You shall weep no more. I have wept in my life. I have cried heavy sobs that have shaken my whole body. The true, snot-dripping, seal-bark-sounding, slobbery, puffy-eyed ugly cry—I've done that . . . more than once. Loss, fear, rejection, humiliation, and the overwhelming thought that I am dangling all alone at the end of my rope have all brought on this weeping. That kind of crying, while it can be incredibly cathartic, can also be exhausting, and perhaps that's why these readings resonate in my heart so deeply. At this point in my busy life my favorite way to pray is to picture a child-like version of myself climbing up onto my great big God's giant lap and nestling my head against His chest. At any moment in my day I can pause and climb on up and nestle on in. You may even see me tilt and sway my head a little bit to the side as I imagine getting myself comfy. While I'm there I usually don't say a single thing—I just let Him love me. I let Him heal my broken heart and bind my wounds. I don't tell Him all the ways I feel like I'm failing or list off all the concerns that are troubling my heart. I may whisper "I'm sorry" and sometimes an "I love You" but usually, though I never picture His face, I have the strongest sense that He sees my heart and He knows. "His understanding is beyond measure," after all. During Advent we are awaiting and preparing for the Coming of Christ. Today, on the feast of St. Nicholas, we are reminded that Christ comes to save us, just like Saint Nick saved those women from their own desperation with three bags of gold. Like Christ, the Bishop of Myra acted because of his great love and concern for those young women. "He saw the crowds [and] He had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd." Christ came and He will come again. (Come, Lord Jesus!) But today, today, let us go to Him. Let us climb on His lap, nestle our cheeks against His Heart, and let Him wrap His righteous right hand around us. We shall let Him love us and we shall weep no more. Bonnie Engstrom is a writer, baker, speaker and homemaker. She lives with her husband and five children in central Illinois. You can find out more about her here.

  I could not see the light. My days were like one long darkness. I was deeply injured by one whom I loved very much. He offered no explanation and I sought in vain to understand the situation. I sought to forgive. To forgive him, to forgive myself. I repeated prayers of forgiveness over and over, but never felt it. My days were difficult searching for answers and finding none. My heart felt unable to love, to feel vulnerable once again. I reached out to Him. It felt as if I might be abandoned by Him too. I was blind to the work He was doing in my soul. It was a great struggle to sense His presence at all. The horizontal relationships we have certainly can seem a reflection of the vertical relationship to the Divine. But in my intellect, I knew, somehow, that He was still beside me. Some days I wanted to let Him go, to lose faith in His promises. But He kept me tethered by a glimmer of hope; He did not let me go. I waited for Him. I waited for His healing. I longed for His embrace. He did not disappoint. There are dark places in this life. Perhaps for an hour, perhaps a day, perhaps a year, perhaps a season. God calls us to wait, to be patient. He is there on the sidelines, ready to fill you with His saving grace. But why not right this moment, Lord? I need You! Maybe you are not ready. We are stretched and strengthened in adversity. He is molding you, but you are not ready for the kiln (even if you feel like you are in it). He says to you, “Be strong, and let your heart take courage.” Cry out to Him, “You are ‘the stronghold of my life.’ I ‘wait for the Lord.’ I long ‘to behold the beauty of the LORD,’ to ‘see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living!’” Wait for His saving grace. Find strength in His holy promises. Take courage that He will see you through whatever hardship you are enduring at this moment. Continue to reach out to Him. Where in your life is the Lord calling on you to wait for Him? Ask for the grace you need to persevere. Laurel Muff is a creator and appreciator of beautiful things. She resides with her husband and daughters in Northern California. You can find more about her here.

  We’ve all been to the beach. We’ve all built castles in the sand and then watched the waves come rolling in to shore and pull those castles down. Of course that castle wasn’t going to stay standing. The very stuff it was made of has no foundation, it’s tied to nothing, and it shifts and moves with every whim of the ocean. We’ve also all probably stood inside of great works of architecture. Four years ago my husband and I went to Italy and saw Saint Mark’s Basilica in Venice. It’s an enormously beautiful church that has been standing for almost a thousand years! Can you imagine building something that’s going to be around for a thousand years? Can you imagine the planning, the time, and the craftsmanship that would have to go into constructing that building? Can you imagine how strong its foundation would have to be? Sand castles and cathedrals. One requires almost no time and effort and can be torn down in an instant. The other requires painstaking labor over a long time, but the result is beautiful and lasting. In today’s Gospel Jesus lays out two scenarios: one is easy and one is difficult. It’s easy to hear the word of God. We hear the Word of God all the time, sometimes without be fully awake and aware. But hearing the Word of God and putting it into action—that is not as easily done. It requires obedience, humility, putting aside what we want or are comfortable with, and saying yes to God. Putting Christ’s words into action can be difficult, but the effect it has on our hearts and lives is so valuable. It doesn’t take much living to realize that life is hard. Loss of a loved one, infertility and miscarriage, financial struggles, broken relationships, sometimes it feels like you can barely keep your head above the water. To be able to go through these storms and to still be holding onto our faith when they pass is only possible with a strong foundation. And the way we build that foundation is by hearing and doing the Word of God. Dear sisters, why choose any foundation other than Christ? He is strong, He is a refuge, He is “the rock that is higher than I.” (Ps 61:2) Why choose any foundation other than Christ? Anna Coyne is a wife, mother, knitter, gardener, and convert to the Catholic faith. Read more about her here.

