“God is faithful, and by him you were called to fellowship with his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.” // 1 Corinthians 1:9 We all struggle at times to know what to say to someone who is suffering, but maybe we can gain some insight from Saint Paul in today’s First Reading about how to approach those conversations. First, Paul introduces himself and shares that he’s called by God to share the Good News with them. He shares peace and grace to them. He admits that He thanks God on their behalf—he prays for them, and he reminds them that God is faithful. This format was striking to me—it’s so simple and clear, and it felt like a short and sweet pep talk. It reminds me of some of the things my closest friends have said to me when I’ve gone through difficult seasons. In-person and in text messages—sometimes along with funny memes, my friends have shared their own testimonies of faith—their witnesses, which have encouraged me and enkindled my hope. They’ve prayed for me and over me. They’ve reminded me over and over again that God is faithful and that He is working here and now. And these messages—on their own and altogether—are powerful. When we don’t know what to say, let us go back to this letter from Paul and find the words from there to echo his message of hope, grace, and peace, and the reminder of God’s faithfulness. [bctt tweet="God is faithful and that He is working here and now. // Annie Deddens" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

Jesus summoned his Twelve disciples and gave them authority over unclean spirits to drive them out and to cure every disease and every illness. The names of the Twelve Apostles are these . . . . // Matthew 10:1 In just a matter of a few sentences in today’s Gospel, Matthew goes from referring to the Twelve as disciples to call them Apostles. Many of us use the terms interchangeably, but there’s a significant distinction. The shift happened after Jesus got the group together and gave them authority and instructions for their mission (which is our mission too, to evangelize and share God’s kingdom with everyone). And so, the Twelve go from being followers of Christ, disciples, to being people on a mission to share Christ, apostles. In sharing the good news we join in the apostolic mission of the entire Church which has been handed down from the Apostles, though this idea of participating in the mission of Christ is not the same as the Apostles who were the first bishops. When I think about it, I fluctuate between how I live out these terms and dispositions in my own life. Sometimes I feel more called to remain near to Jesus, to learn from Him, to simply be a follower that day because I don’t have the strength to do more. On the other hand, in some seasons, I really do feel those graces equipping me to speak up, to share more of Christ and what I’ve learned about Him with someone else in a discussion—to be on a mission and to carry it out. I guess I sort of flip-flop between these two positions, cyclically, and while I may have beat myself up about those seasons in the past—the ones where I didn’t feel like I had the graces or the strength to carry out the mission of evangelizing, I’ve begun to see each of those seasons are necessary for the other. One is a sort of receiving time—being a disciple—and one is a sort of giving time—being an apostle. And we can’t give what we don’t have, which is why we have to always seek the face of God—in all seasons. Which season are you in right now? Are you being called to remain near to Him, learning intimately from this time with Him? Or are you being called to go out and share His good news? How might this season prepare you for the next one? [bctt tweet="We can’t give what we don’t have. // Annie Deddens " username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

"What man among you having a hundred sheep and losing one of them would not leave the ninety-nine in the desert and go after the lost one until he finds it?” // Luke 15:4 I recently came across a video in which Father Mike Schmitz responded to the question: “Does God love some people more than others?” I was intrigued so I watched it, and something Father Mike said resonated deeply with me and helped me to better understand the Father’s unique love for each one of us. Father Mike explained that God’s love is equal for all of us—equal in intensity (quoting Saint Thomas Aquinas), and that since God is love, He can’t love someone more or less—He just loves. But, he added, God also loves us to varying degrees according to our need. And this is where our deeply personal situations play out—this is where God shepherds each of us through them. Father Mike said, “Think about the Gospel reading of the ninety-nine sheep, (and) the one sheep that goes off into the wilderness. What does that one sheep in the wilderness need that the other ninety-nine, who are at home, don’t? They need a Father, they need a shepherd, they need someone to go after them. So . . . the more I need His strength, the more He gives His strength. The more I find myself in weakness, the more I get His grace.” This was a beautiful reminder for me of how Jesus is also loving the sheep that remained with the flock, those who have stayed near Him. He does not forget them while He pursues the lost one. He’s loving each of them—each of us—according to our need. And when we need more, we can rest in this truth and in His arms that He will respond to our needs as a good shepherd does. We are never forgotten or far from His sight. Pray with this image of Jesus as the Good Shepherd. Can you see yourself remaining near or do you find yourself further away, in need of His pursuit? Imagine His loving response: Him coming near and carrying you through this week. [bctt tweet="We are never forgotten or far from His sight. // Annie Deddens" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

