"If today you hear [H]is voice, harden not your hearts" (Psalm 95). Today’s Psalm is one of those tunes that I often have stuck in my head after Mass. I can vividly hear our parish cantor’s voice as the response cycles over and over in my mind. The melody I have embedded in memory, and its words and meaning I have been taking to prayer. A hardened heart—the image is cold, stoic, and haunting. It’s a chilling concept, even more so when I contemplate what might make one’s heart harden. Rejection. Isolation. Hatred. Things that are not of God and things that can make us feel so distant from God and His love. Yet in praying with this Psalm, my imagination visualized the cold, stone-like heart coming to life and radiating love after God speaks. It was not clear in my prayer what God said, but just a whisper of His voice and the heart was full and beating for Christ, pulsing with joy. God’s word brings life. And it is with God’s grace that we move through paralyzing hardships. The softening of our hearts is not as seemingly easy as what came to me in prayer, but by entering into the Word of God, listening to God in Scripture and taking what we hear to prayer, that our hearts can be changed. Combine that with intentional community and relationships seeking to bring God’s light and love into our world, and by God’s grace we can soften the hardest of hearts, sisters. We just need to listen, let our hearts be transformed, and use the love we’ve been given to help transform others—all for the glory of God. [bctt tweet="We just need to listen, let our hearts be transformed, and use the love we’ve been given to help transform others—all for the glory of God." username="blessedisshe__"] Pope Leo XIIII dedicated the whole world to the Sacred Heart of Jesus in 1899. Find out why in his encyclical, "Annum Sacrum." Sarah Stanley is a small town Ohio girl who is mildly obsessed with all things Ignatian and is very passionate about faith, social justice, and the intersection of the two. She recently earned her Master of Divinity and now serves as the Director of Christian Service at a high school in New England. When she’s not working, she enjoys contagious laughter, travel, clever puns, and finding the good in all things. You can find out more about her here.

“Everyone is looking for you,” Simon and the Apostles tell Jesus in today’s Gospel. It’s still true. Everyone is looking for Christ. Some people just don’t know it yet—they think they’re looking for sex or money or comfort or health or affirmation or success. The human heart yearns for the healing of Christ, even though we often think that other things will heal us more easily. Even in the Gospels, people often seek Jesus thinking that what they are looking for is bodily healing, when what Jesus actually offers them is healing that deeply transforms them into an entirely new creation in His name. Echoing across centuries, Jesus came to Saint Faustina in her need for healing. He said: “Fear not, because you are not alone. I am always supporting you, so lean on Me as you struggle, fearing nothing. Take the vessel of trust and draw from the fountain of life—for yourself, but also for other souls, especially such as are distrustful of My goodness.” (source) When we know that what we are looking for is indeed Jesus, we are able to draw succor from His grace and then share it with others. Our seeking hearts are all looking for Him, and He comes to us. When we are healed, we can share Him with others, just as He told Saint Faustina and just as He ventured to new towns with His friends. We are His friends and companions, we are the healed souls, and we are the ones who can lead others to their healing until the whole town is gathered at the door, just like in today’s Gospel. [bctt tweet="When we know that what we are looking for is indeed Jesus, we are able to draw succor from His grace and then share it with others." username="br1gid"] Learn more about Saint Faustina if you're unfamiliar. And have you read parts or all of her diary? It's so worth picking up. Brigid Hogan is a high school English and ESL teacher who lives in northeast DC. She is passionate about Catholic social teaching and tries to live it out daily in her relationships and community. Most of her pleasures are guilty ones like television, burritos, and Twitter. Find out more about her here. She is the author of our Blessed Conversations Mystery: Beloved found here.

I can picture myself in the synagogue, standing by the wall. I can see the man with the unclean spirit cry out, "What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us?" (Mark 1:24) and I gasp like a woman found out. There is a huge difference between the demonic possession the man in today’s Gospel suffered and the way I cling to my favorite wounds and sins, but I can still see the connection. There are obvious places in my heart and life where I need healing and freedom, but I am afraid to let go and let God. I cling to the woundedness, afraid of how much it might hurt to let Jesus purify and restore. I protect my vanity and pride, worried that allowing the Holy Spirit near will humiliate, will destroy me. “I know who you are - the Holy One of God,” I call out in fear (Mark 1:24). What I’m really saying is, “Stay away! I don’t trust You!” But Jesus sees right through it all and He speaks to me with love. He does not rebuke me the way He did the unclean spirit (Mark 1:25), but gently and kindly He asks me to open my heart to Him and to allow Him into the mess, the suffering, the sin. He never gets tired of asking but lovingly and patiently reminds me, again and again, that He has come to save and not destroy. He will have everything to do with me, for He sees me as good. [bctt tweet="He will have everything to do with me, for He sees me as good." username="BonnieEngstrom"] Pull out your journal and ponder over His Word today. Bonnie Engstrom is a writer, baker, speaker, and homemaker. She, her husband, and seven children live in central Illinois, and her son’s alleged miraculous healing through the intercession of Venerable Fulton Sheen was submitted to the Vatican for Sheen’s beatification. Bonnie pretends she has a green thumb, bakes a fantastic chocolate chip cookie, loves naps and chai tea, and blogs. You can find out more about her here. She is the author of the Blessed Conversations Mystery: Believe study found here.

