September 8, 2026  // Feast of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: Micah 5:1-4a Reflect on the Word // It was an ordinary Tuesday. I woke up, got myself and the kids ready, drove them to school, and made my way to the office. As I sat down at my desk, I sighed and wondered, What do I do that really matters? Most days are filled with familiar routines and small acts that rarely seem noteworthy. In a world that values visible results—building a platform, sharing accomplishments, measuring impact—I can become impatient with the hidden life that I live. But as I pondered further, I realized that some of the most significant moments in my life were quiet ones: meeting my husband for the first time, holding my firstborn daughter and realizing I am Mom, learning to make a family recipe from my aging aunt. It is through these simple moments that God seems so close, so present. Perhaps that is why I am drawn to the words of Micah in today’s First Reading. He speaks of Bethlehem, a place “too small” (Micah 5:1) for most to expect anything remarkable. But God has a history of working through places and people the world overlooks. Sisters, how often do we dismiss the very places where God is quietly at work because they don’t seem impressive enough? There are no awards for listening to a friend, preparing another meal, sending an encouraging text, or simply showing up day after day. Yet, Scripture suggests that from these small beginnings, God brings forth greatness. We may not see the significance of today’s small acts of faithfulness, but God does. And He Who chose Bethlehem to be the birthplace of the “one who is to be ruler in Israel” (Micah 5:1) still works through ordinary people in quiet places. Mary’s birth, which we celebrate today, offers a similar reminder. When Mary was born, no one knew what her life would hold, yet God’s plans were already unfolding. As we celebrate Mary’s nativity, let us take heart in the truth that no part of our lives is too ordinary for God. The hidden moments, small sacrifices, and daily acts of faithfulness all have a place in His plan. Even when we cannot see what He is doing, God is at work, bringing forth something greater than we can imagine. Relate to the Lord // Pray a morning offering, entrusting all of your daily duties to Jesus through Mary: O Jesus, through the Immaculate Heart of Mary, I offer you my prayers, works, joys, and sufferings of this day for all the intentions of your Sacred Heart in union with the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass throughout the world, for the salvation of souls, the reparation of sins, the reunion of all Christians, and in particular for the intentions of the Holy Father this month. Amen.

September 7, 2026  // Monday of the Twenty-third Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Luke 6:6-11 The trip to Alaska was hard. A formidable headwind added ninety minutes to an already lengthy flight. By the time I gathered my bags, rented a car, shopped for some food staples, found my lodgings in the darkness of night, and then lugged my many bags inside, I was exhausted. It was a weary beginning to a week’s worth of speaking and leading retreats. But the next morning, I had the chance to visit the adoration chapel where my reversion really began. It had been thirty-three years since I last visited this sacred, humble spot where Jesus taught me about His Eucharistic Heart. I stumbled into the chapel and collapsed before the Lord for a remarkable holy hour. So much life had gone by since my last visit. I sat there chatting with Jesus like a long-lost friend reviewing the highs and lows, the sorrows and joys of three decades together. It had been thirty-three  years of growth and grace, challenge and color, sickness and health, heartbreak and glory. And more restoration than I could have ever imagined possible. I was flooded with gratitude over the Lord’s fidelity and generosity, His mercy and tenderness over so much life. The next day as I prepared for my first gig, it was as though I was the one with the withered hand, being called before the crowd in today’s Gospel. As if Jesus came into the room and asked me: “Stretch out your hand, your life, your heart before me.” And as I did, I was restored. Restored to overflowing. The entire trip to Alaska was nothing short of grace upon grace. On my return, I couldn’t stop grinning for a week. We need never fear to approach the Lord in all our inadequacy. Where we are withered, Jesus is whole. Where we are empty, broken, and small, Jesus is mighty, infinite, and fullness forevermore. Where we crumple under the weight of our burdens and responsibilities, Jesus can lift us soaring to the heights of His glory and a lifetime of greater restoration and satisfaction. Relate to the Lord // Spend a holy hour in thanksgiving for the “years of growth and grace, challenge and color, sickness and health, heartbreak and glory.”