"Go out to all the world and tell the Good News." // Mark 16:15 I don't really follow many celebrities on social media, but I can think of one whom I do. I really like how she shares her Christian faith so publicly, particularly in a work and social environment where I imagine that it's very counter-cultural. It's admirable to me that she stands out in this way and that she uses her platform to talk about Jesus and the Good News. Not too long ago, in the midst of a crisis that many of us were following in the news, I remember seeing her posting videos of her heartbreak over what was going on. She shared that she felt like she didn't have much else to say about it other than to want to share Jesus with people in that moment. It was a very simple message, but it's everything we ever need to hear—in a big crisis, or in our small, everyday lives: "Jesus wins," she said. "Jesus wins and my faith, my hope, my trust—everything is in Christ alone. My prayer is for all people to know Jesus Christ—and that hope and that eternal life He offers us." We're not all called or equipped to share the Good News in the exact same way as someone else. Instead, we've each been given unique, specific gifts—time, talent, treasure—that we can use to share the Good News. How can we do that this week? Who among us could use it most this week? I'll be praying for us all to have the courage to stand out and share the Good News in the ways that we can. [bctt tweet="Share the Good News. // Annie Deddens " username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

"One of his disciples, the one whom Jesus loved, was reclining at Jesus’ side. So Simon Peter nodded to him to find out whom he meant. He leaned back against Jesus’ chest and said to him, “Master, who is it?” // John 13:33 One of my favorite ways to pray with Scripture is through lectio divina. If you've never heard of it before, it's an ancient method of reading Scripture, meditating on the Word of God, noticing what sticks out to you from the passage, and responding to it in prayer. It is meant to help you further immerse yourself into God's word, and I find that it can help you be more intentional with reading Scripture. You start by reading a passage, and then you read it again and take note at what stands out. What detail or what else was mentioned that was particularly striking? What is meaningful about it? So today, while reading the Gospel in this way, I'm struck by this detail of how John came close to Jesus to ask Him who the traitor was. Scripture says, "He leaned back against Jesus' chest." That's so close. That's so intimate. What also stands out to me here is that Jesus lets John. He allows all of them to come close, knowing that even Peter will deny Him soon. These men He's so close with! And yet, He doesn't cut Peter off from His friendship. I think of those times when we feel like we can't approach the Lord because we are in a state of sin, or we have done something so shameful that we are afraid to return to Him, we are afraid of how He will look at us, what He will think of us. But even then—even in those instances—He invites us to come close in the Sacrament of Confession and in prayers. He doesn't cut us off from relationship with Him, that can only happen if we decide not to return to Him. And even now—even this close to Easter—we can choose to return to Him. He is merciful and so loving. If you're not able to make it to Confession before Easter, don't despair, go when you can. He is waiting for you, ready for you to come close. [bctt tweet="We can choose to return to Him. // Annie Deddens" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

