I am known as a chronic over-packer when it comes to travel. Something as simple as a weekend away will typically lead to my one carry-on bag being stuffed for any potential travel emergency. For longer international trips, I re-weigh my suitcase so I know how much wiggle room I have within the fifty pound weight limit. I want to bring it all with me: my favorite outfits, cutest shoes, good books, my pretty eye mask, you name it, it is probably already crammed into one of the pockets. I wonder what it must have been like for the disciples Jesus sent out in pairs in today's Gospel, Luke 10:1-12. My over-packing human side looks at the situation and thinks, "Was Jesus nuts when He sent them out with nothing? I don't know if I could do that! What is the point?" Then I take a step back, and look at the scene through the eyes of Jesus. When the disciples took nothing with them, it created a radical dependence on God for their journey. Holding onto nothing illustrated their need for God's provision and prompting. Needy is a word no one wants used to describe them in relationships. But in our walk with Jesus, shouldn't we be needy with Him? The more intimate relationship we develop with Jesus, the more we come to see our neediness for Him. God desires that we would grow in radical dependence on Him in every area of our lives. He wants us to need Him for absolutely everything, just like the pairs of disciples going out on mission. Let's try to live each day a little more dependent on Jesus than the previous day. To grow in our neediness for God. To not overpack for the journey as we walk with God. And maybe when our hands are not clutched around bags and suitcases, they can be open to receive from God at moment's notice. Let's try to live more like that. [bctt tweet="The more intimate relationship we develop with Jesus, the more we come to see our neediness for Him. // @amoderngrace" username="blessedisshe__"] Today, let's pray the Our Father looking at the Catechism and understanding how to be radically dependent on God. 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.

A few months ago, I introduced my five-year-old to one of my favorite stories. When I first read The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe in childhood, I completely fell in love with Narnia and dreamed of one day finding my own wardrobe with an entrance to a far away land. I imagined Aslan guiding me and guarding me. He was my protector when my imagination got the best of me and I could not sleep. As an adult, I still reread The Chronicles of Narnia series every couple of years and I particularly enjoy listening to the audiobooks while I am trying to fall asleep. I am taken back to this marvelous country where I spent many childhood days. Well, one day, I popped in the DVD and let my daughter watch the movie. I sat with her on the couch and watched her watching the movie. I wanted to see her reaction to first experiencing Mr. Tumnus and whether she feared the White Witch. It was a magical experience for me as I witnessed her first journey into Narnia. Now, there are a few thematic elements to this story to be certain. As we approached the dark scene, I wondered if she would be too scared to watch it. It was always distressing to me when Aslan creeps along in the dark, accepting his inevitable death. Just as Lucy and Susan nuzzled their own faces into his fur, I wanted to throw my arms around Aslan and beg him not to go to the stone table. After Aslan was slain, my daughter turned to me and said, “Don’t worry mommy, Jesus always comes back.” I was floored that this little person understood the whole point of the story. "He called a child over, placed it in their midst, and said, “Amen, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven." (Matthew 18:2-3). Let us be like a child and remember that Jesus has given us all the gift of a beautiful faith, and to tap into that connection we have to Him. [bctt tweet="Jesus has given us all the gift of a beautiful faith. // @substance_soul" username="blessedisshe__"] Did you catch this BiS blog post on childlike faith? 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, loves anything Harry Potter, 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, Rise Up. Find out more about her here.