September 5, 2026 // Saturday of the Twenty-second Week in Ordinary Time // Optional Memorial of Saint Teresa of Calcutta, Virgin Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Psalm for the Optional Memorial: Psalm 34:2-3, 4-5, 6-7, 8-9, 10-11 Reflect on the Word //  Washing my hands, I glanced up and caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror. I had lost thirty-ish pounds and people were starting to notice. I had always thought that losing weight would resolve my insecurities only to find out that it was, indeed, only a number.  “It doesn’t matter. You’re still ugly.” I can’t remember if I thought it or said it out loud. And it’s only in recounting this painful moment many years later that I realize how disembodied it was. I didn’t say I was still ugly; I parroted the lie the enemy had been leveling at me my whole life.  Like many women, I subscribed to a cultural beauty standard that I couldn’t measure up to. Even when the Lord repeatedly, tenderly, told me that I was beautiful, I bemoaned that I might have a beautiful heart or soul or personality, but I wasn’t objectively beautiful.  I was blind. Not only to myself but to real beauty. Thankfully, our beloved Saint of the day revealed the truth to me. Saint Teresa of Calcutta is a paradox. At four feet eleven inches tall, her deeply lined face and modest sari are not features typically associated with fame or beauty, yet her radiant face graced dozens of magazine covers. The world was captivated by her presence and personhood. She was beautiful.  It was Mother Teresa’s love of Jesus that transformed her, both interiorly and externally, embodying today’s Psalm: “Look to him that you may be radiant with joy, and your faces may not blush with shame” (Psalm 34:5).  Though she didn’t resemble Him in a natural way, when you saw Mother Teresa you saw Jesus. And Jesus is beautiful. Unlike fillers or fads, true beauty blooms in us when we look at Him and radiates out to transform our whole person. We are in every way changed into love—and love makes us beautiful. As I study photographs of this audacious Albanian nun I begin to understand: when Jesus says I’m beautiful, He’s not lying or exaggerating. I just didn’t know what beautiful was before.  Relate to the Lord // Stand before a mirror today and ask Jesus to tell you how He sees you.

September 4, 2026 // Friday of the Twenty-second Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: 1 Corinthians 4:1-5 Reflect on the Word //  Raised voices came from the kitchen, a sound of bickering yet again: a frequent sound in a home full of teenage girls. As their mother, I found myself criticizing and correcting, yet again. However, as I walked into the room, I discovered that the girls were not truly bickering, but engaged in a lively discussion. Another time, what seemed like a criticism from one girl to another was actually intended to be helpful (though unsolicited) advice. Tones of voice and intention are hard to interpret, especially among people who love each other.  In today’s First Reading, Saint Paul writes to the Corinthians about not passing judgment on others and on oneself. True charity gives the benefit of the doubt—believes that the other does not intend to hurt oneself or another with their words. The Lord, when He comes, “will bring to light what is hidden in darkness and will manifest the motives of our hearts” (1 Corinthians 4:5). He knows the true intentions in each of us, the desire we have to love and be loved in return. It is just that so often, even when we try to express something with love, it comes out all wrong. But Paul states that in the end “everyone will receive praise from God” (1 Corinthians 4:5). Sister, the Lord is so merciful to us. He sees us for who we really are and for who He calls us to be. He is the kind of Father Who sees what is good in us even when it seems impossible to find. We are meant to be like Him in how we view others and ourselves. When we repent of our wrong doings, we must also allow the Lord to show us our own goodness and let His mercy wash over us. And when we think we see sin in others, we need to show them the same mercy that is shown to us. We do not know the motives of their hearts or for what they will receive praise from God. Relate to the Lord // Notice both your words and tone today. Ask the Holy Spirit to help you practice charity in all of your interactions.

