We have all experienced it. The priest tells us to “go in peace, glorifying the Lord by your life,” and ten minutes later, I suddenly forget how to use the turn signal and my driving manners in the parking lot. That’s one of the reasons I love Jesus. He doesn’t forget how to act under pressure, guys. In fact, Jesus' life embodies living out our faith so perfectly. He had moments earlier finished His Sermon on the Plain (See Luke 6:20-49), and He is immediately approached by a centurion’s messengers asking for a miracle (See Luke 7:1-10). If this were me, I would be thinking, “Guys, I JUST finished giving a big sermon. I am hungry. I am tired. I need to decompress. Please email me, and I will get to this when I feel up for it.” Yet, Jesus practices what He taught only moments before. He recognizes the profound faith of the centurion, and the servant is healed. Jesus is faithful to His word. We know Jesus is fully human and fully divine, and He had been speaking in that hot sun all day. When asked to go beyond His physical discomfort, He chose to. When I am asked again and again by my small children, and maybe you are asked again and again by classmates or work emails, to dig deep, to go beyond our/your fatigue, do we say yes? And then, when we ask Our Lord again, and again, using those exact words of the centurion before Communion, does He listen to us? Yes, we know He does. But after we are dismissed from Mass, how do we live out what we just experienced? How do we share that love, dig deep into it? I want to leave Mass with His Spirit. I want to never tire of living out the Gospel. [bctt tweet="When asked to go beyond His physical discomfort, He chose to. // @callherhappy" username="blessedisshe__"] Join me in praying an Act of Faith prayer today. Jenna Hines has a teeny army of four children and is married to a bearded fellow named Mike. They are a homeschooling family who just moved out to the country. Find her books and illustrations in her shop. You can find out more about her here.

I fail and fall short. I mess up time and time again. I sin, confess them, and sin again. And yet, He never tires of me. His pursuit never ends. He constantly calls me into His loving presence and embrace. It's so easy, isn't it? To be our own worst critics. To beat ourselves up because we can't seem to get things right. Or quit the sin. Or continue down a path we know leads us far from Him. It's so easy. Too easy. And yet, His compassion wipes out our offenses. He washes us from our guilt. His desire is to cleanse us from all sin. I want so deeply to be made new. I desire a clean heart and pure spirit. And sometimes, it's me that stands in the way of His love and mercy. The shame, the guilt, the false truth that I can never be enough for Him keep me at bay—far from Him. And yet, He calls to us. Beckons us to draw near. And in my shame, I continue to walk a different way. But, in this moment, in this prayer time with Him, I am reminded that each moment that I have is a moment in which I can choose to turn around. So that He may turn my eyes, my heart, my mind, my body, my soul back towards Him. So that He may cover me with His mercy, compassion, and generous love. I am left speechless in these moments. He sees me—in my failures and shortcomings and sinfulness—and wants me anyway. And so I turn back to Him. I approach Him as He spreads His arms wide to embrace me. To welcome me home. And it is here, in His presence, that I am made new. In these moments, I am reminded that our God is a generous Father. Waiting always to receive His beloved back to Himself. His love and mercy cover me. There is no distance too far—I can always return home. [bctt tweet="He constantly calls me into His loving presence and embrace. // Shalini Blubaugh" username="blessedisshe__"] Need a refresher on going to the Sacrament of Confession and a good examination of conscience? Right here on the blog! Shalini Blubaugh is a Minnesota transplant living in Denver, Colorado with her sweet husband, Matt, their gal pal, Callan, and quite large GSD pup, Sully. She enjoys all things health + fitness and 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.

Throughout all of our lives, we're called to become more and more like Jesus. And today we hear that Jesus emptied Himself, He humbled Himself, and He was obedient—even to death on a cross. (see Philippians 2:7-8) We could use these three qualities as an examination of conscience of sorts—as a check-in to see how we're doing: are we emptying ourselves so that He can live more fully within us and in our lives? Are we humble? Are we obedient? I previously used to think the story about the bronze serpent in today's First Reading (see Numbers 21:4-9) was kind of weird—I didn't get it. But someone explained the beauty of it recently which I want to share with you too. And that is that God has mercy for us and for the times that we fail and that we sin. For the times that we aren't humble and aren't obedient, and for the times that we're complaining and grumbling. Yes, there are real consequences to sin. But God's mercy is also very real and He wants us healed. He wants us to be with Him—and He offers us exactly what we need (the bronze serpent in this particular story) for this to happen. But there's more to this story: God doesn't just give us what we need and lead us on that path to be closer to Him. He also wants to see if we want it, if we love Him—if we're choosing Him. Therein lies another gut-check. This is tough for me. I know I don't live that out every single day, but today I'll try—with intentionality, I'll try to love Him and to show Him that I do. [bctt tweet="He wants us healed. // @praymorenovenas" username="blessedisshe__"] Will you try it with me? 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.

