I am a joy chaser. It started a few years ago. I chose 'Joy' as my word for my year. It seemed to be the missing element from my otherwise blessed life. I love to surround myself with joyful people, yet time with those happy, spirited souls often leave me feeling as though I am missing some special spark. So joy it was. I bought a pillow that had “Joy” spelled in an elaborate fashion. I read some research articles on the topic, because that is just what I do. I stumbled across a book on joy I had started but failed to get into, and I restarted that book. And in it I found the secret—thankfulness. Ann Voskamp wrote that joy is the ‘you're welcome’ to the ‘thank you’ we give to God. (source) My quest for joy transformed into a journey towards a more thankful heart. If we are thankful, truly thankful for what we have, joy will naturally follow. Happiness is a choice, but joy is a by-product of a heart full of thanks. This time of year it can be easy to slide into a little bit of a slump emotionally. Some of us are surrounded by wrapping paper and the bills that go with gift giving. Some of us are spending an exorbitant amount of time with loved ones that make us crazy. Some of us are longing for a different type of holiday. Whatever your situation may be, recognize that the joy you seek doesn’t come from the gifts under the tree or the people who gave them. The joy you seek comes from a relationship with Our Lord, Jesus Christ. When we can orient our thankful hearts toward His, He will fill our hearts with joy. And in the depths of despair, when joy seems so far, He can give us peace until the joyful times come. [bctt tweet="Happiness is a choice, but joy is a by-product of a heart full of thanks. // Dr. MaryRuth Hackett" username="blessedisshe__"] Enjoy this brief article on the "most joyful" Saint. Dr. MaryRuth Hackett is the host of the podcast Parenting Smarts. She loves historical fiction, dark chocolate, watching her children play soccer, a good cup of coffee (decaf please) and the quiet of the early morning. She holds a PhD in Educational Psychology and has a passion for helping parents understand the way their children grow and develop. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book called Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.

If I had to wager a guess, I'm going to presume that I'll spend these first days of Christmas basking in all that is good in these holy days—the quiet peace of midnight Mass; the gentle joy that comes from taking in the sights of the Nativity at my local parish; the flurry of presents being opened by starry-eyed little ones; and the fullness of meals shared with dear friends and family. There is so much that is good in my life this Christmas. I also know that at least a portion of these holy days will be spent reflecting on the imperfections of the season. Things like the physical absence of loved ones and the spiritual absence of relatives far from the Church. Things like the heartache of family misunderstandings that always feel more keen this time of year. Things like the longing that comes from prayers that simply weren't answered on Christmas morning. I have to remind myself that even though Christmas is a beautiful time, it's also a far-from-perfect time. Every Christmas I also marvel at the Church's wisdom to place Saint Stephen at the very start of Christmastide. How fitting that the story of the first Christian martyr be told right in the beauty and messiness of the Christmas story! The Scriptures tell us that Saint Stephen loved our Lord and King with a heart that was "filled with grace and power" (Acts 6:8). He had the joy of the Lord in his heart, even as he endured misunderstanding, abuse, and ultimately, death. You see, Sisters, love for our newborn King didn't mean that Saint Stephen was free from the sorrows of the human experience. But it did mean that he would go to the ends of all the messiness for the sake of the One Who came to us yesterday in a manger. I want a heart like Saint Stephen's, and I'm praying for that today for me and for you. [bctt tweet="I have to remind myself that even though Christmas is a beautiful time, it's also a far-from-perfect time. // Karen Schultz" username="blessedisshe__"] Lord, strengthen in our hearts this grace and power to die to ourselves and totally dedicate our hearts to You this season. Karen Schultz hails from the Land of 10,000 lakes, where she is often found in or near one of them. As a doula, lactation educator, and FertilityCare Practitioner, she finds joy in helping women to embrace the gift of their bodies. Downtime is found in quiet adoration chapels, farmers markets and gardens, listening to bluegrass music, and embracing the diversity of Minnesota’s seasons. She is a contributing author to our Works of Mercy Study: Misericordia. You can find out more about her here.

