On this second Sunday of Lent, we want to offer a place to come together as a community and document how this Lent is going. Every week, we will open up a link-up for your blog posts, your instagram posts, your thoughts to share with each other as sisters. We will offer a prompt that goes with our On the Way: Lenten Workbook in these to get your mind thinking. This is an open link-up to your progress in faith and your personal prayer life this Lent, so this is YOURS to be creative with in terms of your blog posts or instagram posts. Week 2 This week stay attentive to the manner in which you go about your day in passing other people. Instead of looking at your phone at the grocery store check out, look at the woman who is ringing up your items. Look into her eyes when you speak, smile, and engage with her. She is Christ. Look at your husband's face, your roommate's face, your friend's face when they walk in the door after work rather than muttering hello as you continue your task at hand. See his expression and inquire about his day. He is Christ. Oh Lord, open our eyes to see you in the other as Veronica saw you. Or contemplate this verse this week: The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom should I fear? The LORD is my life’s refuge; of whom should I be afraid? Psalm 27:1 [bctt tweet="Linking up with @blessedisshe__ for the Lenten season. #BISLent"] photo credit An InLinkz Link-up

On this first Sunday of Lent, we want to offer a place to come together as a community and document how this Lent is going. Every week, we will open up a link-up for your blog posts, your instagram posts, your thoughts to share with each other as sisters. We will offer a prompt that goes with our On the Way: Lenten Workbook in these to get your mind thinking. This is an open link-up to your progress in faith and your personal prayer life this Lent, so this is YOURS to be creative with in terms of your blog posts or instagram posts. Week 1 Find a place you choose to spend with Jesus this Lenten season. Whether it be your bed, your kitchen table, your outside patio. This it the place I devote to you, my God. This is the place I dive on the way with you. This is the place I will physically go to for prayer. This is where my hypocrisy ends, and my journey with the cross begins. Where is your designated prayer space? Why did you pick that space? Or contemplate this verse this week: You who dwell in the shelter of the Most High, who abide in the shade of the Almighty, say to the LORD, "My refuge and fortress, my God in whom I trust." Psalm 91:1-2 [bctt tweet="Linking up with @blessedisshe__ for the Lenten season. #BISLent"] photo credit An InLinkz Link-up

"As God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony." Colossians 3:12,14 My husband and I, who are converts to Catholicism, recently witnessed a Catholic baptism for the first time. I had witnessed infants being baptized in my former church and although I had always considered it a beautiful moment, something about this Catholic baptism profoundly touched me. When the priest addressed the godparents, he encouraged them to make the sign of the cross on the child's forehead whenever they saw her. The sign would mark the child as the Lord’s and invoke his presence in her life and remind the godparent of his or her duty to ensure that the child grows up knowing the Lord. Later that evening, my husband and I discussed how the baptism inspired us. We wondered if it would also be appropriate to make the sign of the cross on each other’s foreheads for the same reason the priest told the godparents to perform the ritual on the child’s forehead. Following a little research, we decided to incorporate the sign of the cross into our prayers lives as a couple rather than just as individuals. So, for the last few weeks, before we get up in the morning and before we go to sleep at night, we make the sign of the cross on each other’s foreheads. In doing this, we remind ourselves that we have a duty to each other, as the godparent does to the child, to help each other grow in holiness and eventually see Jesus face to face. It also reminds us first and foremost we are the Lord’s, not each other’s and when we acknowledge this, it is easier to live in harmony with God. When we make the sign of the cross over our bodies and our loved ones, let us ask the Lord to clothe us in compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, which is exactly what Jesus was clothed in when he made his sign of love on the Cross. [bctt tweet="How the baptism inspired us on the #BISblog."] photo by Jenna Wilber Bond is a Southwest Virginia native currently living in Cullowhee, North Carolina where her husband, Reece, plays collegiate baseball. She enjoys studying theology and history, traveling, and grocery shopping dates with Reece at Whole Foods.

  We're about to enter into a new liturgical season so we have a colorful wallpaper before we enter the hues of purple, created by Katrina of Hatch Prints! You can download them for your tech devices below! "Here I am, I said, send me!" Isaiah 6:8   Phone wallpaper Desktop wallpaper

