Welcome to the deep dive today. We are we're
immersing ourselves in some really fascinating
source material Yeah, we're looking at the Wikipedia
biographical archives of a woman who just Well,
she defies almost every historical and spiritual
category You could try to put her in right her
full name is Maria Concepcion Cabrera Arias de
Armida So she's far better known to history and
to the millions who follow her spiritual lineage
today simply as Conchita OK, let's unpack this
right from the start. What's the mission for
our deep dive today? Well, the mission is to
unpack a really profound historical paradox.
We are examining how a laywoman. You know, a
busy mother, a grieving widow, a citizen living
through one of the most devastating conflicts
of the early 20th century. The Mexican Revolution.
Exactly. How did she manage to cultivate an interior
life so intensely deep that she's now officially
recognized as a beatified mystic by the Catholic
Church? It's the intersection of extreme, gritty,
everyday reality and just towering mystical theology.
Yeah, and the archives give us a specific metric
that immediately reframes how we have to look
at her. The page count. A page can. I mean, this
is a woman raising nine children in a bustling
household, and she wrote over 60 ,000 handwritten
pages of religious and theological reflections.
It's staggering. Just to put that into a historical
perspective for you listening, that volume of
complex theological writing rivals the lifetime
output of St. Thomas Aquinas. Right, and Aquinas
was a friar. His literal full -time vocation
was to sit in quiet rooms, study, and write the
foundational texts of Western theology. And Conchita
was changing diapers. She was managing a massive
household and trying to keep her family alive
during a literal war. It forces a complete recalibration
of our assumptions, doesn't it? When we hear
the word mystic, the cultural imagination immediately
conjures up. an isolated hermit in a cave, or
a cloistered monk with a vow of silence. Right,
completely detached from the material concerns
of the world. But Conchita obliterates that stereotype.
The archival materials make it abundantly clear
she was deeply, inextricably embedded in the
loud, messy reality of family life. She wasn't
a mystic who escaped the world. She plunged directly
into the center of it. I think that's the perfect
place to start. Let's look at the early life
of this everyday mystic. The historical record
shows she was born on December 8, 1862. In San
Luis Potosí, Mexico. To Octaviano Cabrera Lacavex
and Clara Arias Rivera. And what we know about
her upbringing paints a picture of a respectable,
somewhat standard middle -class reality for that
era. She wasn't born into abject poverty, but
she certainly wasn't shielded by aristocratic
royalty either. And amidst that standard upbringing,
there's this wonderfully humanizing detail preserved
in her own recollections. Oh, I love this part.
She openly remembered being a frequently disobedient
child. I have to admit, that detail is incredibly
refreshing. Isn't it? So often, biographical
accounts of beatified figures or saints are just
retroactively sanitized. They try to paint them
as entirely flawless from birth. Right, like
infants who supposedly never cried and toddlers
who spent all day in silent prayer. But Conchita
herself... shattered that illusion. She admitted
she was a difficult, unruly kid. It instantly
bridges the gap between her and the reader. It
does. It establishes a narrative of genuine human
development. But right alongside that childhood
unruliness, the biographical texts point out
an unusual, intense devotion to the Holy Eucharist
from a very young age. So you see this duality
forming early. She's a regular, occasionally
defiant child who simultaneously possesses a
profound, almost inexplicable spiritual gravity.
She wasn't an angel. She was a human being grappling
with a deep spiritual pull. And that duality
only intensifies as she enters adulthood. In
1884, at the age of 21, she marries Francisco
Armida. And over the next 15 years, between 1885
and 1899, they have nine children. I really want
you, the listener, to pause and fully internalize
the sheer physical, biological, and emotional
reality of that timeline. Nine children. In 15
years. This is late 19th century Mexico. There
are no modern appliances. No modern conveniences.
And infant mortality rates are staggeringly high.
She was essentially pregnant or nursing continuously
for a decade and a half. The physical toll is
immense. Understanding it is crucial to understanding
her theology. Add to that the emotional labor
of raising nine distinct per - personalities.
Managing a large domestic staff. Constantly facing
the threat of childhood illnesses, which, as
you noted, were frequently fatal in that era
without antibiotics. The central question her
life poses is how does a person maintain any
sense of distinct individual identity under those
crushing domestic demands? Let alone cultivate
one of the 20th century's most prolific and complex
interior spiritual lives. Because you would assume
a household with nine young children would be
the antithesis of a spiritual incubator. The
noise, the constant demands, the physical exhaustion.