I can feel the red rising in my cheeks and ears, the sweat threatening to dampen my shirt, my pulse quicken. I try to calm myself enough so my voice sounds normal, my demeanor inviting, my invitation worth considering. And then I take the plunge: "Want to meet me in the grotto for the Rosary?" or "I'm starting a women's study at my house, would you like to come?" The fear of rejection threatens to stifle my voice, and it can take me weeks to find the courage to speak up. What if I’m alone? I dread to think my invite will be met with a “no, thanks anyway.” Many times I’d rather not take the risk. I find that my prayer time with the Lord isn't much different. I'm not bold like Saints James and John, asking Jesus about what they imagine He’d ask or allow them to do. (See Luke 9:53-54.) James and John felt vulnerable enough with Jesus to share their (wild) idea (call down fire!) and that is incredible to me. They risked being wrong but asked anyway. The last time I spoke so boldly and specifically to the Lord was, well, maybe never. I ask myself, "Am I willing to be that bold, that courageous, that vulnerable?" Bold like James and John? To speak to the Lord and share my ideas, then to listen and humble myself to realign my will to His if I'm off-track? Courageous and vulnerable enough to invite others to pray with me, imploring the Lord for His favor and guidance? With some trepidation, yes, I am willing and ready to be bold and courageous in my faith. And I trust that when the risk feels too great, Jesus will meet me there and hold out His hands to catch me in my leap of faith. [bctt tweet="They risked being wrong but asked anyway. // Gina Fensterer" username="blessedisshe__"] Happy Feast Day of Saint Therese of Lisieux! Learn details about her life of simple, courageous faith here. 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, Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.

Years ago, an impressive thunderstorm hit while we were at Mass. The storm was as abrupt as it was powerful because as we exited the church, the torrent of rain had stopped and there was only a faint rumble of thunder in the distance. A few puddles had formed along the sidewalk and my children began splashing in them. I was thinking of how I needed to do greater things for Jesus, bigger, more measurable things than I was currently doing. Then suddenly, I was snapped out of my distraction by the small voice of my daughter who was now muddy and drenched. “Mommy! Jesus gave us puddles!” In that moment I realized that for children, the sacred is not separated from the ordinary. It is all intertwined, each moment and each thing, a beautiful gift from God. They saw His majesty in a simple puddle, and they delighted in Him. Sister, do we recognize Jesus in the simplest moment? Do we see His face in the elderly neighbor going for walk, the friend who is having a hard day, the overwhelmed mom at the store who doesn’t have enough money for her groceries? Do we truly see His face in the lonely widow, the homeless man standing beneath the sun with tired eyes, the differently-abled child trying to keep up with his or her peers? In today’s Gospel Jesus tells His disciples, "Whoever receives this child in my name receives me, and whoever receives me receives the one who sent me. For the one who is least among all of you is the one who is the greatest" (Luke 9:48). That realization caused me to stop and delight in my children as they jumped in puddles and praised Jesus. As we walked back to our van, out of breath from laughter, I felt the Lord say, Thank you for rejoicing with Me. [bctt tweet="Sister, do we recognize Jesus in the simplest moment? // Leana Bowler" username="blessedisshe__"] Dear God, let us clear our clouded vision and receive You by loving the least among us, right where we are, in our ordinary spaces. 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.

It's sometimes tricky to approach Scripture like today's Gospel when your life is, well, average. I don't often encounter the desperate needs of another, and because of that, I can sometimes question if I'm really making an impact. We don't need to look far to be reminded of the immensity of suffering, of poverty, and of injustice innumerable people encounter each day in the world. And I'm just here, in my own home, with my own little struggles, often feeling quite incapable in light of the immense need I know exists. And yet, Jesus comes quietly to me. So quietly I often don't see it. He comes in my family's need for a meal, in my daughters' desire to talk when I'd rather be texting a friend. He comes in the cries needing consoling and in the laundry and in the sink loaded with dishes. In fact, He often comes in ways I'd rather Him not. Because slogging through the day as a mother can be monotonous and boring, and maybe I'd even like the thrill of a real obvious catastrophe to lay myself on the altar of. God's call for me is subtle, but it is no less sanctifying. My home and the people in it are my Lazarus, and my love for them has the power to change my soul. In the tiny bits of every day, done well, I carry my cross. And so do you. [bctt tweet="Jesus comes quietly to me. // Blythe Fike" username="blessedisshe__"] Jesus, give us the grace to live it. Blythe Fike is the wife of Kirby and mother of 8 smallish kids. She loves the quiet life in small town SoCal. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book, Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.