There's something to be said about the stillness of the morning, those moments before the sunrise when the whole world seems still. There's something to be said for praying during that time, too, when the whole world is still and there's no one calling us, no distractions to be had. There's only God. I learned about the secret of praying in the morning while sitting in a New York apartment talking with Juanita Morales, OP, a Dominican Sister of Hope. Sister Juanita came to the United States from Puerto Rico to enter the convent in 1957, but she had been building her prayer life before that. When she was just a child, Sister Juanita would sit with her mother in the backyard and relish silence. Looking back, she realizes that was quality time with her Creator. As I quickly learned, Sister Juanita's prayer secrets aren't only for vowed sisters: you can connect with God throughout the day --and build a stronger prayer life on the whole-- no matter what your vocation is. Here are six easy ways to start. 1. Commit to Silence. Sister Juanita wakes up at 4:30 am everyday in order to ensure that she can pray in darkness and complete silence. By choosing a time when your neighbors/kids/friends aren’t up and your phone won’t ring, you are guaranteed peace and quiet that you might not get at other times during the day. Moreover, turning off the lights can be an extra help. “I like to pray in the dark always,” Sister Juanita shares. “To be quiet with your God, it’s just neat. I enjoy that.” 2.Discipline Yourself to Stick with It Once you’ve begun to get into the groove of prayer, it takes discipline to keep up the habit. It is crucial to assign yourself a specific time everyday to pray, and to honor that time commitment. The good news is that it doesn’t have to be a long stretch. Five minutes is a good starting point; you can always increase the length of prayer from there. WRITE + PRAY We invite you to sit with the Word and unpack it in a uniquely personal way, finding your own story. Discover your story within His. GET WRITE AND PRAY 3. Keep a Journal Journaling daily helps to track progress in your spiritual life, and to identify patterns that can help inform prayer. Journaling might seem daunting, but you don’t have to start out with a blank slate. 4. Don’t Be Afraid to Include Movement Although Sister sets aside time to pray every morning in stillness, she follows it with a slow walk. Consider how you might use movement to connect with Him. 5. Multitask Prayer shouldn’t only be done while doing something else. Yet, multitasking helps to stay connected to God throughout the day, even while doing seemingly menial tasks like cooking or driving. “When I’m cooking, I’m praying for the people who have farms and till the earth, and those who get the goods to me, and the stores. I pray for all those people,” Sister says. How can you incorporate prayer into daily tasks? 6. Start Now. Certainly, there are steps we can take to help us focus more on prayer. Yet, like any good habit, the only sure way to improve your prayer life is to embark on the task. Whether you’re praying for others, praying with your body, praying in stillness or praying in the dark, the important part is that you pray. As with all good habits, there’s never a better time than right now. [bctt tweet="As with all good habits, there’s never a better time than right now."] Gina Ciliberto is the Digital Media Journalist for the Dominican Sisters of Hope: 160+ Catholic Sisters who live hope in fifteen states and Puerto Rico. More about the Sisters' lives and ministries at www.ophope.org.

Seasons. We go through so many different seasons in our lives, don’t we? And every season teaches us something. Right now my family is in a very crazy season. Recently, we packed our things, sold our house, resigned from our jobs, sold a car, left our family, friends, and incredible community in Arizona and moved to Florida: the Land of humidity, mosquitos, and ‘gators (apparently they’re real and they will eat your children if you are not vigilant, so the locals tell me.). Oh, and did I mention I’m seven and a half months pregnant with baby number 3? Why did we do all this? To start a movement, based on a product that has the potential to change the world by radically altering how we grow food, a movement that the Lord has called us to be a part of. What? I still can’t believe that God is calling me and my family to this, little, small, insignificant us... every day, in every moment I’m just trying to say, “Yes”. This new season has been about understanding what it means to be obedient. Obedience is a funny thing isn’t it? I relish the idea of obedience (especially when it comes to my kids) and I completely despise it at the same time. How is that possible? How can you love and hate something at the same time? When it comes to being obedient to God’s will, we can love and hate it because it’s scary, it’s risky, there’s a lot of what if’s, but there’s a lot of potential. What will God do with my life if I let him lead the way? [bctt tweet="What will God do with my life if I let him lead the way?"] Even though this is a nutty time for our family, something incredible is happening with us - we are learning to trust God in new ways - to trust Him as a Good Father. We had no idea what to expect when we landed at the Tampa airport. We hadn’t made any visits before we left Arizona, we were just going to trust. In many ways things have been even better than we expected. And saying yes to this move and this new company hasn’t been as scary as I thought it was going to be. Don’t get me wrong- it’s still terrifying, but we know the Lord is behind us, moving us forward and leading the way. Sisters, we can trust that God is working in our lives and that He is a Good Father that has a plan. I’d love to share with you this new mission that God has put in front of us - it just might change the world. photo credit Have you ever taken a leap of faith? How so? Audra Le is a daughter, wife, mother, and sister, raising babies and working with her husband to change the world one home garden at a time.