The imagery of light is perhaps one of the most easily accessible and understood metaphors in Christian spirituality. Scripture is peppered with references to light, and Jesus frequently uses the metaphor of light throughout the Gospels. In the Gospel for this Christmas Mass during the Day, Jesus’ beloved disciple, Saint John the Beloved, also goes on and on about light. Here, he’s pointing to the Light of the world. The Light that cannot be overcome by darkness. The Light, of course, is Jesus Christ. The Word made flesh. (See John 1:14.) The Godman Who humbled Himself to become one of us in order to save us. John digs deeper. When he writes of the light that shines in the darkness—the light of the human race—John proclaims that the light is the life that came to be through the Word. In other words, the light that banishes darkness in the human race is the life we live in the Lord. Does our relationship with Christ shine? Are we lights of the Lord? As we are surrounded by Christmas tree bulbs, fireplaces, and festive burning candles, it’s a worthy consideration. “What came to be through him was life, and this life was the light of the human race . . .” (John 1:4). Are we lit up? Are we so filled with the very life of God that we radiate? Are others able to see God more clearly when they witness our lives? The Word became flesh and dwelt among us. (See John 1:14.) He gave us His life so that we might have life. And when we live in that truth, we become little lights that illuminate for others the path to Bethlehem, to that Baby in a manger Who is ready to offer them the fullness of His grace. [bctt tweet="Does our relationship with Christ shine? // @to_the_heights" username="blessedisshe__"] This beatified Archbishop shares the real meaning of Christmas. Take a listen. Olivia Spears lives in Kentucky where sweet tea and bourbon flow like milk and honey. She is the Blog Manager for Blessed is She and works from home as an editor and social media manager. She likes to binge novels and Netflix while raising her children and laughing with her husband. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book called Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.

"[T]o give his people knowledge of salvation through the forgiveness of their sins, because of the tender mercy of our God by which the daybreak from on high will visit us to shine on those who sit in darkness and death’s shadow, to guide our feet into the path of peace" (Luke 1:77-79). I faced away from her in the car as she continued to explain her new nuanced theology, her agnostic beliefs, her assuredness that what I believed was . . . not for her anymore. My face was hot and my stomach tight. She kept driving up and down the hills, in and out of the canyons, until we reached my apartment in the foothills of Red Rock Mountain. I bit the inside of my mouth so hard it was raw and generally wanted to just fall out of the gold Chevy Caprice Classic. We got our to-go food containers up the stairs, into the small fridge, and laid out on the futon covered with a granny square afghan my grandma had made for me at birth. If I only had had a degree in theology, I could have convinced her. If only I had known every response to every doubt. But what I really wish I had known then, and I know now, is that Saint John the Baptist was coming to share the news of God's tender mercy, the daybreak to shine on those who sit in darkness, the guide for the path of peace. He may have been fierce and wild, but the real shock of this message is that we repent out of love. If you're facing family and loved ones with whom you've parted ways theologically this Christmas, take a good long listen to today's reading in Luke 1:67-79. Tap into that evangelizing love of the Lord, and be steadfast in knowing it's God's love for them that will bring them home, not a lecture or dissertation defense from you. Shine out His mercy, love, and peace. [bctt tweet="We repent out of love. // @WholeParenting" username="blessedisshe__"] Happy Almost-Birthday, Sweet Baby Jesus! Invite a friend, go to Mass yourself, find the times and locations near you here. Nell O'Leary is a recovering lawyer turned blogger, speaker, and sewer of baby goods while tending to her husband and four kiddos in the great city of Saint Paul, Minnesota. She serves as Managing Editor for Blessed is She and can down a hot cocoa in no time flat. Find out more about her here. She is the editor of our Blessed Conversations Series and guide for the Gift of You course.