Our God is a compassionate God. He provides for those who follow Him. He provides for those who WAIT for Him. That is really what Advent is all about, the waiting for Jesus to come. I love the liturgical calendar, how everything happens once a year to remind us of the infinite mysteries of God. And we know that if we wait faithfully for God, one day, “He will swallow up death for ever, and the Lord GOD will wipe away tears from all faces.” With all the suffering in our world, that is something to look forward to, a world without death and a world without tears. And how beautiful is this? “It will be said on that day, ‘Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him, that he might save us.’” Scripture repeats this theme of waiting again and again. The waiting, the preparing, is essential for the coming. And we must prepare internally as well as externally as we wait. We are waiting for Him. Amidst our personal defeats, persecutions of Christians, corruption in government, thousands dying from disease and hunger, we can still find hope in God. He is our shepherd. And while things may not always go the way we hoped that they would, or when money is tight, or when we hear of children dying across the globe from us, we know that God is coming again, just as He came on that first Christmas. When He comes we will feast on good things, like when Jesus multiplied the loaves. We should take these first weeks of Advent to quiet our hearts in quiet expectation of a God who will fulfill His promise to us. We have a better world to look forward to, where death will be no more and our tears will be wiped away. Let us place our hope in that, and not lose sight of that during this busy time of preparation. And further, let us remember those who do not have enough, and as God promises to give us the best, let us give to food pantries and donate to good charities, for whatever we do for them we do for Christ. "The waiting, the preparing, is essential for the coming." Susanna Spencer once studied theology and philosophy, but now happily cares for her three adorable little girls and her dear husband. You can find out more about her here.

Knowledge versus knowing. Often I find myself caught up in learning all about my faith. I aim to rack up my spiritual know-how rather than spending time on working to know God better. I worry about how many Rosaries I’m praying, how many spiritual books I’ve read this year, and if I know the Catechism well enough. All these things are wonderful and can bring truth and grace into our lives but only if our true aim is seeking to Know our Lord. I must move out of knowing things to add to my knowledge for my sake and instead seek them for how they bring me closer to knowing our Creator. Rather than mark off things on my “how to be holy” checklist, I need to strive to never lose sight of the greatest reason. What a beautiful gift it is that Christ came to earth to have that human relationship with us. With US. Think about that. In the First Reading today, the prophet Isaiah gives us a glimpse of what it will look like when the earth is “full of the knowledge of the Lord.” Wolves and lambs hanging out together and a small child leading a lion around? This might sound crazy to us in the sinful world we live in, but in this Utopia where the earth truly knows the Lord, this is the norm. Full knowledge of God is absolute perfection. To see Him in His true essence, in His fullness, where rote laws and motions become so much more than only that. In his comparison, Isaiah remarks “as the waters cover the sea.” But how could they not? Of course they would! Without the waters, the sea is meaningless. It is the same with our faith. Without the true fulfilling knowledge of the Lord, our faith can also risk becoming meaningless. We are given this knowledge as a gift of the Holy Spirit. It gives meaning and weight to our spiritual actions. Our faith will come more and more alive as we seek to know Him Who is the Why for what we do. Just as a good friendship, marriage, or any relationship requires time, commitment, and open communication, so truly knowing Jesus asks these things of us. The question is, how important is it to you? It’s so easy to get wrapped up in the knowledge of the brain and forget about the knowledge of the heart and the soul. So today, don’t get caught up with how much you know about Jesus and focus more on truly getting to know Him. God sent His Son to earth to build a relationship with you. What are you doing to cultivate that relationship on your end? Sarah Ortiz is a Catholic convert, and when not folding laundry, she can be found reading, experimenting in the kitchen, or writing at her blog. You can find out more about her here.