"I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse. Choose life, then, that you and your descendants may live, by loving the Lord, your God." // Deuteronomy 30:19 Obedience seems to have a bad reputation sometimes, doesn't it? In our culture, in books or movies, it's as though the hero is often someone who broke the rules—for justice or for love. But the Lord has given us rules to follow for those very fruits—for justice, and for love, and in today's first reading, Moses said that if we obey them, we will live. Obedience, especially at first, can be overwhelming. That's when I like to remember this line from Luke 16:10: "The person who is trustworthy in very small matters is also trustworthy in great ones." It reminds me to start small. Even very small, which feels like perfect advice this first week of Lent. Many years ago, a retreat speaker said something I'll never forget about trying to grow in virtue. She was speaking specifically about forgiving those who have hurt you, but her advice stands for really any desire to grow in virtue. She said something like: If you want to forgive someone, but you're really struggling to and just can't seem to get there, pray that you will be able to forgive them. And if that's too difficult to do, pray that you will want to pray to forgive them. And if that's too difficult to do, pray that you will want to pray that you will want to forgive them. And it keeps going backwards like that. This came to mind today when I thought about obedience and when I read Moses's words. I want to "choose life"—I believe we all do—but the obedience required to do so feels overwhelming at times. Maybe then, in those difficult moments, our prayer can be, "Lord, help us to want to be obedient today" or "Lord, help us to want to want to be obedient today." [bctt tweet="Lord, help us to want to be obedient today. // Annie Deddens" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

"Whatever villages or towns or countryside he entered, they laid the sick in the marketplaces and begged him that they might touch only the tassel on his cloak; and as many as touched it were healed." // Mark 6:56 When I went to my first Blessed is She retreat, I didn't know what to expect. It had been years since I had gone on a retreat, and to be honest, the experiences were mostly a mixed bag. So I went to the retreat with little expectation of how the Lord might speak to me there. The first evening I was there, Beth Davis (love you, Beth!) shared a beautiful testimony of the Lord meeting her in the middle of a ring (think of a boxing ring)—meeting her in the very center of some difficult experiences she was going through. The language she used about how the Lord took steps to be closer to her in that trying time and in that experience—it made me want Him to do the same for me. It actually made me question why I felt like He hadn't done that when I had been so clearly struggling. So I took that to prayer that first night, and I asked Him to show me the same thing. "Meet me in the middle. Come to me." I wanted to see Him make that movement towards me because I felt like I had been metaphorically taking those steps towards Him for a while. The next night we had Adoration, and that's where this prayer was answered. That's where He took the steps to meet me. That's where the priest carried the monstrance right up to me in my pew, hovering there for a moment, letting me pray right in front of Jesus, giving me that experience I asked for: Jesus meeting me. I remember glancing at how other women experienced this moment too, and seeing some reach out to touch the humeral veil that the priest uses to hold the monstrance. They were who I thought of today while reading the Gospel of the healings at Gennesaret. Let's reach out to Him, as they did, seeking whatever healing we need today. [bctt tweet="He took the steps to meet me. // Annie Deddens" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

"Whoever possesses the Son has life; whoever does not possess the Son of God does not have life." // 1 John 5:13 I remember the first few times my friends and siblings-in-law referred to their sons as "my boys" or their daughters as "my girls." There was something so special and beautiful about it—not just that they have these amazing children—and multiples of them, but that they called them theirs. There is clearly a sense of possessiveness there, and we probably most often think of that term in a negative light, but these parents only meant it in the most beautiful way. And this is the way that you would actually want to be "possessed"—by someone who loves you more than you love yourself. We all want to belong. We all desire for someone to call us theirs. That's what came to mind from today's reading. When Saint John tells us, "Whoever possesses the Son has life," I think of how Jesus has these same desires too: to belong—to us, for someone to call Him theirs—again, us. How can we "possess" the Son of God? I think by growing in intimacy with Him—in relationship with Him, in daily conversations in our prayer life with Him. My husband used to be just John-Paul to me. Then we spent more time together, and he became my boyfriend. Even more time together later, he became my fiance—and now, my husband. Maybe if we can look at our relationship with the Lord in a similar manner. While we already “possess” Him in one sense when He becomes our Savior through our baptisms, we could also work to have a deep personal relationship where we “possess” Him as friends do each other. What if we eventually spend enough time with Him, get to know Him, and then we can “possess” Him as our dearest friend and have life with Him. Maybe then, we will understand more fully how He became ours. [bctt tweet="He became ours. // Annie Deddens " username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

