About the Author
You don't know who I am...but you are at the website that I've written. I've contemplated over and over again about how to help you understand the importance of my own personal journey to you...the reader. You don't want to learn about me...right? You want to have an etched out resume that showcases how I am just right for this role. And with that I can say that I offer you nothing that you would expect. This journey is a spiritual one...and this is how I was brought to learn about Father Baraga...
-----------
When I stepped in front of Father Baraga's Cross, I felt like I wasn't alone in the world. He understood me. He understood the two roads that I traveled in this world. He understood my heart.
What one doesn't know is that before stepping in front of that cross that 260 miles was walked with two sticks in my backpack and a turkey fan. Dried strawberries were brought with and an abalone shell, sage and tobacco. From the border of Wisconsin all the way to Cascade Falls south of Grand Marais my mother and I hiked. We did weekend hikes and through hikes, but during the entire time we hiked we carried with us the song an Ojibwe grandmother taught us. At each major waterway we came across we sang this song. We spent time with the water. We performed the ceremony.
Myself at Father Baraga's Cross in 2022 two years after my initial visit in 2020.
But Baraga understood something else about me though too. He understood my love of Christ. Before walking the red road where I carved my own pipe, went on a vision quest, learned about the Native populations and participated in their culture I walked a completely different path. On that path I built a relationship with Christ. It was personal. It was based on the study that I did on him daily. It was based on prayer. It was based on my personal testimony that Christ lives and loves each and every one of us. Just as a priest has dedicated his life to Christ, so have I. But at that time my devotion was deep due to my studies of him. It wasn't historical. It was like the TV series The Chosen where my love for Him was personal and he was real to me. My deep faith was a desire to God's will in this life. Christ knew my heart. He knew that I would have done anything for him. And so it was my trust in God that ultimately led me into the Native world.
I still remember the first time I crawled into a sweat lodge. I was wearing my Sunday skirt, the one pictured above in the photo. My palms were on the ground, my knees were getting muddied up as I crawled in. In the middle of the lodge was a hole that I crawled around. It was dark. I had a towel in my hands that I dragged around the dark cavern. After crawling several feet I sat down and propped myself up against the willow that was behind me that made up the skeleton of the lodge. Feathers hung down from the top of the lodge over the pit. Every one took their spot and soon I was in complete, complete blackness. Not long afterwards the cloth called the door opened and soon their were hot stones placed in the middle of the pit, water was poured on top and I covered my face with the towel. I remember that moment as my favorite skirt was getting wet from the steam and heat. I remember feeling the dampness. I remember in that moment asking God, "God....why did you bring me here? Why am I doing this?" I trusted Him...and I knew there would be a reason...but I didn't know why.
When God calls your name, you trust and go. Often times you do not know why, but that is faith. Faith is not knowing...but trusting. Discernment comes through trial and error. The leap of the lions head is never one that is done without fear. But courage is not being fearless...courage is moving forward despite fear. Doing the right thing and trusting God is never easy.
I remember trying to reconcile the path I went down in the Native world and my Christian world. I wrestled. In front of me seemed like two totally different paths. The vision quest I went on brought me to a Catholic School. I What most don't know is that I had no desire to work there. I heard of the challenges the Catholics caused in the boarding schools and I wanted nothing to do with the Catholic religion because of what I heard. But when I walked into the Catholic School I remember sitting down in the welcome area. I remember looking up at the wall and written on it was the words, "How are you a Pioneer?" What was not known was that on the vision quest something took place that was really important to me. It was connected to the word "Pioneer". When I saw this written on the side of the wall I knew...I just knew in my heart that I had the job. I don't even remember what I said in the interview...but I walked away from that interview with the job. Now was the time that I needed to trust God again. Why did he bring me here? What was the purpose? Fortunately during my time there a chaplain was kind to me and helped me to work through trying to bridge the Native world and the Catholic world together. At this point I still knew nothing of Baraga and wouldn't know anything about him until I stood in front of Father Baraga's Cross.