  This Gospel is stunning. And how beautiful that in the Roman Rite, we repeat his words when the Eucharist is elevated and presented to us after the Consecration? "Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof; but only say the word, and my [soul] shall be healed." Let's unpack this bit by bit because it is such a rich tale! A Roman soldier approached Christ. That in it of itself is pretty amazing. He trusted that this carpenter-turned-teacher had something to offer him, a high up military leader. Also, he was asking for a miracle for his servant. Clearly this centurion was a caring and compassionate man. He's using his one miracle request on someone else. Someone considered far beneath him in social status and value. But he seems to hold an inherent value for human life and the dignity of the person despite or unrelated to their position. Christ says yes. He will come and heal this servant. He will travel whatever the distance is to this man's home, and heal him. No questions asked. Shockingly, the centurion doesn't want Him to come to his home. Either he understands Christ is in high demand and terribly busy with loaves, fishes, tax collectors in trees, small children, etc, or he trusts Christ can simply will the healing and it will happen. Just like that. Implicit trust that no laying of hands or muttering of complex words is necessary. He believes completely in Christ's deity. He offers his understanding that being a man under authority, with soldiers under him, he simply has to give the order and it will happen. Who then is under Christ? All of us. The servant. The centurion. The apostles. I love Jesus' reaction. This man's faith is unexpected. He's not been brought up with Moses and the prophets and all the tradition of the Jewish faith. He's no learned scholar; he may know little to nothing about the fore fathers. But he has faith. Where do I have faith when it's a strain? When do I make that trusting leap? When do I not have my own plans, my own security net, my own back up idea, just in case? When do I truly lay it all out for God and say, heal me. Make me Yours. Make me whole in You. I want to dive into this faith and quit hedging my bets. Nell O'Leary is an attorney turned stay-at-home mom to three lovelies. She and her husband live in the great city of Saint Paul. You can find out more about her here.

I have pretty vivid memories of class times that dragged on for far longer than I ever wanted, for papers that never got written due to my boredom/exhaustion breaking through, for books that didn't get finished, night after night, because I just couldn't stay awake. I've been startled awake by friends, by teachers (eek!), by my family members, only to find drool caked on my face and bloodshot eyes that just cannot quite wake up. I hated that feeling of being found in such a vulnerable state, "How can you be asleep right now?!" I was always embarrassed, apologized, tried hard to pretend like I wasn't sleeping that whole time (yeah, right). And I can't help but dwell on on this verse from Mark 13:36-37 over and over and over again: May he not come suddenly and find you sleeping. What I say to you, I say to all: ‘Watch!’” The last thing that I want to be found by my God is sleeping. I don't want to be caught drooling in the middle of life, wasting the days away with head bobs and quiet snores. I don't want to be discovered as a zombie: working through this life in monotony, as a chore, as a humdrum woman. I don't want to be exposed as a daughter of the King in name only: I want to be so much more. Good Lord, please find me vigilant and away and ready. Please, God, wake me from my feelings of monotony and revive in me Your Spirit and Truth. What He says to them, He says to all, "Watch!" What does this look like for us? As women: single women, wives, mothers, grandmothers . . . . What does it look like to be vigilant in faith? Not just follow along with the "right" things that we should do, not just doing the "good" things to the polite things, but what does it mean? LET US BE VIGILANT. Let's awake from slumber, from our restless slumber, and WATCH. So, this season of Advent, say a prayer to stay vigilant and alert, to remain not only steadfast in our Savior's arms, but clawing our way to know Him more and more. Let's remain alive, awake, and on fire. May He not come suddenly, but find you waiting, patiently, for our Lord's coming. photo credit // source Jenna Guizar is the wife to an amazing man and mother to three beautiful little girls. You can find out more about her here. sharing with Betsy and Monica.