My temper rose up inside me, and yet, I managed to reply calmly to her resistant yells, “You need to write this essay now. This is your assignment, and you are a student.” She stormed out of the room. I sat back in surprise. Two years ago, this conversation in our home-schooling morning would have ended differently. Either I would have lost control or given into her demands. But the Lord has been refining me. “For he is like the refiner's fire, or like the fuller's lye” (Malachi 3:2). In the past two years, I have been through the trials of multiple chronic illnesses and long emotional sufferings. The Lord has stayed ever at my side, refining me with the fire of His love through the physical pain of Lyme disease, idiopathic granulomatous mastitis, uterine infections, poor gut health, the emotional sorrow over a third miscarriage, and the long wait to try for another pregnancy. Like soiled wool, I have entrusted my suffering into His careful hands as He scrubbed with lye, cleansing it and teaching me patience. He is the One Who taught me how to suffer by coming 2,000 years ago, as prophesied by Malachi, to refine the “sons of Levi,” Israelite priests who offered the temple sacrifices. Christ is the One High Priest Who sacrificed Himself on the Cross. We join in His priesthood through our Baptism (See Catechism of the Catholic Church § 1268) and can unite ourselves to His one sacrifice. In our suffering, He refines us like gold or silver, so that we can offer the due sacrifice of our lives to the Lord. (See Malachi 3:3.) By embracing my long sufferings with Him, I am more receptive to the gifts of the Holy Spirit. I can see now the fruits of my offerings in my life, fruits of the Holy Spirit, such as greater patience in living my vocation. Just twenty minutes after she stormed off, my daughter returned with an essay on the people she admires most. My mom is a very patient person. But it is all His work. [bctt tweet="The Lord has stayed ever at my side. // Susanna Spencer" username="blessedisshe__"] Take a look at Part III in the Catechism to learn more about the gifts and fruits of the Holy Spirit. Susanna Spencer is the Theological Editor for Blessed is She who studied theology and philosophy in her earlier life. She happily cares for her three adorable little girls, toddler boy, and her dear husband in Saint Paul when not writing and editing. She loves beautiful liturgies, cooking delicious meals, baking amazing sweets, reading good books, raising her children, casually following baseball, and talking to her philosopher husband. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book called Rise Up and Theological Editor of the Catechism Studies, the Mystery Studies, and the Works of Mercy study. You can find out more about her here.

“Do we have a name yet?” I shook my sleepy head, no, in response to the sweet, patient nurse coming in to check my vitals once again. We were going on day two with our third son, and still no name. Hours of talking it over during the pregnancy, polling our friends on social media, and still nothing. He wasn’t expected, I wasn’t ready, and the death grip I had on my life had been slowly and painfully pried away. I asked my husband to choose a name. He chose "Victor Manuel." Whether he was divinely inspired or not, we’ll never know, but the irony doesn’t escape me. The child I wasn’t prepared for and couldn’t name became a sign of Christ stepping into my life. “[A]nd they shall name him Emmanuel, which means "God is with us” (Matthew 1:23). Victorious Emmanuel. What had felt like a hugely impossible thing in so many ways God used as a sign of His victory in my life, and as a reminder that He truly is with me. That sweet baby boy brought with him a season of change and peace in our family life and in our marriage. He was, and continues to be, a balm for my soul. The Messiah stepped into the history of mankind in a most unexpected way, time, and place. He disrupted people's lives and ideas about how God works. He still does! But my goodness, He can make beauty bloom from chaos. So, my sister, as we near the end of this season of waiting, sit with me and think about a time when the Lord has turned your expectations on their head and did something wonderful. And if you’re in the stormy chaos now, let me remind you that God is with us. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us. [bctt tweet="What had felt like a hugely impossible thing in so many ways God used as a sign of His victory in my life, and as a reminder that He truly is with me. // @jacquiskemp" username="blessedisshe__"] This snippet of one of the most famous orchestral and chorale pieces for Christmas is fitting to listen to today. Jacqueline Skemp is a daughter, sister, wife, and mother who endures living in Minnesota after leaving California for her one true love. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book called Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.

