“Is there a patron saint of potty training?” my husband asked, somewhere between exasperation and laughter.
Our oldest was about to turn three and begin a full-day preschool that required students to be fully potty trained. She had been using the facilities without accidents for a couple of months when, suddenly, a regression reared its head. We had no alternative childcare options come August, so our daughter’s sudden fear of the commode was especially stressful.
All our eggs were in one basket. We lived states away from family. Daycares had year-long waitlists. The high cost of living required both of us to work outside the home. We know there’s no use in worrying, but our emotions got the best of us.
“Let’s say a novena to Louis and Zélie Martin,” I suggested, hoping their empathy for fellow parents would make up for their lack of official patronage regarding this very specific stage of child development.
Faith + Action
We started our novena that day, combining it with a more practical approach: educating ourselves. We found a discounted webinar from a potty training expert and tried strategies tailored to our daughter’s personality. Even after the official nine days of prayer ended, we continued saying the novena. It brought comfort, and the Martins began to feel like our heavenly parenting mentors.
Things improved drastically. It seemed like everything was going to be okay—until the day before school started.
At the open house, we were told the school’s definition of “potty trained” went beyond being out of diapers. Children were expected to be fully independent: able to wipe themselves thoroughly and change their own clothes if an accident occurred.
We knew our daughter didn’t yet have those skills, but we started practicing immediately. She made it through her first day just fine. On the second day, disaster struck. An accident occurred, and our daughter couldn’t change herself. There were a lot of tears and emotions. My husband drove to the school, changed her into clean clothes, and brought her home.
“I’m not sending her back there,” he said when he saw me, and I shared the sentiment.
From Panic to Providence
Desperate, I began calling friends to see if anyone had ideas or leads. A colleague gave me the number of a family new to the area, but lifelong friends of hers. By some miracle, they were open to watching our daughter short-term—and they had a child close in age.
We exhaled, our hearts swelling with gratitude. To me, it felt like the Martins had a hand in this arrangement. Our new friend was of French descent and fluent in the language.
With about five months to find a long-term childcare plan, we continued our daily intentional prayer to Saints Louis and Zélie. We got on daycare waitlists for both our daughter and the baby on the way. We explored nanny shares and au pair options but found they would strain us too much. Finally, we received a call: A daycare had space for both children—but not until the following school year. A ray of hope, but we still had a three-month gap to bridge.
One evening, after another brainstorming session, a simple idea came to me: “What about my sister?”
She was working toward a master’s degree online and feeling frustrated in her part-time job. I called her and floated the idea—would she consider moving in with us, rent-free, and receiving pay to help care for the kids while finishing her degree? She was intrigued. After a couple of weeks of thought and prayer, she said yes.
It wasn’t until after the birth of our second daughter, as my maternity leave was ending, and my sister was about to move in, that the realization hit me.
My sister’s name is Therese Rose.
Her patron Saint is Thérèse Martin, more commonly known as Saint Thérèse of Lisieux, the Little Flower.
Her parents, Saint Louis and Saint Zélie, had answered our prayers and sent us our own Therese to help our little family.
When Saints Send Family
It wasn’t the solution we envisioned, but it was exactly what we needed. Since then, we’ve come to understand more fully that life itself is a sacred invitation to trust—sometimes blindly—in God’s provision.
More than that, we were reminded that we are never really alone. In the family of God, help sometimes comes from the Saints in Heaven. Sometimes it comes from the sister who says yes. Sometimes, if you’re lucky, it comes in both forms at once.
If you’re in the thick of it, I hope our story reminds you of the solidarity which exists between Heaven and earth. Saints walk with us—a gift from our Heavenly Father. Grace envelops us. And sometimes, Heaven answers with a sibling named Therese.
Grace Bellon is a wife, mom, and high school theology teacher who has spent years walking with young people as they wrestle with faith, identity, and the ache for something more. She writes from the heart of a classroom, the hustle of family life, and the quiet corners where the Lord speaks most tenderly. She believes in miracles, mercy, and the delicate art of balancing home-cooked meals with takeout nights. Her sweetest joys are found in the company of one man who keeps her coffee cup full, her children who keep her laundry baskets fuller, and the Eucharist which fills her heart and soul.
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