Every rise in the mountainous landscape of Yosemite National Park provided us with another stunning view of conifer-filled low lands and stunning grey-blue rocky peaks. Oohs and ahhs poured forth from my children in the back seats as my husband navigated the curvy roads. Suddenly we came out upon a view of the main valley with the delicate waterfalls and majestic rocks rising above the peaceful Eden-like fields and forests. We pulled over and scrambled out of the car to get a better view. All I could muster on the edge of that lookout was silent awe in praise of this gorgeous work of God’s creation, but as I stood there, it was as if the very stones were crying out in praise of God. In today’s Gospel for the Palm Procession, Jesus tells the Pharisees who criticize Him for allowing His disciples to praise God while proclaiming Him king: “I tell you, if they keep silent, the stones will cry out!" (Luke 21:40) Yet, just days later while Jesus suffered and breathed His last, His disciples stood silent at a distance, words of praise no longer on their lips. They were stunned that the One they hoped in seemed gone forever, but nature knew how to respond. The skies were darkened with an eclipse of the sun (see Luke 23:44), “the earth shook, and the rocks were split” (Matthew 27:51). The rocks cried out when we could not. Stones from the smallest rock to the glorious domes of Yosemite cannot help but praise their Creator through the very beauty of their existence. We who are made in His image and likeness also bring Him glory through our own existence. So whether you are feeling the depths of emotion or can only stand silent, allow your heart to join the rocks in praise of Him and enter into His suffering during this this holiest of weeks. [bctt tweet="Allow your heart to join the rocks in praise of Him and enter into His suffering during this this holiest of weeks." username="blessedisshe__"] Watch this brief sermon on biblical fulfillments of different aspects of Palm Sunday from this renown bishop. 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. You can find out more about her here. She is the Theological Editor of both the Catechism Studies and the Mystery Studies.

A swath of old-school printer paper (with the holes all along the edges) spanned the kitchen. My oldest son sprawled on the floor, marker in hand. Drawings of swords and pyramids, planes and tents, fires and ships covered the paper in both directions. He met my quizzical look with a wry smile. “It’s a timeline. You know, people have basically just been fighting each other since the beginning of time.” Selecting a grey marker, he went back to work coloring a castle. He spoke truth. Ever since Adam and Eve, God’s people have been divided, wandering, struggling. The story of their search for fulfillment and God’s passionate pursuit of them is the story of our salvation. He seeks us through time, across deserts, through captivity, enslavement, famine, and war. Despite the lengths He goes to in order to bring us back to Him, we persist in going our own way. We ignore His prophets. We look up from our interests to briefly notice His signs and wonders on our behalf, and then we go right back to what we were doing before and forget. But God isn’t done. This story isn’t finished. He finally sends Jesus, His only begotten Son, to bring humanity back to Him. Jesus, the biggest, most unmissable sign of God’s great love for His people, will finally unite us. Won’t He? God’s dream was to bring us all together, for us to be His people, for Him to be our God. Yet even when Jesus was walking the earth, healing and performing miracles, the people didn’t unite around Him. Caiaphas, the high priest, prophesied what would finally have to happen: "it is better for you that one man should die instead of the people, so that the whole nation may not perish" (John 11:49). Tomorrow Holy Week begins. We’ll hear the story all over again—Jesus’ betrayal, His suffering, His death. But we know something our spiritual ancestors didn’t: we know the outcome. Death won’t defeat Jesus. God never gives up. And He still wants to gather us all to Him, to draw every single one of us close to His side, and never let us go. [bctt tweet="Death won’t defeat Jesus." username="dere_abbey"] The USCCB offers insights into reading the Bible and appreciating the journey of the relationship between God and His people. 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. You can find out more about her here. She is the author of our Blessed Conversations: The Virtues study found here.