This is it. We have prayed together diligently for the last 31 days. If you have ever been on retreat, you know that the question "How do I keep this going?!" can lurk at the end of a moving spiritual experience. How do we continue? How do I keep the flame in my heart alive? As St. Therese has reminded us the last few days, we can keep the flame alive in the smallest of acts. Choosing to love, choosing to serve, choosing to pray, choosing to offer our days to Jesus. Even as sanctity exists in the smallness, our souls also need to be fed. One of the most fruitful ways I have found for my soul to be fed is on retreat. Retreats provide a unique opportunity to be embraced in prayer and spend hours focused on the Lord. Look to your parish and diocese opportunities for retreat -- even just a morning or afternoon in prayer with others can rekindle the flame in your heart. And if you can, come spend time in prayer and sisterhood at the upcoming Blessed Is She retreat. This retreat is open to women of all ages, from all walks of life. There will be set aside time for prayer, for worship, for talks that will transform your faith journey and deepen your relationship with the Lord. I would love to put my hands in yours and pray together, as we have throughout this month. I would love to share a meal together with you this Lent. Together, we will go deeper. Together, we will know Him more. [bctt tweet="Together, we will go deeper. Together, we will know Him more."] Sign up here photo credit Comment below with your thoughts: Did your heart grow closer to God this month? Is your prayer rejuvenated and ready for 2016? How are you going to continue on in grace? or, simply answer: Did you pray today?

Let's revisit St. Therese today -- such a powerful patron is worth a few posts! Elizabeth Foss shared this post on her blog about the Little Way in the face of motherhood and suffering. We all noticed it the year Patrick was fourteen. It seemed like overnight, but really, it wasn't. It was the whole fourteenth year. And my husband turned gray. It wasn't all Patrick, of course. That was the year of the fragile pregnancy and the fragile baby, and the college athlete who spent too much time on the bench. And then there was Patrick. Gray hair. This has been my year to turn gray. My friend the stylist is out on maternity leave. My hair was long overdue for a cut, making me crazy, curls more out of control as they lose color. I couldn't wait for her to return (and I have a hunch she won't), so I went to see the lady who cut my hair last year. To remind her of how it is supposed to be cut, I showed her a picture from the wedding. "Oh my goodness! It's turned so gray!" Is this how they get people to beg for color to go with their cut? No, thanks. I work too hard to keep color and chemicals out of my food to pay someone to allow it to seep into my scalp. If it's going to be gray, it's going to be gray. And apparently, it's going to be gray. It's not Patrick, this time. Well, there is that dang bench in college again, but no one thinks that will last long. He's discouraged, but he's just building character. There are other things this time around, things that pull on a mama's heart. And things that make her hair turn gray. She wonders, remembers, that it's not all turning out the way we thought it would. Way back when we thought life was black and white and there were no shades of gray... Now? Now there's gray. There is the benefit of experience. It stands in the gap where once stood the confidence (and naivete?) of youth. And my problems? They are decidedly first world problems. In the morning, as I pull gray hairs from between my fingers and ask if perhaps today could be calm for my children, my neighbors, and my friends, my husband reminds me that life is hard. Really hard. Gently, he pointed to the idea that when it's hard, there are children and young adults who look to our home for refuge. They call this home. And I didn't give birth to all of them. Life is hard and we are called to be Christ to one another in the midst of the hard. [bctt tweet="Life is hard and we are called to be Christ to one another in the midst of the hard."] Later in the day, a friend reminds me that children are starving, wars are waging, young fathers are dying of AIDS. All a world away in a place that is not at all first world. That's hard life, she says. I am chagrined. And silenced. The question burns though, all day, as I answer text messages and call in resources and troubleshoot and cry and pray and wait and worry on the behalf of people in my here and now: Is it somehow less when we suffer in the first world? Do those who suffer the pains of affluence--who know exactly how far their disease has progressed because they can afford a CT scan after they've drunk horrid yellow radioactive dye; those who struggle away from home for the first time because they've been afforded an education and tuition to university; those who wonder about paying the bills of a middle class lifestyle because suddenly costs will rise and income will decrease--is their suffering less worthy of my time and attention than the suffering across the ocean? St. Therese wanted to be a missionary to foreign lands. Instead, God called her to the cloister. Still, the Church calls Therese of Lisieux the patron of missions. Why? She shares the patronage with the great Jesuit missionary, St. Francis Xavier. His spiritual principle was, to “love those people to whom we are sent and to make ourselves loved by them.” St. Therese never left the cloister, never. Her motto? “To love Jesus and to make him loved.” She lived this mission wholeheartedly: “Just as a torrent, throwing itself with impetuosity into the ocean, drags after it everything it encounters in its passage, in the same way, Jesus, the soul who plunges into the shoreless ocean of your love draws with her all the treasures she possesses. Lord, You know it, I have no other treasures than the souls it has pleased You to unite to mine; it is You who entrusted these treasures to me.” To other people He has entrusted populations of impoverished natives of foreign lands. Me? He has sent me to a small town in the shadow of Washington, DC. He knows this small circle in suburbia is all that I can manage. I'm sure He's wondering at how poorly I "manage" even that some days. Then again, He has numbered every gray hair on my head. Nothing surprises Him. Mothers are mostly little and hidden. St. Therese had great apostolic zeal, yet it wasn't until after her death that the example of her life, the simplicity of her spirituality, and the intercession of her spirit, made her an apostle to the nations. St. Therese is a good patron for mothers at home, particularly mothers at home who might occasionally be distracted by the proliferation of blog posts and books that urge them to move beyond their "comfortable selfishness" to evangelize and bring comfort to the remote corners of the world. Go! By all means, whatever it takes, if it is God's call, go. It's not always God's call. Sometimes He calls us to quiet witness in our homes and communities. Sometimes He calls us to remain little and hidden in our domestic monasteries, nurturing the few souls in our spheres of influence. Loving them as unto the Lord. We can't bring healing to the impoverished masses huddled in their obvious suffering. We can't know what it feels like to fill the bellies and bind the wounds of the poor on foreign soil. Instead, we trust that giving a sippy cup of water to the least of these in our own kitchens is still doing His work. Vatican II defined missionary activity in these terms: “The special end of this missionary activity is the evangelization and the implantation of the Church among peoples or groups in which it has not yet taken root.” By golly, I assure you, that work is not yet finished in my home. At first it seemed so black and white, but really, this mission is colored in shades of gray. A woman can feed them, clothe them, educate them, comfort them, but in this culture, she is not guaranteed that they will stay close to God all their lives. The thing about the first world? There is a myriad of shiny things with which the devil can distract. The mission field is physically comfortable and spiritually very, very dangerous. It is one that requires the constant care and attention of the missionary, lest they are all blinded by the gray. I'm not a very good multi-tasker. The task at home is quite enough. I cannot serve soup in Africa. Right now, I cannot even seek the suffering in the cities close to my home. I'm just a mom in the suburbs, ladling chowder at my dining room table. And my hair is turning gray. Now. Here. This is where I'm called. This is where I pray He finds me, offering hope, serving unconditional love, and counting gifts. I'm giving until I've nothing left to give. I have to trust His grace to fill in the large gaps I've left when I feebly offer these days of relative comfort. I have to hope it is indeed enough. photo credit

