Holy Women's History Month: Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton

Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton revealed herself to me when I needed her the most.   

My son, John Paul Raphael Leon, was born with Trisomy 18 on January 4, 2018. He was not expected to live long, and our hearts were crushed when he took his last breath at 2:43 pm the next day. As the crushing weight of grief settled upon me, I grasped for meaning in the details of how the Lord allowed our son’s short life to unfold. Was there significance to the hour he died or the number of days he lived? Then, we looked to the liturgical calendar for hope, and there she was:   

Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton 

Feast day January 4th 

Patron Saint of Grief 

Oh, my heart. The mercies of our Lord are abundant. While He allowed my child to die, I knew it was no coincidence that my baby was born on the Feast Day of the Patroness of Grief. The Lord offered me the comfort and companionship of this mighty saint to help me learn to carry extraordinary suffering.  

I knew about Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton. I had been to her shrine in Emmitsburg, Maryland and had spent several years teaching in Catholic schools, the educational system she is known for founding. She is even the co-patroness of our diocese in Arlington, Virginia, but I didn’t really know her. She was merely an admirable archetype of holiness, hard work, and perseverance.  

Then I sought her heart. 

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A Model of Suffering 

Who was this holy woman, and why was she the patroness of grief? Was there wisdom I could draw from her life to help me in my grief? I began to connect with her as a spiritual confidante who understood the suffering in my life and could lead me through it. As I learned more about her, I noticed similarities, which brought me even more comfort from my new spiritual friend.  

We have the same name. When thinking about saints, I had dismissed this because she is Elizabeth Ann and I am not, but the Lord reminded me of my confirmation name: Anne. We were both teachers, mothers, and wives. We both lost our husbands, although in very different ways. We both grieved the support of family when we got too religious for their taste or converted to the “wrong” religion in her case. We both had children die. 

I was delighted to find that even our nicknames were the same. Our closest family and friends call us both “Betsy.” One of my favorite quotes of hers is from a letter she wrote to a friend shortly before her death. “I’ll be Wild Betsy to the last.” This is a saint I could relate to.  

A Model of Surrender 

Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton’s life didn’t look like she thought it would, and neither does mine. All we both wanted was to be happily married and raise our children in a comfortable, Christian home—a lovely dream, but small and safe, I see now. The Lord had different plans for us both, journeys that involved deep suffering and wrestling with darkness and hopelessness but also the abundant gift of intimacy with the Lord.   

Saint Elizabeth Ann is the patroness of grief because of how many loved ones she lost. Her mother and her baby sister died when Elizabeth was a young girl. She was widowed at the age of 30 and then lost her best friend and sister-in-law the next year. She experienced rejection from family and friends after her conversion to Catholicism. After her daughter Anna Maria died, she struggled in the darkness of grief only to lose a second daughter, Rebecca, four years later.   

Her honesty and deep faith in suffering are a lifeline for me in mine. She expresses deep sorrow, even despair at moments, but turns again and again to Jesus in the Eucharist. She doesn’t shy away from sharing the depth of her grief but abandons herself to God. Suffering became a vehicle for her intimacy with the Lord, and her spiritual desolation became a source of purification.  

I needed this hope. In the years since my son’s death and a hostile divorce, I, too, discovered intimacy with Jesus in the wasteland of grief. When I surrendered to the life I had instead of clinging to the life I thought I wanted, the Lord flooded my heart with peace, purpose, and joy.  

Bishop John O. Barres wrote of Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton in a pastoral letter on the 200th anniversary of her death: “We find in this unlikely saint a story that testifies to the importance of surrendering to God’s will in the many trials and upheavals of our lives.” According to her memoir, Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton was “attentive to the voice of grace” and found herself blessed in ways she could never imagine.  

This is the promise of great faith. The Lord works all for good. Our hearts, Elizabeth’s and mine, were softened in suffering. In surrender, the Lord used the tears of our grief to water the garden of the great adventure He has planned for our lives. I am grateful to have “Wild Betsy” as a tender companion in grief and a courageous model in faith.     

Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton, Patroness of Grief, pray for us.  

During Women's History Month, Catholic Mom writers are celebrating the women who have inspired their faith journeys — whether canonized saints, saints in progress, or beloved women from Scripture. Through personal reflections and heartfelt stories, they share how these holy women have touched their lives, offering wisdom, strength, and a deeper connection to God. Join us as we honor the spiritual legacy of these remarkable women and the lasting impact they continue to have on our hearts and souls. 

Copyright 2025 Elizabeth Leon
Images: Holy Cross Family Ministries