You would think she'd be operating entirely in
survival mode. But the timeline in the archives
shows something extraordinary. Her profound mystical
experiences didn't wait for her kids to grow
up and move out. No, they didn't. In 1894, right
in the thick of raising these toddlers and infants,
the records indicate she experienced what is
termed spiritual nuptials. Now, for someone not
steeped in Catholic mystical theology, What exactly
does that mean? It sounds intensely intimate.
It is intensely intimate. In the broader tradition
of Christian mysticism, echoing figures like
St. Teresa of Avila or St. John of the Cross,
the term spiritual nuptials refers to a definitive
transforming union between the soul and God.
It's not a fleeting moment of peace during prayer.
It's described as a permanent, unbreakable, internal
vow. So the soul is inextricably bound to the
divine. Exactly. What is so staggering about
Conchita's experience is the context. Historically,
this level of mystical union is almost exclusively
documented in cloistered monastics who spend
decades in silent contemplation. And Conchita
experienced this profound internal milestone
while she was actively managing a household of
young children. The mystical breakthrough happened
concurrently with the mundane reality of motherhood.
That is just incredible. But as we move into
the next phase of her life, from 1901 to 1921,
the narrative takes a sharp, devastating turn.
It really does. In 1901, tragedy strikes. Conchita
is just 39 years old when her husband Francisco
suddenly dies. Overnight, she is left to raise
these nine children entirely on her own, the
youngest being only two years old at the time.
We have to slow down and really consider the
socioeconomic reality of a widow in 1901 Mexico.
She lost her partner, her primary source of financial
stability, and the father of her nine children.
The sheer panic and grief of that moment would
be enough to break almost anyone, but her personal
tragedy was only the precursor to a massive national
catastrophe. Right, because less than a decade
later, the macro context of her life just explodes.
From 1910 to 1921, the Mexican Revolution completely
ravages the country. The statistics surrounding
the Mexican Revolution are horrifying. The conflict
took the lives of roughly 900 ,000 people. To
put that into perspective, the total population
in Mexico at the time was only about 15 million.
That means a staggering six percent of the entire
country was wiped out in a single decade. Losing
six percent of a nation's population, that means
the violence was inescapable. Every single person
in the country would have known someone who was
killed. disappeared or displaced. We are talking
about the total collapse of societal infrastructure.
You had warlords and revolutionary factions forces
aligned with Pancho Villa, Emiliano Zapata, Venustiano
Carranza battling for control. The violence was
indiscriminate. The economy was ruined, and the
daily uncertainty of simply trying to secure
food and keep a family safe was an omnipresent
nightmare. And crucially for Conchita, the revolution
also brought waves of intense violent anti -clericalism
and persecution of the Catholic Church. Which
makes her internal state during this time practically
miraculous. You have the ultimate recipe for
complete psychological collapse. Sudden widowhood,
nine dependent children, and a literal bloody
revolution raging outside her door. And yet the
biographical account and her own writings from
this exact period reflect what is described as
an amazing tranquility. How is that even possible?
That is the defining paradox of her existence.
To understand it, we have to look at how she
compartmentalized, or rather, how she integrated
her reality. She didn't achieve tranquility by
ignoring the war or the difficulty of her life.
Her writings are incredibly honest about her
suffering. But her internal state was so deeply
anchored by that earlier mystical union, those
spiritual nuptials we discussed, that the external
chaos could not breach her core. She achieved
a state of detachment where her peace was not
contingent on her circumstances. I want you to
just think about your own modern anxieties, information
overload, work stress, and then compare it to
the literal life and death chaos she lived through.
That is a staggering level of spiritual discipline.
And it brings us to the core of her legacy, the
divine mission she felt called to, and those
60 ,000 pages of theology she produced. In her
writings, Conchita documented a specific intense
internal directive she believed she received
from God. She wrote that she was told, ask me
for a long suffering life and to write a lot.
That's your mission on earth. I have to push
back on this a bit, because to a modern ear,
praying for a long suffering life sounds masochistic.