Throughout my upbringing, I never knew authentic sisterhood. Beyond not having a sister, I switched schools often and never formed enduring friendships. I remember how once I got to high school people incessantly asked, “Who’s your Elizabeth?” in youth group—and truthfully, my answer was different every year. I had never seen a female friendship stick around long enough to know its true power, and I viewed this Gospel, Luke 1:39-45, as the cheesy reminder of “sisterhood” I may never know. It it surely redemptive to write this from the apartment I share with four women, all of whom take on my joy like it is their own. As I let today’s Gospel take root in my life, I am convinced that sisterhood is important to salvation history. In the way Mary travels to Elizabeth in haste, there is an urgency in which we are called to share His promise with each other. In Elizabeth’s celebration of Mary’s arrival, there is a grand call to recognize God's presence in each other. In Elizabeth’s blessing, there is an ongoing need to pray with and for each other. This Gospel is a truthful model of how our Blessed Mother took on the call of sisterhood, and I know that in today’s world, I need to cling to its message more than ever. Sisters, I am not sure what your community looks like at the moment. Maybe you do not feel like you have your “Elizabeth” and I have been there. Yet, I know by this Gospel that Jesus desires holy female companionship for our lives, and that He is keeping His word across generations. Like Mary and Elizabeth, I hope we can press into the knowledge that the Lord is fulfilling His promises to us, in the here and now. Even in the longing or unfinished, He is healing our wounds and breathing life into our relationships because the world needs the witness of our sisterhood. Holy Spirit, make Your home in our communities and rebuild our love for another, but most importantly, for You. [bctt tweet="Jesus desires holy female companionship for our lives. // Sarah Elizabeth" username="blessedisshe__"] Join a Blessed is She group, or start one. Invest in sisterhood today. Sarah Elizabeth is a politics pre-law major at the Catholic University of America in Washington, DC. Born and raised in Arizona, she finds great joy in mountains, lattes, American history, and the piano. She is constantly discovering Christ's wild love in the little things.

I hate to say it, but Mary was a bit of a stumbling block for me in my return to the Catholic Church. Jesus had tackled me—you know how He does that—with that kind of crazy-powerful love and blazing intellectual righteousness, truth, and mercy thing that He does. Encountering His Sacred Heart in the Sacraments, especially the Eucharist, was just too much to resist. But Mary, that was different. I had been “infected” with some poor catechesis, too many poorly written, maudlin Marian tunes, and far too many pale-faced, limp-looking Madonnas over the years to even want to get to know this virgin betrothed to a man named Joseph. What could she possibly have to teach me? But Heaven is an infinitely patient place—and tenacious when it comes to truth. With just a touch of study I became more interested in the mother of Jesus. With more reading, some delicate conversations with the learned, I started to embrace the sacramental reality of the Immaculate Conception, and to sit with wonder over this courageous young woman and her extraordinarily brave fiat. It took me a long while and a lot of study and even more hours in adoration to come to understand her as Theotokos, the Mother of God of Tenderness—you know the icon, where the fleshy little cheek of Jesus is pressed against hers. He looks adoringly on her, but she looks lovingly on you, inviting you into the heart of her relationship with Jesus, her Son and Messiah. Slowly I began to wonder what it meant—for me—when she said “Do as he tells you” (John 2:5). I began to watch in awe, especially each Good Friday, as Our Lady of Sorrows remained faithful and unmoving at the foot of the Cross. It was a further feat of grace to begin to imagine the kind of fierce and burning purity that would result in her Assumption. It took some time and spiritual maturity to arrive at belief in her power—as bestowed through the King of Kings to this Queen of Heaven, Queen of Victory, Queen of Peace. But yes, I am coming to know her a little bit now. [bctt tweet="Heaven is an infinitely patient place. // Liz Kelly" username="blessedisshe__"] Learn more about Mary as Mediatrix of all graces here. Liz Kelly is a jazz singer who fell in love with Jesus. She writes, teaches, offers spiritual direction and retreats with a special interest in helping women to flourish in their faith. She’s written six books, including the award-winning Jesus Approaches, the Jesus Approaches Study Supplement, and the Your Heart, His Home Prayer Companion. And she still sings jazz, but mainly in the tub and while washing dishes. Find out more about her here.