The Gospel today is a toughie. I envision it as a pep talk given to a athletic team that is slacking or not performing to their full potential, the butt slap you need to get your attention and get you refocused. It’s a call to reflect on our attachment to the material things we hold on to on this earth. We are called to be in the world, but not of it. Shoot. That’s hard. Really hard. We love our stuff. All of it. But all that stuff, all that busy, all of it can make our hearts drowsy, give us anxiety and ultimately not lead us down the path we intend, which should be towards Heaven. We are asked to have detachment of all things we are given here on earth, in order that we may always have a heavenly perspective, because that is where we need to invest our time, talent, and treasure. When I was a kid, every time my brother or I would do a good deed that was selfless and most of the time unseen, my mom told us we got a “jewel in our crown in Heaven.” She taught us to have a heavenly perspective. What if our focus shifted from collecting and getting stuff here on earth to having the most blinged-out crown in Heaven as possible? Instead of working our booties off for getting the next big thing (Oh, how I want you iPhone 6) to doing good (unseen) deeds for others, or working in ministry in our spare time, or spending our money for things that have a more eternal impact . . . wow, what would life look like then?! What would the whole world look like then?! A heavenly perspective keeps us grounded, rooted in truth, and gives us a healthy detachment of the things of this earth. It keeps us alert, vigilant and focused, because nothing, nothing is more important than being in union with Christ. I encourage all of us to give a good stern look at our lives, and decide where our focus is on . . . is it on this earth or in Heaven?! The rushed, fast-paced, and competitive world we live in always wants us to take on more, accomplish more, and do more. More, more, more. But for what? To what end? Maybe we should be radical, and against the grain and decide today . . . What can I quit today, what can I do without, what will I stop doing? Clean out the clutter; choose to be intentional; live for Heaven. I want my life, my children, and even all my stuff to reflect a life that is being lived for Christ. I want to live every moment on the hunt for opportunities to earn the jewel in my heavenly crown, in hopes that when the day comes and I see Christ face to face He will smile and place a crown fit for a princess of the King on my head. photo credit: Madeline Hill Cassie Kent is a wifey, mommy, likes to get a little crafty and writes in her spare time on her blog-y. You can find out more about her here.

First Reading: Revelation 20:1-4, 11-21:2 Then I saw an angel coming down from heaven, holding in his hand the key of the bottomless pit and a great chain. And he seized the dragon, that ancient serpent, who is the Devil and Satan, and bound him for a thousand years, and threw him into the pit, and shut it and sealed it over him, that he should deceive the nations no more, till the thousand years were ended. After that he must be loosed for a little while. Then I saw thrones, and seated on them were those to whom judgment was committed. Also I saw the souls of those who had been beheaded for their testimony to Jesus and for the word of God, and who had not worshiped the beast or its image and had not received its mark on their foreheads or their hands. They came to life, and reigned with Christ a thousand years. Then I saw a great white throne and him who sat upon it; from his presence earth and sky fled away, and no place was found for them. And I saw the dead, great and small, standing before the throne, and books were opened. Also another book was opened, which is the book of life. And the dead were judged by what was written in the books, by what they had done. And the sea gave up the dead in it, Death and Hades gave up the dead in them, and all were judged by what they had done. Then Death and Hades were thrown into the lake of fire. This is the second death, the lake of fire; and if any one's name was not found written in the book of life, he was thrown into the lake of fire. Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. Responsorial Psalm: Psalms 84:3-6, 8 My soul longs, yea, faints for the courts of the LORD; my heart and flesh sing for joy to the living God. Even the sparrow finds a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, at thy altars, O LORD of hosts, my King and my God. Blessed are those who dwell in thy house, ever singing thy praise! [Selah] Blessed are the men whose strength is in thee, in whose heart are the highways to Zion. They go from strength to strength; the God of gods will be seen in Zion. Gospel: Luke 21:29-33 And he told them a parable: "Look at the fig tree, and all the trees; as soon as they come out in leaf, you see for yourselves and know that the summer is already near. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near. Truly, I say to you, this generation will not pass away till all has taken place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away. ESV My six-year-old son has always been fascinated with space: the planets, the stars, the constellations, meteors and meteorites and meteoroids. As he grows, his questions become increasingly complicated. What’s at the edge of the universe? If we went past the edge of the universe, would anything be there? If you flew to the edge of a black hole and somehow avoided getting sucked into it, would you be able to see other things falling in? What happens to those things once they go over the edge? Many of his questions seem unanswerable to me. At six, he is growing increasingly uneasy when I respond that I just don’t know. At six, he still wants to believe that parents know everything, and he’s already discovering that we don’t. I am, in many ways, like him. Even as an adult, I’m not always comfortable saying, “I just don’t know.” Not so long ago, today’s First Reading from the Book of Revelation would have produced a flood of questions. What does it mean, a lake of fire? A literal lake of fire? Is that something for which Saint John, the author of Revelation, had a real-world parallel, or is it supposed to predict a future event? Do I need to worry about this? And what does it mean, the first Heaven and the first earth had passed away? The sea was no more? That sounds terrifying! Happily for me, Jesus used down-to-earth images that are more easily graspable as He taught. Look at the fig tree, He said. Fig trees were so ordinary, so everywhere, so not like lakes of fire and white thrones and books of life. By the time the fig tree is in leaf, you see it, and you know that summer is already near. By the time you read this everyday, ordinary sign, the change is already happening. You don’t have to worry about it. It happens on its own, and as it does, you see the sign. Maybe there’s some comfort in this for my inner questioning six year old. The Book of Revelation describes a new Heaven and a new earth being ushered into existence. I don’t know what that will look like, but Jesus does. The Man who taught using common images and events from everyday life is the same One who sits on that great white throne. Whatever is coming, we have nothing to fear. He walked the earth with us and talked about fig trees. He knows our limitations and our anxieties. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away, He told His disciples. Whatever is ahead, He is already there, waiting with something entirely new—something with no stain or shadow cast by what’s come before, a new Heaven and a new earth with none of the baggage left over from the first one. We don’t know how, or where, or what it will look like, but we know Him, and He is already there. For now, knowing that He knows is enough to make me okay with not knowing. photo credit top Abbey Dupuy is a freelance writer and homeschooling mama to two-year-old twins, a first grader and a new baby. You can find out more about her here.

