but in my heart, I chose two saints -- Cecilia, who started my love of the saints and Dymphna who had become my saintly best friend. I have many times asked for her intercession and often recommend her to people (even non-Catholics) who I know are struggling with mental illness. Since I figure that my therapist, Pendragon, can use lots of extra prayers when dealing with my situation (and the myriad of other clients he sees), I often ask her to intercede for him too. The last two years in a row, I have found myself sitting in an appointment with Pendragon on her feast day, May 15th, which I have found to be both appropriate (given her patronage) and rather providential as well.

I'll leave you with a prayer:

Lord, our God, you graciously chose St. Dymphna as patroness of those afflicted with mental and nervous disorders. She is thus an inspiration and a symbol of charity to the thousands who ask her intercession.
 
Please grant, Lord, through the prayers of this pure youthful martyr, relief and consolation to all suffering such trials, and especially those for whom we pray. (Here mention those for whom you wish to pray).

We beg you, Lord, to hear the prayers of St. Dymphna on our behalf. Grant all those for whom we pray patience in their sufferings and resignation to your divine will. Please fill them with hope, and grant them the relief and cure they so much desire.

We ask this through Christ our Lord who suffered agony in the garden. Amen