John the Baptist, Jesus’ cousin, spent most of his life preaching in the desert about the Messiah Who was coming to save the world. He encouraged repentance, baptized, and stirred hope in the hearts of people who were awaiting lasting freedom. When Jesus began His public ministry, John the Baptist directed attention to Him, called Him the Lamb of God, and declared that He would take away the sins of the world. Some people believed the words of John the Baptist immediately. Most needed more convincing. Over the following years, as Jesus’ fame spread, more and more people came to see this Lamb for themselves. That brings us to the finale of today’s Gospel. ""John performed no sign, but everything John said about this man was true." And many there began to believe in him" (John 10:42). Everything John said about this man was true. Lightbulb. The people get it now. The prophetic words from John’s mouth are now fulfilled before their eyes in the Person of Christ. They now see for themselves; or rather, Jesus helps them to see. When it comes to the conversion of the people in our lives, we can put a lot of pressure on ourselves. Our concern for them is born from love, but sometimes our efforts become disordered. We can become so convinced that we are the only hope for someone’s salvation that we forget that Jesus is the One Who does the saving. John the Baptist made it his life’s work to tell people about the Messiah, yet many didn’t believe. For some, they had to encounter the works and words of the Lord Himself for their hearts to be transformed. Even then, others continued to walk in darkness. We can bring someone to Jesus, but we cannot force them to follow Him. Our call, then, is to follow the example of John the Baptist: to live for Heaven, to witness to the freedom found in Christ, to point to the Lamb as the One Who saves, and to pray that an encounter with Jesus will help them to see it. [bctt tweet="We can become so convinced that we are the only hope for someone’s salvation that we forget that Jesus is the One Who does the saving." username="to_the_heights"] This painting of Saint John the Baptist is one of the most famous. 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. You can find out more about her here.

During my first year in college, I was assigned to share my dorm suite with three other women. I hit it off with two of them fairly quickly. We did orientation activities together, participated in new student events, explored our college town, and shared about our homes and families. But about a month in, something shifted. Suddenly, I was being kept out of conversations and not included. What had happened? Well, during a trip to the beach, I had accidentally dropped one of the girl’s digital camera in the sand. I quickly picked it up, dusted it off, and we continued to have a good time. What I did not know was that some sand got into the lens area and jammed the mechanism. Later I got a message over Facebook (from the next room): You broke her camera and it’s going to cost a lot of money to repair it. She didn’t think you’d admit to breaking it and she thinks you’re really fake. How could they possibly think that I would not own up to my error? Of course I would make every effort to repair her camera. That is who I am! And not a fake, not at all. After my initial shock and hurt subsided, I replied, I will have her camera fixed. I apologize for my error. (Eventually, I did made wonderful friends with whom I still have relationships years later.) I related to Jesus in today's Gospel so much that day. People were ready to throw literal rocks at Him and He walked away. (See John 8:59.) In the moment, I think it’s hard for us to walk away after stones are hoisted. We want to defend ourselves; we want to call others out on their ignorance; we want to hurl stones ourselves. But sometimes, we need to walk away, just as Jesus did. And maybe the humility and suffering of the lesson is God's gift to us in that moment. Even when it doesn't feel like it. [bctt tweet=". . . maybe the humility and suffering of the lesson is God's gift to us in that moment. Even when it doesn't feel like it." username="Substance_Soul"] This sermon by Saint John Chrysostom on this Gospel provides striking insight. 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. Find out more about her here.