Amidst all the talk of the blind leading the blind, hypocrites, wooden beams, and splinters, there is a line of today’s Gospel (Luke 6:39-42) I never noticed: “No disciple is superior to the teacher; but when fully trained, every disciple will be like his teacher” (Luke 6:40). When fully trained, every disciple will be like his teacher. How amazing! We are the disciples and He is the Teacher, and if you’re anything like me, we have some serious training to do. At the heart of today’s parable is a call to personal holiness. It’s a call that requires effort on my part, a sort of spiritual training, if you will. First and foremost I need to focus on building up my own spiritual muscles and flexibility. If I am not disciplined in my exercises—reading the Word, receiving the Sacraments frequently, spending time in prayer to grow in relationship with the Lord—my heart and soul will grow weak. I will not have the strength or stamina to run the race. Just as it can be a challenge to find the motivation to exercise, so, too, it is in the spiritual life. It is so much easier to look around at others—a friend or family member, a spouse, someone we follow on social media—and judge what we perceive their level of spiritual fitness to be, to note their flaws and failings. But Jesus reminds us to look interiorly. To look at our own hearts and souls and see where we need to put in the work. Thankfully, we have the ultimate spiritual trainer in Jesus. Ask Him to show you what elements of your spiritual life need toning. You can trust He will always and only encourage you towards our eternal goal. [bctt tweet="We are the disciples and He is the Teacher, and if you’re anything like me, we have some serious training to do. // @inendlesssong" username="blessedisshe__"] Let's meditate on how we can lean into Our Heavenly Mother to help us with our spiritual training through a consecration to Him through Her. 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.

Holy and beloved. Those are the words that Saint Paul uses to describe the believers in Colossae in today’s First Reading. (See Colossians 3:12.) And because we believe that Scripture is inspired by the Holy Spirit, and that it is alive and endlessly relevant, we can take those adjectives and apply them to ourselves as well. Holy and beloved. That is the way God sees us. Is that how we see ourselves? I’m sure you, like me, have experienced rejection, have been disappointed by the people in your life, have had relationships fall apart. The thought of being someone’s "beloved" sounds like a dream and never a reality. And as for holiness, already today I have lost my temper with my kids, said something uncharitable to my husband, talked behind someone’s back, and spent way too much time ogling over stuff I do not need on Amazon. And it’s not even lunch time. How easy it is to look at myself and think, “holy and beloved I am not.” And yet that is what we are. We are made in the image of God which is holy. We are washed from original sin through Baptism. By being in a relationship with Jesus and participating in the life of the Church, we receive all the graces we need to live the holy lives He calls us to. And we are His beloved, known by Him before the world began, designed with a purpose, precious enough to die for. When we see ourselves the way God sees us—as holy and beloved, when we believe that that is what we are, His dear chosen daughters, the power of that truth overflows in our lives. Not only do we see ourselves as holy and beloved, we see those around us that way too. We are able to “put on . . . heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience, bearing with one another and forgiving one another” (Colossians 3:12-13). This is the fruit of an identity found in Christ. [bctt tweet="We are made in the image of God which is holy. // Anna Coyne" username="blessedisshe__"] Read what the Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches us about our identity. Anna Coyne is a wife, mother, and convert to the Catholic Faith. She is a classically trained pianist who, after teaching for ten years now stays home with her three young children. but still manages to flex her creative muscles through writing, knitting, and gardening. She is proud to call Saint Paul home and loves everything about living in Minnesota, except for winter. You can find out more about her here.