Almost self -destructive. It really does. How
does this fit into a healthy theology rather
than just pure psychological self -harm? That
is a vital question. Out of context, it absolutely
sounds masochistic. But within the framework
of her specific mystical theology, this calling
is rooted in the concept of redemptive suffering.
Okay, unbacked. It traces back to the Pauline
epistles, specifically the idea of making up
what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ.
In this view, suffering isn't sought out because
pain itself is good. Pain is inherently bad.
But when suffering is inevitable, as it was for
a widow in a war zone, it can be spiritually
united to the suffering of Christ on the cross
for the redemption of the world. So by asking
for a long suffering life. she was offering her
inevitable pain as a spiritual sacrifice for
the renewal of the church and society. Exactly.
And the directive to write a lot alongside that
suffering indicates that her navigation of this
pain was meant to be an instructional manual
for others. That makes a lot more sense. It's
about finding utility and meaning in the suffering
rather than just being crushed by it. And I think
it's important to clarify the nature of her mystical
experiences based on the source. Her biographers
note that she never claimed to have direct physical
visions of Jesus or Mary standing in her room.
Instead, she experienced deep internal communications
through silent prayer and meditation. Yes, and
that distinction grounds her mysticism in a reality
that is far more accessible while still being
extraordinarily profound. It wasn't about flashy
supernatural phenomena or hallucinatory visions.
It was about the absolute depths of internal
contemplation. We get a brilliant glimpse into
the intensity of this internal life from a diary
entry she wrote in 1896. She states, in truth,
after I touched God and had an imperfect notion
of his being, I wanted to prostrate myself. My
forehead and my heart in the dust and never get
up again. My forehead and my heart in the dust
and never get up again. The sheer humility in
that statement is striking. It perfectly articulates
the overwhelming nature of the divine. Notice
her precision. She says she had an imperfect
notion of his being. Even in her highest mystical
states, she retains the theological sobriety
to recognize that a Sinite human mind cannot
fully comprehend the infinite God. But even that
tiny, imperfect glimpse of the divine is enough
to completely annihilate human ego. When a person's
interior life is anchored in that kind of awe,
the day -to -day anxieties of the external world,
even the terrifying realities of the Mexican
Revolution, are placed into a radically different,
eternal perspective. which perfectly sets the
stage for the sheer volume of her outlander.
Let's really dig into the logistics of these
60 ,000 handwritten pages. One of the most mind
-bending details in her historical record comes
from her own children. They reported that growing
up they hardly ever saw her in the process of
writing. How is that physically possible? It
is an astonishing logistical puzzle. Let's break
down the math and the physical reality of her
era. She lived to be 74 years old. To produce
60 ,000 pages of coherent, complex theological
reflection means she was writing multiple pages
every single day of her adult life. And doing
it by hand with an inkwell and a pen, likely
by the dim light of a candle or a rudimentary
lamp. To do it so quietly and consistently that
her nine children rarely noticed implies an almost
superhuman level of discipline. She must have
been staying up late into the night after the
house finally went to sleep. Or waking up hours
before dawn. before the daily chores began. The
sheer physical exhaustion of that on top of the
emotional exhaustion of widowhood and war is
unfathomable. And it speaks to a very specific
kind of hidden devotion. She wasn't writing these
pages to publish bestsellers or to become a famous
intellectual or to go on speaking tours. She
was filling that private internal directive right
a lot. It was an intimate dialogue between her
and the divine. And the content of that dialogue
was incredibly robust. This brings us to her
literary legacy. She wasn't just keeping a diary
of her feelings, she was developing what we might
call a theology for the real world. A major overarching
theme across her texts was teaching her readers
how to genuinely love the Catholic Church. But
she provided a very rigorous, challenging definition
of what that love actually is. Yes, her writings
provide a direct quote on this topic that feels
incredibly relevant even today. She wrote that
to love the church is not to criticize her, not
to destroy her, not to try to change her essential
structures, and not to reduce her to humanism,
horizontalism, and to the simple service of a
human liberation. Instead, she argued that true
love for the church means cooperating with the
work of redemption by the cross and obtaining
the grace of the Holy Spirit to renew the earth.
What exactly does she mean by horizontalism here?
Horizontalism is a crucial theological concept
to unpack. In Christian theology, the cross has
two beams, the vertical and the horizontal. The
vertical beam represents the relationship between
humanity and God, the divine transcendent connection.