Thanksgiving Day First Reading: Sirach 50:22-24 And now bless the God of all, who in every way does great things; who exalts our days from birth, and deals with us according to his mercy. May he give us gladness of heart, and grant that peace may be in our days in Israel, as in the days of old. May he entrust to us his mercy! And let him deliver us in our days! Responsorial Psalm: Psalms 138:1-5 I give thee thanks, O LORD, with my whole heart; before the gods I sing thy praise; I bow down toward thy holy temple and give thanks to thy name for thy steadfast love and thy faithfulness; for thou hast exalted above everything thy name and thy word. On the day I called, thou didst answer me, my strength of soul thou didst increase. All the kings of the earth shall praise thee, O LORD, for they have heard the words of thy mouth; and they shall sing of the ways of the LORD, for great is the glory of the LORD. Second Reading: 1 Corinthians 1:3-9 Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. I give thanks to God always for you because of the grace of God which was given you in Christ Jesus, that in every way you were enriched in him with all speech and all knowledge -- even as the testimony to Christ was confirmed among you -- so that you are not lacking in any spiritual gift, as you wait for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ; who will sustain you to the end, guiltless in the day of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is faithful, by whom you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. Gospel: Luke 17:11-19 On the way to Jerusalem he was passing along between Sama'ria and Galilee. And as he entered a village, he was met by ten lepers, who stood at a distance and lifted up their voices and said, "Jesus, Master, have mercy on us." When he saw them he said to them, "Go and show yourselves to the priests." And as they went they were cleansed. Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice; and he fell on his face at Jesus' feet, giving him thanks. Now he was a Samaritan. Then said Jesus, "Were not ten cleansed? Where are the nine? Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?" And he said to him, "Rise and go your way; your faith has made you well." ESV I will never forget the first time I saw the 2004 film “The Passion of the Christ.” We’d taken a rare evening away from our first-born to catch opening night with friends. Of course I knew The Story, but seeing the events of Good Friday represented so realistically on the silver screen left me dumbfounded. Seeing Him—beaten, bloodied, tortured, and suffering because of my sins—was nearly unbearable. I found myself actually wincing, and had to avert my eyes several times as the story unfolded. While the final credits rolled, I sat in somber silence. My gut instinct—what I honestly wanted to do in that moment—was to fall completely prostrate on the ground right then and there (regardless the disgustingly sticky theatre floor) both in profound remorse for my shortcomings and, simultaneously, with limitless gratitude for the gift of salvation made available through the power of the Cross. And yet I stayed comfortably (and, as I later assured myself, sensibly) seated in my chair. I eventually gathered my belongings and left the theatre with our friends, just as was expected of me. The moment passed. In today’s Gospel, ten lepers meet the Lord and cry out, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!” Our Lord takes pity on them, and completely heals them all, yet only one returns to show gratitude for the gift he has received. He realizes that he owes everything to Jesus Christ, and, in that moment, praises and thanks the Giver of all good gifts. Oh, my heart aches to think of just how often I see myself in the lepers who kept walking—the ones who were healed, yet failed to show gratitude even after their cries for mercy were answered. I cry out to Jesus all the time—for various intentions, for healing, and, ultimately, salvation itself—yet, how often do I return to thank Him? I owe Him everything, as I’m reminded in Acts 17:28: “in Him [I] live and move and have [my] being.” Yet, all too often, I allow the moment to pass. I move on to the next thing without thanking Him. As Thanksgiving Day is celebrated in the United States today, let’s not just move on. Let’s take a moment. In fact, let us take several moments to humbly and sincerely praise and thank God for everything He’s done for us. It is right and just. photo credit top // bottom Heather Anderson Renshaw is currently not drinking enough [coffee] to keep up with her five young kiddos. You can find out more about her here.

