Do you have a relative, long deceased, that you never met but still feel connected to? Perhaps you’ve read their journals or heard stories from other family members?

Maybe you feel bonded to them, as if they are a kindred spirit you can talk to, pray to, or learn from?

That’s how I feel about St. Jane de Chantal, the 17th-century French baroness who, with St. Francis, founded the Order of the Visitation.

In my work supporting the Oblates, I’ve heard countless stories about her. In reading her letters with St. Francis, I’ve come to admire her deeply. I feel tied to her, and in many ways, strive to be more like her.

Like me, she was a wife and mother of multiple children. Like me, her life didn’t unfold as planned. Yet Jane faced far more formidable obstacles: she lost her mother as an infant, buried three children, and was widowed young. Her in-laws mistreated her, and after founding a religious order, the Vatican denied her and Francis’ true vision for it.

Time and time again, plans changed, and she had to pivot. I know what it means to pivot in life, and I’ve read plenty of business books on the topic. Unfortunately, most of them leave out one key factor: God.

What inspires me the most about Jane is that she never stopped relying on God. She wasn’t paralyzed by fear. Her strength came from her trust in God and her friendship with Francis. How can I rely on God more? How can I set worry aside and face what’s in front of me like Jane did?

When the Oblates invited me to Annecy, France, where Jane and Francis ministered, I was thrilled to walk in her footsteps.

In the “Venice of the Alps,” I prayed to be as strong and courageous as Jane. I sat in the church where she heard Francis preach and wondered how often I’ve heard a homily, been moved, and yet, failed to act.

Standing outside one of Francis’ homes, I imagined their deep conversations. Walking along a canal with thoughts of my kids, I pictured Jane along the same path, with her own family worries.

Later in my visit, I was privileged to celebrate the Oblates’ 150th anniversary at the Basilica of the Visitation, one of Jane’s 86 monasteries. Listening to the devout sisters sing, I reflected on their founders.

In a time when only young women were invited to become nuns, Jane and Francis welcomed the frail, elderly, and widowed. They rejected norms and faced criticism for doing something new. Her letters show she was internally tormented and uncertain, but she kept going. Even when the pope completely changed the mission of their religious order, she adapted and forged on.

How often do I hit a barrier? Do I do what I am called to do even when it’s unpopular or not accepted? Do I draw on God’s support?

After Mass, I stood at Jane’s sarcophagus (tomb), gazing at the mosaic with tiny images forming her portrait. I imagined us conversing and considered what the mosaic storyboard of my own life might look like, and I realized that we weren’t so different. We are both wives and mothers. Our lives have taken unexpected turns, and we’ve had to pivot, often.

Standing at Jane’s tomb, I finally understood why I felt such a strong connection to her. Jane had a message for me.

It was as simple as it was beautiful: Forge on. Be courageous. Never, ever stop relying on God.