A Year Later: Remembering Pope Francis, Childlike Faith, and the Courage to Speak

by Rosie Chinea Shawver, MDiv

It’s been one year since Pope Francis passed, and I find myself returning not just to his words but to moments. Small, unexpected moments that revealed the heart of his papacy.

The most meaningful one for me wasn’t even mine at first.

It was Sofia’s.

We had prepared for the trip in 2017, knowing we might have the chance to see the Pope at a papal audience. Sofia had written him a letter to send via snail mail, but in the rush of everything, she forgot to mail it.

That morning, she made a decision that only a child could make.

She put on her purple dress, held onto her letter, and said with complete confidence, “I’m going to give this to the Pope.”

No plan. No logistics. No overthinking.

Just faith.

And somehow, by grace alone, she did.

She was carried over by a guard and placed that letter into his hands.

Unplanned. Unscripted. Completely real.

The mouth of babes.

Watching that moment unfold, I saw something I will never forget.

There was no hesitation in her. No sense of “this is impossible.” Just trust.

And Pope Francis met her right there, in that simplicity, in that boldness, in that childlike faith.

He did not rush it. He did not brush past it.

He received her.

Fully.

Later, I had the chance to meet him myself.

But the truth is, Sofia showed me how to approach him first.

Not as someone important. Not as someone with the right words.

But simply as a daughter.

For years, I have been inspired by St. Catherine of Siena (her feast day is coming up, April 29th), a woman who loved the Church enough to speak boldly to her leaders, including the Pope himself.

She did not write from a place of status.

She wrote from love, from conviction, from a deep desire for the Church to be who she is called to be.

That witness has stayed with me.

And in my own small way, I have tried to follow it. I have written letters to the Pope over the years, not because I have all the answers, but because I care deeply about the mission of the Church, especially for young people.

But that day in Rome, it was not my letter that reached him.

It was Sofia’s.

Pope Francis had a unique gift. He recognized faith when he saw it.

Not polished faith. Not perfect faith.

But real faith.

The kind that shows up in a purple dress with a crumpled letter.
The kind that believes something is possible simply because it is good.
The kind that moves forward without needing certainty.

That is the faith he called all of us to rediscover.

A year after his passing, I find myself holding onto that image.

A child stepping forward without fear.
A shepherd receiving her with tenderness.

And somewhere in between, that is where the Church lives.

As we approach the feast day of St. Catherine of Siena, I am reminded that the Church needs both the courage to speak and the humility to trust.

Catherine wrote letters that challenged the Church to be holy.

Sofia handed over a letter simply because she believed she could.

Both matter.

Both are needed.

And both, in their own way, set the world on fire.

Maybe that is the invitation Pope Francis leaves us with.

To be bold enough to speak when it matters.
And simple enough to act when grace opens a door.

To not overcomplicate what God might be doing.

To trust.

To step forward.

Even when it is unplanned.

Even when it seems impossible.