"This is the LORD for whom we looked." // Isaiah 25:9 As I read these words this morning, I immediately thought of Pope Saint John Paul II. I remember learning about the last few hours of his life when I visited his shrine in Washington DC a few years ago. I watched a video there that detailed his pontificate and his last days. It shared that thousands of young Catholics, inspired by his faith and his example, prayed for him in Saint Peter's Square during those final hours. When he was told about their presence, he said, "I have looked for you. Now you have come to me, and I thank you." John Paul II was so passionate about reaching young people and encouraging them in their faith! But, when I first heard this quote, I didn't know who he was speaking to. I (incorrectly) imagined that as he lay dying, he saw Our Lord and spoke these words aloud to Him. So, prior to watching that video in the shrine, my interpretation of this encounter really struck me. And even though I had the wrong context, once I learned who John Paul II was talking about, I still couldn't get over this urgent feeling that I, too, need to look for Jesus if I ever hoped to truly find Him. This is true today. I still have to keep looking. Advent is such a beautiful time to look for Him, friends. He wants to be found, so let's take that one step, that one turn towards Him today that He is waiting for. [bctt tweet="Let's take that one step. // Annie Deddens " username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

I have a wall in our bedroom that I covered with pictures of quotes and one of them says, "I want and I choose what better leads to the deepening of God’s life in me" (Saint Ignatius of Loyola). That's what came to mind while I read today's Responsorial Psalm proclaiming, "Here I am, Lord; I come to do your will. . . . To do your will, O my God, is my delight" (Psalm 40:7). For me, this is one of those prayers that really stretches me to show up where I'm needed and called. To respond to what's right in front of me. To love and serve, and to take action with joy. It makes me think of the moments when I don't want to do the dishes for the second time that day. Or cook one more meal that week. Or finish folding the laundry because I had a long and tiresome day. Sometimes these mundane tasks at home feel unrelated to God's will for our lives, but that couldn't be any further from the truth. Anything that is a part of our lives—and most especially things that we have to do often and repeatedly—are places where God meets us. It's so important for us to look for Him in those moments and to open up a conversation with Him there. I don't always feel certain I know God's will in my life. I know many of us don't. But I know that this prayer, "Here I am, Lord, I come to do your will," gets us one step closer to having some clarity—and to doing something loving in the meantime, ultimately leading us to a deepening of God's life within us. What is something you do every day, and how can you be receptive to His presence in that task today? [bctt tweet="God meets us. // @praymorenovenas" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

Last year, my husband and I landscaped all around our house and back patio. We had a clean slate before we got to work, and I loved making some of my ideas come to fruition as we began planting together. I'm talking hydrangeas, boxwoods, roses, sunflowers, and liriope—a type of grass that has small purple flowers pop up towards the end of summer. I really got into it and just threw myself into the work. It was a nice distraction during a really stressful season. And even while I thought I saw some of its beauty last summer, it's even more beautiful this year after the time it has had to grow deeper roots—after the post-first-season pruning and fertilizing and mulching. Being in the yard, planting like this, and seeing the care these plants needed moved my mind to prayer, thinking of God and our relationship with Him, wanting that "rich soil" (Luke 8:15). Watching the sunflowers change position throughout the day so that they faced the sun—that metaphor wasn't lost on me. The same was true for deadheading other flowers and seeing them flourish after the fact. We never like to be pruned ourselves, but maybe the Lord holds in store more growth, more blooms at a later time, deepening our roots in Him. Now as I see our rose bushes blooming more than I could have imagined last summer, I'm also reminded to be patient in this work—not just landscaping, but I'm talking about the work of our sanctification, our holiness—and whatever fruits we hope to bear here. These things all take time and care. They take perseverance and holding on to the belief that digging up and replanting and deadheading will produce a beautiful bloom "later on." What are you planting in your life right now, and what sort of care and perseverance does it need to bloom? [bctt tweet="Be patient in this work. // Annie Deddens " username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