I find the Beatitudes in today's Gospel hard. (See Luke 6:2-26.) Hard to understand, hard to practice. They feel to me somehow esoteric and lofty, when I know in reality they really aren't. I always come away from reading the Beatitudes feeling that I'm still not holy enough to understand them, and that I obviously have to completely change my life in order to live them out. But I think I'm wrong. Even though Jesus is saying blessed are those who practice these paradoxical ways, He hasn't neglected to tell us how we arrive at Beatitude. He has given us the direction and path of how to get there. I'm wrong in thinking that the Beatitudes are somehow set apart from the rest of what Jesus taught when really they're the pinnacle and culmination of all the teachings of His life. Jesus told us to follow the Commandments. He tells us to take up our crosses and follow Him. He tells us to give up our riches and wealth, even our family and friends to choose His holiness, freedom, and friendship with Him. In other words, just as Saint Paul reminds us in today's First Reading, Colossians 3:1-11, in order to live out the Beatitudes we have to choose to stop having idols in our lives, choose to stop lying, choose to stop living a life of sin. At first that seems fairly basic: sin isn't good for me and it should be a whole lot easier than giving up my wealth and friends, but I know I cling to sins in my life often because it feels so easy. If the Beatitudes seem far away from us because they feel difficult to attain maybe it is because we've become so used to the ease of habitual sin? We don't arrive at the Beatitudes one day out of the blue, we start living the Beatitudes with every choice we make. [bctt tweet="He has given us the direction and path of how to get there. // @christyisinger" username="blessedisshe__"] We study the Beatitudes along with the Commandments in our Rooted Study, available for digital download, for just you or a group. 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. You can find out more about her here. She is the author of our Blessed Conversations: The Ten Commandments study found here.

Have you prayed with a child? It’s a sweet and humbling experience. I get to do it nightly with my children. When my son was a toddler, I prayed for him. As he grew I prayed with him. I wanted to teach him to pray, but I was terrible at praying out loud. I awkwardly stumbled over thanksgivings and petitions. We prayed the standard ones I wanted him to learn. But more than anything, I wanted him to know how to speak to the Lord intimately, in a way I was still learning to do. My son and I would sit in the darkness of his room, piecing together thanksgivings and requests, creating a litany all our own of namesake saints. So it is, when I am praying to the Father. I ask the Son to teach me to pray. I ask Him to bolster my prayer where it is lacking and to fill in the gaps with grace. While my day is littered with little prayers of thanksgiving and petitions, I also know the profound grace that is poured out when we set aside time to speak to and listen to God, just as Jesus did in today’s Gospel. (See Luke 6:12.) I had never created the habit of rising early to pray, or staying up late to do it. So a year ago, in total frustration, I said to God, “I want to talk to you, please help me find the time” and He did. Here and there, pockets of peaceful time popped up, and I would call on the Holy Spirit to guide me, do a little spiritual reading, and sit in the Lord’s presence. So sister, if you are struggling in prayer, lean on the Lord and ask Him to fill in the gaps. He will meet you there. [bctt tweet="I ask the Son to teach me to pray. // @jacquiskemp" username="blessedisshe__"] In this brief video, tune in for wonderful tips for prayer. Jacqueline Skemp is a daughter, sister, wife, and mother who endures living in Minnesota after leaving California for her one true love. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book, Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.

Why haven’t you asked Me to heal this? The Lord prodded my heart as I reflected on the particular physical suffering He brought to my mind. Admittedly, I was a little taken aback. The suffering He referenced wasn’t my greatest suffering or biggest intention which is why I hadn’t thought to bring it to Him. I was handling it. It was fine. Nothing major. I told Jesus that it wasn’t bothering me too much (it was) and that there were more pressing needs for healing in the lives of those I love. I wish I had the faith of the man with the withered hand from today’s Gospel. Jesus beckoned him to stretch out his hand, and he immediately obeyed. How many times do I delay when God asks me to stretch out my hand? When I put myself in the man’s shoes, I can hear my own response: “I still have use of my left hand.” “See that person inflicted with leprosy? They need healing more than I do.” “It’s not worth your time, Lord. I’ve learned to live with this. I’m fine!” Jesus isn’t fooled or deterred by my flimsy and prideful excuses. He continues to show me that there’s no balancing scale when it comes to what weighs on us. He wants to bear it all with us. Our perspectives are limited because there is only so much we can hold in our hearts and lives. But God can hold it all. Jesus knows us (from the Alleluia). He knows how heavy our burdens feel, even if we feel silly in struggling to bear them. In the Gospel, Jesus compared healing this man’s hand with saving his life because He knew how deep and tender this suffering was to the man. (See Luke 6:8.) And He knows the same about us. When we stretch out our hands in faith, we offer our whole selves to His mercy. We pour out our hearts before Him. (See Psalm 62:9.) We know that He makes our cares His own and that He came to save every part of our lives. [bctt tweet="God can hold it all. // @to_the_heights" username="blessedisshe__"] The Divine Mercy Chaplet in song: take a moment to pray along with them today. Olivia Spears lives in Kentucky where the sweet tea and bourbon flow like milk and honey. She is the Blog Manager for Blessed is She and works from home as an editor and social media manager. She likes to binge novels and Netflix while raising her children and laughing with her husband. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book, Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.