September 3, 2026 // Memorial of Saint Gregory the Great, Pope and Doctor of the Church Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: 1 Corinthians 3:18-23 Reflect on the Word //  Exhausted, my husband and I headed into the dark, empty parking lot of the dentist’s office and buckled our son into the backseat. It wasn’t the way we’d planned to spend the evening: an emergency extraction of our little boy’s front baby teeth after a faceplant onto our hardwood floors. I was worried about how traumatic it all must have been for him.  “You were so brave,” I said softly. “You didn’t even cry. I’m proud of you.” He nodded, looking out the window. Struggling to form words with his still-numb mouth, he said matter-of-factly, “I offered it for the Holy Souls in Purgatory.” Oh, the wisdom of children. They are so close to God, so simple, so “uncluttered.” They see the supernatural, I think, more than we realize. And in moments of clarity, we get to see their vast, bright inner world when we pay close attention. They are windows into the holy simplicity of God Himself—and they remind us of His original relationship with us.  That’s why Saint Paul warns against the “wisdom of this world” (1 Corinthians 3:19). What looks smart and proactive and well-researched and forward-thinking? If it’s not aligned with the mind of God, it’s all nothing.  And in order to be rightly ordered before Him, the first thing we need to do is remember that we don’t know much at all. Humility, humility, humility: “let him become a fool, so as to become wise” (1 Corinthians 3:19). It’s the reason Saints like Thérèse of Lisieux offer us a path to holiness that mirrors childhood. Her Little Way is the ultimate alternative to worldly wisdom. Instead, she proposes complete trust and radical dependence on God, centered on knowledge of our own smallness and the immenseness of His love.  Worldly knowledge can be valuable when put in the service of the kingdom. But chasing after knowledge for its own sake or believing that true maturity means being somehow “greater” than others is a dead end. Rather, real wisdom is embracing the smallness of spiritual humility. We are invited today to remind ourselves of our own poverty and need for God, Who loves us tenderly and whispers when we accept our littleness, I’m proud of you.  Relate to the Lord // Read those words again from the heart of God for you: I’m proud of you.

September 2, 2026 // Wednesday of the Twenty-second Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Luke 4:38-44 Reflect on the Word //  I was in deep spiritual conversation with a close friend when someone came up behind me with a piercing tone. No sooner had the interruption begun than my friend, with a profound maturity, self-possession, and freedom, moved us and our conversation aside out of this person’s way. His charity toward the other person and to me was clear and unencumbered by the thought of offending them. This visceral vignette came to my heart’s memory as I felt the security of the Lord’s words, “To the other towns also I must proclaim the good news of the Kingdom of God, because for this purpose I have been sent” (Luke 4:43). The Lord gives me strength as He shows me that I have also been called and sent. I have sympathy for our Lord as I consider how He could have rested in the seeming approval of these people who pursued Him to discover the deserted place to which He had gone early in the morning to pray. But instead, He rested in the Father. His rest was to go apart from the crowds, approving or vindictive, to pray to His Father and to be rooted in their communion of love. It was from His place of profound union that He could easily discern that He needed to move on to minister to new towns and places “because for this purpose [he had] been sent” (Luke 4:43). Sister, we too have been given a purpose that is woven into our daily yeses which can seem so ordinary. May we perceive the wondrous glory of God in our daily, moment-by-moment responses to our purpose. May we also be rooted and grounded in His love so that we can answer His call. Relate to the Lord // How do you sense God’s call within your ordinary daily life? How will you give a deeper, more joyful yes today? 

September 1, 2026 // Tuesday of the Twenty-second Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Psalm: Psalm 145:8-9, 10-11, 12-13ab, 13cd-14  Reflect on the Word //  I sat in the adoration chapel, leaving my broken heart at the feet of Jesus. One difficult chapter in my life had just come to a close, leading straight into the next. My recent prayers received a different answer than I wanted. For months, I’d begged God to heal deep wounds and mend hearts. Friends prayed novena after novena with me. God answered those prayers with a clear, No, not yet. I was crushed, unable to understand why He didn’t do what I asked right then, on my timeline. And yet if He said, Not yet, He must know best. I read the Psalm from today’s Readings during that broken-hearted Holy Hour and noticed a word I often miss: all.  The Lord is just in all His ways, faithful in all His words, holy in all His works. The Psalmist writes of God’s dominion lasting for all generations. He lifts all who are falling and raises up all who are bowed down (see Psalm 145:8-14).  No matter how broken and lost I may feel, our Father is and will be faithful, always. I know that whatever He plans to do in my life and relationships must be for the good. All His ways are for the good, and all He does is meant to touch all our lives. I turned back to the Psalm during that Holy Hour, surrendering my heart and renewing my trust in His ways. In journaling, I spoke with the Lord: You said, “No, not yet,” to the miracle I requested, And yet You are faithful in all Your words. I’m likely to stumble in my sorrow, And yet You lift up all who are falling. I can’t make sense of what You are doing, And yet, You are just in all Your works. All of God’s words are trustworthy, sister. In times of confusion, sorrow, and longing, we have a choice. We can be overcome with the pain or we can turn to the Lord, Who will lift us up while He completes His work.  Relate to the Lord // Take some time to journal from your heart in conversation with God today.