The horizontal beam represents the relationship
between human beings, social justice, charity
and earthly liberation. During times of massive
social upheaval, like the Mexican Revolution,
there was a strong temptation for religion to
become purely horizontal. Exactly. The focus
shifts entirely to social work, political liberation
and humanism, while the vertical relationship
with God is neglected or treated as secondary.
Conchita was fiercely pushing back against that.
So she's saying that while the horizontal, the
social and human elements are important, you
absolutely cannot reduce the church to just a
non -governmental organization or a social services
agency. If you cut off the vertical connection
to God, the horizontal work eventually burns
out or loses its transcendent meaning. The core
must always remain that vertical cooperation
with divine. redemption, which then as a byproduct
flows outward to renew the earth. She articulated
this massive vision across dozens of specific
works. One of her most notable texts is Seasons
of the Soul. In this book, she outlines spiritual
maturation as a slow, organic process. She describes
how the Holy Spirit gradually transforms the
human soul through various seasons, winters of
desolation, springs of renewal, until the soul
is molded into the image of Jesus. I appreciate
that framework so much because it acknowledges
that spiritual growth isn't a neat linear progression.
There are periods of dormancy and darkness that
are just as necessary as the periods of vibrant
growth. But the text that I find the most fascinating
and the one that truly cements her uniqueness
is a collection called A Mother's Letters. It
is a remarkable collection because it serves
as the ultimate bridge between her towering mysticism
and her gritty everyday reality. Right. If you
only read her heavy theological treatises on
the Holy Spirit, you might forget who was holding
the pen. But A Mother's Letters shows her warm,
intensely human side. She is writing to her children,
giving them practical advice, dealing with family
drama, and navigating the complexities of their
lives. It proves definitively that you don't
have to cease being a warm, engaged, deeply attached
parent in order to achieve profound holiness.
In fact, her motherhood was the very crucible
in which her holiness was forged. Another crucial
dimension of her theology is found in a work
titled I am Eucharistic Meditations on the Gospel,
which she wrote in 1912. Right in the heart of
the revolution, it's important to explain the
context of how this was written. The text notes
these 31 meditations were born out of Eucharistic
adoration. For those unfamiliar, Eucharistic
adoration is a Catholic practice where the consecrated
host, which Catholics believe is the real presence
of Jesus Christ, is placed in a gold vessel called
a monstrance on the altar. And the believer simply
sits in silence in front of it, adoring and meditating.
And what she did during those silent hours is
fascinating. She focused specifically on the
passages in the gospel where Jesus defines himself
using the words, I am. State means like, I am
the bread of life, I am the light of the world,
or I am the good shepherd. She used that silent
contemplative time to drill down into the absolute
core identity of Christ. And it's astonishing
to think she was doing this in 1912. The streets
outside the church were literally war zones.
And she is inside, in total silence, unpacking
the metaphysical reality of the Gospels. Her
focus was absolute. And her output wasn't limited
to just a few texts. Her biographers detail a
vast library of specific works. Just a lightning
round of titles here. She wrote, To my priest,
holy hours, before the altar you belong to the
church and irresistibly drawn to the Eucharist.
I want to pause on that first title. to my priests.
It is incredibly striking that a widowed laywoman
is writing a spiritual manual directed at ordained
priests. Especially during the Mexican Revolution,
priests were being actively hunted, exiled, and
executed. The church hierarchy was under literal
assault. And here is a mother stepping into the
breach, writing theological guidance to support
and fortify the priesthood. It shows the immense
spiritual authority she wielded, an authority
born entirely out of her interior life, not out
of any official ecclesiastical office. And this
transitions us perfectly into the next major
phase of her life. Conchita wasn't just a thinker,
a writer or mystic. She was a prolific institution
builder. She took all of this internal theology
and moved it directly into external action by
founding a movement known as the Works of the
Cross. The timeline of the institution she built
is just mind blowing. Again, she's doing this
as a mother and later as a widow amidst national
chaos. The historical records show she founded
five distinct religious organizations. She starts
in 1895 with the Apostleship of the Cross. Which
was aimed at lay people, inviting them into the
spirituality of redemptive suffering. Then two
years later in 1897, she founds a religious order
for women, the Congregation of the Sisters of
the Cross, the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Notice
the timeline. The Sisters of the Cross are founded
in 1897. Then there is a significant 12 year
gap before her next foundation. What happens
in that gap? Her husband dies in 1901. She is
thrust into the sheer survival mode of single
motherhood and grief. But she eventually regains
her footing. And in 1909, she founds the covenant
of love with the heart of Jesus, another initiative
for lay people. And as the revolution kicks into
high gear, she focuses on the clergy. In 1912,
she establishes the fraternity of Christ, the
priest. As we discussed, this was a moment when
priests in Mexico were in desperate need of spiritual
and fraternal support due to the intense persecution
they were facing. Finally, in 1914, she co -founded
the Congregation of the Missionaries of the Holy
Spirit, a religious order for priests and brothers.