So many people love St. Therese and her Little Way. Her zeal and holiness continue to inspire women in all vocations, reminding us that our smallness can be a tool for greatness in the hands of God. Abbey Dupuy shares why Therese speaks to her heart in today's post, which originally appeared at Catholic Mom. “I think I need a new patron saint, “ I told my husband. “Is that even allowed?” he replied, turning from the sink where he was finishing up the dinner dishes. “I’m not sure,” I said, immediately feeling guilty and changing the subject. It wasn’t that I didn’t love St. Therese any more. It was just that I was having a hard time connecting. When I started RCIA, I already knew which saint I would choose for my confirmation saint. I had read her book, Story of a Soul, several times, highlighting my favorite passages and putting quotes from it on my desk. I wanted to be a missionary, and St. Therese was a patroness and encourager of missionaries. Besides, I loved her simple philosophy of giving glory to God by doing small tasks with great love. Her idea that even small sacrifices had value as offerings to God felt right to me. I knew Therese was my kindred spirit. As the years passed and my missionary zeal faded in the glow of marriage, work, and children, I didn’t think as much about Therese. The more I immersed myself in the living of my life, especially as more children arrived, the more the gap widened in my relationship with her. I felt she couldn’t relate to how things were for me now. How much does a mother of four small kids have in common with a young, unmarried, cloistered nun? It was fine for her to talk about her spiritual ways, but I had piles of laundry to fold and sandwiches to make and noses to wipe and diapers to change. This year, as her feast day approached, I pulled out a picture of St. Therese and promised myself I would reach out to her. Maybe I’d reread my old copy of Story of a Soul, or pray my old St. Therese chaplet, or do a novena. Maybe I’d just try to dedicate my small acts of service to God in her honor. I had plans, and I meant to follow through. By midmorning on her feast day, though, I was ready to give up. I couldn’t find my copy of the book or my chaplet. The kids were wild, and I’d already lost my temper with them. Lucy kicked me in the face while I was changing her diaper, which she had chosen to use instead of going to the potty “on purpose!” she shouted gleefully, thrilled with her own control over the situation. My teeth were gritted, my heart was heavy, and I felt that the gulf between me and my saint had never been wider. That evening, propped up in bed with a fussy baby, I was feeling quite sorry for myself. Here I was, on the feast day of my patroness, and I couldn’t even manage to do anything for her. Frustrated, I told her I was sorry for messing everything up. My eyes fell on my rosary beside me on the bedside table, and I remembered a story about St. Therese having ongoing difficulty staying awake during the recitation of the rosary. Suddenly, I realized why I was having such a hard time connecting with her now. I was focusing on all the ways in which she was holier than I was…her great love, her spiritual understanding, and her closeness to Jesus. Somehow, I had forgotten to remember how she developed her Little Way in the first place. Therese felt she was too flawed, too insignificant and too unworthy to do great things for God. She developed her Little Way so that she could use her small sacrifices and acts of service to show Jesus she loved him. She wasn’t perfect at all. That was exactly her appeal. Her faults were exactly why she was still the perfect saint for me. I am not a missionary serving in an exotic location now. On any given day, I’m wiping a lot of noses and cleaning up spills and pulling cereal out of children’s hair. I might even be grumpy while I’m doing those things. I realize now, though, that every time I have one of those tasks to complete, every time I am a servant to one of my children or to my husband, every time I do a small act in love, I am honoring God. I don’t have to be perfect. I just have to try to love, as Therese did…and I have plenty of opportunities for that. Comment below with your thoughts: What can you offer up today? Who can you serve in love today? Are you welcoming God in to sanctify your smallness? or, simply answer: Did you pray today?