"This is the time of fulfillment. The Kingdom of God is at hand" (Mark 1:15). I wonder if the Kingdom is truly at hand sometimes. I hear about all that goes on in the world and my heart sinks. The suffering. The poverty. The violence. The needs of the world, period. To fall into despair can be all too easy. And yet, in moments such as these, I am reminded of Who He is. And of who I am. And of who we are when we rally together to be His hands and feet. The Kingdom of God comes here to Earth when we choose joyfully to do what we can, where we are. To pray and fast. To go where He so desires to lead us when He asks us so directly, yet so gently, to leave our nets behind and follow Him. This is the time of fulfillment. And so I ask Him to show me the way—His way. I ask Him for the grace to run to Him in moments of despair, so that He may fill my cup and send me out so that I may pour into others. I don’t have to be in another country or in any of the places I see or hear about on the news to be a missionary in His field. I am here, exactly where I am, for a reason, and until He directs me to leave this net and go elsewhere, I will be His hands and feet in this day—in the seemingly ordinary and arbitrary moments of this day. We are missionaries wherever we are—at school, at the office, at home, or anywhere in between. And it is exactly where He has us that we are called to bring His kingdom to Earth. Every day He has given is an opportunity to choose to joyfully serve where we are planted until He calls us on. Despair is silenced and hope grows when we simply follow His lead. [bctt tweet="Despair is silenced and hope grows when we simply follow His lead." username="blessedisshe__"] Saint Therese of Lisieux teaches us to follow her "little way." Do you already know what that means? Shalini Blubaugh is a Minnesota transplant living in Denver, Colorado with her sweet husband, Matt, their quite large GSD pup, Sully, and baby on the way. 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.

There are phrases I've found myself uttering as I've moved through my young adult years: "Don't ask for that promotion; it would hurt too much to be let down." "He wouldn't be interested in you . . . it's better not to hope that he is." "Keep your expectations low—it's just easier that way." Whether it's in work or in love or in family life, there's always the temptation to keep my expectations low so that in the end I don't experience the pain of disappointment. Do you ever feel this temptation? Perhaps that's why the first line of today's Gospel reading made my heart flutter: "The people were filled with expectation . . ." (Luke 3:15). Here the Jewish people were . . . waiting, hoping, and longing for their Savior, and so bold as to hope that John was He. They didn't fear the letdown. Nor were they bothered by the possibility of disappointment. They had great expectations that their God was coming to save them. When I look back on the past decade and a half of my adult life, there were sprinkled moments of that same bold expectation and the joy of knowing that He held me close no matter the outcome. There were also times when I kept the real desires of my heart hidden from Him. Wallowing in doubt, I'd find myself choosing not to expect great things out of fear that He'd ultimately disappoint. Saint John the Baptist reminds our forgetful hearts to look to the One coming after him and to have the greatest of expectations of the good He will bring. As we enter into this New Year, let us be filled with the same great expectation of our Jewish brothers and sisters: let us boldly ask that He might reveal Himself in our hearts, our friendships, and our families. [bctt tweet="Let us boldly ask that He might reveal Himself in our hearts, our friendships, and our families." username="blessedisshe__"] Today's feast day is the Baptism of the Lord. Here's a little brief lesson in the history behind it. 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. You can find out more about her here.