What is the warmest welcome you have ever received? Mine was when I traveled to Hawaii to train youth ministers on four separate islands. On each island I was given omiyages, gifts that can range from flower lea to a box of chocolate covered macadamia nuts (yes, please!). Regardless of the specific gift, you know how joyful a native Hawaiian is to welcome you because of the omiyages. On this trip I received so many omiyages I had to purchase an additional large suitcase to take them home. All of us have been to a home, church, or community where we have been welcomed so genuinely that our actual hearts felt embraced. At the same time, we have walked into a home, church, or community and felt like an inconvenience. Both experiences leave a lasting impression. The question is, what impression do we want our sisters and brothers in Christ to be left with after they enter our homes (or churches)? Oh, how I wish our Church would follow the words of Saint Paul to Philemon, "[W]elcome him (Onesimus) as you would me" (Philemon 1:17). If we ever expect this hope Saint Paul had for Onesimus, Philemon’s runaway slave who Paul sends back as a Christian, to flow out of our churches and into our homes, jobs, schools, and community we must first reflect on how we welcome one another. Paul begs Philemon to forgive his slave, welcome him as a brother, and love him as a fellow Christian. Is the way we welcome one another the same way you would want to be welcomed or do we try to impress our sisters and brothers instead being our authentic selves? Not all of us will be that person in our lives with a perfectly decorated home and cupcakes on the counter, but when I visit a friend who has a heart and home (and if possible, some queso dip ready to eat) that is always open, I know I am receiving the love of God. It doesn’t take much: just our time, presence, and willingness to put others before ourselves. Therefore, welcome one another as you would want to be welcomed and get ready to encounter Christ when you open the door. [bctt tweet="It doesn’t take much: just our time, presence, and willingness to put others before ourselves. // @SoCalTriciaT" username="blessedisshe__"] This prayer of the faithful includes welcoming, healing, and strength. Tricia Tembreull is a California girl with a boundless passion for life. After two decades of ministering to teens and youth ministers as a trainer, ministry mentor, and speaker in Catholic youth ministry, Tricia now serves as Campus Minister at USC Caruso Catholic Center. She loves adventure and seeks it everywhere she goes. As an avid foodie, she enjoys testing new recipes out on friends and family, gathering them around the table to encounter Christ in one another and be drawn to the satisfying unity we crave in the Eucharist. You can find out more about her here.

Sometimes I wonder what I will see when I look back on the tapestry of my life. Will I see ugly patchwork of scars and loose stitches? Both the First Reading and Gospel today speak of the newness God desires to give. (See Colossians 1:21-23, Luke 6:1-5.) The Pharisees confront the Lord and accuse the disciples of doing the work of rubbing head of grains together and eating them. The Lord is frank. He says He is Lord of the Sabbath. Saint Paul is just as frank. He tells us to persevere in the new life of faith in Christ Jesus. These calls to newness of life were simple to me in my younger years. But to be honest, I bristle a bit now. The old ways and scars—like the ones Saint Paul describes today—have become part of the way I see myself. This is a subtle temptation. It’s a perennial problem that is easily overlooked in our spiritual lives: our vision of life is too small. Sisters, the Lord has amazing and expansive plans for us. He wants to give us a gift: love so vibrant, so good, and so intense that we feel it threatens to burst our hearts’ capacity to hold affection. His plans are so beautiful that we need an entirely new vessel to hold them. We need to allow Him to transform us. Now, question becomes: do I want what God wants? It may seem like an easy answer but so often we are satisfied with the old, status quo that does not threaten our comfort. Instead, Jesus offers all. And He offers to give all and be all for us, but it involves something from us. Just as Jesus laid down His life for us, so we are called to lay down our own lives. Our Savior knows very well it requires a heroism to place our entire lives into His care. He knows it’s not easy. For this reason, He gives us every grace necessary to lay down our small vision for our lives at His feet. In the end, He wants to look back on our lives with us and see His work of glory. [bctt tweet="Just as Jesus laid down His life for us, so we are called to lay down our own lives. // @srmariakim" username="blessedisshe__"] This commentary, the Catena Aurea by Saint Thomas Aquinas, provides extra historical context for today's Gospel. Sister Maria Kim Bui is a Daughter of Saint Paul, women religious dedicated to evangelization in and through the media. She is originally from Tempe, AZ, spent most of her fourteen years in religious life in the northeast, some time in Texas, and now was recently asked to serve as the director of marketing and sales at the Sisters' publishing house in Boston. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book, Rise Up and the author of our Blessed Conversations Mystery: Belong found here. Find out more about her here.