Today, we recall the spiritual life of the Dominican Order, on the feast of St. Thomas Aquinas (a Dominican himself!). Laurel Muff reflects on the meaning that Dominican spirituality has brought into her life. As I was finishing high school and into my early college years, I gave some serious thought about joining the religious life. One order that particularly attracted me was the Dominicans. I love their active ministry which lives under the motto: contemplare et contemplata aliis tradere (to contemplate, and to give to others the fruits of contemplation). Their deep prayer life produces an outflowing of love in the form of preaching the Gospel, in word and deed. The convent I visited in Pontcalec, France, where the sisters run two boarding schools, was an excellent example of the Dominican way of life. The four pillars of Dominican spirituality are prayer, study, apostolate and community. Prayer and studies are at the very core of Dominican life, but it is for the sake of apostolate and community. As it should with any vocation, prayer forms the heart of the Dominican life. Time for prayer is punctuated throughout the day so that the sisters can foster and maintain their relationship with God. Also, integral is time spent for study. Study forms the backbone and inspires prayer. As a person encounters God through creation and Scripture, he can’t help but yearn for a relationship with Him. Study, for a Dominican, is a seeking of Veritas (Truth)--another motto of the Order. It is not studying for the mere sake of the exercise, but for the sake of discovering the truth. Therefore, a Dominican’s studies are meant to develop an attitude of discovery and the discipline of inquiry. There was time set aside daily for personal study. From prayer and study, apostolate easily flows as the wisdom gained is to be shared. This is done both in word and example (verbo et exemplo). Many Dominicans are teachers at high schools, as were the nuns in France, and colleges. They live the Gospel as example and share the Gospel with the students they encounter. Dominicans live in community. As one cannot love others without first loving God, so, too, one cannot truly love God without loving others. One’s spiritual journey is never isolated between oneself and God alone. It takes place, also, in our encounters with others. For example, we learn the true meaning of forgiveness when it is shown to us and when we impart it to others. God is revealed through the persons we encounter daily. The sisters not only lived this communal aspect with each other, but also with those they ministered to. Although I discovered that the vocation God was calling me to was, in fact, the married life, so much of the Dominican way of life I still appreciate and strive to imitate--making time for daily prayer, using prior and continual studies to inform how I live my life and teach my children, and, of course, the building up of the “domestic church” as a small community, as well as engaging in community with others outside the home, bringing the light of Christ to the world. [bctt tweet="One’s spiritual journey is never isolated between oneself and God alone."] photo credit Comment below with your thoughts: Do you punctuate your day with prayer? Can you find opportunities to pray in your work? How do you grow in wisdom in your faith life? or, simply answer: Did you pray today?