As we approach the end of Lent, Jesus gives us a beautiful and stunning reminder of what we’ve been striving for these last five weeks: freedom. “Amen, amen, I say to you, everyone who commits sin is a slave of sin” (John 8:34). A slave of sin. It’s a scary thought. And it’s easy to see how true it is. We’ve all seen stories of successful people who have built their personal or professional lives on lies or fraud or fornication or victimization . . . and how it becomes more and more difficult to extricate themselves from all that to live a virtuous life. Not impossible, of course, “for God all things are possible” (Matthew 19:26), but formidable. So in my comfortable, quiet, stable life, it can be tempting to say, “O God, I thank you that I am not like the rest of humanity” (Luke 18:11). But it’s not just BIG UGLY SINS that can enslave. These comforts of a comfortable life are dangerous too. It’s embarrassing to admit how much I come to see a Netflix episode (or two or three) and my secret stash of sweets as necessary to my very existence . . . as something I deserve and require if I’m going to fulfill my daily duties. While there might be nothing inherently sinful about watching TV or eating peanut butter cups, there is a real enslavement that comes when I depend on those comforts instead of God. Every year during Lent, I give up TV and sweets, and prove to myself yet again that I can live without them (because I have invariably forgotten) and allow God to fill that void with Himself. As we head into Holy Week, I want even more to focus on repentance, detachment from comforts, and radical dependence on Jesus in His Passion. I want to say with the tax collector, “O God, be merciful to me a sinner” (John 18:13). And with Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI, “The ways of the Lord are not easy, but we were not created for an easy life, but for great things, for goodness.” (Address of His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI, Monday, 25 April 2005.) [bctt tweet="As we head into Holy Week, I want even more to focus on repentance, detachment from comforts, and radical dependence on Jesus in His Passion." username="kendra_tierney"] What have you given up for Lent? See this listing of customary practices. Which ones are you pursing? 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.

Sometimes I get mad at God. Just like the Israelites in Numbers, there have been times my patience has been “worn out by the journey,” (Numbers 21:4) and I, too, have “complained against God” (Numbers 21:5). Honestly, it’s hard to even write that—to type it out knowing that others will read it and might think badly of me or my faith life or the type of person I am. But it’s true and I don’t think I’m alone in this experience of humanity. My dreams do not always align with God’s will and encountering that can be a hard pill to swallow. When situations are turned on their head and things don’t go the way I’ve imagined and planned, I find myself blaming God and even “disgusted with the wretched food” He has given me (Numbers 21:5)—especially when I look over at another’s plate and presume their food is better than mine. In the moment, it can be hard to recognize what is a gift when it isn’t the gift I imagined or even wanted. But, as I read those first few verses, I can’t help but notice a distinction between the act of complaining against God and that of complaining to God. In Psalm 102 we hear, “Let my cry come to you” (Psalm 102:2). What a beautiful reminder that it is okay to cry out to God. It is okay to be frustrated or hurt when you lose your job, or end a relationship, or are suffering illness. Life is hard and messy and instinctually we look around to blame someone. And while God is certainly not the cause of our pain, He can handle the anger and sadness that come with it. And He can hold it and hold us as we process and journey through it. We just have to ask. [bctt tweet="Life is hard and messy and instinctually we look around to blame someone. And while God is certainly not the cause of our pain, He can handle the anger and sadness that come with it." username="blessedisshe__"] This list is a compilation of Catholic prayers. They can help when we are crying out without knowing which words to use. See which are new ones for you. Sarah Stanley is a small town Ohio girl who is obsessed with all things Ignatian and is passionate about faith, social justice, and the intersection of the two. She left Ohio in 2012 and after a year of service in rural Alaska, earning her Master of Divinity in California, and working at a Connecticut High School, is officially back in Ohio serving as a university Newman Campus Minister. When she’s not working, she enjoys contagious laughter, clever puns, and finding the good in all things. You can find out more about her here.