Tears started pooling in my eyes. “Are you ok?” the nurse asked gently. “I just like to be more in the know and in control,” I managed to reply without turning into a puddle. “Oh sweetie, you’re a mom now. You’re going to have to get over that,” she said kindly. Five weeks pregnant and too impatient to wait for the standard first appointment scheduled nearly a month later. The at-home tests had all been positive, but I needed more proof, more certainty, that this moment I had been dreaming of was actually happening. What if it were a false positive? Surely there had to be a blood test or something else that would solidly verify that we were expecting. There wasn’t. I just had to wait and, other than the standard rules like not eating sushi or drinking alcohol, there was nothing I could really do beyond pray that this life which seemed so far out of my control would be safe and alright. I would love to say that learning there was really nothing I could do helped me to hand the reins over to God and let go of my need for control over this pregnancy (and other aspects of life in general), but I haven’t quite gotten there yet. Now, over halfway to our due date, and I am still praying to transition from Zachariah’s need to know attitude at the announcement of John the Baptist (see Luke 1:18), to Mary’s humble acceptance of God’s will at the Annunciation of Christ—even if it seemed unimaginable (see Luke 1:34-38). I'm increasingly understanding that we might not be made mute, but that the desire for absolute certainty can still be paralyzing. I’m slowly learning that by holding too tightly to ideas of perfection or “the right timing” when it comes to things like beginning a creative endeavor, choosing a school, or even entering into our vocation we might limit our receptivity to God and the amazing things He has in store. And if there is one thing I know for sure, I do not want to place a barrier to God’s love in my own life, let alone that of this precious babe. [bctt tweet="There was nothing I could really do beyond pray. // Sarah Rose" username="blessedisshe__"] This renown depiction of the Annunciation shows Our Lady's interior posture of acceptance and humility. Sarah Rose is a small town Ohio girl who is obsessed with all things Ignatian and is passionate about faith, social justice, and the intersection of the two. She left Ohio in 2012 and after a year of service in rural Alaska, earning her Master of Divinity in California, and working at a Connecticut High School, is officially back in Ohio serving as a university Newman Campus Minister. When she’s not working, she enjoys contagious laughter, clever puns, and finding the good in all things. You can find out more about her here.

“Angels and messages—the Holy Family had it so easy!” I lamented to my friend, my initial patience and surrender to God’s will waning as time wore on. My humor was a thinly-veiled cry of confusion and frustration as I flailed for control: I wanted to trust God’s will, but once again I felt I had to do all the heavy lifting with options and decisions—trying to apply my small, close-minded understanding to God’s limitless ways. Thankfully, Saint Joseph’s discernment is far more universal than it seems—and it can teach us a lot about how God approaches our decisions. First: surrender the timeline. We see time as a constraint. Yet even in a dire decision about the Savior of the World, God took His perfect time. Joseph first had to learn about Mary’s pregnancy, wrestle with the only apparent options according to his conscience and the law, and with his own free will make a decision over the course of weeks, maybe even months. Only then did the angel show up. Second: invite God in, and He will straighten the path. Joseph was a righteous man, unwilling to expose Mary to shame—he desired to do what was right in the eyes of the Lord and merciful. He invited God into the process. The Lord honored both Joseph’s free will and Joseph's desire to do God’s will. When Joseph veered a bit, God gave him the grace of broader vision to gently adjust course. The Lord isn’t about micromanagement. He’s about relationship. God didn’t give Joseph authoritative commands. He presented an invitation, leading with the words, “do not be afraid,” and still ending with the freedom to say yes or no. God’s will might be wildly different than we imagine, but in releasing control of our finite wants, we are able to open our arms to God’s dreams for us which encompass all eternity with Him. Whatever you’re working through, when you sincerely (even if imperfectly) seek God’s will and invite Him in, God will straighten every path in His perfect time, and give you all the grace you need to say yes. Be not afraid! [bctt tweet="Invite God in, and He will straighten the path. // @PosImperfect" username="blessedisshe__"] Catch this workshop from the archives about reviving your spiritual life if you're feeling dry this Advent. Megan Hjelmstad is a wife and mom 24/7 and an Army Reservist in her “spare” time. She is the Stories Manager for the Blessed is She Instagram account. She’s a bibliophile, tea drinker, sleep lover, and avid admirer of Colorado’s great outdoors. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book called Rise Up. When the writing bug hits, you can find out more about her here.