I stood in the bookstore, running my hands over book covers and flipping through those with the most interesting titles. All of them I put down until I opened The Tale of Despereaux. “Come closer,” author Kate DiCamillo wrote on the first page, “I am telling you a story.” I brought the book closer and it was as if she was whispering to me and only me. I have the same feeling when I read today’s Gospel. “Pay attention to what I am telling you,” Jesus says to His disciples, and I imagine their circle pressing closer together to focus and hear. (See Luke 9:44.) “The Son of Man is to be handed over to men,” He continues. Luke tells us the disciples didn’t understand what Jesus meant, and I wonder: how could they have? How could they have ever imagined the Last Supper, the crucifixion, Easter Sunday, and Pentecost? Often I feel like the Lord is saying to me, Pay attention to what I am telling you, but just like the disciples I don’t understand in that moment. If my life is a story that God is writing, sometimes the plot feels stagnant, sometimes it’s an exhilarating page-turner, and sometimes it’s a tear-jerker. I try to take in the details or search for a theme, but it feels like the meaning is being hidden from me. Though the disciples knew Jesus was telling them something important, they didn't understand because they did not yet have the full story. When seasons, chapters, or adventures in the story of my life are complete, I, too, can see God’s Hand in it all. I just have to wait for His Spirit to reveal it in His perfect time. [bctt tweet="Often I feel like the Lord is saying to me, Pay attention to what I am telling you, but just like the disciples I don’t understand in that moment. // @BonnieEngstrom" username="blessedisshe__"] Learn more about what the Catechism has to say about contemplative prayer here. 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. You can find out more about her here. She is the author of the Blessed Conversations Mystery: Believe study found here.

Today's Gospel reading (see Luke 9:18-22) is such a tender-hearted one: here the disciples stand before their Lord after many chapters full of signs and wonders, of miraculous fish-catchings and cleansing of lepers, of beautiful parables about the Kingdom of God, and of the feeding of 5,000 of their own brethren. Jesus knew they had seen it all, but He wanted them to speak to how it all shook out in their hearts. I can almost see our Lord's look of gentle love and expectation as He queries the disciples. I can almost feel the pitter-patter of Saint Peter's heart when He responds, "You are the Christ of God" (Luke 9:20). I know deep down that the Lord wants our own answer to that very same question. Not a textbook answer or scholarly summation. Not the most perfected and holy response or the most impressive by worldly standards. He wants us to speak our hearts. Could our pitter-pattering hearts speak as boldly as our dear Saint Peter, and if they did, what would they say? While you and I may not have Christ before us as Saint Peter did, we do have Him in the beautiful intimacy of the Eucharist. He comes to us—Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity—and asks that very same question: "Who do you say that I am?" (Luke 9:20) In the few minutes you have before you receive your next Eucharistic meal, tell the Lord Who He is to you. And ask for the eyes to see Him more deeply and more truly in your day today. [bctt tweet="Could our pitter-pattering hearts speak as boldly as our dear Saint Peter, and if they did, what would they say? // Karen Schultz" username="blessedisshe__"] Jesus is present in the Blessed Sacrament in tabernacles throughout the world. Watch live Adoration if you can't get to a church today to open your heart to Him and answer this question. 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.

There are certain events that are permanently seared into my memory—the fall of the World Trade Center, the fall of the stock market, and the fall of my faith in our Church. I remember when the abuse reports started to roll in. My phone was aglow with each new story and my heart grew weary with each new offense. And for a time, I wanted to rid myself of it all—to turn my back, to walk away, to say goodbye. I wanted to erase my name from this hurting family of believers and diverge on my own journey toward solace and comfort and hope. And that’s when I thought about the Eucharist and of all the hope It holds. Because even in the deep, dark parts of our hearts, He leads us to the light. And it is the light that should be fought for. It is the light that keeps me in this battle. Today’s First Reading spoke directly to this warring heart of mine. Because when the people refused to rebuild the house of the Lord, the prophet Haggai responded: “Is it time for you to dwell in your paneled houses while this house lies in ruins?” (Haggai 1:4) Sisters, right now our Church is in ruins. But the light, the light is still here. May we find the strength within to fight through the darkness, to hold strong to our convictions, and to find healing in Him—our light, our love, our hope. [bctt tweet="He leads us to the light. And it is the light that should be fought for. // @iambritcal" username="blessedisshe__"] Blessed is She wrote a response in fall 2018 to the newest scandal, in case it can give you comfort or direction. 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.