Stories of the abuse of women are as old as . . . well at least as old as the Book of Genesis. In today’s Old Testament reading, we hear the story of Susanna. She refused inappropriate sexual advances, had her reputation destroyed, was arrested and condemned, and even had her life put at risk. As she was being led to her execution, a young boy named Daniel spoke up with courage and acted with patience and wisdom to find the truth and prove her innocence. It takes strength in virtue to stand up for injustice in our midst. Scripture says, "God stirred up the holy spirit” in Daniel—a young boy, not even a man yet. He was willing to step out of the audience and engage with the accusers to find out the truth. How often do we stand to the side and witness small acts of injustice because we think they are insignificant, or we turn from larger acts of injustice because we don’t think we can make a difference? Sometimes we stay quiet because we don’t want to make people upset or uncomfortable. We warp the notion of love of neighbor when we tolerate a friend’s gossip or criticism of another out of fear that we will be seen as judgmental. We worry too much about being kind to the wrong doer, rather than defending the innocent. Daniel shows us how we are to use the spiritual gifts which God gave him as an Old Testament prophet and which we also receive at Baptism. Those gifts are intended to bring God's glory in this world, here, today, when the opportunity arises. Next time you find yourself in the presence of gossip or slander, think of Daniel and Susanna and stand up for justice. Hold your friends accountable to a higher standard. Let's hold ourselves there, too, sister. [bctt tweet="Hold your friends accountable to a higher standard. Let's hold ourselves there, too, sister." username="blessedisshe__"] Want to learn more about what the Catechism teaches us about our Baptism? 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. You can find out more about her here. She is the author of our Blessed Conversations: Leader Guide found here.

A few weeks ago, I felt a sweet nudge from the Holy Spirit to seek out Confession during my lunch break. After carrying such a heavy heart for so long, I felt like I was coming undone as I endlessly rambled about my own interior chaos. When I finished, the priest and I sat in silence for an unbearably long time, and I subsequently began to question every little thing I had said. When he gently broke the silence, he said, “Do you the pray the way you just confessed?” “Yes, I do.” Confident that I was about to be reprimanded for my word vomit, I began to apologize for everything. I should have come sooner or been more prepared. I certainly knew better than to go on for so long when there was a long confession line. Yet he responded, “If you pray the way you have confessed, you must know that God became Man to reconcile Himself with you.” Today’s Gospel is one of the infinite moments where I am invited to remember that Jesus wants to reconcile Himself with me. (See John 8:1-11.) I am reminded that He bends down and writes my liberation in the sand as He sends my enemies away one-by-one. It is the instance where we meet eyes again, where I catch the gaze of a Lover Who chooses not to condemn me, but to send me out. Right when I have become complacent with captivity, my back is straightened by a victory I could never deserve, one freely given on the Cross. I am not sure where you see yourself in today’s Gospel, but I have spent this last season reveling in the nonsensical mercy of the Messiah. When I anticipate condemnation, aggravation, or intolerance, the Lord meets me where He meets the adulterous woman. Again and again, I am in awe as He extends Himself to me, in mercy, patience, and love. After all He has done, we must know that God became Man to reconcile Himself with us. [bctt tweet="After all He has done, we must know that God became Man to reconcile Himself with us." username="blessedisshe__"] This Venetian painting of the scene is from the 16th century and captures the tension and drama of the encounter in today's Gospel. Sarah Elizabeth is a politics pre-law major at the Catholic University of America in Washington, DC. Born and raised in Arizona, she finds great joy in mountains, lattes, American history, and the piano. She is constantly discovering Christ's wild love in the little things.