I want to be in Heaven with the Lord someday, and I want to see my family and friends there too. I'd like to think that I'm one of those women, waiting for the Bridegroom who has the extra metaphorical lanterns and the oil for my loved ones. And Saint Monica seemed to be that kind of woman. The warning at the very end of today's Gospel reading is a heavy one: "Therefore, stay awake, for you know neither the day nor the hour” (Matthew 25:13). It's a reminder to keep our immortality at the front of our minds, and not just that, but our holiness—our preparedness to be present in front of the Lord. And we all know, that's no easy task—with the worries we have on our minds each week—with our jobs, our vocations, our internal struggles. But Saint Monica also shows us to consider these things for our loved ones, too, and particularly not to despair when those situations seem hopeless. Saint Monica is probably most well-known for the fact that her son, Saint Augustine, converted after years and years (some say decades) of her praying for him to repent and change his ways. She never gave up, she always held onto hope, and she believed that the Lord would work in her son's heart. And He did. If any of your loved ones have fallen away from the faith, or struggle with doubt, don't give up on praying for them, don't give up on hoping for them, and remember that the Lord is always working in their hearts. There's no hopeless cause with the Lord. Who or what would you like to bring to the Lord today? [bctt tweet="There's no hopeless cause with the Lord. // Annie Deddens @praymorenovenas" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

I remember distinctly this period of time when I was in college when I decided that I wanted to be more committed to my faith. At the time, I was going to school full-time and working a few different jobs when I wasn't in class—I felt stretched pretty thin by all of my responsibilities. At that same time, I was also living in a Catholic dorm, surrounded by other young adults who were "on fire" with their faith, and one of them—a close friend—invited me to go to the chapel every morning before class and pray. I had never really done that before, at least not in a habitual way every day. And it took me a while to get comfortable doing it—to figure out a rhythm of how to pray and what to say when I was there. Eventually, my thoughts would go to, "What do I want to do with my life? Am I on the right path?" I considered how I was spending my time—what I was studying, the jobs I was working, and who I was spending my time with, and one thing kept coming to mind: how there was just something different about the people in my Catholic dorm. They seemed happy—happier, and maybe more resilient, maybe more courageous. It was really appealing to me—this difference within them. I thought of them today as I read about the radiance of Moses' face in the reading. Those who know the Lord intimately and who speak with Him frequently—they're different. And those of us who encounter them know it—we see it, we know that it's a good kind of different, and we're inclined to walk towards whatever it is that might help us be that kind of changed too. Where have you noticed that good kind of different lately and how can you walk towards it this week? [bctt tweet="Be changed. // @praymorenovenas " username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

Have you heard this saying before? "God doesn't call the qualified; He qualifies the called." I like the gist of this message—this reminder that the Lord will make a way for us in our vocations and in His will. We may not know the way, but He does, and He'll lead us there. This is what came to mind today when I read about the chains falling from Saint Peter's wrists when the angel appeared, ready to lead Him out of prison. What also came to mind are the chains on my metaphorical wrists: my weaknesses, fears, and doubts. I pray time and time again for these chains to break off and to be released from their burden and weight. But when that doesn't happen, I try to think about how I can best live while they're still on, still here, because life goes on despite our sufferings. And I'd like to go on, too. In all my reading about suffering and how to live in spite of it, one thing I've seen mentioned a few times is the suggestion to replace the question of "why—why are you letting this happen, Lord?" with "where—where do you want me to be led through this?" Maybe the answer is "still here," and who knows why, but I think about this idea of still being here in the present moment. The Lord must have had a reason for allowing Saint Peter to have those chains kept on for however long he did, and I'd like to believe He has some special purpose for our chains too. We may not know it now or in five years or ever, but I'd like to try to live like that—like there is some special purpose for this time, here and now, because living like that actually does make the weight and burdens a little lighter. Where might the Lord be leading you through your chains? listen to today’s devotion [bctt tweet="There is some special purpose for this time. // @praymorenovenas" username="blessedisshe__"]  

