To the YW, Love Joan of Arc

The last few weeks have gotten away from us, what with Jeans spreading service around the world and me buried underneath Sunstone papers. By way of apology, I am overjoyed to share with you this piece that Carol Lynn Pearson wrote for the Young Women attending Girls Camp. Carol Lynn shared this with me when I got to meet her a few weeks ago, and I have successfully lobbied her to share it with us here.

This letter was received and transcribed by Carol Lynn Wright Pearson in Walnut Creek, California, a close friend of Joan, the Maid of Orleans.


The Month of June in the Year of our Lord, 2010

Dear Young Women of Payson, Utah, United States of America,

I was deeply honored to be informed that you have chosen me as your “hero, mentor and source of inspiration” for your camp week. Over the centuries, as I have observed the comings and going of history, I have watched in amazement as many works have been created in my memory –operas, plays, statues. I never intended such. But as I see the eyes of the visitors who pause at the gold-gilded statue of me on my horse, banner raised, at the Place des Pyramides in Paris, or the eyes of an audience watching a play that details my life–I see something so fine! I see sparks of a fire. Not the fire that consumed my poor and weary body at the end. But the sparks of a better fire–one that inspires people to find the light within them and hold it high and be true to it.

And so I am happy to join you in “camp.” How often, after a day of battle, I sat in camp by the fire with my beloved soldiers. And so I will feel very much at home spending some hours with you beside your campfire. If I can be your “source of inspiration” for a week, for a day, or for a moment–that will make me smile.

I understand that you are called “saints.” They call me that too. “Saint Joan.” I had to look the word up. Oh, we have many libraries here. I see that it means, “an individual of exceptional holiness.” I didn’t deliberately choose to be a saint. But you did. I find that very impressive.

You have asked me for some words that might inspire you. That is a very simple task. I will tell you two things. First, listen for the Voice of God. Second, be true to what it tells you.

We all hear God’s Voice in different ways. I heard it out in my father’s fields as I tended the sheep. I heard Saint Catherine, Saint Michael and Saint Margaret speak to me, telling me God had a work for me to do and that work was to save France. I did not want to obey, but I found that I had to. Who can disobey God and live without shame?

You also will hear the Voice of God. It will come to you in its own way, perhaps not to your ears, perhaps a gentle speaking inside. You will know it is God’s Voice because it makes you feel bigger and brighter than you felt before. You will know that God has a work for you to do–something that no one else has ever done or can ever do in quite the same way that you can do it. Your work may not be noticeable in the way that people commemorate with statues. But I have learned since trading earth for heaven that some of the greatest works are done in secret. Those are the ones my friends and I like to watch and point out to one another with such wonder.

But if you feel called to do something quite large–do not be afraid of claiming that largeness. You have your own soldiers walking beside you. You have your own angels bearing you up as I had mine. Do not be afraid.

So, first you will listen for the Voice of God. And second, you will never, never betray it. Do not listen to those who tell you they know God better than you do. Do not listen to those who tell you God speaks to them but not to you. I had to remind myself over and over that the powerful men of the cloth did not know the mind of God better than I did–I, a simple peasant and a girl. And the worst moment of all eternity for me was the moment when I said, “Yes–yes, you are right and I am wrong...it was not God who spoke to me...I was deceived.” Ah, there is no hell like betraying your own soul. I was so tired. I was so frightened. I was so alone.

No, I was not alone, and that is what saved me. God was there and God gave me courage. When I chose truth and the fire above betrayal and a few years of empty life–I was filled with joy. You will also not be alone.

I think you read this beside the fire. Look at the fire now. Mine was a terrible death, yes. But it was over so soon. You will not face the fire as I did. But you will face the heat of anger, yours and others. You will face discouragement, judgment, envy. You will face temptation to quit your task, to do the easy thing.

My friends, my sisters, let nothing take you away from the charge that God will give you.

I ask you now to look at the other faces you see around this fire. These are your comrades in arms. These are among those God has given you to serve. If your comrade falls tomorrow out in the field, from the sword of an enemy or from her own error, do not desert her. Lift her up and give her good words for the journey. She is precious of God.

I am glad now that you caught my attention, for I see great strength here and I will be watching as each of your stories unfolds. Think of me now and then after this campfire has become ashes. Keep with you a spark of the fire we have shared. Hear me saying to you two things above all: Listen for the Voice of God and never betray the work God has for you.

We can do this. We are Saints.

Love and admiration to each of you,


Joan