There is no island like it in the world. The air smells of days of old in the clothing, possessions, and books of immigrants dating back to 1892. The walls echo stories of relatives who traveled from Germany, Ireland, and Italy to step foot on Ellis Island and start a new life. I still remember searching for our family lineage and locating the name of the ship that brought my mother’s great grandparents through the Great Hall. I looked out toward the New York skyline, still capturing the World Trade Center, and tried to imagine the life they left behind to give me the life I have today. Their blood still flows through me; their past gave me my future. I might not know all the details of my family, but I know they overcame a lot: sin, addiction, mockery, poverty, illness, and scandal. Jesus’ relatives overcame all of this and more. If we look at the women in Jesus’ genealogy, we find five women by name. Tamar seduced her father-in-law Judah (Genesis 38). Rahab was considered a lady of the night (Joshua 2). Ruth was a widow and a foreigner who became the great grandmother of David (Ruth 1-4). Bathsheba had an affair with David (2 Samuel 11-12). And finally, the Virgin Mary arrived to redeem this broken and messy family tree. In our past or the past of our family, there is someone or something hidden in shame or sin. But if Jesus’ family tree teaches us anything, it’s that God’s love prevails. From the moment of our birth, we inherited a family tree that is complicated and wonderful. Whether you can trace your family history back fourteen generations or three, God has carved you into His family tree. Nothing you or your family's bloodline can do will disqualify you from Christ’s love which poured out from His side on the Cross. Let Christ’s blood wash over your family's lineage, bringing forgiveness, mercy, and love to you and your family for generations to come. [bctt tweet="God's love prevails. // @SoCalTriciaT" username="blessedisshe__"] The Anima Christi is a powerful prayer about the Body and Blood of Christ. Tricia Tembreull is a California girl with a boundless passion for life. After two decades of ministering to teens and youth ministers as a trainer, ministry mentor, and speaker in Catholic youth ministry, Tricia now serves as Campus Minister at USC Caruso Catholic Center. She loves adventure and seeks it everywhere she goes. As an avid foodie, she enjoys testing new recipes out on friends and family, gathering them around the table to encounter Christ in one another and be drawn to the satisfying unity we crave in the Eucharist. You can find out more about her here.

Earlier this year, my family and I hiked up a sizable hill at a local county park. After admiring the view of the bay and hills, we started down the other side. We quickly realized it wasn’t a good path to take. The trail was narrow and treacherously steep. The ground was deeply grooved, bearing the evidence of washout from the recent rains. Prickly bushes scratched our legs. After a few minutes, we turned around and went back down the hill the way we had come ≥up. That’s the thing about hiking: you can easily find yourself on the wrong path. Even if you know exactly where you want to end up, you may not know the best way to get there. Hiking is a great metaphor for life. As Christians, we want to live lives of goodness and meaning. We know what we want; we just don’t always know how to get it. Every day, we have choices to make . . . and the best, most life-giving choice is not always immediately clear. So I feel for the psalmist when he writes, “Your ways, O LORD, make known to me; teach me your paths” (Psalm 25:4). Those paths are not always clearly-marked. We want them to be. We want the neon signs saying GO THIS WAY! But maybe—just maybe—it’s better this way. Maybe when we have to do the hard work of discernment, it draws us closer to God, closer than we would otherwise have been. And we learn from every path we take. Even when we have to circle back to the starting point and take a different trail, we do so with hard-won knowledge that helps us in the future. And with God, our compassionate God, there is always another chance to begin again. [bctt tweet="Every day, we have choices to make. // Ginny Kubitz Moyer" username="blessedisshe__"] Make the time to go to Confession this week and remind yourself how to prepare with our guide. Ginny Kubitz Moyer is a mother, high school English teacher, and BBC period drama junkie. She is the author of three books, including Taste and See: Experiencing the Goodness of God with Our Five Senses and Random MOMents of Grace: Experiencing God in the Adventures of Motherhood. Ginny lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband, two boys, and about thirty thousand Legos. She is the author of our Blessed Conversations: The Seven Sacraments found here. You can find out more about her here.