I love the courage the blind man had in today's Gospel reading—to continuously call out for Jesus, to continuously ask for His pity, for His healing. He was desperate, and it seems like being in Jesus' presence gave him the courage to speak and to act. It gave him that which he needed to do something different—to do something, anything. This makes me think of all the times in my life when I felt lacking in courage, and it shines a light on maybe one reason why: was I in the presence of the Lord when I was trying to have courage, or was I trying to muster courage on my own? Did I call on His name in those instances or was I trying to be overly self-reliant? This also reminds me of all the times in my life when I felt I had what I needed: courage—to make a move. I remember that they all happened during a time in my life when I was praying consistently. When I decided as a journalist that I wanted to cover stories more related to my Faith. When I decided to quit a job that I felt was becoming a little toxic. When I decided to leave my career in TV news altogether. The seeds of desire to do these things all came about after spending time in prayer, in the presence of the Lord at Adoration. And the courage to act on them—I'm certain that also came from spending time in His presence. If you've been wanting a change in your life—a transition or some type of movement in any area of your life, have you laid that down in the Lord's presence? Have you allowed yourself to be desperate in front of Him? Take that risk of calling out to Him over and over again. He is present and He is faithful. He is the key to the courage you may be looking for to make a change. [bctt tweet="He is present and He is faithful. // Annie Deddens @praymorenovenas" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Lord, give me courage today.  

The verse before today's Gospel is one of my favorites, hands-down: "Even now, says the Lord, return to me with your whole heart; for I am gracious and merciful" (Joel 2:12-13). It reads so gently to me. I particularly love the "even now" part. It makes me think of an instance when a young child tests their parents' boundaries and asks, "Would you love me if I ran away? If I was angry with you?" The list could go on and on. And the parent responds, every time, "Even then, I would still love you." I want us all to similarly let that "even now" sink into our own hearts this Lent. That Our Father says to us: Even now when you haven't been to Mass or Confession in a while. Even now when you haven't been praying much. Even now when you've been struggling with habitual sin. Even now when you've been angry with Him. Even now when you don't feel much when you enter a church. Even now when you doubt sometimes. There isn't anything you could be doing right now that would limit His mercy and compassion towards you if you return to Him. Let His words be gentle to you today and this Lent. He isn't condemning you—He's inviting you home. Even now. Even if. He is gracious and merciful. [bctt tweet="Return to Him. // Annie Deddens " username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Whom in your life could use some extra mercy? Turn to them with Lord's gift of mercy.  

We hear in today's First Reading a handful of times when God said something—let there be water, earth, humankind—and that thing happened. He spoke, and His words were life-giving. They still are, and today His word speaks to me this gentle encouragement to rest, to take comfort in His rest on the seventh day and to mirror it in my own life. Even though I've been through this before, my immediate reaction is to say, But I'm busy! I have people I need to get back to, a long to-do list that I should try to keep tackling. It's not just the pressure from other people to "perform" and do all of these things, it's also pressure from myself. When I look really closely at that, I see that it's because I take pride in doing all of these things. It's probably also because I can tend to consider checking these boxes as a way of distinguishing my worth—in work, in relationships, in my home even. But that's just not true, not for me, not for you. And I know it, because I've lived out this story before. A few years ago, I began struggling with some new health challenges that affected my day-to-day life, and it was difficult for me to accept my limitations at that time—to accept my weaknesses. The required rest was painful, yes, and heart-aching to experience, but I began to see that my worth didn't lay in my accomplishments or capabilities. My husband, family, and friends showed me that. They didn't want anything from me. Just my presence was enough. And the gift of that for me to experience was something I will never forget—knowing I was loved not for what I could do, but for who I was. Knowing that I could rest and still be . . . worthy, valuable, wanted, and loved. The same is true for you. Our Father in Heaven is showing us the way to live fully, to live the life we were created for, and He's showing us that that life includes rest. [bctt tweet="Our Father in Heaven is showing us the way to live fully. // @praymorenovenas" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Make a plan for rest today, for this week, this month. What does that look like for you?