I was a high school Sophomore. Sixteen years old and trying to figure it all out. I knew God existed. I knew He was for me and never against me. I knew well enough to know that He would remind me constantly of who He saw me to be. Yet, there I was amidst the hustle and bustle of all things high school. Trying to figure out who I was on my own. Relying far too much on what others thought of me to define me. Relying far too much on the ‘in-crowd’ to affirm who I was. Was I wearing the right shoes? Were my braces too much? Was I ‘in’ enough with the ‘in-crowd’? Deep within my heart, I knew that only He could truly teach me, lead me, stretch me, grow me into the person He created me to be. That sweet sixteen year old constantly sought answers from the world surrounding her and she was slowly being torn to pieces. “O Lord, my God, in you I take refuge; save me from all my pursuers and rescue me, lest I become like the lion’s prey, to be torn to pieces” (Psalm 7:2-3). Those years of high school are now thirteen years past. And still the world continues to pursue me. As a twenty-nine-year-old woman, the ‘in-crowd’ looks more like a brag-worthy paycheck, a few professional letters behind my name, all the while striving to be the perfect mother and wife. The ‘in-crowd’ still knocks on the door of my heart, and I think it always will. But firmness of faith allows me to truly rid myself of the lie that this world or any title it could give will satisfy. “A shield before me is God” (Psalm 7:11). We are beloved daughters of God. Our Father loves us deeply and without reserve. He constantly pursues us. He will not let us be torn to pieces. He will rescue us. And all we must do, sister, is recall who He says we are. We are not of this world. [bctt tweet="We are beloved daughters of God. Our Father loves us deeply and without reserve. He constantly pursues us." username="blessedisshe__"] This Saint is a doctor of the Church and never afraid to be against the "in-crowd" as evidenced by her calling even the Pope to task. Learn more about her here. Shalini Blubaugh is a Minnesota transplant living in Denver, Colorado with her sweet husband, Matt, their brand new gal pal, Callan, and quite large GSD pup, Sully. She is a health coach and loves pizza, because #balance. Shalini graduated from the University of Minnesota – Twin Cities, served with NET Ministries, and went on to attend Law School. She graduated with her J.D. and happily leaves all things Law behind! Some of her favorites include travel, re-connecting with old friends and making new ones, the ways in which God so beautifully brings all things full circle in His time, and a good, loud thunderstorm. Find out more about her here.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted” (Psalm 34:19). Brokenhearted. I feel confident that we have all used that word to describe ourselves at some point in our lives. Perhaps nothing is more human than experiencing heartbreak. Do we realize that Jesus, while fully divine and fully human, experienced heartbreak in His humanity as well? All of the disappointment, loss, betrayal, shame (and the list goes on and on) that we feel, He also felt, without sinning of course. Both the First Reading and the Gospel for today show how Jesus was misunderstood, scorned, and hated. Add to that His agonizing Passion and death, His physical heart pierced while He hung from the Cross, and I’d say yes, Our Lord knows what it is to be brokenhearted. It can bring great comfort to know that Jesus sees our broken hearts. He knows how we feel, and He gladly suffers with us. But do we ever think to suffer with Him? When suffering comes we can do two things. We can sit in our suffering and be miserable, or we can unite our suffering with Christ’s and have Him redeem it, transforming it into grace for us, for the Church, and for the whole world. Our pain and heartache may not go away, but our suffering takes on new meaning when we offer it to Jesus. The season of Lent is the perfect time to practice this kind of suffering when we are focusing intently on the suffering of Christ. Our Lord is near, bending low, broken and bruised for love of us. Let us offer our broken hearts to Him, and stretch out our hands to receive His grace. [bctt tweet="Our Lord is near, bending low, broken and bruised for love of us. Let us offer our broken hearts to Him, and stretch out our hands to receive His grace." username="blessedisshe__"] An article by our Theological Editor goes deeper into unitive suffering. 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.

This Lent one of my intentions has been to listen more for God's voice in my life. I've been praying that however God wants to speak that I would be open and paying attention. I've been attempting to see my ordinary days through the lens of God's voice trying to filter its way to my heart like these first rays of spring sun trying to reach forgotten winter roots. But as I try to hear God's voice in my own life and prayer I might not be putting as much value in God speaking through the human voices in my life. In today's readings Jesus reminds the Jews that God the Father has given His people prophets who have spoken His word to them but they have rejected the very prophecies concerning Christ as Savior. Jesus reminds them that even though they know Scripture, they reject the words of the prophets and, in so doing, will never be able to see Him as their Redeemer. How often have I looked for God's voice but glossed over those who are in positions to speak God's Word to me? God has given us the Church and promised to guide Her to know and teach truth with the help of the Holy Spirit. Through the Church we can hear His voice down through the ages just as He gave the prophets to the people of Israel. If I ignore the priests and bishops who teach the truths of the Church taught by the Magisterium of the Church, am I not ignoring God's voice in the same way the Jews searched Scripture but wouldn't accept Jesus as the Son of God? As much as we need to listen to the still, small voice of God within our own hearts, we can't ignore that God has places human voices in our lives to learn from Him and to speak into our lives. Is there a Church teaching you're struggling with? Take it to a trusted priest or spiritual advisor to better understand the Church's wisdom today. This advice on spiritual direction is helpful in both discerning it and finding a director. [bctt tweet="As much as we need to listen to the still, small voice of God within our own hearts, we can't ignore that God has places human voices in our lives to learn from Him and to speak into our lives." username="blessedisshe__"] 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.