When I found out about the lies and deceit from the man I was going to marry, the life I thought I'd known completely shattered. In the light of the shocking truth, everything changed. After a long time of waiting and hopeful expectation, my dreams that had finally felt so close were suddenly and harshly ripped away from me. I didn't know how God could allow such destruction, and yet I also deeply felt that it was only God Who could make something beautiful from the darkness I had just experienced. In the pain, confusion, hopelessness, and heartache all I could say was, "God, save me!" Just like today's Responsorial Psalm. In fact, my experience was truly an act of God saving me. On many levels He saved me from what could have been so much worse, but He also began a transformation in me of far greater freedom and joy than I could imagine. "And the ransomed of the LORD shall return, and enter Zion singing, crowned with everlasting joy; They meet with joy and gladness, sorrow and mourning flee away" (Isaiah 35:10). I do not know the parts of your life that feel broken and shattered. But I do know that in patience and surrender, God can use those broken pieces to shape your life into a glorious mosaic of radiant beauty and fruitfulness. As the Second Reading reminds us, "You too must be patient. Make your hearts firm, because the coming of the Lord is at hand" (James 5:7:8). As we prepare and await Christ's coming this Christmas, let us make a brave surrender to God and His saving power, He Who brings radiant light out of the most severe darkness. [bctt tweet="God can use those broken pieces to shape your life into a glorious mosaic of radiant beauty and fruitfulness. // Mary Catherine Craige" username="blessedisshe__"] This surrender novena is powerful. Let's pray it together. Mary Catherine Craige enjoys spending her time swing dancing, playing the Irish harp and surfing the ocean waves of northeast Florida. As a transformational life coach, she supports courageous women to create beauty out of challenging circumstances and to live a life of abundance, freedom and joy as the person God has created them to be. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book, Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.

I work as an Associate Dental Director for a community public health center. I see hundreds of patients each month on top of my administrative duties. It can be challenging and frequently exhausting. But in this work, I also see the face of Jesus. In a clinic like mine, we are often the safety net for the community. We see those who have been forgotten by our health care system. By some people, they are dismissed as just a number in a sea of uninsured and impoverished people. But, in them, I see the face of Jesus. I see Him in the recovering addict who is missing half his teeth. I see Him in the pregnant teenager who has bleeding and painful gums. I see Him in the refugee, the immigrant, and her children. I see Him in the woman who has been turned away by four other providers because she does not have insurance. I see Him in those who yell at me and threaten to sue me. I see Him in the elderly man who comes early to his appointment and stays late so he has someone to talk to. How often are we stopping to recognize the face of Jesus in those we see? Like in today’s Gospel, have we not recognized Elijah? (See Matthew 17:12.) Each day before heading to work, I pray that I may find the face of Jesus in my patients and my coworkers. [bctt tweet="How often are we stopping to recognize the face of Jesus in those we see? // @Substance_Soul" username="blessedisshe__"] Lord, may I see Your face in everyone I meet. May I treat them with kindness, compassion, respect, and honor. Amen. Dr. Samantha Aguinaldo-Wetterholm is a wife to Paul, mom to three little ones, and practices dentistry at a public health community center for low income families in the Bay Area, California. She (unashamedly) thinks ice cream is its own food group, does not leave the house without wearing sparkly earrings, and is an enthusiastic proponent of the Oxford comma. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book called Rise Up. Find out more about her here.

Specks of light danced through the tree branches and illuminated the wildflowers of the forest floor of Rocky Mountain National Park. I paused over their simple beauty, and I longed to pluck one or two to bring along. Yet, the warning of the park ranger restrained my hand. Wildlife in National Parks is protected by law. Even flowers may not be touched by human hands. A rule-follower by nature, I have never had trouble respecting the law and obeying it. In high school, I was very strict with myself when it came to underage drinking and often felt superior to those who smoked. Following the law became a point of pride for me. This extended from civil law to the moral law and the precepts of the Church. I saw myself as different and separate from my peers as I strove to live an outwardly Christian life. To this day, I painfully relate to the Pharisees in their careful rule-following. The state of my heart was very far from the words of the Psalmist today, “Blessed the man who . . . delights in the law of the Lord” (Psalm 1:3). I took no delight in following rules. My choices were done in fear of not being perfect, not appearing perfect, and the worst, of getting caught breaking the law. There was no love in my heart, only pride. I did not remember that everything the Lord teaches us is for our good, to lead us on the way we should go. He wants us to hearken to and delight in His commandments so that we can prosper in His grace. (See Isaiah 48:17-19.) When we delight in His law, it makes us free. I am slowly learning to overcome my pride in rule-following—to let loose when needed and to have an understanding heart. Rigidity about the law makes a heart unmerciful. I am discovering that I need to show myself, as well as others, mercy. [bctt tweet="When we delight in His law, it makes us free. // Susanna Spencer" username="blessedisshe__"] Dear Lord, teach me to delight in Your law so that I may know Your merciful heart. Susanna Spencer is the Theological Editor for Blessed is She who studied theology and philosophy in her earlier life. She happily cares for her three adorable little girls, toddler boy, and her dear husband in Saint Paul when not writing and editing. She loves beautiful liturgies, cooking delicious meals, baking amazing sweets, reading good books, raising her children, casually following baseball, and talking to her philosopher husband. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book called Rise Up and Theological Editor of the Catechism Studies, the Mystery Studies, and the Works of Mercy study. You can find out more about her here.