I don't like letting go. I especially don't like letting go of situations in which I have deeply invested my heart. It is never comfortable to leave people, places, things, or even projects and dreams that are important to us. But often in dead-end circumstances, or when we are being called into something new, there comes time to "shake the dust from our feet" and move on. Jesus commanded the Apostles to do this throughout their mission of evangelization. "And as for those who do not welcome you, when you leave that town, shake the dust from your feet in testimony against them" (Luke 9:5). When we "shake the dust from our feet," we recognize that ultimately God is at work. We let go of the need to control, force solutions, or to try to fix things by our own power. We recognize that something bigger than ourselves is at work here: God Himself. We can surrender to Him and trust in His work within ourselves. We can also trust in His work within each person around us. We can let go and let God. What do you need to let go of? In what area of your life do you need to shake off the dust and move on? An unhealthy relationship? That thing you did in the past that you still regret? That thing someone else did to you that still keeps you down? Bad habits? Guilt that doesn't actually belong to you? Negative thoughts of judgment and self-criticism? Idealized dreams that are not your calling? Fear of stepping out and becoming who God is inviting you to become? It can be scary to let go and move on, especially when it is uncertain what will come next. But God has blessed and guided us until this point, and He will continue to be with us as we move forward. The Responsorial Psalm reminds us, "So now consider what he has done for you, and praise him with full voice." It's time to let go and let God as we praise Him along the journey. [bctt tweet="We can let go and let God. // Mary Catherine Craige" username="blessedisshe__"] Pray this prayer of the great Doctor of the Church, Saint Teresa of Avila, today. Mary Catherine Craige enjoys spending her time dancing, writing, playing the Irish harp and surfing the ocean waves of northeast Florida. As a transformational life coach, she supports strong 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 held the one-month old infant in my arms that frigid Minnesota morning. His four older brothers looked on dressed in suits. My husband and I had the honor of standing in as proxy godparents since His real godparents lived far away. I was given the incredible gift of holding this child as the priest poured the waters of life over him. In an instant, the tiny infant went from living in original sin to having a life of grace and being a child of God. We are all made children of God through Baptism, and Jesus calls us to live out our adoption into the family of the Church in today’s Gospel. He calls us to act as children of God. All we have to do is hear the Word of God and act on it. Pretty simple, right? But it's not. The only person who managed to do that perfectly was His Immaculately Conceived mother. To hear the Word of God and act on it is not just the words of Scripture but the call of the Son of God, the Word, and to bring Him into the world with our actions. To truly hear the Word of God we hear with more than our ears or our minds. We must hear with our hearts. His Word must penetrate to our very depths. We contemplate Him, spend time in His presence in the Scripture, in the Eucharist, and in our hearts. As we do this, He changes us. When He changes us, our acts bear Him into the world. I have learned this first hand over the years as I have opened myself up to God's changing power in my daily time of meditative prayer. Taking even ten minutes with the daily readings or focusing in on one verse has transformed my life. I lead my children to do this as well knowing that only He can reach the depths of their souls. When we do this, we live out the graces of our Baptisms as Christ’s sisters and brothers. [bctt tweet="We must hear with our hearts. // Susanna Spencer" username="blessedisshe__"] Many holy orders are founded on a life dedicated to prayer and contemplation. Do you know about the Carthusians who live in silence to achieve these ends? 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, 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.