Today's readings are terrifying. Plagues, wrath, fire. Persecution, trial, betrayal. Saint John paints a whirling vision of the final days. Jesus warns His followers that they will be attacked. I sit in my quiet, comfortable home, and I try to imagine what any of these realities might be like. What would it mean for time to end? For God’s final judgment to come? For my life to be demanded of me? That terrifying shiver of what if seizes my mind for an instant, frozen by the thought that family would betray me, or that death would come with violence because of what I believe. What good news am I supposed to draw from these words? But there it is. Right in the midst of Jesus’ fair warning that the life of faith will not be safe or soft. There is His quiet message of peace—the steady calm from the One who was persecuted, attacked, and betrayed by those He loved. Settle it therefore in your minds, not to meditate beforehand how to answer; for I will give you a mouth and wisdom, which none of your adversaries will be able to withstand or contradict. This Gospel is not a call to fear. This is a call to trust. How often do we rehearse our rebuttal before someone has finished speaking? I do this all the time. Pulse throbbing in my ears, indignation rising in my throat, protest churning in my gut. I want to win with my words. But winning is not wisdom. If I cannot trust the Spirit of Wisdom to give me words to respond, how can I trust God with my very life? And that is the call of today’s Gospel—to trust this God to protect the very hairs on our head, even as they stand on edge, even as the world goes mad around us. Because God will stand by us in every trial. God will protect us when all else fails. Jesus asks us to trust Him. Can we do that today? In small ways—the unkind word held back, the snappy retort caught on the tongue, the cruel judgment simmered down unspoken. What would happen if we tried it? If the next time we felt attacked, we tried not to rehearse the perfect response? What if we prayed for the Spirit to guide our heart when the time came? What if we trusted that God will always give what we need—the tools to speak and the truth to share? Would it make us stronger for the end? Laura Kelly Fanucci is a mother, writer, and theological researcher. She and her husband are raising three little boys in the suburban wilds of Minnesota. You can find out more about her here.

I hope I didn’t scare you. But today’s readings remind us that yes, we are doomed. But do you know what else we are? Redeemed. When God placed Adam and Eve in the garden, He knew all that would ever happen for all of eternity. I know my mind is blown over here. It is hard for our human minds to completely understand the enormity of God and our place in the space-time continuum. But He already knew that mankind would fall to sin and He knew that we would be exiled from the garden. Even with this knowledge, He sent His only Son to earth to die for our sins. We are doomed. But we are redeemed. Now, I know that this is a frightening notion. But the truth of the matter is that we must remember that there are two sides to every coin. "As for these things which you see, the days will come when there shall not be left here one stone upon another that will not be thrown down.” Each and every stone will be thrown down. We are doomed. "Then shall all the trees of the wood sing for joy before the Lord, for He comes, for He comes to judge the earth. He will judge the world with righteousness, and the peoples with His truth.” The world will be judged by Him with righteousness. We are redeemed. We are a world full of sinners. God knows each of us by name. He knows who has been, who is, and who is yet to come. Yet He sent His only Son to this world to die for our sins. He knows my sins and He knows my heart. I sometimes cower in the corner in shame from the enormity of my sins. But the Word has been revealed to us and I am redeemed. In the depths of my heart, I know I have been redeemed. That allows me to get out of bed every morning. But what will we do when we are armed with this knowledge? I am redeemed. And so are you. photo credit // source Samantha Aguinaldo-Wetterholm is a wife, mom, and soon-to-be-dentist currently living in San Francisco, California. You can find out more about her here.

Out of her poverty, she put in all the living that she had. We know the widow's offering was of monetary value, but how much more did she offer! Consider the work she did to earn those coins, the efforts to live within her means, to save, to overcome selfish desires so that she could put in all the living she had. ". . . [A]ll the living she had . . . ." Even more than coins, the widow's example is that of offering her entire being, her LIFE, her daily living to God. Also, I look at her, and I think what trust and faith she shows in God, a God Whom she loved so dearly to offer everything she had, and she must have done so trusting that He would also provide for her still, even after she just gave her everything in the offering. How beautiful is her love and trust in God! Like a child who gives everything and trusts without limits in her father, the widow holds nothing back. I want to be like the widow. How I yearn for the depth of trust and love for my God, that I am so detached from my possessions and cares and lean entirely on Him to provide for my life. How I long to truly be able to lay my concerns, my plans, my hopes in His hands and really let go, and allow Him to lead me. I want to be able to give all my living to my Father, my God, my Savior. All my living. Now, I can't leave everything and join a contemplative group of nuns, because that is not my call. However, I can offer every single moment of my day to God, I can ask Him to bless my efforts to love and serve my family. I can worship Him in my daily duties, yes even the diapers and dishes. By giving my best in all I do, I honor God and the life He has chosen for me. A woman's work, whether as a student, mother, retailer, writer, small business owner, can and should glorify God. We glorify God by giving Him our living. We glorify God by letting His love permeate our very being so that all we do is our best. On a practical note, how do we, wives, sisters, mothers, working women, give all our living to God? I like to start with the Morning Offering. When I pray that, I offer “all my prayers, works, joys and sufferings of this day . . . ” for all of the things. For the salvation of souls, the Holy Father’s intentions, the sufferings of those around me, the prayers of my family . . . literally, the Morning Offering helps me to give all that I am—all my living—back to Him. Join me each morning, offering all that I have and all that I am and all that I do back to God. “O Jesus, through the Immaculate Heart of Mary, I offer you my prayers, works, joys and sufferings of this day in union with the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass throughout the world. I offer them for all the intentions of your Sacred Heart: the salvation of souls, the reparation for sin, and the reunion of all Christians. I offer them for the intentions of our bishops and of all Apostles of Prayer, and in particular for those recommended by our Holy Father this month.” photo credit // source Gina Fensterer is a wife, daughter, mother, friend, homeschooling mama and Colorado native. You can find out more about her here.

