It is a privilege to introduce myself as the curator and storyteller behind From the Archives, an exploration of the treasures preserved in the Archdiocesan Archives. My love for history started early, shaped in no small part by my grandmother, whose storytelling taught me long before graduate school that memory is sacred. My years in the archives have carried me deep into the quiet corners where the past waits to be rediscovered, where documents bear witness, and where the smallest fragment can echo in your mind for weeks.

Perhaps the clearest echo in my mind is one small pyx. Enclosed within it is a note stating that it was carried by Reverend Xavier Donald MacLeod when he was struck and killed by a train on his way to a sick call in Sedamsville. His hand, still shielding the Blessed Sacrament when he was found, speaks silently yet powerfully of a life devoted to God and neighbor. In that single artifact, a quiet act of pastoral care in 1865 resonates across time, quietly preserved in the archives as a humble testament to steadfast faithfulness.

For me, this work is deeply personal. My Catholic family has called this archdiocese home since the 1850s. This is more than just the place where I grew up, it’s the place that shaped generations of my family, each one building upon the faith of the last. I’m always especially moved when I find traces of the parishes, schools, and neighborhoods that formed my own story as well as those who came long before me. They are a reminder that while institutions may organize the Church, it is the quiet, persistent faith of ordinary people that has carried it forward for generations. In time, the quiet records of our own lives will rest in these archives as well, waiting quietly to remind future generations that we, too, belonged to this story.

My hope for this column is that it provides more than interesting anecdotes. I hope it deepens our collective sense of identity and continuity, revealing how faithfully God has worked through the people, parishes, and institutions of this archdiocese. These records are not dusty scraps of history; they are the ongoing memory of a living Church, shaped by ordinary Catholics who prayed, built, served, and believed.

I invite you to join me each month as we lift lids, turn pages, and follow the threads of memory. May these glimpses into our past awaken our gratitude and reveal the quiet, steady grace woven through our history.

Dusty but devoted,
Michelle Wirth Smith