"He must increase; I must decrease" (John 3:30). What if my life is meant to be smaller, quieter, and slower? What if God wants me to want less? We live in a world that lusts for more. More attention, popularity, money, power, success, likes, shares, wins, and fame. We don’t talk about decrease. Yet reflect on sacrifices you have made. Times when you stepped back, stepped away, or stepped out of the spotlight. Moments when more came from less. In marriage I had to decrease (my self-centeredness and my desire for independence) so that love could increase. In pregnancy I had to decrease (my activity and my desire for control) so that life could increase. In work I have to decrease (my ego and my desire for success) so that community can increase. But I bet I’m not alone in cringing every time I read these words: "He must increase; I must decrease." We fixate on the second phrase: our sin and selfishness, all that we know we must whittle away. Ambition or affirmation, comfort or ease, friends or followers, money or beauty, certainty or safety—whatever we desire that keeps us from God. Still our stomachs sink. Decreasing is daunting. We don’t want to do it; we shrink from the prospect. But we forget the promise of the first phrase: God will increase. Think about the fullness of this flourishing. Picture the fruits of the Spirit’s growing presence: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:25-26). We do not decrease for the sake of decrease, a pruning without growth. We decrease for the increase that God is itching to grow through us, waiting to blossom into our lives. The trajectory of the Christian life is not toward self, but God. Yet what joy this decrease brings, increasing all the fruits of the Spirit! Trust the promise of increase. As you decrease—your desires, your selfishness, your lunging after success or lusting after praise—God will grow into the spaces you have cut back. Abundance awaits. Step back and slow down. God is waiting to grow in you. [bctt tweet="Abundance awaits. Step back and slow down. God is waiting to grow in you." username="laurakfanucci"] If you're up for it, sister, pray the Litany of Humility with regularity. See what pruning God has in store for you. Laura Kelly Fanucci is a mother, writer, and director of a theological project on vocation. She and her husband are raising four sons and wrote a book together on grieving the loss of children, "Grieving Together: A Couple’s Journey through Miscarriage." She is the author of seven books including "Everyday Sacrament: The Messy Grace of Parenting" and "Living Your Discipleship: 7 Ways to Express Your Deepest Calling." You can find out more about her here. She is the author of the Blessed Conversations Mystery: Behold study found here.

It was an average, dirty snow, Minnesotan late afternoon where the sun that had hid its head all day and evening crept in early. I sat in the long, long line for Confession at our cathedral. The man to my left buried his face in his hands while the woman to my right was examining her conscience with one of those available handouts. I continued to check my phone for the time and any emergency texts from my husband. Why am I really here? I haven't committed any mortal sins. The line slid down incrementally closer to the one priest hearing confessions for dozens of us. Jesus, how bad are my venial sins? I closed my eyes and stopped reaching for my phone. The Blessed Sacrament perched in the monstrance on the altar and I asked Him very directly. Show me what my little tiny bad habits that barely qualify as sins do to Your heart. My mind leapt to me flinging back a velvet covering over a manhole on a cobblestone street. Hungry flames licked up and blood sprayed everywhere like a severed artery. It was an inferno of suffering. I recoiled and recovered it with my mind's eye as quickly as I could. My eyes stung and my chest heaved with contrition. Sisters, when the leper asks Jesus to make him clean, his physical disease was obvious and apparent. (Luke 5:12) When we go to the priest in Confession and ask Jesus to make our souls clean, maybe the issues aren't as visible. I'm a nice mom. I'm a kind friend. I'm a sweet wife. Nice enough, at least, I thought. Christ gave me the gift of knowing how horrifically painful my small sins are to His heart. I share it with you so that you, too, can be convicted to root out our little sins, our easy selfish habits. Let's be honest with ourselves and Him about how these little sins lead to a life of malaise and distance from Him. He is waiting to heal us; we have only to ask. [bctt tweet="He is waiting to heal us; we have only to ask." username="wholeparenting"] Sisters, if you don't know what time Confession is offered around you, check out this site and put in your zip code or city. It will give you Mass times and Confession, too. 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.

It was my senior year of high school when the Denver Broncos won the Super Bowl. Not much of a football fan before that win, I became one on the day of the celebratory parade downtown. I ditched school with the rest of my senior class, cheering on the football team. It was all for a short-lived, praise-roaring afternoon out of class. My few days as a cheering football fan help me see myself in the crowds who praised Jesus, spoke highly of Him, and listened with wonder to His teaching in the synagogues. I imagine He was dynamic, captivating, handsome. Everyone was talking about Him; Luke tells us that "news of him spread throughout the whole region" (Luke 4:14). Can you imagine how much people must have been talking, for news of Him to spread through the whole region, without the help of social media to spread His name like wildfire? We know the crowds’ praises didn’t last. Praise can be empty and short-lived. I have no doubts that most of the people amazed at Jesus’ words genuinely felt moved by Him. In my football-cheering week, I was genuinely excited that the Broncos won. It was thrilling, but then the excitement faded. I think many of the people in the crowds listening to Jesus felt like that—"wow, this guy really has something neat to say," but they weren’t moved to a place of faith. We know that many turned their backs on Him. Maybe they simply didn’t keep listening. Maybe they felt afraid of the risks involved to follow Jesus. It doesn’t matter that I’m not a lifelong Broncos fan. It does matter if I’m merely a “fan” of Jesus when His words and works amaze me. Whether I choose to follow Him after the crowds’ cheers fade? That's what matters. I choose more than being momentarily amazed and swayed by the passion of the crowd around me. I choose a relationship like the one Saint John describes in the First Reading, one that loves because I am loved, and it will last forever. [bctt tweet="I choose a relationship like the one Saint John describes. . . one that loves because I am loved, and it will last forever." username="blessedisshe__"] The news of Him spreading is a theme in Luke. Take a peek at these other passages on this theme as well: Luke 4:37; 5:15; 7:17. Gina Fensterer is a Colorado native at heart, but the West Coast beach life suits her just fine. She currently lives in small coastal area of California with her husband and six children. She loves the Jesus prayer, coffee at any time of day, homemade salsa, photography, and sleepy toddler snuggles. You can find out more about her here.