August 31, 2026 // Monday of the Twenty-second Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: 1 Corinthians 2:1-5 Reflect on the Word //  Talking to my teenagers can sometimes feel like an uphill battle. We will be driving somewhere and I will try to draw them into conversation only to have them not respond as if talking were an impossibly arduous task. I will try relating what I thought was a funny story from my day only to reap zero laughs. Occasionally, I make the last-ditch effort of trying to use Gen Alpha slang only to experience complete mission failure. Talking to teenagers might not be the same as Saint Paul proclaiming the Good News to the Corinthians, but I can’t help but think it might have some comparable aspects. Bringing the news of Jesus’ Life, Death, and Resurrection to a foreign city whose culture and religion were diametrically opposed to the idea of the One God coming to earth to die for our sins would be no easy task. How to win over new crowds who viewed Paul as a foreign stranger talking about a man rising from the dead? While we all have instances where the idea of bringing up a topic or talking to a certain person or group of people seems impossible, we can think of how trying it must have been for Saint Paul and the Apostles as they began to bring the Gospel to the world for the first time. His “weakness and fear and much trembling” (1 Corinthians 2:4)  is such a vivid description of the overwhelming experience it must have been for Saint Paul.  We can find encouragement in the challenge of having hard conversations in our lives, whether it is about our faith or not, through today’s example from Saint Paul. We should rely less on our own wisdom, our own way with words, our own persuasive skills, and rely more upon the Spirit. It is a leap of faith to trust the Holy Spirit to inspire our words, even if we’re not preaching the Gospel directly, because as Christians all our interactions in the world are capable of being a light for others toward the Good News of Jesus Christ.  Relate to the Lord // Practice calling upon the Spirit throughout the day. Make “Come, Holy Spirit” your constant prayer.

August 29, 2026 // Memorial of the Passion of Saint John the Baptist Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Mark 6:17-29 Reflect on the Word //  My sister called to share that the date was set for her and my brother-in-law’s wedding, August 29th. Rolodexing through the Church’s liturgical calendar, I realized that their wedding would be on the Memorial of the Beheading of Saint John the Baptist. Strange, I thought.  Weeks later, our family was joking at the irony of this Memorial being a romantic day to get married. Suddenly, something came over my sister, and she stopped joking. Instead she stated, “Actually, it’s kind of perfect. It’s the day when we remember that someone was killed defending the dignity of marriage.” We all were rendered speechless. John the Baptist, the forerunner of Christ, was martyred for the sake of defending the sanctity of marriage (see Mark 6:18). He died as “a voice crying out in the wilderness’” (John 1:23) that this Sacrament truly matters, that it really is an outward sign of the inward grace of God’s everlasting covenant with mankind. Marriage points to the nuptial reality proposed to each one of us by Christ, the Bridegroom of our souls. This reality is charged with fidelity, intimacy, and fruitfulness.  In my family’s living room, I was moved to have witnessed a glimpse of the Lord forming my sister’s heart as she and her fiancé prepared for this Sacrament. I am grateful for Him forming my own heart: convinced that that reality awaits each one of us in the eternal communion of Heaven with the Triune God and convicted that it was being offered to me even at that moment as well.  Today’s Memorial reminds us that the truth offered to us by Christ is our duty and privilege to proclaim to all those we encounter. This truth was worth John the Baptist risking punishment for speaking against Herod and Herodius’ infidelity. This truth is worth each one of us upholding and promoting today—whether it be by the witness of our lives or the witness of our deaths.  Relate to the Lord // Whose marriage needs your prayers? Intercede for them today through the intercession of Saint John the Baptist, defender of the Sacrament of Matrimony.