Colleen Mitchell has a very personal relationship with Franciscan spirituality. Her post today, originally posted on her blog, reflects on the honest, humble reality of living close to God in the Franciscan spirit. I sit in the small room on the side of the chapel whispering out all my faults and failings and broken things. It is not at all like I thought it would be. The first opportunity to go to confession in English in half a year. I was anxious to wash away the ugliness inside me. To lay it before God and have Him say "forgiven". I thought it would all tumble out easily, my soul eager to push it all out into the light and watch it fade in Christ's love. Instead, it is slow. My mouth makes words but they seem a shallow imitation of what lies within. I know my eyes are pleading to be really understood, beyond the halting sighs that say more than what I am managing to make mouth speak. He looks back at me, the bearded friar priest in the patched and faded frock and says, "When are you planning to make a retreat? I think you need some silence and some space to wrestle some things out with God. Maybe even do a little yelling." I wonder how it is so obvious, how my vague list of ways my tongue has slipped, ways frustration has made me a person neither I nor Jesus like very much, could lead him right to the heart of the deep things I can not seem to say: the long-lying pains and griefs I have held dormant this year, trying to so hard to serve well and to love well and to live well that there has been no time to risk the hard work of falling apart and being put back together again. The work of mending. I look at his patched up habit, years of a life of prayer and penance and a vision hard fought for. Years of patched up tears and pricks and rips. I tell myself this is a man who knows a thing or two about being mended. I confess the biggest mess of all inside me. "I have not done it. I have rejected intimacy with God because I am a competency addict." I am the one who holds it together at all costs. I am the one who can keep her emotions in check for the sake of getting the job done. I am the one who kindly thanks God for His arms wide open in healing embrace and turns away, pointing out the person who needs Him way more than I do. I am a sinner who thinks it might just be easier to keep things casual with God, to stay in the kitchen and do the dishes and brew resentment and let someone else sit at His feet and be loved and know mercy. Easier to trip constantly on the torn hem of my soul than stop to stitch it back up. Easier to let my skin prickle with the cold that enters through the rips and tears of my heart than to patch them up with new mercies. Suddenly I am saying this thing I didn't know I needed to say: "Sometimes I feel like my relationship with God is that marriage that everyone else knows is falling apart while the wife walks around pretending it is perfect." I don't know whether the laugh that follows is because I don't want him to think I am being too dramatic, or because I am terrified by what I have just said. He gazes long and steady, ignores both my laugh and my discomfort, and asks if I know how serious that is, what I have just said. Asks what my plan is to be honest with myself and with God. Tells me it is time. Time to take care of myself. Not the grab a friend for coffee and pedicure variety of taking care of myself. More like make life take a hard stop while I meet Him in the wilderness and let Him stare at me at long until He finally says, "So? What's going in there, love?" And then I answer Him honestly. And I feel like I have been in a dark room and suddenly stepped into the sun. It feels good and warm but it hurts my eyes and I am squinting in the glare. And then I am bowing my head and accepting forgiveness for the things I said that were not really the thing at all and trying to breathe through to the other side of the fact that he is right and He is waiting and I won't get off of this one easily. There are no tears this night, nothing breaks open inside me and brings quick, easy relief the way I wish it would. There is just a quiet, resigned awareness. I have work to do. The work of laying aside the work to lay myself bare before the Lover of my Soul. Not busy work but eternal work. I step out from the small room knowing deep inside that the time has come. I have been willingly walking in the shadows of the cross but afraid to stand in the light of the resurrection. I have made myself busy doing because being is more than I can bear. [bctt tweet="I have made myself busy doing because being is more than I can bear."] I have longed to be KNOWN but only through my own preset filters. It is time to embrace the no filter life of grace. The place where I don't try to tidy up before His arrival, correct the shades and shadows of my soul, make it polished and pretty and publishable. The months lay ahead of me and I am crafting a plan to find the prescribed space to wrestle and heal. But I know I cannot wait for that moment, that here, now, it is time to begin. I kneel slowly before Him and sigh long. Then slide to the floor to sit at His feet. I look at myself through the lens of my mind and refuse to try to make the scene prettier. This is my no filter life and I am going to live it. photo by Sara Miller Comment below with your thoughts: Where can you seek humility in your life? Are you putting your guard up in your prayer? How can you seek Him honestly? or, simply answer: Did you pray today?

People have loved St. Ignatius of Loyola and his distinctive spirituality for hundreds of years. Bobbi Rol shared her nightly version with us earlier this month, and today, Patty Hubbard shares her love of Ignatian spirituality, originally posted on her blog last Thanksgiving. You sometimes hear people share on what their favorite holidays are and the reasons behind it. Christmas has always been my favorite, but over the last few years Thanksgiving has been gaining ground to tie with my all-time favorite holiday. I've always felt Thanksgiving gets overlooked and under-appreciated. I don't know if it has to do with the turkey, football games, or the insanity of Black Friday. Over the past year, I have read a lot on Ignatian spirituality and the life of St. Ignatius of Loyola. What I have grown to love about Ignatian spirituality is that it's a way for people (whatever their vocation or state in life) to see God in all things while becoming a contemplative in action. As I have grown to identify more with Ignatian spirituality in my life, I had the thought it was St. Igantius who helped teach me that thanksgiving (gratitude) is always a choice in life-no matter the circumstance or situation. One of the most profound ways to pray in Ignatian spirituality is a prayerful review of the day called the Examen. It is a practice where you prayerfully review the past day; reflecting upon all the events, and looking to where you saw/experienced God. The point of the Examen is to look on your day to see where God's presence and activity was in it. A review of the events of the day to find God's presence in it: this was a practice highly affirmed by Ignatius as the most important activity a person could do every single day. Okay, yeah that's nice. But why? What was so important about this? Well, let's back track for a second. A significant element of the Examen is a review of the day. And if we can see/find/experience God's presence in the day (no matter what happens), it teaches us the life-changing power of thankfulness and gratitude. So the answer? The power of gratitude. The power it has no matter the pain or suffering we encounter in this life. The power it has to ease the heavy crosses we carry. The power it has to bring about that peace Jesus spoke of that surpasses all understanding. Gratitude, thankfulness is spiritual dynamite. To thank God in all things, for all things is medicine the weary world needs to live life with purpose. Ann Voskamp is another grace seeker who is passionate on how this one practice of daily gratitude can change lives and radically re-shape the culture. As she says, "only when we give thanks, will you get to be joyful. Being grateful is what makes you joyful." And while daily praying the Examen is a discipline I want to get better at, I am constantly reminded that the act of thankfulness and gratitude is always, always a choice. I can either shake my fist at God and give Him my "choice" words or I can sit in the stillness with open hands of acceptance. I can be like that tenth leper who quickly returned to Jesus to say "thank you" for his healing. I want to be like that tenth leper in my life, no matter what comes. Gratitude, a spirit of thankfulness, is a choice. And no matter what, God is always good and I (we) are always loved by Him. So tomorrow between the good food and hustle n' bustle of the day, take some time to put pen to paper. Allow the practice of daily gratitude to begin to transform you from the inside out. See how gratitude, thankfulness will change you. Be that tenth leper, and do it everyday onward. So why do you think Thanksgiving is treated like pre-gaming for Christmas? Do you believe it is possible to be grateful and thankful for all things, in all things? What makes living with a heart of gratitude so difficult in our world today? Also, if you you're interested in learning more about Ignatian spirituality or praying the Examen, the following books are ones I have loved and found most helpful: The Jesuit Guide to (Almost) Everything by Fr. James Martin, SJ A Simple, Life-Changing Prayer: Discovering the Power of St. Ignatius Loyola's Examen by Jim Manney The Ignatian Workout by Tim Muldoon [bctt tweet="I want to be like that tenth leper in my life, no matter what comes."] photo by Sara Miller Comment below with your thoughts: Does Ignatian spirituality speak to your heart? How do you build gratitude into your prayer life? Is "thanksgiving" something you celebrate year-round? or, simply answer: Did you pray today?