During my time there though the chapel was opened for me to be able to visit after work. It was there that I had many conversations with God regarding what had transpired. One day in particular I remember the most. I went home and while I was home I felt like I was supposed to bring my pipe to the chapel. "God...Noooo! I do not want to bring my pipe to the chapel. You know how that would be seen! The pipe does not belong in the chapel!" I rebelled...100% rebelled...but the nagging feeling would not go away. Finally...finally...I took my pipe to the chapel. I kept it in the bag. I did not want to take it out. I was too afraid. I lacked that kind of courage.
I sat in the middle of the chapel on the floor in front of the altar and just shed tears. I didn't know how to reconcile these two worlds. I didn't know what to do...but I prayed. I prayed to as many saints as I knew the names of. I prayed to Christ. I prayed to Mary. I prayed to St. Francis de Assisi. I had not even known the name of St. Kateri at that point. I prayed to the apostles that were with Christ. I just prayed. And then I prayed something else. I prayed that there would be a blessing upon the pipe. I prayed that I might know my path and the reason I was brought there to that school and into the Native world. I prayed and prayed.
So when I stood in front of Father Baraga's Cross several months later...I felt as though he understood me. He understood the Native pipe. He understood their world. But then when I went back to the motel room and did the basic search for "Father Baraga" I didn't find anything related to his work with the Natives. It was all about how he helped to convert the Natives. At that point and after a brief search I wanted nothing to do with him. I completely sat him aside. But then something happened that changed the trajectory of everything that I thought of him.
My mom and I were having a conversation in the motel room a couple days after visiting the cross. It was just a normal conversation. It was a conversation about the priest that we had met at the cross that day and the priest that I knew at the Catholic school. I remember specifically that we were comparing them to chocolate and vanilla. I rudely stopped the priest in the middle of the road to find out if he was in fact a priest. It was a feeling. He had a feeling of peace. He was in plain clothes, but I felt like I needed to ask and I didn't know why. The only reason that I did was that I didn't want to regret not asking him when I felt as though I should. I didn't want to walk away not knowing. In that conversation with my mom I was trying to determine how to share that with someone. How do you describe the peace a priest carries with him? People understand chocolate and vanilla...right? That would be a way of describing it.
While in the middle of the conversation...there was suddenly this complete and staunch presence that was in the room. I know what you are thinking. Yeah, yeah, yeah...sure...you had been led in all these places and then this happened...uh huh. I get it...trust me...I get it. I didn't ask for this stuff either...but I've always said 'yes' to God when he shows up front and center...and this moment would change my life. I'll just cut to the chase. My mother...yes my mother...saw Baraga. I felt him in the room. I was surprised and said out loud, "Whoa...who just came into the room?" She was looking to my left and she did not move her eyes. She said, "It Father Baraga." I said, "What is Father Baraga doing in our motel room?" Right after I said this she said, "He's a lot shorter than I expected him to be."
In my research several months later I would find out that Baraga was in fact only 5'4" tall. Being 6' tall and my mom being 5'10" he would have indeed been considered a shorter man than expected. And this also proves something else. If this was just imagination...wouldn't she have imagined him being the height that she expected him to be? And how would someone confirm that he indeed was in the room at the same exact time? I have also heard others say that by the very fact that it was a stark presence that this in fact rules out that this is from God. I ask this then in return. How many times did angels appear in the new testament that said, "Fear not" as their introductory words? If angels did not have a stark presence to their entrance, would there be a need to try and negate ones fear? And lastly...what creates a lasting impression upon a person? Something that someone cannot forget? Often it is an intense feeling that one has which creates this impression. If this impression was not left with me...would I have become so driven as I have to determine what the purpose of this very visit was? Especially given my lack of impression with who he was prior to this moment?
His entrance though had me realize that there was something probably being left out of the histories. Why else would he choose two random women who just stepped off a trek performing the Algonquin water ceremony? Why would he choose someone who was not Catholic? Why would he choose someone who had walked down the Native path? Why would he choose someone who had a Native pipe? The story doesn't end there...
I went home to do research. I went to half priced books and picked up books. I wanted to understand first about Father Baraga's Cross. What was that year again? The year on the cross? What was happening at that time. I decided to go on the path of least resistance and look up Father Baraga's Cross on the internet to try and find that date. I had pictures, yes...but there were just too many pictures to weed through. A general search would find what I needed. I scrolled down not more than a page and then my heart stopped in my chest. No... no it can't be. No...friggin'...way. I was staring at a familiar face. Someone very familiar. It was the chaplain that I had talked with regarding the Native path that I had gone down. It was the person that helped me to get past my challenges with Catholicism. It turns out that he had done a pilgrimage for Father Baraga...several months before I started working at that school. But the story doesn't end there...