August 28, 2026 // Memorial of Saint Augustine, Bishop and Doctor of the Church Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Psalm: Psalm 33:1-2,4-5, 10-11 Reflect on the Word //  I notice my thoughts criticizing my recent harp playing: It didn’t sound so good. The triplets were so messy. I don’t practice enough. I don’t know enough tunes. I messed up so many times in that session in front of all those people. I’ll never be as good as those other musicians. One negative thought leads to another until I’m criticizing myself even personally. I pause, checking myself. I remember that the intent behind choosing to learn this instrument was to thank God for His healing in my life. I remember the Psalms that literally command me to praise God through my harp music: “Give thanks to the Lord on the harp” (Psalm 33:4). There is more I need to learn than just the skill of playing this instrument well. My life needs to be an instrument of praise to the Lord. How do I learn the skill of praising the Lord for His goodness and His kindness? How do I offer praise throughout my life, whether playing music or any other kind of work or activity? This is what I really need to practice. This is the real “music” to express. This is the “song” of praise I need to live—that whatever I do may be offered as thanks and praise to God. Regardless of whether we play or sing, our lives can be instruments for the Lord. He can make music through us and our lives can be songs of praise for His glory. He calls us to practice offering our thanks to God through the actions of our work of this day. Let us shift from negativity, complaints, and judgments and turn our hearts to practice praise, because truly “the world is full of the goodness of the Lord” (Psalm 33:5). Relate to the Lord // How has the Lord healed you? Give thanks and praise to Him today!

August 27, 2026 // Memorial of Saint Monica Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 24:42-51 Reflect on the Word //  As I entered the retreat chapel, the priest’s words echoed in my mind: “And if there is a particular Saint whom you have an aversion to, I encourage you to ask that Saint to intercede for you.” But, I objected inwardly, I like all the Saints. After a moment of silence, I recalled my resistance to the story of Saint Monica’s copious tears for her son and his subsequent conversion and Sainthood. Am I jealous? Tentatively, I asked Jesus to introduce me to Saint Monica. Clarity came immediately. I was never meant to compare my seemingly ineffectual prayers for my wayward sons with Saint Monica’s answered prayers. Instead, I was invited to friendship with her. It turns out she’s eager to intercede for me and she understands the heart of a mother who longs for the conversion of all her family. Jesus’ words in today’s Gospel bring the same startling clarity I experienced that day in the chapel. “Stay awake! For you do not know on which day your Lord will come” (Matthew 24:42). When I examine my own heart, I see how often I succumb to drowsiness and lethargy, downplaying the mission God has given me. I am sometimes listless, barely willing to do my part so that others may partake of the Bread of Life. Other times, I doubt whether the Lord will show up. I don’t physically beat His other servants, but I am sometimes prone to criticize the work they do rather than collaborate with them to make it better. Every Sunday we pray in the Creed that He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead. What would He find us doing if He came for us today? Will we, like Saint Monica, be ready to share in His glory when He comes? Let’s hear and obey Jesus’ words, “Stay awake!” (Matthew 24:42) Relate to the Lord // Is there a Saint you feel an aversion toward? Ask Jesus to introduce you to him/her. 

August 26, 2026 // Wednesday of the Twenty-first Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 23:27-32  Reflect on the Word //  I stand on the hill overlooking the man-made lake. From this distance the surface shimmers with the sunlight. It is sparkling and beautiful. But as I edge closer, I can see beneath the surface. The weird blueish tint and numerous dead fish. I sigh and think of my own soul. How I shimmer on the outside. How I look prayerful and holy, but interiorly I often feel like this lake. Filled with dead and decaying fish, wrong, artificial, and man-made. I look out to the horizon at a weathered boat. The boat moves slowly as the gentleman inside methodically and gracefully removes the debris. Then he notices me, smiles kindly, and waves. And as he does, I notice the Lord speaking to my heart: “You are made by Me.” I bristle at the words of our Lord in Matthew 23:27: “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, you hypocrites. You are like whitewashed tombs, which appear beautiful on the outside, but inside are full of dead men’s bones and every kind of filth.” His words ring in my ears and I chastise myself. I am like those men. I want to appear better than others. I want my holiness to be seen. I am prideful. And I do indeed struggle with all those things. But I don’t stay in that place of discomfort and shame.  Christ’s love always floods in, a torrent of mercy and truth, and claims me as His. When I allow Him in, when I surrender, when I remember that I am not man-made and therefore I cannot heal myself, our Lord steps into my filth and removes the debris. Slowly and gently because I am weak and He is tender with me. And as He does, His light penetrates the surface and shines deeper and deeper.  We are often much like the Pharisees. Pretending that sin doesn’t affect us, hardening our hearts, stiffening against the embrace of the Lord because we would rather run and hide. But when we surrender to Him and allow Him to tend to everything within us that is dead, He brings life.  Relate to the Lord // Where is the Lord bringing life lately? Think about these things today.

