I Moved My Family Farther from a Traditional Latin Mass

A very thought-provoking article by a father who, through the force of circumstances, ended up moving even further from a Traditional Latin Mass.

From One Peter Five

By Dan Millette

My wife, kids, and I used to live over two hours away from the nearest traditional Latin Mass, an 8:00 am offering in a large—by Saskatchewan standards—city. Getting there was tough, but we tried to attend frequently. Over the years these attempts became increasingly burdensome. Gas prices hurt—hotel bills, when needed, even more. The kids hated going to the city. The weekend was always shot, with the entire week spent recovering. And I think my wife and I have always had a two-year-old who travels as calmly as a rabid badger trapped in a cage with Taylor Swift music. Still, though, we tried. For rich or poor. For sanity or mental breakdown.

Throughout these times we saw and heard it all, from all sources, covering all aspects. Talks. Homilies. Books. Text messages. Personal conversations. All but a St. Joseph-style dream. And the message was consistent: Move close to a TLM. 

“You need to attend the traditional Latin Mass.” 

“Move as close as you can to one, God will provide the rest.”

“Your kids will lose their Catholic faith if you don’t.” 

“God’s calling you to do this. It’s obvious!”

“How could you not want to do this sacrifice? Isn’t the Mass worth it?”

It’s not as though we needed convincing to attempt such a move. I believe the TLM is part of our Catholic birthright—like a different religion from what I grew up with. Beauty, sanctity, mystery, and truth permeate throughout. The absence of Dan Schutte ditties, girl altar boys, and preachy Prayers of the Faithful doesn’t hurt either.

We tried to move. For nearly a decade, in fact. But there was always something in the way. Like the odds were against us. We frequently felt this must be our fault, that God’s will was clear and we weren’t following it heroically enough.

In truth, the simple solution to move closer to the TLM was anything but simple. Financially, it would’ve been a crippling hit. Where would I work? Was it prudent to become a substitute teacher and starve for a few years until I could land a full-time contract? Also, our house sale would’ve sunk us. Small-town Saskatchewan houses sell for a fraction of the cost of anything near the city. Note that I said near the city. We’ve always refused to live in an actual city. It would kill us. We’re country people through and through. But as I examined prices, I realized that acreages near the city might be affordable…if we sold a child or three. Not even our harshest critics advocated for that being God’s will, at least not to our face. 

Nevertheless, for years we still tried to make it work. Job interviews. Real estate searches. Number-crunching sessions. Babies. Novenas. Frustrations. Tears. More babies—I’m not sure how having babies helps, but they are cute. I used to tell my wife, “I know the answer is right in front of our faces! We just can’t see it yet.” That’s often how God works in my life. I stare at a full bag of flour and an empty bread pan and complain, “Lord, I’m hungry! Why don’t You ever provide for me? Why do You hide answers?”

He did provide.

Last year had one of those rare life moments where everything falls into place, flawlessly, in record time, and with an overwhelming sense of peace. I was hired for the perfect teaching job with a tremendous boss—a job I still can’t believe I have. We landed on twelve beautiful, affordable acres of forest, gardens, hockey rinks, garages, and open fields, right next to prime hunting land and a short drive to a rich walleye hole. Unbelievably, this place had family nearby—just perfect for our kids. The house sales went seamlessly. God had His finger on every step of the way. The move was laborious and stressful but an overwhelming blessing. 

There was just one problem.

The location was farther from a TLM. Why? Because we took over the family acreage from my parents. The Millette homestead shall keep its name, though now it is under new, less competent, ownership. I could go on for hours about the benefits of this move, but for now, one point shall be emphasized: We now live three hours away from a traditional Latin Mass. 

We’re finding that getting to a TLM is more onerous than ever. The difficulty and expense of accommodations and travel are severe. This winter we had a four month stretch in between attending TLMs. Weeks of 40-below weather, hellacious blizzards, icy roads, vehicle issues, and, when the weather finally worked out, sick kids, kept us close to home. I would say it will be easier to attend this summer, but a new baby is coming and, well, you know how that goes—they are cute though. In short, our move has been a blessing, except for an impoverished liturgical life.

Could God actually will that a young Catholic family move farther from a TLM? A family that loves this Mass so deeply? Impossible, right? Surely our move was just a weakness on my part, caused by a lack of fortitude, courage, and faith, with my children sentenced to end up in Hell, or at least sentenced to endure hellish music at the local Mass. 

There are two points to make. First, it is necessary to step back and examine the bigger picture. Now I don’t understand the current state of the Catholic Church. I don’t get how Tradition is anathema, and banal liturgical Boomerism mandatory—leaving the Sunday obligation issue aside for now. I don’t get how my local bishop will refuse us a traditional Baptism this summer—“You can go elsewhere”—as though making my wife travel so far immediately after giving birth isn’t deplorable and psychotic. I don’t understand how a few elderly people can cling to a Mass that has utterly failed in their parish, while my children are compelled to embrace its self-imposed destruction. I don’t understand any of this. Why, God, why?

The fact remains that most Catholics do not, or even cannot, attend a traditional Latin Mass. Thanks to Vatican TLM crackdowns, it’s a simple numbers game. There are billions of people on Earth with hundreds of millions of Catholics. There are what, mere hundreds of traditional priests? The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are far too few. Traditional priests cannot be everywhere. The Earth is a big, enormous place. For instance, the nearest FSSP priest is three hours away from me—and not welcome in my own diocese—while the nearest SSPX priest is eight hours away. Such distances, far greater for some, are a common reality for many Catholics worldwide. 

Even for places that do have a TLM, there is always the issue of overcrowding and grave inconvenience. Imagine having to show up 45 minutes early for an afternoon Mass in a crime-ridden inner-city location only to realize that, there being no room at the inn, your family must watch the Mass on a screen in the basement of the church. I know families within reach of a TLM who have stopped attending simply because of the aggravation and extreme inconvenience it causes.

Still more, how much longer until a more serious attack on the TLMs comes? Do you think the situation is dire now? I am sure some ravenous wolves in the Vatican would gladly reply, “You think this is bad? Hold my beer…” Imagine uprooting your family, embracing a life of poverty and hardship, all to be near a TLM, and then abruptly having this Mass pulled out from under you? These are tragic times filled with uncertainty. The fact is that, if one abides by basic prudence, TLMs are just not possible for far too many Catholics.

All of which leads to my final point: God is not a monster. 

My wife and I always suffer the question of how to survive without a traditional Latin Mass. More than that, how do we thrive? How can we raise saints? I dispute the claim that all Catholics of good faith must attend a TLM or risk their salvation. I certainly think all Catholics should attend a TLM and even make sacrifices to attend. But if the sacrifices become unreasonable, can one say that such Catholics will almost certainly be unable to live saintly lives? That holiness is only for a favored few based on location? To ascribe this to God is to make Him a monster. 

I can claim with a clear mind and peaceful heart that God led our family to move to where we are, despite the great distance from a TLM. I believe God is not some mean-spirited deity. He will provide for us, if we remain faithful, and lead us to sanctity. It will be a heavy cross to bear. One we cannot carry on our own. But He will not abandon us.

Until then, say a prayer for all, including my children, who suffer at the hands of this modern Church of Mercy.