Myself, Bud and Rona from the Keepers of the Sacred Tradition of Pipemakers in Pipestone, MN where I worked for several months learning about the Native pipes and the Native histories.
I was then offered a job at Pipestone, MN. There I studied Baraga in the morning, learned about the Native pipes and then...it turns out...that the owner of that store was from the Bad River Reservation. One day I was talking about a person I was researching...William Warren. The owner was sitting across from me at the table. "Yeah...I know him." I said, "Wait...how do you know him?" He said casually, "He's my relative." I said, "Wait...how many of the people that I'm researching are your relatives?" He went through the list. I just happened to be sitting across from and talking to one of the people who was a descendant of the Natives that Father Baraga worked directly with!!! I couldn't believe it!!
It was at that location that I actually called the Father that I met at Father Baraga's Cross as well. I wanted to know the reason for my desire to stop him and find out who he was. I asked him if he taught. He did not. I asked if he could help me become a member of the church. He could not. I had to go to a thing called RCIA. I asked if he had mass online. He did not. I went through as many questions as I could. I then just told him the story and said that I went to Father Baraga's Cross not long after working at a Catholic School. "Oh? What Catholic School did you work at?" I shared the school. He then said, "Do you know the Chaplain there at that time?" I said I did and told him the name of the Chaplain. He said, "I went to Seminary with him!" I said, "You have got to be friggin' kidding me!" He chuckled. I don't remember what I said after that.
But then this one moment was the moment that got me the most. In the year 2022, two years after I started research on Baraga, Pope Francis invited the Native populations to the Vatican. I sat down at my computer and watched everything. But the thing that created a moment of absolute awe...was when the Native pipe was allowed into the Vatican. I then watched them pray with that pipe and offer it into the four directions. In that moment I was beyond, beyond humbled. I went to the chapel with my pipe. I went there and I couldn't even take it out of the bag. I was so afraid that I couldn't even take it out. And now I'm watching Pope Francis making reconciliations for the harms that happened in the boarding schools and the pipe was out...they were praying in the four directions. I cried. I just literally sat down and cried.
I suddenly realized the path that I was on was a purpose-full one. This life journey was not random. This life journey was intentional. This life journey was meant for this moment. I am not Catholic. I am not Native. I am not a public speaker. I am not a writer. History was my least favorite subject, but now I cannot get enough of it. I am a record keeper...a bookkeeper...and I write not only the record of Father Baraga's life, but also the records of my own as I offer the unique path I was brought down to now share these histories with you. I am one person willing to say "yes" to God when God calls me down a path where I am needed so this for me is a calling... a calling of the deepest kind.
And what I can say is this...Out of all the people that I have learned about, and with the depth of knowledge that I have gained regarding Baraga and these histories...Baraga is 1000% a Saint. He is beyond deserving of that title. And this comes from the woman that wanted nothing to do with Catholicism because of the boarding school histories. In order to understand how he is a Saint, one has to know the Native histories. One has to understand what the Natives endured to truly understand the depth of compassion and resolve this one man had. But when one gets these things, they cannot deny that Baraga is beyond deserving of an obituary that spanned two complete pages of a newspaper. That was his influence. That was what kind of person he truly was.
And I know Baraga would not go without saying how incredibly, incredibly, incredibly strong the Ojibwe were during this time as well. The amount of challenge that they endured deserves some serious recognition. All odds were stacked against them, but they endured and they endured it well...beyond well.
And please know...I was wrong. I thought that the Catholic histories were all about the boarding schools. And although I will 100% say that what happened there was never, ever right...I also can say that of all denominations, the Catholics prior to these histories worked on behalf of the Native populations the most. The natives trusted them....and for good reason. The Catholics bent over backwards to ensure that the Natives were cared for. Those are the histories that need to be remembered. The boarding schools cannot be forgotten and much healing is still needed in regards to these histories, but the histories during Baraga's time and soon after need to be learned. In that...and due to his example...there can be much, much healing.