I want to remind you of something. We, each one of us, is doing His work... whether it be serving our families, babies, husbands, mother, fathers or whether it be as a missionary in the fields caring for the forgotten or whether it be working in ministries within our churches to teach and educate others or whether it be just simply serving and caring for ourselves --- we are doing His work: His holy, good, important work. And we need to remember that. That we are doing work that is important. That we are doing work that matters. So if we are just like this twig, cut off the branch of our chaotic lives and transformed into a new creation -- HIS creation, HIS mission, HIS purpose --- imagine the change that could happen. If we stopped in the midst of the turmoil of every day living, and remembered our relationship with Him. If we did that, if we did just that, and remembered how important this relationship is, then we can get back to doing the holy, good, important work in our lives with a true spirit of generosity, a true spirit of peace, a true spirit of renewal. If we step away from the every day chaos of life, and we pause to remember... We can move mountains. We can change lives (even, most especially, most importantly, our own). We can shed light in the areas that otherwise felt dark. We can provide warmth where the cold held tight. [bctt tweet="If we step away from the every day chaos of life, and we pause to remember... we can change lives."] We can become more ourselves, if we just pressed pause, and we remembered -- that we are loved, that we are sought after, that we are here for a purpose. Press pause and come on retreat. You will walk away renewed, more alive, and more yourself. You will walk away more prepared to serve others because of your renewal, because of your spirit, because of your strength, your courage, your faith. Give yourself that gift. Come receive beauty for ashes, joy for mourning, the garment of praise for mourning... all for His glory. (Isaiah 61:3)   Purchase your retreat ticket here

Today is the feast of the Conversion of St. Paul. Take the opportunity to reflect on where you need to seek conversion in your own life and heart. There is a little white church, which sits on the crest of a hill, at the cross roads of several lazy highways, surrounded by centuries of gravestones. It has plain white-washed sides, a little steeple, and a gravel parking lot. It is dedicated to St. Joseph. When I lived near it, I would go there for Sunday Mass -- but now that I've moved away, I only go when I want to make mass during the work day. I never liked it much, though it is a lovely church. There were mostly elderly couples in the church--I never saw someone my own age--wealthy, comfortable, gracious, but formal. There were only two priests: One was mid-fifties, with a broad smile; he never really said anything substantial, though he was nice enough. The other priest seemed much older. Grey hair, and lots of wrinkles; he walked with a slight limp. He gave two sentence homilies, and seemed almost nonchalant about the form of the Mass. He rarely raised the host during the consecration. He never distributed communion. I would kneel there in the pew, and clench my jaw and meditate on the sad state of priests in this country, angry at him for not seeming to care. It was only later that I realized he was crippled. I went there for the first time in probably a year, and he was saying Mass. I was late, and he was already reading the gospel. I rolled my eyes, because he was reading the Gospel from the altar. He hardly moved the entire mass. And then, after the final blessing, this poor priest walked as slowly and difficultly as you can imagine, down the one step, and through the side door to the sacristy. Though it was five or six steps for a normal man, it took him a full two minutes to make the journey, and it suddenly dawned on me that he wasn't lazy: he was ill. The entire congregation, usually so quick to leave after the final blessings, stood still, respectfully waiting for him to leave the altar, and I was deeply shamed. Here was a man of God, and I was slandering him in my mind. A man of God, who had to overcome severe difficulties every day to serve his parish, and do God's work, and I was judging him. Pride, and vanity, and anger, and sadness all mixed up in my mind, because of one crippled priest. That was a few months ago. I still rarely go to St. Joseph's. But today I ventured back, for the Feast of the Conversion of St. Paul. The reading is, of course, the account in Acts of that dramatic scene on the Road to Damascus. But we don't need to fall off a horse to know that Christ's words to Saul are words for all of us, if we dare to listen: "I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting." Margaret Perry is a writer and restaurant manager based in Virginia. She (sporadically) writes about children's books for The Catholic Information Center, and her work has appeared in First Things. This post originally appeared on her blog Ten Thousand Places. She also makes jam. photo credit Comment below with your thoughts: Where do you have opportunities for conversion in your life? Are you persecuting anyone in your thoughts, words, or actions? How can you be more merciful in those thoughts, words, or actions? or, simply answer: Did you pray today?

