The first time I observed Mass as a non-Catholic, I heard an astonishing exchange. As the service wrapped up, the priest gave a blessing and then proclaimed: “Go forth, the Mass is ended.” Everyone responded with a resounding: “Thanks be to God.” I’m embarrassed to admit that I thought the priest was merely dismissing everyone, and the participants were thankful that their obligatory hour had ended. Years have passed since that day, and after studying the Faith and becoming Catholic, I now understand the real meaning of the final words at Mass. But how does this relate to the familiar image in the Gospel today of the shepherd leaving the ninety-nine sheep to go in search of the one who is lost? (See Matthew 18:12-14.) As I contemplate this Shepherd’s heart, I am filled with awe, gratitude, and relief that I, too, was once very lost but Jesus never gave up on me. He pursued me ardently, and the Father rejoiced to welcome me home. Now I am one of the ninety-nine—a safe, comfortable sheep following the Shepherd, nourished within the sheepfold of the Church. Basking in the glory of this reality is good, recounting God’s merciful love is important, and being strengthened and sustained in the Sacraments is essential. But as a sheep who is well loved and cared for, I must GO out, with the heart of my Shepherd, and seek the lost. The words of another option for the final dismissal at Mass echo in my head: “Go in peace, glorifying the Lord by your life.” God sends His sheep who have been gathered together and fed out on a mission. This means not only striving for personal holiness, but also intentionally and tirelessly searching for those who have strayed and are far from the flock. Lord, I don’t just want to be safe and comfortable. Today, show me “the one” and I will join Your rescue mission to seek and save the lost. [bctt tweet="I, too, was once very lost but Jesus never gave up on me. // @bloverevolution" username="blessedisshe__"] Do you already know the Blessed is She mission statement? Debra Herbeck, a Jewish convert to the Church, has worked extensively in youth and women’s ministry. She has directed Pine Hills Girls Camp for the past 32 years, is the founder and Director of the Be Love Revolution, and also helps lead a ministry called i.d.916. She has written a number of books that can be found here. Debra and her husband Peter live in Ann Arbor, Michigan and are the parents of four children and five adorable grandchildren. She is a contributing author to our Works of Mercy Study: Misericordia.

Eve. A gift to Adam. Chosen by the Father. Mother of All the Living. Mary. A gift to Jesus. Chosen by the Father. Mother of God. The Immaculate Conception. A gift to us from the Father to teach us to be a handmaid of the Lord. Mother Most Pure. Full of grace. Make us His vessel. Prepare us for His presence. Queen of Peace. When troubled, you pondered. Lead us to deeper surrender and confident trust. Most highly favored lady. You knew your identity and rejoiced in the gift of Divine Intimacy. Spouse of the Holy Spirit You exist for the praise of His glory. Our life, our sweetness, and our hope. Cause of our joy. Nothing will be impossible for God. Give us joyful hope as we rejoice with you. Queen conceived without original sin, Blessed are you among women. Teach us true femininity. Handmaid of the Lord, show me how to pray with you: “May it be done to me according to your word.” Gate of Heaven, open wide the doors of your heart to welcome us to our home with you. The New Eve. A gift to the New Adam. Chosen by the Father. Mother of All the Living. Be a mother to me, Mary. Walk with me this Advent. And prepare me to receive your beloved Son, Jesus. [bctt tweet="Nothing will be impossible for God. // Rose Coleman" username="blessedisshe__"] Walk through what the Immaculate Conception means on this in-depth discussion. Rose Coleman is a contemplative in action who delights in all things beautiful. Her adventurous heart has traveled many places—from circumnavigating the globe on a ship during college to some years in the convent as a religious sister. Exuberant from her childhood, she is an elementary school teacher who learns so much from her students. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book, Rise Up and the author of our Blessed Conversations: Ways to Pray study found here. You can find out more about her here.