I've spent years with others' lights shining around me, and proudly so. The sister who's an international speaker, the brother with the military accomplishments, the sister whose career in design led to opening many businesses, the sister with a halo you can see from outer space (corporal & spiritual works of mercy are her special gifts). For most of my twenties, I felt like the light without a light bulb. Yes, I'm an attorney but didn't practice for that long. Yes, I'm a writer but don't have any books. My nebulous online work wasn't easily described in a quick blurb at the extended family BBQ. I was mostly "just" a stay-at-home mom and for those early years of mothering, shouting over the din of the crying passel of children to assure my aunt who was refilling on hot dogs, "I do love every minute of it!!" "For there is nothing hidden that will not become visible, and nothing secret that will not be known and come to light" (Luke 8:16-17). So besides maybe my aunt someday finding out that I didn't love every minute of three kids under four, how we have lived with our light, our loves, our gifts will be evident to God. Sisters, you may be the overlooked one in your family or maybe you're the academic all-star. You may be dying of boredom at staff meetings or the one presenting, fully caffeinated. You may think you don't know who you are or what you have to offer, especially in comparison to your sister in the flesh or sister in Christ. But maybe we're all missing the point. You have the LIGHT. You have the light of God's joy and truth right here, in this one recklessly beautiful life of ours. We have access to it, knowledge of it, and encouragement to pursue it. Will we? God's not taking a talent show at the end. He's not measuring how fabulously we could describe you in one sentence. He's deeply desiring us to choose a life illuminated by Him. [bctt tweet="You have the light of God's joy and truth right here, in this one recklessly beautiful life of ours. // @wholeparenting" username="blessedisshe__"] These stunning stain glass windows in Sainte-Chapelle in Paris have undergone restoration, inspiring the thousands of pilgrims to deeper prayer and awe of God's light in their lives. 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.

The other day as I was praying, I kept thinking about a friend who shared with me that she felt deep guilt for the mistakes of her past. She felt unworthy of God’s love and mercy, and it was hindering her from fully embracing the love of God. I knew that feeling because I had been wracked with guilt over past mistakes, but I came to learn that this soul-crushing guilt was the evil one trying to hold me down and keep my chained to my sins. Guilt that suppresses us and keeps us from mercy is not of God. I recalled that Jesus left the ninety-nine sheep to search for His lost lamb. When He found the lamb, He lifted her upon His shoulders and carried her back to the flock. Jesus does the same when we stray–no matter how far it may have been. When the guilt of our sins starts to pull us down, let’s turn it around and make it an opportunity to thank God for His Divine Mercy and praise Him for His goodness. Likewise, knowing how easy it is to fall, let’s make it our mission to pray for all the souls who are in need of God’s mercy. We can echo the words of Saint Paul when he says, "It is my wish, then, that in every place the men should pray, lifting up holy hands, without anger or argument" (1 Timothy 2:8).” Since we have been recipients of God’s mercy, may it fill our hearts with compassion for others, praying unceasingly for them that they too may experience the great mercy of God. [bctt tweet="When the guilt of our sins starts to pull us down, let’s turn it around and make it an opportunity to thank God for His Divine Mercy and praise Him for His goodness. // bobbi_rol" username="blessedisshe__"] These top quotes from this beloved pontiff on mercy are grounding and healing reminders of God's mercy for us. 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.

As you read this, most of the Blessed is She Team is gathered on retreat. We are a small community of extraordinarily ordinary women—a room full of sinners striving for sainthood—serving a globe full of other beautiful women. We’ve lived unique experiences; we come from different places and backgrounds; we’re all in different life stages and vocations. Just like you. Just like the tax collector, Saint Matthew, and the rest of the misfit disciples, ranging from simple tradesmen to zealous revolutionaries. It’s surprising that we’re not simply friends, but united, sharing the deepest parts of our hearts. Yet here we are together because of our mutual friend, Jesus Christ. It’s He Who unites us. He Who animates us to love better, to see opportunities for beauty and fruit and relationship where otherwise we’d see only stark differences. What’s more: Christ doesn’t just bring us together for each other. He brings us together for Himself. Jesus was actually friends with His disciples, despite their countless faults. He ate and laughed with them. He fell asleep in a storm-tossed boat with them. He liked them! Sure, He needed His quiet prayer time here and there. But Jesus actually wanted to hang out with them–just as He wants to hang out with us. He wants to be friends with us. He wants to share every big and little part of our day, every second of our entire lives. In return, Jesus longs to share every part of His life with us. So much, in fact, that He invites us into His ministry, giving us specific gifts to share. He calls us, just as He called Saint Matthew, to step out of our sin and into friendship with Him—to form community with others. Usually we’d rather stick to our comfortable bubble with others just like us. But He shows us the epic potential of calling the least likely together—to encourage each other in joys, struggles, doubts, and questions—ultimately bringing Him glory as we walk this hard, confusing, sacrificial, love-filled, insanely rewarding path called holiness. [bctt tweet="Christ doesn’t just bring us together for each other. He brings us together for Himself. // @PosImperfect" username="blessedisshe__"] Learn more about our team here. 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, Rise Up. When the writing bug hits, you can find out more about her here.

