There is something sacred about a handwritten letter.
Long before emails, text messages, or social media, words were carefully chosen, slowly written, and sealed with love before beginning their journey to the hands of someone dear. And at the top of every letter my father ever wrote — whether from his home in New York or from halfway around the world during his year serving in Thailand during the Vietnam era — there were always three simple letters: J + M + J. Jesus. Mary. Joseph.
My father grew up in a Polish family in the Bronx, rooted in a faith that crossed an ocean to get there. His mother arrived in the United States from Poland as a young woman in her late teens, traveling with her sister and carrying with her the deep Catholic devotion of her homeland. It was at St. Valentine’s Church in the Bronx where she found her footing in this new country — and where she met my grandfather, himself a second-generation Pole. Together, they built a family: four children, two girls and two boys, my father among them.
My father’s siblings spent part of their childhood being raised by the Sisters of the Holy Family of Nazareth — and that time left a permanent mark on all of them. So profound was that influence that my aunt, in her senior year, joined that very Religious Community, becoming Sister Mary Constance. The spirituality of the Holy Family wasn’t just something they learned. It became the air they breathed. And that ripple — that beautiful, grace-filled ripple — is what we grew up with.
Among my most treasured possessions are letters from my father written during his deployment in Thailand. Miles away from home, in the middle of uncertainty and sacrifice, he still began every single letter the same way: J + M + J. Those three letters were more than a salutation. They were a prayer. A compass. A reminder of who he was, where he came from, and Who was watching over him.
The love my father carried for the Holy Family found its way into my heart too. It shaped the way I moved through the world, the way I sought comfort in hard seasons, and the way I understood what it means to belong to something greater than myself. It felt only right, then, that when my husband and I exchanged our wedding vows, we chose to do so on the Feast of the Holy Family. How could we have chosen any other day?
When the idea for JMJ Connect began to take shape in my heart, my mind immediately went back to those letters. To those three small letters written at the top of each page. To the Sisters of the Holy Family of Nazareth, who planted something holy in my family generations ago. To the ripple of grace that has flowed — quietly, persistently, beautifully — ever since.
The Holy Family is more than a devotion. They are a guide. A comfort. A community. And in their love for one another, we glimpse the love of the Holy Trinity — a communion so complete, so total, that it becomes the very blueprint for what we as human beings are made for: to be in communion with one another.
JMJ Connect was born from that longing — a small but meaningful way to serve as a conduit, bringing others into deeper communion with our beautiful faith.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph — we love you!