A few years ago, I found myself devastated by the collapse of a relationship that I had seen as the pinnacle of my identity. It had long been my source of affirmation and security, dramatically shaping the inner workings of my heart as a teenager. At the loss of my ex as my point of reference, I instead anchored my life in Jesus, and He completely transformed my worldview. When I look back at wide-eyed teenage Sarah, I am resentful of how much she could not see. Even after all this time, I still sometimes see myself as that girl, recklessly hopeful and determined to take on a narrative that was not hers. I struggle to separate out the “then” from the “now,” and to believe that the Lord has actually changed my life. As I tread in new waters as a young adult, I am beginning to grapple with how much of my life I still live through the lens of sixteen-year-old Sarah. Yet, Jesus says in today’s Gospel, "Rather, new wine must be poured into fresh wineskins" (Luke 5:38). Sisters, the Lord’s will for our lives right now cannot be sustained if we continue to believe this season is no different from the one before it. I am really starting to believe that the Lord has a lot to say about today, that my life is bearing worthwhile fruit now. I know that I have to release the past lens because when my process in prayer is limited by its scope, I miss out on the divine vitality stored in each present moment. I am not called to take today and filter it through old seasons, but let the Lord set beginnings in my life. In today’s Gospel, I am reminded that not only is He capable of changing my seasons, but capable of redeeming my outlook. [bctt tweet="I know that I have to release the past lens because when my process in prayer is limited by its scope, I miss out on the divine vitality stored in each present moment. // Sarah Elizabeth" username="blessedisshe__"] Jesus, I ask that we would be clarified by pouring into fresh wineskins, not letting past brokenness or wounds cloud the Father's brightness today. Renew our lenses with awareness and perspective so that we could receive fully and bear new fruit. Sarah Elizabeth is a politics pre-law major at the Catholic University of America in Washington, DC. Born and raised in Arizona, she finds great joy in mountains, lattes, American history, and the piano. She is constantly discovering Christ's wild love in the little things.

A wall in our mudroom features a display of some of our oft-repeated family rules and reminders. One of them is: "If You’re Doing It Really Hard You’re Probably Not Doing It Right." It’s a bit counter-intuitive, right? But I really think it’s true. In our family, this rule is there mostly to prevent children from Hulk-ripping handles off of things by pulling them in the exact wrong direction or deciding to crowbar something open with a table knife, rather than, say, turning the lid. I think it applies more philosophically too, though. While there is a time and a place for great effort in the face of continued difficulties (like, say, math homework), in my own life, I’ve found that the things I was fighting the hardest to do were just not God’s plan for my life. Instead, when I cooperate with God, things go more smoothly. I can’t help but be reminded of this family policy when I read the story of Simon Peter putting out into the deep (see Luke 5:1) in the morning at the behest of Jesus, after a long and fruitless night of fishing without Him. Peter, with remarkable humility and obedience for a professional fisherman taking fishing advice from a carpenter, does as Jesus says. Their efforts were so fruitful that their nets begin to tear and their boats are in danger of sinking. It’s so easy to get mired in my own worries or pre-conceptions, so easy to dismiss as a crazy notion what might really be the prompting of the Holy Spirit. We don’t want to use false humility or fear as an excuse if God is calling us to try something new, or even to try something in a new way when we feel like we’ve failed at it already. Just look at the unlikely long-term plans that God had for Peter, an uneducated, small-town fisherman! What might He have in store for us if we can stop fighting so hard to do it our way, and just do it His way? [bctt tweet="We don’t want to use false humility or fear as an excuse if God is calling us to try something new, or even to try something in a new way when we feel like we’ve failed at it already. // @kendra_tierney" username="blessedisshe__"] This novena is for surrender to God's will. Have you ever prayed it? Kendra Tierney is a forty-two-year-old mother of nine and wife of one living in and working on a big old fixer-upper house in Los Angeles. She's a homeschooler and a regular schooler and is relishing the new freedom from carpooling that's come with a sixteen-year-old in the house. Her new book, The Catholic All Year Compendium, Liturgical Living for Real Life, is here. You can find her first book, A Little Book About Confession, here, her blog here, and her word art here. She is a contributing author to our Works of Mercy Study: Misericordia.