My dear friend and I sat across from one another in the coffee shop. In between sips of my mocha, I gushed about the precious homemade Valentine card—complete with my initials glitter-glued on the front—that I had received this year. I shared how easy it was to talk to this man I had been dating, and I even spilled that I think I might want to spend the rest of my life loving him. When we really love someone, we can’t help but tell other people what we have experienced. Oh, that our love for the Lord would be of the head-over-heels variety! Our relationship with the Lord, of course, has potential like no other earthly relationship. Saint John the Baptist certainly knew this, and he devoted his life to proclaiming the Lord and sharing the Good News about Him. We aren’t all called to be Saint John the Baptist, but we are all called to evangelize, to spread and preach the Gospel. Sometimes I fear sounding "too religious,” or not wanting to be pushy with my own beliefs. But if I’m honest, I overcomplicate it. I dearly love Jesus. So why am I not quicker to tell everyone I love about how amazing He is? This Advent I am pondering this question in my heart. I invite you to join me, sisters. Do I simply need more courage? Maybe greater boldness in sharing how the Lord has changed my life? Or perhaps what I really need is to spend more time in prayer with the One I love, growing in relationship with the Lover of my—and your—soul. The more I “prepare the way of the Lord” in my own heart—the more I know Him, His character, and how great His love for me—I simply won’t be able to keep from sharing with others about the wonders He has done. [bctt tweet="We are all called to evangelize, to spread and preach the Gospel. // @inendlesssong" username="blessedisshe__"] The spiritual director for Blessed is She spoke on the Kerygma and it's outstanding. Elise Howe is a wife, mother, vocal artist, teacher, and writer. A lover of authentic beauty, Elise is most joyful when creating with the inspiration of the Divine Artist. A born-and-raised Midwestern gal, she happily resides in Michigan after several years "living the dream" in New York City. Elise has a heart for ministry, dark chocolate (but not too dark) and coffee with a generous amount of cream + sugar. She is a contributing author to our Works of Mercy Study: Misericordia. Find out more about her here.

Quiet prayers. Lighting candles. Scripture. Silence. Tears. In recent years, “Blue Christmas” services are on the rise. Often held in Protestant churches around the winter solstice—the darkest day of the year in the Northern Hemisphere—these services are meant to give time and space to acknowledge that the holiday season isn’t all sparkling tinsel and blissful delight. Quite the contrary: the countdown to Christmas can be a difficult and depressing time of year for those who are grieving or suffering. The creation of “Blue Christmas” services was meant to provide a place to lament while the rest of the world celebrates. While the impulse behind these prayer services is caring and compassionate, it makes me grateful to be Catholic when I reflect on our deep theology on suffering. More than a single service, ours is a strong thread woven throughout our Faith. Suffering shows up in every season of the Church year. Today’s readings speak of hope and healing for those who hurt: “No more will you weep” (Isaiah 30:19). “He heals up the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds” (Psalm 147:3). “His heart was moved with pity for them because they were troubled and abandoned” (Matthew 9:36). If you are sad or suffering, the Church acknowledges your pain, even in a season of gathering joy. You are part of a people who know suffering but also know God’s mercy and care. You are seen. Your cry will be heard. Your wounds will be healed. Your sorrow and grief are part of Advent, too. You do not need to hide the truth of who or where you are today. This is the season of light burning through darkness. What relief, to belong to a Church that understands suffering. While the rest of the world is already belting out Christmas carols, we gather in a season of waiting, grateful for Advent’s slower pace, quieter hymns, and growing hope. Even as the darkness gathers around us, Christ’s light burns strong and steady. Whether we suffer or rejoice, He is on the way, for all of us. [bctt tweet="Your sorrow and grief are part of Advent, too. // @laurakfanucci" username="blessedisshe__"] This Advent playlist can help you slow into this rhythm of this liturgical season. Laura Kelly Fanucci is a mother, writer, and director of a theological project on vocation. She and her husband are raising four sons and wrote a book together on grieving the loss of children, Grieving Together: A Couple’s Journey through Miscarriage. She is the author of seven books including Everyday Sacrament: The Messy Grace of Parenting and Living Your Discipleship: 7 Ways to Express Your Deepest Calling. You can find out more about her here. She is the author of the Blessed Conversations Mystery: Behold study found here.