Last summer, I made a pilgrimage to the Holy Land and spent a month journeying from town to town in my rental car. The conveniences of modern travel were a stark contrast to the physical demands that Jesus and His disciples endured as they hiked from village to village. Can you imagine literally walking with Jesus for three years? The uncertainty of knowing where the next meal would come from or where they would be laying their heads that evening demonstrates the disciples’ beautiful trust in Divine Providence. In today’s Gospel passage, Saint Luke includes the women Mary Madgdalene, Joanna, Susanna, and many others who were using their resources to provide for Jesus and His Apostles. (See Luke 9:1-3.) The generous hearts of these women must have cooked countless meals, washed and repaired numerous tunics, and nursed the sick. Can you imagine their laughter, songs, and joy? They likely had such beautiful conversations with people who had encountered Jesus. Their little acts of love strengthened and encouraged Jesus as He proclaimed the Good News of the Kingdom of God. What little acts of love from you might help strengthen and encourage the Church today? The third Luminous Mystery of the Rosary is the Proclamation of the Kingdom of God. Do you remember these magnanimous women as you contemplate this mystery of light? Although Jesus’ closest followers may have heard some of the same stories over and over again, they must have gained such a profound knowledge of the Sacred Heart and the Kingdom of God as they listened to their master. We are invited to this same intimacy. Let us ask these Saints for their intercession with Saint Paul’s words to Saint Timothy: “pursue righteousness, devotion, faith, love, patience, and gentleness. Compete well for the faith. Lay hold of eternal life, to which you were called” (1 Timothy 6:11-12). [bctt tweet="What little acts of love from you might help strengthen and encourage the Church today? // Rose Coleman" username="blessedisshe__"] Learn more about the Luminous Mysteries shared by this beloved pontiff. 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.

So often when women visit my office and sit in the “chair of weeping,” they begin with apologies for their tears. I assure them: tears are an anointing. In fact, many cultures treasure their tears. Catherine Doherty writes (in Poustinia: Encountering God in Silence, Solitude and Prayer) that “Russians believe that the greatest purity is achieved through tears” (page 96). And elsewhere she notes, “Clarity of soul is acquired by the gift of tears” (page 95). When I was in the Holy Land, I learned that Jewish women would collect their tears in tiny vials—tears of joy, tears of sorrow, the tears that marked the most precious moments of their life. When they married, they offered this tiny vial to their husbands that he would receive and protect it and everything it represented. It was a way of marking their new union: everything that was most precious to her was now precious to him. When the woman who was a sinner washes the Lord’s feet with her tears, some scholars believe that she was using this vial that she had collected over her lifetime. A vial that marked the most precious and important moments of her life. And she was giving it to, spending it on, entrusting it to Jesus. And how He received her tears—received them, cherished them, and even protected them from those who would judge her. This is the woman I long to be: the kind that would offer to Jesus the most precious parts of myself in response to His forgiveness, His provision, His affection, His protection, His remarkable delight at the very thought of my existence. Jesus, some sister among us is afraid of her tears, or ashamed of them, or unwilling to shed them, or sees them as a weakness. Maybe they’ve been locked away, somewhere dark and deep, and they are long overdue. If it be Your perfect will, I pray, right now, let the tears flow, that my sister may offer them to You as a gift, an anointing, trusting that it is Your pleasure to receive all that is most precious to her. [bctt tweet="He received her tears. // Liz Kelly" username="blessedisshe__"] This painting by Peter Paul Rubin is a compelling depiction of the Gospel. 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 and the Jesus Approaches Study Supplement. And she still sings jazz, but mainly in the tub and while washing dishes. Find out more about her here.