A couple of months ago, I visited a loved one in her new home. She showed me some new decorations and spoke of what she wanted to do with a room. I followed her around and marveled at what I was seeing. You see, only a year and half before, I was not sure that this person was going to survive. I marveled at this person standing in front of me—vibrant, healthy, and healing. After her struggles with severe physical and emotional health problems, now I was seeing her on the other side of the tunnel. My prayers had been answered! But why did it take me so long to realize the mercy of God? Why did I rage and question His plan when things were taking "too long" or not going as I hoped? As I drove home from our visit, I reflected on all those moments I questioned God’s mercy. The Psalm for today urges us to trust in His mercy, but have I? (See Psalm 52:10.) I questioned my heart, my intentions, and my faith. I invited God into that moment while wondering if I am someone who is only faithful when things are going my way. Am I only grateful for the good while I curse at the crosses set on my shoulders? I want to be faithful in every moment—the good, the bad, the mundane. I want to trust God’s timing in all situations. I want to hope in His mercy. I want to be so hopeful and faithful that I bring everything to His feet, knowing He does great things. Instead of demanding a specific outcome, I want to put everything into His hands and say, Thy will be done! I am grateful for every moment and I trust in Your mercy forever. Instead of looking at everything in hindsight saying, Yup God answered that prayer, I want to invite Him into every moment of every day and ask Him pour His mercy upon me. [bctt tweet="I want to put everything into His hands and say, Thy will be done! // @Substance_Soul" username="blessedisshe__"] Do you pray any parts of the Liturgy of the Hours? This ancient prayer sequence offers us the chance to invite God into our hearts up to five times a day. 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.

Many of us have heard the First Reading from today. It seems to be one of those passages that resonates. It screams “get your life in order!” because you never know when you will go to meet the Maker. The reality of not knowing when our time will come is highly frustrating for people like me who like to plan every aspect of life. The second half of the reading, however, emphasizes that as long as we live our lives as children of the light, we don’t have to worry that the Lord will come like a thief in the night. Those who love and follow Him are not destined for the wrath. We already have the Lord in our life and so there is no night, no darkness. We are asked instead to stay alert, to draw close to Him, and to live out our lives aware of the salvation in Christ. This isn’t just an intellectual or emotional exercise. It is instruction to act. We are intended to live this out by building one another up. To some people, this comes naturally. To others, like myself, it is more of a struggle. I am much better at staying neutral or pointing out problems than I am at being a cheerleader. It is easy to say that I don’t come by positivity naturally, but that doesn’t give me a pass. As believers in Christ, we are asked to do better, to be better, to live better. If it were easy, Saint Paul wouldn’t have included it in his letter because the people would have already been doing it. This Scripture also implies that we need to be built up by others as well. With whom do you surround yourself? Do you surround yourself with people who build you up or with those who tear you down? Perhaps we can use these questions as part of this litmus test: Are we acting as children of the light? Are we building up one another for the kingdom of God? If not perhaps we need to get things re-ordered and start living like the child of light God intends us to be. [bctt tweet="As believers in Christ, we are asked to do better, to be better, to live better. // Dr. MaryRuth Hackett" username="blessedisshe__"] This stunning piece for Mozart's Requiem Mass reminds us to pray for eternal light on those who have gone before us. 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.