My favorite Mass of the liturgical year is the Easter Vigil. Besides watching the adult Baptisms, my favorite part is when the Easter candle processes into a dark church while we wait in still silence. The words are loudly proclaimed, Christ, our Light! The candle is brought into church, representing Jesus our Light, Hope, and Promise. Everything a dark, hurting world desires, He offers in fullness. At the reception after Mass this year, one of the children who was baptized with her mother shared something with me. She said the big candle reminded her that Jesus is our flashlight in the world. Yes, sweet little one, He is. Jesus, our flashlight, come illuminate the darkness in our hearts and minds. The images of light and darkness are some of the most common themes we see throughout the pages of the Bible. We see many people experience this in their unique role in Salvation history. We see this image in today’s Psalm, “The Lord is my light and my salvation whom should I fear?" (See Psalm 27:1.) It is rich with meaning and application for our own lives. The Lord enters in the moments and spaces of darkness in our lives and brings light into them. Are there spaces where you need Jesus to be a flashlight? What is hiding in the dark that needs to be brought into the light? Because it is in those spaces that Jesus wants to be our flashlight. These are the areas in which He most desires our wholeness, healing, and restoration. [bctt tweet="Jesus, our flashlight, come illuminate the darkness in our hearts and minds. // @amoderngrace" username="blessedisshe__"] Whatever the present situation is in my life, Jesus come be the Light in that space. Patty Breen is a full-time lay minister who finds joy in running, strong cups of coffee, and all things Ignatian spirituality. A Midwestern gal from the mitten state, she is constantly learning to find grace in all things. She is passionate about ministry, writing, a great lipstick color, and smiling is her favorite. Find out more about her here.

I remember the day the winds came. “Billy died,” my mom said with a weight that sank down deep in my gut. That’s when the rain began to storm and the sky began to blacken and my heart began to plunge. I had been wanting to make amends with him, this man who had given me life. Forgive, I’d hear Christ beckon at my heart. But the hurt was too potent. Because I thought about him a lot, this stranger who shared my name. I often wondered who he was and where he was and how he was. But mostly, I wondered why he left, why holding onto the drugs was better than holding onto his daughter. And in some ways, the hurt he left in his wake felt comfortable. I was used to it and so I rested in it. Year after year I’d hide deeper in the safety of the fortress I had built for myself, only emerging for short pleasantries or halfhearted conversations with him. All the while, Christ tapped on my door. Forgive, He’d whisper through the cracks in the walls of my heart. Those walls crumbled the day my father died. The winds blew, the rain fell, the floods came, and everything collapsed into ruin. It is one of the deepest regrets I hold, knowing that things could have ended differently had I built my castle on faith of what He was leading me to. (See Matthew 7:24-27.) But this isn’t a story about forgiveness or past mistakes. This is a story about all of the ways God is tapping at the walls of your heart and all of the ways you’re ignoring Him. It is a story about learning to walk in faith even when it feels uncomfortable or vulnerable or scary. It is a story about a castle built upon a rock. It is your story. Let Him be your foundation, and He will protect you from the storm. [bctt tweet="It is your story. // @iambritcal" username="blessedisshe__"] Pray again the antiphon for today: Seek the LORD while he may be found; call him while he is near (Isaiah 55:6). Brittany Calavitta is an enthusiastic advocate for a good book, strong coffee, and a hopeful heart. After battling years of infertility, she and her husband welcomed their first child on September 11, 2016. You can find out more about her here.