"Sing and rejoice . . . I am coming to dwell among you!" (Zechariah 2:14) There was a time that I hated singing. I rolled my eyes to think “singing was praying twice,”and didn’t rejoice as I sang, either. Then I experienced praise and worship while on a retreat in high school. It was thrilling. A spiritual "high." Singing became a way for me to pray, especially in Adoration. I attended more praise and worship nights before the Blessed Sacrament through college. Prayer continued in silence after the music ended. In that silence, I found peace and hope lasting long after the spiritual "high." Now these years later, I know praise and silence are parts of the same conversation with our Lord. Today’s First Reading echoes this. After the singing, Zechariah urged the people, "Silence . . . in the presence of the Lord, who stirs forth . . ." (Zechariah 2:17). This image of the Lord stirring forth is exciting, like waiting on Christmas as we are now. I feel hope, expectation, and wonder at what He is already doing. And yet, it is in quiet prayer I remember God’s promises and watch for His movement in my life. He waits for me there, in the silence. It is there I surrender. I give my life to Jesus: the joy, worry, and doubts. He takes what I offer, accepts my "fiat" (Luke 1:38), and begins His holy work in my life. I find that more thrilling than the praise nights. Being silent in the Lord's presence also grounds me in His promises, keeping me from being swept up in the busyness of life. The Lord moves forth, sisters. So soon we’ll celebrate (singing joyous carols!) when He came to dwell among us. In His presence, I wait . . . and rejoice at the good He does in my life. [bctt tweet="I give my life to Jesus: the joy, worry, and doubts. // Gina Fensterer" username="blessedisshe__"] A great book to bring to Adoration is this one. Gina Fensterer finds daily life to be perfect for practicing virtue and sometimes blogs about raising up saints (she has six children). She loves the Jesus prayer, long runs, and coffee at any time of day. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book called Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.

“They that hope in the Lord will renew their strength, they will soar as with eagle’s wings; They will run and not grow weary, Walk and not grow faint” (Isaiah 40:31). When I was a little girl my godmother gave me a pink bookmark with this verse printed on it. It became a sort of life verse for me. It was one of the first verses I committed to memory, carrying it with me like a banner into violin recitals, math tests, and other childhood trials. In those days faith was easy. It didn’t take much to renew my strength, and it was not difficult to picture myself soaring “as with eagles wings.” But in recent years my faith has felt grounded. Prayers have gone unanswered. Seasons of dryness have left me longing for the sweet consolations I experienced in my youth. Turning to the Lord with my daily concerns has been difficult, when I remember to turn to Him at all. I have been looking for a way to inject new life into my walk with the Lord, and this past fall I found it. In October, I participated in BiS VBS. It's a "virtual Bible Study," a way for the Blessed is She community to read through the book of the Bible, one chapter a day, finding one take away each day. For a former Protestant this should not have been a big deal—I had read the Bible several times before graduating from high school and gone to a Christian college with required Bible classes. But, friends, it had been a long time since I had just read through a book of Scripture. BiS VBS was the jump start my stalled-out prayer life so desperately needed. That’s because the Word of God is alive, powerful, and active in our lives. In it we find comfort in our trials, strength for today, and hope for tomorrow. If your faith life has been feeling flat, may I make a suggestion? Get in the Word. The Lord is there, waiting to soar with you. [bctt tweet="The Word of God is alive, powerful, and active in our lives. // Anna Coyne" username="blessedisshe__"] All of the past BiS VBS videos are available right over here. Anna Coyne is a wife, mother, and convert to the Catholic Faith. She is a classically trained pianist who, after teaching for ten years now stays home with her three young children. but still manages to flex her creative muscles through writing, knitting, and gardening. She is proud to call Saint Paul home and loves everything about living in Minnesota, except for winter. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book called Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.