"There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out fear" (I John 4:17). This Scripture and I go around and around. I wonder if this love is even with me. I question it because I still feel fear. Have I rejected this perfect love? Or, even more dire—have I lost it? Saint John is speaking about how the perfect love of Christ and His gift of His Spirit has destroyed our fear of death and God's punishment. Christ's perfect love has opened the gates of Heaven! Friendship with God in our lives and at their ending is possible! We don't need to fear death! But I still feel fear. As a child of God, baptized into His Church, redeemed, receiving the Sacraments regularly, praying daily, I still experience fear. I still feel sometimes crushing waves of anxiety. I suffer the ebb and flow of daily worries. I still fear real, terrifying storms that could happen to me and my family. Fear is still a part of my life, as real as Christ is. How do I reconcile the realness of fear in my life with the same reality of experiencing Christ's love daily? Christ's perfect love doesn't eliminate the fear that comes with life, but it destroys the source of fear, a life after death apart from God. I don't fear losing God's love, but my soul will still wrestle with striving and longing to live a life more fully in the Spirit. I may experience and feel fear in my life in many ways, but at the same time know Christ. I can still feel the biting wind of fear, the drenching anxiety, the chaos of the world but I also can always look out and see Jesus walking towards me on the water. [bctt tweet="I can still feel the biting wind of fear, the drenching anxiety, the chaos of the world but I also can always look out and see Jesus walking towards me on the water." username="christyisinger"] Read the Act of Contrition and see how we don't just dread the loss of Heaven and pains of hell but that we would offend God. He's waiting for us to return to Him again and again. 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.

We want to see justice in our world, but do we act and speak with justice in our corner? When we encounter the outcast, the lonely, the broken, do we seek justice for them, too? We want peace, but do we seek peace in our homes and families? With our neighbors? With those who irritate, anger, frustrate, and hurt us? We’re quick to notice how others offend us, but do we stand and defend others? Do we stand for the forgotten, the helpless, the sinners? We expect change, but are we active in being the change? Are we bringing glad tidings to those around us? "Give them food yourselves," Jesus instructs his disciples in today’s Gospel (Mark 6:34-44). Our feet must literally walk to the wretched and the defenseless. Our hands must reach out to feed the hungry, to clothe the naked. Our time must be offered to visit the imprisoned and patiently instruct the ignorant. Our extra resources can work to shelter the homeless and give drink to those who thirst. Our tongues can counsel those struggling with their faith and forgive easily. And we must always be ready to pray for the living and the dead. He always provides, but we must cooperate. The mission of Love has been declared, and we are called to go forth proclaiming this message. The Lord has provided. He has sent you and me to go forth. Just like the disciples in the Gospel, we can take the "food" He blesses and gives us, and then we should pass it on to those around us. [bctt tweet="The mission of Love has been declared, and we are called to go forth proclaiming this message." username="blessedisshe__"] If you need extra inspiration to perform corporal works of mercy, read the eye-opening accounts of Julia Greeley's life. Sarah Ortiz is a Catholic convert, wife, and mother to four boys while living in a 200 year old farmhouse. When not folding laundry, she can be found reading, experimenting in the kitchen, or snagging amazing antique furniture deals. You can find out more about her here.