My mind was numb as I exited the hospital parking lot. This was it. We had reached my mom’s final days. The doctor had told us we’d have one more year with her, but we barely had made it to six months, and now I was days away from saying goodbye forever. I drove my car back to my parents’ house for a family shift change and the song “King of My Heart” came on the radio. As the vocalist sang to God the Father, “You are good, you’re good, oh . . .” I burst into tears. A part of me felt utterly broken and defeated by this heinous cancer that was stealing my mom from us, but the other part of me clung to the Father. The lyrics continued, “You’re never going to let, You’re never going to let me down.” I knew deep in my heart that despite the pain and the sorrow that was coursing through me, God would not let me down and He’d pull me through. I whispered, “God, in the joy and the sorrow, You are good.” It was only by the grace of God and by the prayers of countless family and friends that I was able to surrender to the will of God at that moment. Almost a year later, the pain is still there. It didn’t magically go away—even now, I had to stop typing this as fresh sorrow and sobs washed over me. However, as I dried my tears, I recalled today’s Psalm: "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want . . . . Even though I walk in the dark valley I fear no evil; for you are at my side with your rod and your staff that give me courage" (Psalm 23). As Catholic Christians, we’re not promised a life without pain, and the holidays can be a bittersweet time. This Advent, we can take comfort that the Savior will never leave us. In those moments when we’re grieving or struggling, God is there to console and strengthen us to live another day bravely for Him. [bctt tweet="The Savior will never leave us. // @bobbi_rol" username="blessedisshe__"] Take your griefs and sorrows before Our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament today. If you can't get to an adoration chapel, watch this live stream. Bobbi Rol is a wife, mama and blogger living on the Monterey Bay in CA with her husband, teen daughter, and three rambunctious boys. When she is not dodging light sabers or stepping on Legos, she can be found outside with her family, catching a late night movie, or decorating her planner. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book, Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.

My grandfather was named after Saint Gabriel the Archangel. He grew up in a poor neighborhood overflowing with other immigrant families. When he was fourteen, he stopped attending the local Catholic school and began to work in the fields with the other boys. As he picked fruit in the unbearable heat, he prayed the Rosary and sang songs to the Blessed Virgin Mary. After work, he changed from his sweat-stained clothes into the only suitable shirt and tie he owned. He slicked his jet-black hair with a homemade grease that smelled like flowers. Then he walked several miles to Saint Mary’s Catholic Church and prayed until dark. The readings today remind me of my grandfather, beloved father of two, grandfather of three, and great-grandfather of nine. In these readings I see the beauty of lineage. Jesse, the father of King David, was promised by God that Jesus Christ, true Man and true God, would be part of his family tree. (Isaiah 11:1-10.) The Kingdom of God was handed down to us for the salvation of the world. I contemplate the tremendous gift of sharing the Gospel. We are given this blessing and honor to proclaim Christ to those around us. I marvel at how my grandfather was the greatest witness in my life of our Catholic faith, despite being poor and uneducated in his youth in the worldly sense. Each Rosary that I saw him pray revealed the value of faithful devotion; his strong hands were calloused from years of hard labor and his fingers indented from each rosary bead. When he paused before a statue of Our Lady, removed his hat, and gave her honor, he revealed to me that she was my Mother. My grandfather passed away years ago, yet his faith remains on. It remains with his family. I am forever thankful. Precious sisters, may we all build a legacy of holiness. May we all be deeply devoted to Jesus Christ and His Holy Church. In His mercy, may we all become Saints. [bctt tweet="We are given this blessing and honor to proclaim Christ to those around us. // Leana Bowler" username="blessedisshe__"] Let's pray for an increase in faith with the words from the Act of Faith. Leana Bowler is a wife and mother of five little ones. She is a Holy Rosary enthusiast with deep devotions to the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Immaculate Heart of Mary. Her love for the message of Divine Mercy led her to become a Marian Missionary of Divine Mercy dedicated to spreading Marian Consecration and the beauty of Christ's abundant Mercy. She enjoys finding the miracles in the mess of family life, books, strong coffee, and encountering others wherever they're at in this blessed journey to sainthood. You can find out more about her here.