"We do not want you to be unaware, brothers and sisters, about those who have fallen asleep, so that you may not grieve like the rest, who have no hope" (1 Thessalonians 4:13). Here are some things I’ve been unaware of recently—lane closures when we’re already running late, changes in the town trash pickup schedule, my child’s hobby of stuffing mulberry leaves into the bathtub drain, a partially-eaten cheeseburger under the backseat. It’s impossible, though, to be unaware of death. It surrounds us in the news, in our social media feeds, in the lives of those we know. Following Christ doesn’t guarantee a life without suffering. Grief eventually touches us all. When death takes someone from us, we go on living, but normal life is completely altered by the ever-present absence of the one we love. Our hearts naturally cry out in sadness and grief. The mark of Christian faith, though, is our hope in Christ. He has overcome death. His Resurrection transforms our grief. In the Incarnation, God came to us in human form, like us in everything except sin. In the Resurrection, Christ took His human body with Him into Heaven to sit at the right hand of the Father. One day, we’ll be there with Him . . . not just spiritually, but in the flesh. Those who have died and gone to be with Christ in Heaven will be reunited with their loved ones, yes, but also with their bodies. Saint Paul’s public service announcement to the Thessalonians leaves no ambiguity: the bodies of those formerly dead are going to rise, and those who are still alive will be “caught up” to meet Him in the air. What will this look like? My mental pictures of it range from humorous to terrifying. But we have Saint Paul’s solid assurance: Christ’s victory over death means that death is not the end for us, either. In our mourning, we must never despair. Our separation is only temporary. Those who sleep in Christ will be with Him, and with us, again one day. Thanks be to God. [bctt tweet="Christ’s victory over death means that death is not the end for us, either. // @dere_abbey" username="blessedisshe__"] This article helps us journey through our grief, informed by our Faith. Abbey Dupuy is the Assistant Theological Editor for Blessed is She and writes her life as a homeschooling mama of four frequently barefoot children. She muses about imperfect parenting, practicing gratitude, and celebrating the liturgical year with her young family on her blog. In her spare time, she enjoys running, gardening, coffee, and cookbooks, not usually at at the same time. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book, Rise Up and author of our Blessed Conversations: The Virtues study found here. You can find out more about her here.

When I first came to a personal relationship with Jesus in my early twenties, I went about it in a backwards and not-very-loving manner at times. I was very self-righteous and legalistic, with lots of moral pride. I took a cut-and-dry, black-and-white approach to both situations and people. As I go deeper into my relationship with Jesus, I have had to ask for forgiveness for those instances when I was harsh and judgmental instead of loving and pastoral. Jesus points out in today's Gospel that humility deeply matters in the life of a disciple. He reminds those gathered for a dinner party that the proud will be humbled and the lowly be will exalted. (See Luke 14:11.) One of the things that most strikes me about Jesus’ parable about the dinner party is how He offers an open invitation to everyone who would have otherwise been excluded. At this banquet of honor, all are invited showing us the truth of each person’s dignity and worth. The people invited into the place of honor are looked upon by the world as "less than," the undesirables, the people who did not quite fit the mold. (See Luke 14:14.) We certainly do not agree with everyone in our lives or online; just pick any topic! Maybe to stay in relationship with others, we need to eat a small (or heaping) slice of humble pie. Looking at our own hearts, let us repent for the times our pride has led us to disinvite or disengage with people different than us or who hold a differing perspective. The Kingdom of Heaven has room enough for all of us! [bctt tweet="Maybe to stay in relationship with others, we need to eat a small (or heaping) slice of humble pie. // @amoderngrace" username="blessedisshe__"] Let us pray the litany of humility to deepen our understanding of this beautiful virtue. 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 stared at the screen, my fingers lingering motionless above the keyboard as hot tears flowed down my cheeks. I was twenty years old. I was writing about Jesus and as much as my heart desired to share how beautiful it was to fall in love with Him, I felt like a fraud. Who I was to write about Christ? After all, I was the immoral girl. I was the girl whose indiscretions were whispered just loud enough that I could hear as I passed by. What could a girl like me possibly say about the love of Jesus that was worth reading? What would people think? Surely, they would remember who I was and doubt my worthiness. In the Parable of the Talents the servant says, "Master, I knew you were a demanding person, harvesting where you did not plant and gathering where you did not scatter; so out of fear I went off and buried your talent in the ground" (Matthew 25:24). How often do we bury our talents, not out of laziness, but shame? Shame that feeds into the lie that we are somehow not good enough to accept what God has given us. Sister, I invite you to break free from that lie. I invite you to bring yourself before the Lord and give Him everything you have to offer. You may perceive your offering to be small, insignificant, and imperfect but you will watch in awe as Jesus multiplies your gifts in the most beautiful ways. Do not allow fear to inhibit you. Do not allow shame to bury your voice and your purpose. Believe in the goodness of your gifts. As you share everything you've been given for the Kingdom of God, hear the words,"Well done, my good and faithful servant" (Matthew 25:21). [bctt tweet="I invite you to bring yourself before the Lord and give Him everything you have to offer. // Leana Bowler" username="blessedisshe__"] This talk by this renown professor on the talents is worth a listen. 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.