For almost a third of my life, I have lived with fierce panic attacks. The sweaty palms and dry mouth coupled with the violent shaking and thoughts of sheer terror creep up on me multiple times a month. In these agonizing moments, and frankly, even during times of peace, I slip into the mindset that this is always how it will be, that God has chosen this cross for me, and that all I can do is just hold on and survive. I suppose that may be the case, but when I fall into this pattern of thought, I forget about those theological virtues of hope and faith. Isaiah reminded Jerusalem over and over that God has a plan, an infallible and perfect plan, and our resistance to His will only leads us to sin. And in my experience, sin is often rooted in impatience with the Lord’s timeline. My brain’s limited scope thinks if my prayers have not been answered by now then God is not faithful, and my current state of darkness is where I’ll remain. Here’s the thing though: “Along the ways they shall find pasture, on every bare height shall their pastures be” (Isaiah 49:9). Along the way, guys. Along the way. God did not promise pasture in every moment of our lives, but He did promise that along the difficult way, we will find respite—there is where my hope lies. My husband who sits up with me while I weather an episode. My friends who understand when I need to cancel plans. My mother who brings a meal or watches my kids. Stretches of days or weeks with no symptoms. God has provided green pastures for me along this journey. I just need to trust that He is leading me somewhere glorious. He's leading you somewhere glorious, too, sister. [bctt tweet="He is leading me somewhere glorious. He's leading you somewhere glorious, too, sister." username="callherhappy"] This patron Saint of mental health is a powerful intercessor. Learn more about her 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 was twenty-five the very first time I deliberately said hi to my father. I’m sure I must have uttered the word to him before, but I can’t be certain because the last time I had seen him prior to this, I was two years old. Or was I three? I wouldn’t know. He left when my world was just beginning, when skinned knees needed a father’s love and a crushed heart needed repair. I used to wonder about him. Late into the night when my thoughts drifted through the darkness, I’d let my curiosity take to the skies with made-up stories about why he left or who he was or where he went. And then, as years dragged on, all of the wondering gave way to resentment because my heart couldn’t reconcile the pain he had left in his wake. So I built a wall to find refuge behind. And that’s where I remained for over twenty years, holed up against a barricade, my heart guarded behind the safety of stone. I think that’s where a lot of us go when healing doesn’t come right away. We find a wall, hunker down, and keep ourselves locked away. Because, sometimes, peeking beyond that wall and allowing yourself the freedom to hope is the most painful part. I see it in today’s Gospel when the sick man explains, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up; while I am on my way, someone else gets down there before me" (John 5:7). He had given up the hope of healing like so many of us do. But the beautiful thing about our Father is that He doesn’t give up on us no matter how thick we build that wall. I was twenty-five when I reconnected with my birth father, but God? He reconnected my heart long before that. Because sometimes the healing you expect can be transformed in beautiful ways if you give your hurt to Him. So, sisters, whatever you need healing for—a relationship, an illness, an addiction—“rise, take up your mat, and walk” (John 5:8). He makes all things new. [bctt tweet="He makes all things new." username="IamBritCal"] Saint Thomas Aquinas wrote commentary on the four Gospels based on teachings of the Church Fathers called the "Catena Aurea" (Golden Chain). See the passage here on John 5:8 for further thought. 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.