Behold, I, I myself will search for my sheep, and will seek them out . . . I will rescue them from all the places where they have been scattered . . . I myself will be the shepherd of my sheep, and I will make them lie down . . . . I have always been a lover of Jesus’ agricultural parables. In college, I took a fascinating class taught by a professor who also raised sheep in Black Earth, Wisconsin. One afternoon, this professor met us on the agricultural end of campus for a demonstration with her sheep and sheep dogs. Using a whistle she would signal to the dogs to round the sheep up in various formations, or hold them in one area. It was an incredibly orchestrated event! What is implanted in my mind, even years later, is how lost the sheep were. They needed, from the very core of their nature, to be shepherded. Without a clear vision of where to go, they were nervous, distracted, and agitated. What remained with me from that experience was that we, though beautifully human, are pretty sheep-ish at times. We are restless. Frenetic even. Our minds race through our multitude of small, daily tasks. And then there are the much bigger anxieties: "Who am I?" "Is this really my life’s purpose?" "What if I don’t succeed?" "What if things just don’t work out?" "Please, please don’t let . . . ." These are the things that can keep a girl awake at night! Perhaps that’s why I find such comfort in today’s readings. The verse from Psalm 23 is often recited at funerals to remind us of our eternal rest, but how easily we forget that we are made to rest right in this moment! What does it mean to lie down? And when do we? Clearly Jesus means something far more here than physically lying down to rest. Do our hearts ever truly "lie down"? Do we abide in the assurance that regardless of where our hearts may have been scattered, the Lord will always seek to return us to His pasture. He can help us to find peace amidst every worry. And as Saint Francis de Sales has written, “He will either shield you from suffering or will give you unfailing strength to bear it.” So take a deep breath, and rest in the knowledge that you, little sheep, are under the care of the best Shepherd there is. Ask Him for the grace to lie down and abide in Him. Amen. photo credit // source Karen Schultz is a Certified Birth Doula living a Twin Cities life with a country girl’s heart. Read more about her here.

I used to find this Gospel reading particularly challenging. And I used to take it pretty personally. But I’ve come to realize that what it presents is a true and beautiful vision of Heaven. Hard to fathom, but impossible to deny. My love for my husband and my union with him is inextricably tied to my devotion to my faith. It was during our (brief) courtship and engagement that we began to explore Catholic doctrine and traditions, and to learn what the Church teaches and why. We attended Mass together. I learned how to say the Rosary. And for the first time in my life, I sat down and read Scripture. Which is great, by the way. But you know that; that's why you're here. I remember my frustration as I read this story. As Jesus is teaching in the temple, the Sadducees (they are sad, you see, because they don’t believe in a resurrection) come up, and ask Him a question that appears designed to stump Him. "Now there were seven brothers. The first took a wife, and died without children. And the second and the third took her, and likewise all seven left no children and died. Afterward the woman also died. In the resurrection, therefore, whose wife will the woman be? For the seven had her as wife." Well, Jesus isn’t stumped, of course. And neither does He give an answer the Sadducees (or I) was expecting. "Those who are considered worthy to attain to that age and to the resurrection from the dead neither marry nor are given in marriage, for they cannot die anymore, because they are equal to angels and are sons of God." As a bride-to-be, I wasn’t very happy that Jesus seemed to me to be saying that I wouldn't get to still be married to my husband in Heaven. But that’s NOT what Jesus is saying. He’s just telling us: Heaven is bigger than that. It's bigger than us; it's bigger than marriage; it's bigger than EVERYTHING. When we've run this race, and God-willing, are standing in front of Saint Peter at those Pearly Gates, we will be "like angels." We will have hearts and minds that can hold a love like we have for a spouse . . . for EVERYONE. If I died tomorrow and my husband ended up with a succession of six more wives, and we all met up in Heaven, I would love each one of those women with my whole heart. There would be no jealousy, no misunderstanding, no hurt feelings. Just love. It's not that I will somehow LOSE the bond I have with my husband, it's that I will GAIN a perfect love with every member of the Church triumphant. And that sounds pretty great. Now . . . to get there. photo credit -> source Kendra Tierney can be found tending nine chickens, seven children, and one husband in Los Angeles, CA. You can find out more about her here.