Navigating life through the midst of our own expectations can get interesting really quickly. For some reason I expect Advent to be a peaceful time, a time of cozy silence, unhurried preparation, contemplative baking. I always have visions of a perfectly decorated, unchaotic, Hallmark-movie Christmas. Yet I'm the mom to five kids who go in different directions on any given day and even more directions during the excitement of Christmas activities—which always happen during Advent. You probably have expectations for your spiritual life this Advent. Maybe you're expecting major answers to prayer, maybe you're expecting relief from long-held suffering, maybe you're expecting tangible signs of growth in holiness. I hope for all those things, too. But I bet you're like me and expect these things to come gently, painlessly, and beautifully, like wrapped-up packages of grace and answered prayer. The nation of Israel may have had such sentimental, Christmas-card expectations for the Savior too, but the words of the prophet Isaiah talk an awful lot about blood and searing judgement before the luster and glory will happen. (See Isaiah 2:4-6.) It's hard to stick around when our expectations are one thing, but the reality of how the Lord works is another. Most of the Israelites expected the Messiah to come in splendor and free them from their physical oppressors, completely missing the spiritual meaning of these prophecies. Our faith may be tested this Advent beyond the filtered expectations we have for ourselves and our lives. But true faith, faith that comes from humility, is what God wants us to grow in this Advent. It's a faith that is open to God entering under our roof and working whatever He wants for us. (See Matthew 8:8.) [bctt tweet="Our faith may be tested this Advent. // @christyisinger" username="blessedisshe__"] This short clip explains the changes to the English translation of prayer, "Lord, I am not worthy to receive You." Christy Isinger is a wife and mom to five lovely, loud children and lives in northern Canada. When not homeschooling, she is a devoted reader of English literature from Jane Austen to Agatha Christie. She writes about the beauty of faith, life, and the home at her blog and is the co-host of the Fountains of Carrots Podcast. She is the author of our Blessed Conversations: The Ten Commandments study found here. You can find out more about her here.

We pulled into our garage at 11pm and carried our sleeping children to their beds. While my husband unpacked in our bedroom, I sat in the living room and nursed the baby. After being gone for a week, it felt so good to be back in our own home. That is, until I heard something on the front porch. I looked across the entryway and through the dining room window, certain I had seen a dark figure looking into our garage. My heart was pounding and I became hyper alert. The dark figure moved to just outside dining room windows. I looked down at the baby in my arms and, in a loud whisper, I called my husband’s name. The screen door opened and, as the knob on the front door began to twist, I yelled, “There’s someone trying to get in the house!!” I was frozen with fear while my husband ran down the hall, scanned out the window, and flipped on the porch light. He then gently cracked open the door and . . . said hello to a police officer. We had told our local police department that we would be out of town that week and asked them to look after our home. Every night they had circled the house, checking all the windows and doors, and since we’d come home a night early, we had caught them in the act. In Jesus’ parable, He says that if the master of the house knew when the thief was coming, he would have been prepared. (See Matthew 24:43.) But we don’t know when someone will try to break into our home, and we definitely don’t know when Christ will return. So we must be ever ready, throwing off the works of darkness and putting on the armor of God. (See Romans 13:12.) On this first Sunday of Advent, let us not look just to the Creche in anticipation, but let us look to the sky as we prepare. [bctt tweet="We must be ever ready. // @BonnieEngstrom" username="blessedisshe__"] This podcast reminds us to get to know Jesus now so that He's not a stranger when He comes again. Bonnie Engstrom is a writer, baker, speaker, and homemaker. She lives with her husband and eight children in Illinois. Bonnie is the author of "61 Minutes to a Miracle" which tells the story of her son's miracle that was approved by Pope Francis for the beatification of Venerable Fulton Sheen. She likes to bake, putz about the yard, and tell her kids to tidy the house. She is the author of the Blessed Conversations Mystery: Believe study found here. You can find out more about her here.