August 25, 2026 // Tuesday of the Twenty-first Week in Ordinary Time // Optional Memorial of Saint Louis of France // Optional Memorial of Saint Joseph Calasanz, priest Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 23:23-26 Reflect on the Word //  “You always seem so put together . . . so composed.” I smiled gratefully as the bank teller paid me this genuine compliment in her accented English. She often assisted me when I dropped by to deposit my paychecks but I had no clue I had made an impression on her. As I left the bank, my thoughts dwelt on how even our way of entering a room can effectively evangelize.   While I certainly have a long way to go in truly letting peace and purpose inform all that I do, I valued this small encouragement. Too often, perfectionism makes me overthink whether or not my conversations and interactions successfully manifest the composure I desire. That’s why praying with today’s Gospel becomes a little uncomfortable.  Although I prefer to distance myself from Christ’s reprimand to the Scribes and Pharisees, its theme hits home. I might not stand in the disconnect between paying tithes and practicing virtue, but in prayer, Christ addresses the same point to me: my exterior presentation must align with my interior. Being put together is more than appearances, more than simply saying the right thing. It starts with our spiritual lives, and what is noticeable when we walk into a room flows from that. It requires knowing our purpose, unlike the Scribes and Pharisees who miss the point of their tithes and rituals.  They have mastered the simple things, the payments of “mint and dill and cumin” that more easily roll out of their material resources (Matthew 23:23). Yet, growing in “judgment and mercy and fidelity” (Matthew 23:23) is a more intricate matter, requiring deep prayer that purifies our souls. Today, sister, I invite you to pray with some “uncomfy” questions from today’s Gospel. What dwells within you and me? Christ convicts the Scribes and Pharisees of being “full of plunder and self-indulgence” (Matthew 23:25). What is my plunder and what is my self-indulgence? Let’s invite Christ to cleanse what should not be stored in our hearts and to then increase our discernment, compassion, faithfulness, and all the other virtues that root us in His purpose.  Relate to the Lord // Do you struggle with perfectionism? Ask Jesus to show you the little ways you please Him simply by being who you are.

August 24, 2026 // Feast of Saint Bartholomew, Apostle Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: John 1:45-51 Reflect on the Word //  There are plenty of days that go by where I feel particularly out of the mind of God. Having a large family, the needs of the children (and the challenges) can sometimes feel like a steady stream. Taxing, trying, tearful. I’ve been there a million times and I’ll be there again. It’s not always easy to see a clear path to the heart of the Father, or His love and care for me.  Before I saw you under the fig tree, I knew you.  What consolation. What intimacy.  I need to remember these words that our Lord spoke to Nathanael, also known as Bartholomew (see John 1:48). He sees me. He knows me. And He is reminding me that even before the struggle, even before I could cry out, He was there—knowing me. Knowing my needs, knowing my weakness, and knowing just how to reach me.  We are little Bartholomews too. Brooding, sulking, lost, and alone. Sometimes for good reason, and sometimes not. But Jesus is just as close to us, and He desires for us to hear those words, too—before this current state, before whatever it is that we are facing.  I see you. I know you. And I cannot abandon you.  Our Lord is good to us. He is keenly aware of who we are, and He is present here in whatever the current struggle is, looking with love upon our lack of understanding and even upon our lack of hope. He knew us and He knows us. When we find ourselves under the next fig tree, seemingly fruitless and without purpose, let’s remember these three words—I saw you.  Relate to the Lord // Imagine yourself in the Gospel today and hear Jesus’ words to Saint Bartholomew directed to you: “I saw you.”