“Are we going to trust the Lord or not?” My husband asked. I had to decide: take a full-time job with a guaranteed paycheck or take the giant leap into being fully self-employed. “I don’t know,” I responded. “I really don’t know if I can.” I was scared, afraid we wouldn’t be able to make ends meet, worried my talents were too limited, nervous to make a huge mistake. I secretly prayed for a decisive sign from Jesus, right away. I longed for an absolute, no-questions-asked guarantee that I was doing the "right thing." In my heart, I wanted to believe that Jesus provides, and therefore trust wholeheartedly, but that trust was clouded by doubt and fear. My husband then said, “We either believe Jesus will take care of us and provide, or we don’t. I’m inclined to believe He will.” I called the principal, turned down the job, and we took the leap. We promised to trust the Lord, believe in His good works, place our hope in Him, strive to be obedient to His will, and marvel at His power. This is what Jesus invites us all to do—to place our confidence not merely in what we immediately see when we expect to see it, but to have a deep, abiding faith in His power and providence. In today's Gospel, the royal official who begs Jesus to heal his son has deep faith that Jesus can provide. He boldly asks for a miracle, hopes in the Lord’s providence, and trusts that Jesus both can and will do what He says He will do. When Jesus promises him that his son will live, the man believes Him. (See John 4:49-50.) Are we as confident as this unnamed royal official? Do we trust in the Lord’s promises and power? Or are we filled with only doubt, worry, questions, and fear? Let us trust today that through prayer and the gifts of the Sacraments, the graces are present, sisters. Jesus meets us in our worry. He assures us when we doubt. He answers the longing of our heart. He comforts us when we’re scared. Jesus provides for us and even heals us. Today accept the challenge, and believe in it and Him. [bctt tweet="Jesus provides for us and even heals us. Today accept the challenge, and believe in it and Him." username="katieprejean"] Try praying the Litany of Trust and see how your heart can open to trusting in Him. Katie Prejean McGrady is an international Catholic speaker and author of three books with Ave Maria Press. After working as a theology teacher and parish youth minister for six years, Katie now travels full time across the U.S., Canada, and the U.K., speaking about faith, culture, family, evangelization, discipleship, and the best way to order a flat white (extra shot, medium temp). She and her husband Tommy have a podcast (The Electric Waffle), a dog (Barney), and a one year old (Rose) and live in Lake Charles, Louisiana. Find out more about her here.

There I was again, kneeling in the confessional, declaring the same sins to the priest for what felt like the hundredth time. Do you ever feel as though you just can’t seem to conquer that one area of sin in your life—the gossip, the anger, the gluttony, the sloth, the pornography? Do you ever imagine that the Lord must be exhausted of you declaring those same sins every time you meet His mercy in the Sacrament? Today’s familiar Gospel paints a picture of a father with limitless, merciful love for his son. My favorite artistic depictions of this Gospel illustrate the father with arms open wide, immediately ready to embrace his wayward son upon his arrival. It is a picture of the way the Father waits to receive you in the confessional—every single time you enter in humility and bravery—no matter how many times you have confessed those same sins before. The Lord desires that we work to conquer our habitual sins that separate us from His love. But when we have not yet conquered them, never does He angrily reply to our confession . . . . really? Seriously, again? Come on. His response is always love. His response is always mercy. His response is always open arms. We must hold fast to the reality that He receives us again and again as we boldly approach Him, ready to help us put those habitual sins behind us for good. No matter how many times it has been, remember this: He takes the posture of the Father each time—with arms open wide, robe and ring at the ready, always prepared and delighted to welcome you home. [bctt tweet="No matter how many times it has been, remember this: He takes the posture of the father each time—with arms open wide, robe and ring at the ready, always prepared and delighted to welcome you home." username="emwilss"] Have you planned to attend one of our Shine retreats this year? The attendees always say how fulfilling it is to go to Confession and Mass and hear the talks with their sisters in Christ. 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.

