Emily, schooled, however, in viewing life from the perspective of eternity, began her long period of patient waiting for the moment of Providence without harboring any bitterness against her foreign foe. For twenty-two years she remained at home, gaining means of a livelihood by giving her brother help in the store which he had set up for his own support and that of his widowed mother. Her main duty was bookkeeping in the small establishment. Her brother, meticulous in the keeping of his accounts, trained in his sister a talent she would put to good use later. Copies of accounts in her handwriting dating from the early years of the community when she was procuratrix as well as general superior show unrivalled accuracy and neatness.
Her home replaced the convent she was so reluctant to leave and when she quitted it occasionally, it was mostly for reasons allied to the spiritual advancement of her soul. The parks and historical buildings and other centers of interest that afforded her so much joy lost their earlier charm; only the churches of the metropolis captivated her instinctively religious soul. These she visited in order in the long course of her stay at home. Their architecture and history fascinated her. There was the Gothic cathedral of St. John built in the fourteenth century not far from the Old City and the King’s Palace. Here the old rulers and their pious wives in the days gone by had come to pray. There was a miraculous image of the crucified Lord here carved in wood, a wonder that attracted not only the pious inhabitants of Warsaw but visitors from distant parts of the land. Here at the feet of her Savior she spent long hours in prayer.
The other churches of the city gave her refuge, too, at various times. The old baroque churches of the Bernardines, the Carmelites, the Visitandines, and the Sacramentines occasionally saw her within their aged walls. More often she went to the Capuchin church of the Transfiguration not far from her home, where her spiritual director was stationed. The church was built by King John Sobieski in thanksgiving for his victory over the Turks at Vienna in 1683. The style was simple like most Capuchin churches, but it had a beautiful side altar of St. Veronica de Julianis, her patron saint, whom she had not relinquished when she could no longer be called Sister veronica as of yore. On the high wall to the left of the main altar there was also a beautiful fresco painting of the same saint. The stigmatist, canonized just four years before Emily’s birth with St. Alphonse Liguori, and St. John Joseph of the Cross, became her model of an intense love of God since the day the name was given to her at Czestochowa. Mother Veronica’s later life showed a faithful imitation of many of the virtues of the saint.
But it was to her own parish church, the church of St. Andrew, not far from the Town Hall, a substitute for her convent chapel, that she came regularly. Here she was always present at Mass, the reception of the sacraments, and all the occasional devotions held throughout the year. For this church she employed her skills in sewing and embroidery generously adding to its supply of church vestments which she worked at during her spare time.
The twenty-two years of Mother Veronica’s life spent in the quiet of her mother’s home, like the long period of the Lord’s at Nazareth, bears the impression of a preparation for a work of importance. Be that as it may, they were fruitful ones for her in the realms of grace. They were years spent in humble resignation to the will of God. She never spoke of this time with the least shadow of regret for not having been able to fulfill her youthful dreams of a life with the Sisters of Mary. Not knowing what the future might bring, she was reconciled to the idea of remaining here and continuing her nun-like existence until the time when her Heavenly Father recalled her to His abode.
She sought sanctity in the single practice that brings close its realization by fidelities to the duties appointed by God. She lovingly accepted what God had sent her. Over and above the commandments she had desired the counsels as a more perfect aim, and following the attractions of grace, she continued to live them faithfully as far as conditions made it possible for her to do so. She accepted what she had no power to prevent; she embraced with submission the cross given her; she followed with faith and love the designs of Providence which she had learned to recognize. She willingly fulfilled her part, and God did the rest. And God planned in His omniscience, determined in His will, and carried out by His power a work in the soul given up entirely to Him.
In order not to stray from the path of perfection which she intensely desired, Mother Veronica sought the guidance of a spiritual director. Here, too, she reveals a singular characteristic of her beautiful soul. Never reliant on her own human strength in things supernatural, ever faithful to the prudent advice of Holy Mother Church, she would not seek sanctity according to her own whims or fancies. She would meekly submit to its authority even in the minutest details of her intimate spiritual life.
Fortunately she was acquainted with the Capuchin Fathers and learned that they had been serving the Sisters in the vicinity with marked zeal. Here she discovered a Father Felix, known for his skill in dealing with pious souls, and succeeded in having him accept the responsibility for her spiritual direction. During all the years of her forced exile at home, he remained her spiritual guide and she faithfully accepted and followed the expert guidance which he gave.