August 22, 2026 // Memorial of the Queenship of the Blessed Virgin Mary Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Psalm: Psalm 85:9ab, 10, 11-12, 13-14  Reflect on the Word //  The bishop of my diocese recently called upon the faithful to consider leaving a legacy gift to the Church as a means to support Christ’s mission even beyond this earthly life. What struck me in his appeal were these words in particular: “Our faith calls us to not only be stewards of the blessings we have received in this lifetime, but to consider how they might bear fruit long after we are called home to the Lord.”   The bishop's statement invites us to reflect not only on our spending choices, but on how we live, how we give, and how we entrust the future to the Lord’s care. I can’t speak for your own heart, sister, but I, for one, want to be remembered not only for what I received, but for what I gave: the faith I shared, the hope I inspired, and the love I made visible to the world, so that the “glory of the Lord will dwell” (Psalm 85:10) forever in the spaces He sent me. That is the legacy I want to leave others.  And so I look to our Lady, who lovingly handed on the fruits of her fidelity and faith through a life lived for God. Today, as we venerate Mary as queen, we recognize that she is crowned with honor and glory not in order to exalt her own gifts, but so that our souls might yield their increase (see Psalm 85:13). The Memorial of Mary’s Queenship points to the day when God’s promises will be realized: “Kindness and truth shall meet; justice and peace shall kiss. Truth shall spring out of the earth, and justice look down from heaven” (Psalm 85:11-12). Indeed, dear friend, Mary’s legacy reminds us that we live for eternity. In this, we are invited to mirror the witness of our reigning Mother, who walked “along the way of his steps” (Psalm 85:14) and who shows us the way home. Hers is a legacy of love. Let the same be said of us someday.  Mary, Queen of Heaven and earth, pray for us! Relate to the Lord // Pray the fifth Glorious mystery, the Coronation of the Blessed Virgin Mary, or a full Rosary today.

August 21, 2026 // Memorial of Saint Pius X, Pope Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: Ezekiel 37:1-14 Reflect on the Word //  Growing up in the Church as a “cradle Catholic,” I was exposed to a variety of prayer nights, styles of worship, devotions, etc. What I remember as I was growing in my faith was the distance I put between myself and the presence of the Holy Spirit. There were opportunities to invite the Holy Spirit into my life in prayer but I wanted no part. I believed the Holy Spirit was for those people—the crazy Christians. In today’s First Reading, the Lord sends out the prophet Ezekiel to prophesy over the dry bones. I can’t help but to think of the “dry bones” in my life that I’ve left for dead. Hopes, dreams, relationships, shortcomings that I’ve piled on to this graveyard—succumbing to the fact that there once was life, and now there is not. But I do not have the final say. The Lord invites me to revisit and speak life into these areas. I may not always have the answer and sometimes I accept defeat. But how I wish for the courage to speak life over those areas. The words in today’s Scripture bring me comfort: “I will [ . . .] put spirit in you so that you may come to life and know that I am the Lord” (Ezekiel 37:6). What a relief to come to the realization that it is not going to be by my efforts or my striving that life will come to these dead places. It is by the Spirit Himself, the One I was once afraid of getting to know, the One Who has befriended me and given me such hope in desolation, courage in difficult times, and a profound love for the God Who created me.  Sister, we don’t have to be afraid because we don’t have the last word. Even the graveyard we have occupied with our own disappointments over the years can begin to rattle with the new life the Lord has promised you and me.  Relate to the Lord // Today, invite the Spirit into your heart and explore those places where you need to prophecy over. May the Lord direct you and empower you with His Spirit.

August 20, 2026 // Memorial of Saint Bernard, Abbot and Doctor of the Church Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: Ezekiel 36:23-28  Reflect on the Word //  I smiled politely, said, “No worries at all,” and then replayed the conversation in my head for the next six hours. While folding laundry, answering emails, and brushing my teeth, I kept thinking about that conversation. The more I replayed it, the more irritated I became. I imagined better responses and cleverer comebacks. By bedtime, my chest felt tight and heavy. This situation was really hard. It amazed me how quickly this small wound could harden into resentment. In Ezekiel 36, the Lord says, “I will give you a new heart and place a new spirit within you, taking from your bodies your stony hearts and giving you natural hearts” (Ezekiel 36:26). The phrase “stony hearts” feels painfully specific. Some stones form after heartbreak or betrayal. Others grow quietly through daily disappointments. A woman can build an entire wall from tiny bricks of comparison, resentment, control, or exhaustion. We sometimes use these stones to hide our vulnerabilities. The frightening part is that hardened hearts can begin to feel normal. Yet, the Lord does not shame His people in the book of Ezekiel. He does not command them to fix themselves first. He promises to act. “I will sprinkle clean water upon you” (Ezekiel 36:25). “I will give you a new heart” (Ezekiel 36:26). We all carry hidden stones in our hearts. Some are obvious. Others have rested there so long that we barely notice their weight anymore. Yet, the Lord sees every hidden stone we carry, even the ones we cling to.  He comes close enough to remove them gently because He desires soft hearts within us. He still draws near to us weary women, transforms what has hardened, and teaches us how to live freely again. Relate to the Lord // Where has your heart become hardened? Share that stony place with Him honestly.