I always heard this verse as "For the joy of the Lord is your strength," so it really struck me when I read it in today's first reading as, "Rejoicing in the LORD must be your strength." Nehemiah 8:10 It's not only the joy of the Lord, it is the act of rejoicing in Him that must be our strength. And not only is it our strength, but it MUST be our strength. Today I can choose to participate in the act of rejoicing and not stand idly by. Join me as we find our strength together! Grab this free download made by Erica of Be A Heart down below. You can also purchase it as an 8x10 print in our shop (along with our Lenten workbook before they all sell out!) Phone wallpaper Desktop wallpaper

Today, we want to hear what devotions are most important to you! This month, our writers have shared some of their favorite ways to connect with the Lord, whether through the Rosary, with prayer to his Sacred Heart, or creating a physical prayer space. Next week, we will we explore different ways that we can pray with the saints. The prayers of the saints vary as greatly as their personality, and we can learn a lot from the way each of them pray. As each of us grows in sanctity toward the goal of sainthood, we each will be drawn to certain devotions and modes of prayer. As we look toward the finish line of this prayer pledge, it is time to consider how each of us will keep up our prayer lives every day. So today, share the devotions that call to your heart. Comment below with your thoughts: What devotion do you turn to again and again? Are there devotions you want to begin to explore? What saints are role models for your prayer life? or, simply answer: Did you pray today?

Elizabeth Foss originally wrote this post for her blog almost ten years ago, but the lessons and graces of the Rosary are timeless. A few months ago, a friend suggested we pray a daily rosary. Actually, she suggested a fifteen decade daily rosary. We were both tired, frustrated and stressed to the limits. We had exhausted all the typical remedies for this state of being. Veterans of this Catholic home education large-family lifestyle, we tweaked our diets, our exercise plans, our chore systems, our sleeping (well, we tried), our school plans. We both changed parishes (we live two time zones apart but somehow we both were in the wrong church). All the tried and true remedies for burnout and frustration were failing us. As our families grew and our children got bigger, the stakes went up. We recognized that nothing on earth was "working" to gain for us that much needed peace. Our souls were restless indeed. All of this we shared with each other. We hashed out all the usual solutions, we swapped meal plans and chore plans and lesson plans. Independently, we took it to prayer. That's when she came back with the absolute certainty that she was supposed to pray a fifteen decade rosary every day. And she was pretty certain I was supposed to do the same. Only glitch was that she had this revelation while I was reading Rosarium Virginis Mariae. I was increasingly sure that I was supposed to shower my soul with the light of those five Luminous decades as well. Fifteen for her, twenty for me. I bought a CD so that I could turn driving time, walking time, bed time into rosary time. Really, the Holy Spirit did the pointing and clicking this time. I bought Praying the Rosary with St. Therese of Lisieux. My daughter, always looking over my shoulder as I blog, objects to the "Just for Mom" category. She reminds me that she hears the CD all the time, too. And she is increasingly devoted to both the Blessed Mother and the Little Flower. Those quotes are touching her. This beautiful CD has it all. Lovely Gregorian chant in the background. Soothing voices of prayer. And every Hail Mary is preceded by a quote from the Little Flower. Those quotes have worked their way into my soul, they are becoming me... or I am becoming them. Either way, through the powerful intercession of the Blessed Mother, that elusive peace is happening. My friend and I exchange emails, coveting each other's decades. All is not peace and green pastures. Life is still happening. And it is really, really hard sometimes. There are days when I beg her to offer all fifteen of hers to me and days when I reciprocate. We rarely pray the whole thing at the same time; instead we snatch decades throughout the day. And maybe that is better, kind of like booster shots for the soul. We've shared some pretty amazing success stories. And we're both pretty sold on the power of ALL those decades. photo by Elizabeth Foss Comment below with your thoughts: Have you grown in your devotion to the Rosary since our last post about praying to Jesus with Mary? Has the Rosary brought any special graces into your life? or, simply answer: Did you pray today?