Five completely distinct organizations. She built
an entire spiritual infrastructure that survived
the revolution and continues to operate globally
to this day. And what is vital to understand
about these foundations and her 60 ,000 pages
of writing is how the official church hierarchy
responded to them. Historically, when an uncloystered
layperson claims to receive divine directives,
writes thousands of pages of new theological
reflections, and starts founding religious orders,
the institutional Catholic church reacts with
extreme skepticism and caution. The potential
for heresy or schism is incredibly high. But
that wasn't Conchita's story at all. The archives
note that her writings were rigorously examined
by church officials in Mexico during her lifetime,
and they found nothing contrary to the faith.
More impressively, in 1913, she actually traveled
to Rome and had a private audience with Pope
Pius X. Let's just think about the logistics
of that for a second. It's 1913. There is a bloody
revolution in her home country. She is a 50 -year
-old widow. She travels by train and steamship
across the world to the Vatican and the result
of that meeting. The church authorities looked
favorably upon her writings and her works at
the cross. Receiving favorable recognition from
the Pope in 1913 is a massive definitive validation
of her orthodoxy and the profound depth of her
work. It confirmed that she wasn't a rogue visionary
leading a splinter cult. She was a genuine enriching
voice within the heart of the church. She had
successfully navigated the intense scrutiny of
the Vatican. Which brings us to the culmination
of her extraordinary life and the long rigorous
path to her official recognition. The historical
records state that Conchita passed away on March
3rd, 1937 at the age of 74. She was buried at
the Church of San Jose de la Tío in Mexico City.
But looking back on her legacy, there is a specific
quote she wrote that I think perfectly synthesizes
everything we've analyzed today. Let's hear it.
She wrote, I carry within me three lives, all
very strong, family life with its multiple sorrows
of a thousand kinds, that is, the life of a mother,
the life of the works of the cross with all its
sorrows and weight which at times crushes me
until I have no strength left, and the life of
the spirit or interior life which is the heaviest
of all, with its highs and lows, its tempests
and struggles, its light and darkness, blessed
be God for everything. That quote is a masterpiece
of self -awareness. Let's dissect the three lives
she identifies because it strips away any romanticized
notions of her existence. First, she names the
family life the life of a mother. She explicitly
highlights its multiple sorrows of a thousand
kinds. She doesn't sugarcoat motherhood. She
acknowledges the crushing grief of widowhood,
the constant low -level hum of anxiety over her
children's safety, and the physical exhaustion
of her reality. Then she names the second life.
the works of the cross. And again, she says it
at times crushes me until I have no strength
left. Founding five religious orders isn't a
hobby. It requires immense administrative labor,
dealing with interpersonal conflicts, managing
finances, and carrying the spiritual responsibility
for thousands of followers. But the true revelation
in this quote is how she describes the third
life. She explicitly calls the life of the spirit,
the interior life, the heaviest of all. Heavier
than the grief of widowhood. Heavier than raising
nine kids. heavier than navigating a revolution
or managing five institutions. Why? Because true
mystical depth is not a vacation from reality.
It is a fierce, exhausting battleground. I think
that is such a profound point. We often treat
the interior life or spirituality as an escape
hatch. We think of it as a quiet, peaceful room
we retreat into when the real world gets too
loud. But Conchina describes it as having tempests
and struggles, its light and darkness. Exactly.