For those who wondered why she was able to be without a director during the earlier years of her active life in America and remain so intensely spiritual, to those who looking in retrospect at the conditions she had to cope with marvel at her singular attitude towards them, here lies the answer. She had been endowed with a special grace, it is true, but she had been for a long time under spiritual direction. Just as important is the fact that she had been fulfilling faithfully and accepting lovingly what God had planned that she should do and suffer, which is the most necessary and the most sanctifying of all practices.
At one time when an opportunity presented itself, she asked for admission to the Felician Sisters Community, one which like the Congregation of Mary had been forced by governmental decree to cease its social activity and had for a short time lodged with the cloistered Bernardines at Lowicz before leaving for settlement in Galicia. At this time the Felician Sisters had just opened a new field of labor in America and Mother Veronica was told she would be granted admission on condition that she would consent to leave Poland for the United States. She had no desire to leave her native country; in addition she felt that the work that she would be called on to do among the emigrants of that far-off land was not suited to her temperament and ability, so she decided not to enter this Community. Complete peace of mind came to her after this decision, however, when after having given her spiritual director a complete picture of the state of her soul, he assured her that she had acted in accordance with God’s will.
She never disclosed any relish for travelling a great distance from home, her longest journeys having taken her no more than a few hours ride from Warsaw. To the east she had gone to Lomza and that was for spiritual help when Father Felix was there, and to the southwest to Czestochowa where she had spent her schooldays and her novitiate with the Sisters of Mary. These she never had forgotten and when they were lodged with the cloistered Dominican Sisters at Przyrow not far from Czestochowa she went there to visit them each time she went on a pilgrimage to the renowned shrine. As a secular she was often able to transact business for them and nothing gave her greater comfort than serving the Sisters whom she loved.
The Lord was her refuge and throughout the years He guided her steps well. On one of these visits to her old Sister friends she had occasion to meet the Reverend Vincent Podlewski, a Dominican priest from Galicia entrusted by his superiors with the visitation of the cloister and the comforting of the Sisters in those distressful times. Father Podlewski was acquainted with Emily from the relations of the Sisters; his own conversations with her further strengthened him in the conviction that she was an unusual soul. He was attracted by her simplicity of manner and deep faith, and her devotedness to the Sisters she had been coming to see. When she informed him that the desire to enter a convent was with her still, he gave her information that filled her with joy. The Bernardine Sisters from Cracow were founding a new convent in Zakliczyn; he was acquainted very well with the superior there; furthermore, he himself would make all the necessary arrangements for her admission since Zakliczyn was in the Austrian controlled territory and crossing the boundary always entailed some difficulty. In fact, Father Podlewski did recommend to Mother Hedwig, the new superior at Zakliczyn, and brought her the promise that she would be admitted there.
To Emily this plan seemed heaven-sent; it had all worked out so easily and within a very short time. She was further strengthened in the conviction that all was according to God’s will when her confessor gave her his blessing and assured her that she was realizing the Divine Master’s plans for her. No one knew better than he the treasure that the Bernardine Sisters were receiving, for before Emily arrived at Zakliczyn he penned the following letter to Mother Hedwig, the general superior there:
I am sending you an aspirant perfect in spirit. I have been her confessor and spiritual director for many years. I can sincerely and with trust recommend her for your consideration.
Before Emily made her final departure from her mother’s home she had to experience one more cross of bereavement. The Lord in His own wise way had tempered her affectionate nature and helped her to cut the ties with all those she held so dear on this earth. She learned, too, how to bear each loss without subjecting herself to any unhealthy grief or dejection. Earlier, she had lost her father to whom she had been so intensely devoted and who had lavished so much affection on her, his only daughter. Now her mother, having attained a blessed old age had gone to her eternal reward. Both had given her the best example of pious living in a model Christian home and she was ever grateful to them for it. She testified that whenever the words “parental home” were mentioned she associated with them a multitude of tender thoughts and feelings. They conjured up a host of happy memories of her innocent days of childhood and a happy joyous youth, spent in a home built on the rock of faith where religion ruled and God-fearing parents yielded in humble submission to its gentle way.
