Frances: Step Two

Amidst the toxic religious setting of her childhood, Frances held some healthy beliefs that carried her through and allowed her to escape, find safety, and heal. These beliefs reveal theological threads that connect her past with her present.

Salvation is an internal job.

While her mother worked out her salvation in the public eye, Frances learned how to nurture a spirit of endurance and resilience. In the worst circumstances, she learned how to save herself when the religious authority figures could not offer her safety, belonging, and purpose. External appearances will always matter to Frances in some measure after all she’s endured. Unlike her mother, though, she knows that the health of her internal landscape is the most important thing. 

While religious institutions and leaders may have laid out paths for Frances’ salvation, they did not keep her safe. For Frances’ mother, salvation may have been about eternal life, but Frances needed salvation that was safety and freedom in this earthly life. Her father’s abuse, her mother’s silence, and the Catholic church’s blind eye left her vulnerable as a child. Frances did leave the Catholic faith and became a Baptist, but she never felt entirely at home in the Baptist world, either, as Baptists viewed her as an outsider, having been raised Catholic. 

Frances had to fight for ordination as a woman, which her Catholic family and her husband’s Baptist family never celebrated or even acknowledged. The world around her debated whether a woman could be ordained while Frances moved forward to offer pastoral care to those who needed it most. As an adult, churches have failed to welcome her pastoral counselor gifts, so Frances has found opportunities for work and ministry outside congregational settings.

Frances does not have to save herself publicly. Her salvation comes from within, where God is birthing resilience that continues to persist decades after her mom kicked her out for breaking the norm by worshiping outside the Catholic faith. Demanding a life of belonging and purpose, she crafts a life she couldn’t have imagined as a child. 

Freedom will cost something; it’s worth paying.

All the warnings she received, whether spoken out loud or implied, held some aspect of truth within them: there was no way for Frances to get free from the abusive system without losing something along the way. Freedom was possible, but not without its cost. She packed her belongings and left the house in her 20s, moving into friends’ homes until she could find her footing. She pursued Baptist education on her own, without any family support. Once she had her kids, she raised them without a relationship with her family. She was unable to rely on family support as she navigated the complicated years of mothering young children while working full-time.

Facing the brutal reality of incest in one’s family requires such bravery. It goes against our instincts as children to disobey authority figures, especially when those figures threaten abandonment and condemnation. The adults in her life suggested that her honesty held more potency for damage than her father and brother’s sexual abuse. Frances had to give up the entire relationship with her family to honor her instincts - that the true tragedy is the abuse upon the victim, not possible consequences for the abuser.

A young Frances could not have known how life-saving freedom from the abuse would be, as she couldn’t have imagined another life outside of her family. However, 20-year-old Frances nurtured this belief when she left her family’s house. Holding fast to freedom, even as it costs her something, is essential to Frances’ continued spiritual life. 

Honor yourself by doing the hard work for healing.

Throughout Frances’ life story, Frances is the heroine who makes a way while the traditional way crumbles under the weight of its hypocrisy. Her abusers had warned her that the family would fall apart if she spoke up, but she went on to share her history with a therapist and eventually with her close friends. She wrote a letter to her family exposing the abuse and opening the door for some of her siblings to talk with her about their abuse. Yes, the letter led to a strained relationship with her parents, but she had survived and was learning to value her safety above the family's reputation. 

Abuse perpetuates itself in cycles, which means that one’s own mental, spiritual, and physical well-being must be taken seriously as a gift to the broader world. Frances has learned how to be compassionate with herself when she thinks of the past. She realizes how hard she fought to survive a childhood outside her control or choice. She will never hear the long-wished-for apologies, nor can she force others to change their behavior or speak the words she longs to hear. While she had some reconciliation with her father before he died, her mother passed without ever hearing a word of regret from her lips. 

There is no “why” that has all the power to unlock peace. Peace will come when she has given up waiting for understanding, for no apology can erase what has already happened. The hurt will not go away, nor will the inner strength born of hard work. 

Frances has learned to lean into the authority (she is in charge of herself) and agency (she can take action to protect herself) that are innately her own. She has permission and the ability to act, making choices through her intuition rather than looking to institutions or relationships to initiate or approve her choices. To feel fully seen and known, she need not look outside to others. She can see herself for who she is – a survivor, a beloved child of God, a minister of healing called by God to share her story with others who need hope.

Connecting points to put each story in the context of our current day (resources), scripture (lectionary), wise thinkers (worth reading), and your personal story (reflection questions)