I imagine the gaze of Jesus would have been captivating. His eyes revealed a love that would transform sinners into Saints, raise the dead to life, and make fishermen drop their nets and follow Him. I imagine awe that must have overcome Saint Peter and Saint Andrew when they heard the voice of Jesus, the very breath of I AM Incarnate enveloping them in wonder as He said, "Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men." The fishermen dropped their nets. The nets and boats that once defined them were now left to drift in the sea. Fishermen became “fishers of men.” As I prayed through this Scripture, I began to wonder which nets I needed to drop. Was I entangled within nets of comparison? Nets of jealousy? Nets of perfectionism? Nets that trap the beauty of womanhood beneath knots of disappointments and shame? Jesus is inviting us to let them drop. Jesus is inviting us to allow His gaze to penetrate our hearts and transform us. The First Reading says, "But not everyone has heeded the good news; for Isaiah says, Lord, who has believed what was heard from us? Thus, faith comes from what is heard, and what is heard comes through the word of Christ" (Romans 10:16-17). Do we hear His call? Have we embraced the Good News that we are not shackled, but as His beloved daughters we are free? We are free to trust in His Word. We are free to proclaim the Gospel and rejoice. Let His loving gaze fall fresh upon your eyes. It is time to drop our nets and follow Him as sisters in Christ, united and free. [bctt tweet="Jesus is inviting us to allow His gaze to penetrate our hearts and transform us. // Leana Bowler" username="blessedisshe__"] Did you know Saint Andrew was Saint Peter's brother? Find out more here. Leana Bowler is a wife and mother of five little ones. She is a Holy Rosary enthusiast with deep devotions to the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Immaculate Heart of Mary. Her love for the message of Divine Mercy led her to become a Marian Missionary of Divine Mercy dedicated to spreading Marian Consecration and the beauty of Christ's abundant Mercy. She enjoys finding the miracles in the mess of family life, books, strong coffee, and encountering others wherever they're at in this blessed journey to sainthood. You can find out more about her here.

In today's First Reading (Daniel 7:2-14), Daniel saw thousands and thousands ministering to the Ancient One on His throne. Myriads of myriads attended to Him. Let’s pause here, and look more closely. Who are all these people? Now, I don’t fully understand Daniel’s vision, but there is something so familiar about the thousands. The myriads who attended to the King were valuable, cherished members of the Kingdom. They knew how to attend to His heart. They knew His dominion, glory, and kingship. They knew that His kingdom will not be destroyed. This is kingdom living. Sisters, do you know that the Kingdom of God is near? (See Luke 21:31.) The King is Coming! Let Christ reign in your life. When you receive Jesus in the Holy Eucharist, Christ the King takes up residence in your heart. His Kingdom comes as He reigns over your thoughts, feelings, desires, and actions. Sisters, He is so near to us! But what are we supposed to do when we don’t feel His nearness, when we know in our heads that He is good but can’t feel His love in our hearts? Jesus teaches us how to pray: Thy kingdom come. Our Messiah wants to come be the light in our darkness. Christ wants to come and heal our wounds. The Redeemer wants to come and die for us so that we might live. The Father desires for His Kingdom to reign in our hearts and He invites us to participate in His work. He chooses us to be part of the myriad. And when we know our identity before Him, He will reveal to us His mission. There is a particular way that He is calling us love. There is a specific place where He is calling us to serve. There is a unique mission that He has entrusted to you, and only you! We are all united together, in His myriad, as we attend to our King today. Today, in your home and in your work, the Kingdom of God is near. Now go forth in confidence with your kingdom living. And together, let us serve our King! [bctt tweet="The King is Coming! // Rose Coleman" username="blessedisshe__"] This ancient prayer in chant turns out hearts to God Our King. Rose Coleman is a contemplative in action who delights in all things beautiful. Her adventurous heart has traveled many places—from circumnavigating the globe on a ship during college to some years in the convent as a religious sister. Exuberant from her childhood, she is an elementary school teacher who learns so much from her students. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book, Rise Up and the author of our Blessed Conversations: Ways to Pray study found here. You can find out more about her here.