In the tradition of Christian mysticism, the
deepest interior journeys involve confronting
your own darkest flaws, wrestling with the incomprehensible
vastness of God, and enduring what is known as
the Dark Night of the Soul. This is a period
of intense spiritual desolation where God feels
entirely absent and the soul is stripped of all
emotional consolations. Navigating that internal
tempest while maintaining outward peace requires
a phenomenal expenditure of spiritual and psychological
energy. Yet she ends the quote with, blessed
be God for everything. She wholly embraces the
crushing weight of all three lives. It is that
exact lived reality, this integration of towering
holiness amidst gritty, agonizing human struggle
that eventually catalyzed the church to officially
recognize her. The timeline of her canonization
process is fascinating because it illustrates
just how meticulous and judicial the Catholic
Church is about these claims. The process didn't
happen overnight. It officially opened in 1959.
Yes, 22 years after her death. And the opening
of the process involved the Archbishop of Mexico
City submitting about 200 volumes of her translated
writings to the Congregation for the Causes of
Saints in Rome. 200 volumes! I cannot even fathom
the bureaucratic and theological undertaking
required to review that. You have Vatican theologians,
historians, and linguistic experts who have to
read every single line of those 60 ,000 pages
to ensure there is not a single theological error,
heresy, or psychological delusion hidden in the
text. No wonder the process took decades. It
is a massive judicial trial of a person's life
and thought documented in a massive file known
as the Positio. But she passed that intense scrutiny.
On December 20, 1999, Pope John Paul II officially
declared her venerable. Let's define what that
actually means, because venerable isn't just
an honorary adjective. What does that title signify
in the canonization process? To be declared venerable
means that the pope, after reviewing the massive
findings of the theological and historical commissions,
formally decrees that the individual lived a
life of heroic virtue. It is the Church's official
confirmation that her faith, hope, charity, and
fortitude went far beyond the ordinary human
capacity and entered the realm of the heroic.
It is a monumental milestone. From there, the
process requires divine confirmation in the form
of a scientifically inexplicable miracle attributed
to her intercession. And the records show that
on June 8th, 2018, Pope Francis officially confirmed
such a miracle. This cleared the final hurdle.
On May 4, 2019, an incredibly historic event
took place. Conchita was formally beatified,
declared blessed, in a massive ceremony at the
Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico City,
presided over by Cardinal Giovanni Angelo Beichu.
The historical and cultural significance of that
beatification is profound. With that decree,
Conchita became the very first Mexican Lee woman
to be raised to the altars. She wasn't a martyred
nun or cloistered abbess. She was a wife, mother
of nine, and a widow who lived in the bustling
streets of San Luis Potosi in Mexico City. So
after analyzing the 60 ,000 pages, the historical
backdrop of the revolution, the five foundations,
and the deep mystical theology, how do we synthesize
this? If you are listening to this deep dive,
what is the ultimate takeaway from the life of
Conchita? I believe the central thesis her life
offers is the complete destruction of our modern
excuses regarding the spiritual life. We constantly
tell ourselves that we need ideal conditions
to cultivate our interior lives. We say we will
meditate more, pray more, or think more deeply
once the kids are older, once work slows down,
or once the world stops being so chaotic. Conchita's
life vehemently rejects that premise. She proves
that extreme external demands do not preclude
a rich interior life. In fact, the mundane chaotic
reality of daily life is the exact environment
where profound holiness is forged. You can be
fleeing a literal revolution or mourning a spouse,
or wrangling toddlers, and still be constructing
an internal cathedral of immense theological
depth. That is perfectly stated. The chaos isn't
the obstacle to the interior life. It is the
raw material for it. Beautifully said. Which
brings me to a final thought I want to leave
you with today. Building purely off the astonishing
reality of those 60 ,000 handwritten pages, we
discussed how her own children, living the same
house with her, barely ever saw her writing.
Right. She produced a theological library rivaling
Thomas Aquinas entirely in secret, right under
their noses. It forces you to look at the world
differently. Tomorrow, as you go about your routine,
as you look at the seemingly ordinary people
around you, the exhausted parent at the grocery
store, the quiet co -worker, the person sitting
next to you in traffic, it makes you wonder.
Yeah. What invisible, massive, profoundly complex
interior worlds might they be building right
in front of you? completely unseen. Conchita's
story reminds us that you never truly know the
depth of the soul standing right beside you.
A deeply humbling and powerful perspective to
end on. Thank you so much for joining us on this
deep dive into the extraordinary hidden life
of blessed Concepcion Cabrera de Hermida. We
appreciate you taking the time to explore this
fascinating history with us. Until next time.