“You’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t.” That’s the disheartening sentiment that I usually mumble to myself when, in my efforts to do or say something good, I get accused of doing or saying too much and not enough all at the same time. It’s sighed in exasperation when I feel like I’m too much for some people and yet still not enough for others. Our Lord understands how it feels to be misunderstood. In today’s Gospel, Jesus calls out the duplicitous nature of the crowd who says that John the Baptist is “possessed by a demon” for not eating and drinking and then calls Jesus a “glutton and a drunkard” when He does eat and drink. (See Luke 7:33-34.) The world will never be satisfied by our attempts to do what is good. And that is why, dear sisters, we are called to do what is holy by the Lord’s standards and not those of the world. There will always be someone who is hypercritical of our choices, accusatory of our actions or inactions, or simply disagrees with what we do because we don’t do things their way. We can either be discouraged by them or we can take a deep breath and thrive in the knowledge that “wisdom is vindicated by her children” (Luke 7:35). When we lean into Christ, Who is Wisdom, and live in the power of wisdom as a Gift of the Holy Spirit, we might still be accused of ulterior motives, but we will have the courage to do good and strive for holiness anyway. Our goal is not the approval of man but the glory of God. Today, pray the Litany of Humility and ask the Lord to purify your intentions, actions, and words. And pray in thanksgiving for those who might misunderstand you, for they are unintentionally helping you become more like our Lord! And if you find yourself as the one who is accusing, mislabeling, and judging, pray the Litany of Humility and ask the Lord to also purify your intentions, actions, and words. Pray for the grace to apologize to someone you may have hurt. [bctt tweet="Our goal is not the approval of man but the glory of God. // @chikasworld" username="blessedisshe__"] Find the Litany of Humility here. Chika Anyanwu is a Catholic evangelist based in Southern California and is also the author of My Encounter: How I Met Jesus In Prayer. She has a deep love for Jesus, loves her beautiful Nigerian family, and is a firm believer that if coffee is good, there’s no need for cream or sugar. Find out more here.

When I was eighteen, I began studying at Arizona State University. In the sea of 65,000 students, I no longer had a name. I became a number: #1200045547. I did not write my name on assignments, nor did I know my professors. I was just another face in the crowd. Do you ever feel as though God has so many souls to care for, people with troubles much more serious than yours, that you must be far down on His "list"? I wonder if the widow at Nain whom we encounter in the Gospel today ever felt this way. (See Luke 7:11-17.) Her husband died, and she was left with her son. Tragically, her son—her only protector, provider, and companion—died as well. I imagine she felt excruciating grief at the reality of having to live alone with no family to care for her. She must have shuffled through the funeral procession utterly devastated. When Jesus looked upon this crowd, He did not see a sea of people. Our God is a God of intimacy. As Jesus stood witnessing the procession, He knew the personal needs, sorrows, and joys of each individual. And in approaching her, Jesus showed that none of us is or will ever be a number or a face in the crowd to Him. You are not just another person in the world—your life matters, your prayers are heard. He sees you. As you go about your day, He walks with you. When you attend Mass, you are not just another face the priest sees. Your presence in God's house is individually recognized and rejoiced in by God Himself. Christ cares for us uniquely and individually, and He knows of our suffering. He holds the sun and the stars at the same time that He holds our hearts. He wants to reveal His presence in our lives, hold our faces in His hands and speak peace, "Do not weep" (Luke 7:13). Just as He did with the widow, He wants to meet us right where we are. [bctt tweet="Your presence in God's house is individually recognized and rejoiced in by God Himself. // @emwilss" username="blessedisshe__"] We can turn to Our Blessed Mother for comfort and confidence in her Son's love. This beautiful hymn's lyrics and ancient prayer speak right to this in our hearts. Emily Wilson Hussem planned her whole life to become a sports reporter but turned out to be a Catholic musician and speaker at the hand of God. She lives out of her suitcase and travels across the world speaking to people of all ages. The heart of her ministry is offering encouragement to teen girls in search of their true identity, and she loves every second of it. She is the author of I Choose the Sky and Go Bravely. You can find out more about her here.