Thanksgiving. A day to give thanks. To recognize the goodness that surrounds us. To truly take a moment to be grateful for all that our life holds. I pause today as I read our Gospel, Luke 17:11-19. The story of the ten lepers. Jesus heals all ten. He sees their need, even as they stand at a distance from Him. He hears them as they cry out, “Have pity on us!” And in His generosity, He heals them all. Not because He has to. Not because they are deserving, perhaps. But out of pure generosity and love. All are healed. Yet only one returns to give thanks for what Jesus has done in his life. I am often one of the nine that forgets to return immediately. And that’s just it, isn’t it? I want to be a woman that acknowledges the goodness of God and His generosity in each moment of each day. Not just when it’s easy. I want to return with Him always to say thank you. Not just today, on the day we celebrate Thanksgiving in the United States. But always. And especially in times or seasons of life in which I cannot see His hand at work. Especially in times where I don’t feel healed or seen by Him. He is at work, nonetheless. And He is good and faithful and true, always. And so today, I choose to see Him in all circumstances in my life and give thanks. For the little things, the ordinary things, and the everyday things. For the big things, the extraordinary things, and the once-in-a-lifetime things. I know He is at work. I know He is up to something for my good and His greater glory. I know that when I cry out to Him, He sees me and approaches. And in His generosity, He walks with me through all things. And for this, I am grateful. [bctt tweet="He is good and faithful and true, always. // Shalini Blubaugh" username="blessedisshe__"] Do you already pray the prayer after meals? It's here and short but beautiful. Shalini Blubaugh is a Minnesota transplant living in Denver, Colorado with her sweet husband, Matt, their brand new gal pal, Callan, and quite large GSD pup, Sully. She is a health coach and loves pizza, because #balance. Shalini graduated from the University of Minnesota – Twin Cities, served with NET Ministries, and went on to attend Law School. She graduated with her J.D. and happily leaves all things Law behind! Some of her favorites include travel, re-connecting with old friends and making new ones, the ways in which God so beautifully brings all things full circle in His time, and a good, loud thunderstorm. Find out more about her here.

"[F]or I myself shall give you a wisdom in speaking that all your adversaries will be powerless to resist or refute" (Luke 21:15). The smell of recently disinfected classroom wafted through the corridors of the law school. My bare feet stepped quietly as I rushed from upstairs to down, back to my cubby in the law review area. New editor orientation started today. I shuffled papers, stacked them, and grabbed them to accompany me to the room we would meet in. Maybe you've felt this, sister? That adrenaline before you start something fresh, a new relationship, a text that will unfold many more, a first day at work or school. The feeling that how it begins, so it continues. I scanned the empty room and paced, barefoot still, practicing my warm welcome, my points of enthusiasm, my "leadership" vibe. I sat in the swivel chair behind the podium and turned a time or two, facing the white board. Nothing I could say or do would really prepare these students. The avalanche of grueling tedious work. The hours of highlighting, microfiching, and the flicker of temptation to skip past the hard parts. Before I opened the door to greet the first few, the crucifix above the door caught and held my eyes. The wisdom from Jesus was, at that split moment, that to come from a place of love and establish a trusting relationship would override most of those hard times. To inspire them to work together would flow out of a relationship based on His love. And that? That was a gift that I couldn't prep, prepare, or plan. Just a gift. Whether you're speaking to new friends or old enemies, or the occasional frenemy, ask Jesus for His wisdom, for His love to come. That's the real foundation for any meaningful communication. [bctt tweet="The crucifix above the door caught and held my eyes. // @wholeparenting" username="blessedisshe__"] Are you in the habit of praying the Rosary or parts of it? Here's a simple graphic to help jump-start you into doing it again. 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.