  Holiness can seem so daunting. It seems vague at times, all covered in halos and stained glass. The pursuit of holiness is a timeless challenge faced by every Christian. But still it can seem such a distant place to which we don't know where to start walking. The best direction towards holiness given to us by God however, was His own mother whom we celebrate today in a special way. Today is the day we acknowledge the dedication of Mary in the Temple; her entire life given to God as a young girl. She was conceived without sin, yet still this action represents that Mary, and her family, took the steps to acknowledge their willingness to seek out God's will and to live it. As a young girl Mary was very much like us; she had a willing heart that was searching out God's will for her life. She did not know when she offered herself in the Temple that in a few short years an angel would come with a stunning message. But she took the initial steps to be ready for God, to open herself up to what God had willed for her life. In a beautiful connection, today's Gospel Reading gives us Christ's message of who is meant to be His intimate family. He says that anyone who does God's will is His mother, sister, brother. I like to think that what Christ is saying is not just that in doing God's will we will become His intimates, but that as we grow in holiness, in doing God's will, we become more like His mother, more like Mary. I believe this passage should be taken literally to mean that holiness is becoming more like our Blessed Mother. Of course, becoming more like Mary—more humble, more obedient, more patient, more kind, more understanding, more chaste, more loving is not an easy task once we decide to follow her example. We are so easily confused, so distracted, so put off from big picture goal of our lives. Christ in His love and wisdom gave us Mary not as just an example put on a pedestal but as a loving, guiding mother. She wants to join us in our prayers, in our journey to holiness, in our ceaseless quest for God's will in our lives. Her motherly love and comfort will never abandon us in our failures, in our crooked paths, in our listless response to the call to become Christ's sisters. Today I'm offering myself to God, just like Mary. I need to repeat this everyday, because that is the first step towards holiness. May we offer our lives to the Heavenly Father with Mary, our mother. photo credit: Madeline Hill Christy Isinger is the mom to five lovely, loud children living in the Canadian wilds. You can find out more about her here.

This Gospel has a harsh tone and impact. The city will not have one stone upon another. The city's enemies will totally annihilate them. The city's population will be slaughtered. All because the city did not know the time of its visitation. I have no idea what this means. I'm not a biblical scholar. So I looked up the chapter in the Gospel according to Saint Luke for a little context. Turns out the city is Jerusalem. And Jesus speaks this way after He goes in on the donkey for Palm Sunday to the tune of Hosannah. The pharisees told Jesus to shut his followers up, calling Him the Son of God. Well, He replies that the stones would speak if the people weren't. But then we get back to this. Him drawing near to Jerusalem, the city. THE city. The place of promise, the capital of Judah, the stronghold of the Jews despite the Roman occupation. How much pride and passion He must have felt approaching it. The biggest Jewish city in the world. Jerusalem is me, here. Jerusalem is you. We know Christ. He is our Peace. He is our Savior. He is here ; it's the time of our visitation by Him. He is here. And we don't know it. We hide from it. I hide from it. I slough off my spiritual life to Sundays, and even then, sometimes I'm at the straggler's 5pm mass because I couldn't bring myself to rouse the baby from his nap to join my husband and the big kids at morning mass. I try to pray, but then get distracted by my emails. I start a Rosary, but then have to check Facebook. It's embarrassing. Christ is coming toward me on a donkey with palm bearers and the like, and I'm purposefully oblivious. Being a cradle Catholic is enough, right? I teach my kids their prayers. We talk about God every day. But what about my heart? It's almost Advent season. The four week spiritual boot camp for Christmas. The tiny sliver of the liturgical year that packs a mean punch. I do not want to be spiritually annihilated by the cares of this world. I do not want to be the city whose pregnant mothers will be dashed to the ground along with their children within. I want to turn my head and heart back to the Man on the donkey. And be ready for my visit from Him. Prepare ye the way of the Lord and make straight His path. Get on it, you and me. Get out the advent calendar and wreath soon. Get out the spiritual books. Set the internet down. And be ready. photo credit: Madeline Hill Nell O'Leary is an attorney turned stay-at-home mom to three lovelies. She and her husband live in the great city of Saint Paul. You can find out more about her here.