As I meditate on the readings today, I envision Jesus, the Word of God, standing before me with a small, sharp, two-edged sword. He wields it like a masterful surgeon penetrating the thoughts and intentions of my heart. It is a terrifying prospect, and I am tempted to run and hide. But where can I flee from His presence? Jesus sees me and He knows me through and through. He sees beyond my outward acts of piety and sacrifice, my theological knowledge, my postures of prayer, and my Catholic conversations. He knows me better than I know myself—when I am playing a part, seeking approval, or vaunting my righteousness. The Good News is that even though Jesus sees the deepest motivations of my weak and fickle heart, He has not come to judge or condemn, but only to save me. His voice is always the voice of Love. He calls me to know His Love and live more deeply in it by rooting out selfishness, pride, and pretension, so I can be an instrument of His love to others. He’s not impressed with outward signs of holiness. He doesn’t want a pretender or a performer, He wants all of me. Today, once again, I embrace the loving correction of the Lord as it comes to me through His Holy Word. I resist the temptation to be self-protective, self-righteous, or self-condemning. I climb back on the altar and give Him all of me—my mind, body, and heart, my thoughts, acts, and intentions. I ask Him to purify me so that I may love Him sincerely from the heart and live only for an audience of One. [bctt tweet="I ask Him to purify me so that I may love Him sincerely from the heart and live only for an audience of One." username="bloverevolution"] Pray this litany of the Most Precious Blood and ask Our Lord to purify you today. Debra Herbeck, a Jewish convert to the Church, has worked extensively in youth and women’s ministry. She has directed Pine Hills Girls Camp for the past 33 years, is the founder and Director of the Be Love Revolution, and also helps lead a ministry called i.d.916. She has written a number of books that can be found here. Debra and her husband Peter live in Ann Arbor, Michigan and are the parents of four children, five adorable grandchildren and two more on the way!

As the mother of a 12-year-old boy, I cannot read this Gospel without projecting myself into the scene. I picture my husband and myself delighted that our 12-year-old son could run around with cousins and friends on the journey, happy for a break from the constant requests for more food. Our delight would turn to concern when he didn’t come back for dinner, and then panic, as we struggled with the reality that our son was just gone. The 12-year-old child is independent and capable of deep questions and complicated thought but still unable to consistently remember to take out the trash. Because Jesus was fully man and fully God, we can assume He was fully 12-year-old-boy, too. As such, His emerging self was becoming more and more clear to those who knew Him. Just as my son daily shows me more of his true self, this Gospel shows us the first picture of Jesus as Teacher. Rabbi. When Mary and Joseph find Jesus, He isn’t engaged in a spitting contest with His buddies; He is revealing His true nature as Lord. And He is just twelve. When discovered by his parents, Jesus responds like many kids His age would: “Did you not know?” And then He does what so many 12-year-olds struggle with—He is obedient to His parents. God didn’t just humble Himself once, when He came to earth in the form of a baby. Jesus humbled Himself over and over as again as He grew into the man who would ultimately die on the Cross for you and me. And that is one of the aspects of Jesus as Man that I want to emulate day after day. He diminished His role as teacher to take up His role as Son. As Lord and Savior, He was still obedient and humble. What steps do I need to take each day to humble myself? How can I gently help my loved ones grow in humility? What roles should I diminish that I may grow in holiness? Let's all think on these for our lives, sisters. [bctt tweet="As Lord and Savior, He was still obedient and humble. What steps do I need to take each day to humble myself? How can I gently help my loved ones grow in humility?" username="blessedisshe__"] Have you done one of our Blessed Conversations studies on the Mysteries of the Rosary? Meditate on the finding of Jesus in the temple as you pray a decade today. 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. You can find out more about her here. She is the author of our Blessed Conversations: Leader Guide found here.