When January 1 rolls around, there's a lot of talk about New Year's resolutions—and I know that there are a lot of thoughts and feelings about them (some good, some bad, I hear you). I've seen a lot of people try out a dietary change for the first month of the year, others who have done a no-spend month, and some who try to wake up just a little earlier each day to get into a better routine. In any case, it seems like the New Year gives a lot of us a little more motivation to try something that we think will make our lives better. We are desperate for a fresh start. That's how we can look at next Sunday and next week. It'll be the start of the Liturgical New Year. So it's basically a Catholic New Year's Eve! And what came to mind during today's readings is a similar message to one we're going to hear a lot of during Advent: that we need to prepare. We need to prepare our hearts and minds for Him—and yes, for the end times—whenever that might be. We can't count on it not happening in our lifetime. We can't take time for granted, thinking that we can live a life more fully on fire for Christ in a few years, but not quite today. Jesus is going to come to us—we celebrate His first coming at Christmas and prepare for it during Advent, but we also have to keep thinking about His second coming and preparing for that, too. So let's take the time to think of a few Catholic New Year's Resolutions we can do that will help us prepare for that. [bctt tweet="Jesus is going to come to us. // @praymorenovenas" username="blessedisshe__"] Will you join us for our free Advent gathering and find inspiration for your liturgical new year? More information on the site. Annie Deddens is a writer and producer. She runs a prayer ministry with her husband, called Pray More Novenas. She has a heart for the sick & suffering, and she writes about living with greater faith (hope & love, too) in this imperfect world as a Catholic wife. You can find out more about her here.

I painfully admit that I am seriously attached the stuff in my life. I can’t imagine losing it all. I don’t know why it is so hard for me to part with material objects. My soul wants to be the widow in today’s Scripture (Luke 21:1-4) who is willing to offer her whole livelihood, but my mind justifies holding onto the stuff. A few years ago a friend of mine suffered a house fire. They lost everything. It was your classic lights-on-the-Christmas-tree horrific event. The family was safe, but they lost all their material possessions and had to rely on friends and family for food, shelter, and clothing. The process of rebuilding took years. When I visited shortly after the event, she said with a smile that she was learning much from the Lord during this time of need. For most of her life, she had worked in ministry serving others, and this was a season when she was forced to receive. It was humbling and gave her a different awareness of those who find themselves in need. We are entering into the season of Advent next week. I pray that this Advent we can cultivate a spirit of generosity that mirrors the widow. I pray we can be less focused on what our heart desires to find under that Christmas tree and more focused on our Lord’s desires for us. [bctt tweet="My soul wants to be the widow. // Dr. MaryRuth Hackett" username="blessedisshe__"] We hope you are joining us in our Advent devotional book: All the Generations—available in the shop now. 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, Rise Up and the author of our Blessed Conversations: Leader Guide found here. You can find out more about her here.

The taunts in today’s Gospel (Luke 23:35-43) are interesting ones. They are not false statements; Jesus IS the Chosen One, the Christ, the King. Can something that is true still be a taunt? Absolutely. We all—every single one of us, I’d bet—know this from personal experience. Any part of our identity—gender, race, religion—can be cited with admiration, but can also be turned into a taunt. Whether it’s "you throw like a girl" or a derisive comment about one’s ethnicity, these snide comments can really hurt. They hurt even though we know what they truly are: evidence of a narrow, false understanding of what the label actually means. The person using the identifier as a taunt is stuck in a harmful tunnel vision, one at odds with the truth. In today’s Gospel, we see something similar at work. Those who jeer at Jesus have an understanding of king that is dangerously narrow. To them, a king will get himself down from the cross and maybe smack a few heads in the process. A king will show physical might, not the moral courage of enduring suffering. A king will kill, not be killed. Jesus shows us a fuller picture. He affirms that a true leader does not have to publicly proclaim his own power, and that a true king will sacrifice his own life for others. He proves that the taunts from others say more about their own lack of vision than about the truth. Still, Jesus was human as well as divine, so it surely hurt to be jeered at in this way. That’s why the words of the second criminal must have been a welcome balm to His soul. Here, in the most unlikely place, is someone with a larger vision. Here is someone who is open to a new, rather subversive understanding of what a King really does. Here is someone who probably can’t grasp the whole picture of Christ—what human can?—but who nonetheless chooses to embrace its mysterious fullness. [bctt tweet="A true king will sacrifice his own life for others. // Ginny Kubitz Moyer" username="blessedisshe__"] Will we embrace Christ, too? Take this question to quiet prayer today. 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.