Have you ever had an experience where you needed to test the spirits, and discern: Is this of God or not? Is this truth or a lie dressed up and neatly packed together? I went to an all-girls Catholic high school. My senior year I took a theology class. Very quickly, I began to realize our teacher was saying and teaching things my parents had not taught me about my faith. Many of the things were contrary to what the Catholic Church taught, professed, and believed. It was awkward and confusing. I came home and talked about it all with my parents. We tested the spirits of what I heard and held it up against what we knew to be Truth. Saint John the Apostle gives the early Church strong warnings to not trust every spirit moving about freely in the world (1 John 4:1-2). His guidance is even more relevant today when the political and cultural times we live in feel very confusing. Be discerning and wise. Ask weighty questions. Wrestle with what is put before you. Hold up answers to the light of truth found in what the Catholic Church teaches. Direct your questions to trusted mentors, spiritual guides, or your pastor. Ask yourself: Is this truth? Is this of God? Is this found in Church Tradition or in Sacred Scripture? The Holy Spirit is our ever-present guide, and leads us to the fullness of truth found only in Jesus Christ. Testing the spirits in your own life and experience may be a little more complex than a high school religion class. But each of us will have life experiences and situations where we need to test the spirits of this world. [bctt tweet="Each of us will have life experiences and situations where we need to test the spirits of this world." username="amoderngrace"] We have a vast array of resources online to read up on the Church's teaching. See the Catechism available here, Encyclicals here, and a Catholic encyclopedia here. Patty Breen is a full-time lay minister who finds joy in running, strong cups of coffee, and all things Ignatian spirituality. A Midwest gal from the mitten state, she is constantly learning to find grace in all things. She is passionate about ministry to divorced Catholic and women whose relationships have been impacted by sexual addiction. Find out more about her here.

So much of my prayer life craves the grandiose—the big, booming voice from the heavens or the wild winds that hum in resolution. You know, the stuff you read about in the Bible. But God doesn’t speak to me in that way. And most of the time, I feel so alone in it. Because most of the time, I pour my heart open to the skies and search through the Word waiting for the lightning and the thunder and the waves and the roars. But it never comes. God speaks to me in whispers, in the quiet undertone of my heart. And it’s easy to discount. It’s easy to push it aside or question its validity. Because His voice, it is small within me. Sometimes I forget about the power in the smallness of things, each gentle nudging in our hearts that sways us this way or that. And I think it’s because sometimes I forget about the smallness of Him. I forget about the beginning—the little infant, the tiny manger, and the great big promise it all fulfilled. In today’s Gospel, the wise men "prostrated themselves and did Him homage." They bowed before the tiniest form of life and "offered Him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh" (Matthew 2:11). They saw the magnitude in the smallness resting before them. God often doesn’t speak to us in wild, thunderous roars. Sometimes His voice is small, but it is always mighty. Always. [bctt tweet="Sometimes His voice is small, but it is always mighty. Always." username="IamBritCal"] Take time to stop by a beautiful church nearby, or make a pilgrimage to one, and soak in His voice in His house. See this list of 100 pilgrimage sites in the USA. 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.

The bathroom counter is a minefield of Sparkle Crest toothpaste for the third time this week. Globs drip from the faucet and streak the front of the cabinet. A neon blue smear on the mirror dries slowly into a crust. The blue goo-smeared hand towel lies discarded on the floor. As I turn to track down the culprit, another trail of vivid blue rubs from my sock onto our new carpet. I grit my teeth, removing my sock, as a cheerful voice echoes down the hallway. "Hey, Mama! We’re out of toothpaste again!" "Beloved: This is the message you have heard from the beginning: Love one another" (1 John 3:11). We know love because Jesus laid down His life for us. Love is the key to the whole Christian faith. It’s The Most Important Part. So why don’t we have it down yet? Why is love the hardest part of following Jesus? Well, other drivers are terrible. People’s social media posts raise our blood pressure. Neighbors’ dogs poop in our flowerbeds, co-workers tend to leave moldy leftovers in the refrigerator, roommates routinely forget to take out the trash, and sometimes we just don’t feel very loving, do we? Those things are annoying. But Love isn’t a feeling. We are to love, Saint Paul says, in truth and action. The truth of what we do matters more than the feeling behind it. So we grit our teeth and empty the trash can again. We extend a neighborly smile to that dog-owner. We bite our tongues before we say what we’d really like to say to that co-worker at the next staff meeting. We can do all of this and more, because God (Who is greater than our hearts and knows everything!) loves us! He loved us, first, even knowing exactly how we’d struggle with these very things. Jesus laid down His life so we would know how precious we are to Him. We can do this. We can practice love, even when it’s hard. And if we practice, with Jesus’ help and unfailing love, we’ll get better. [bctt tweet="We can practice love, even when it’s hard. And if we practice, with Jesus’ help and unfailing love, we’ll get better." username="dere_abbey"] Join me as we pray the Act of Love together today. 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 the same time. You can find out more about her here. She is the author of our Blessed Conversations: The Virtues study found here.

I wear a gold cross around my neck every day. I am aware of its presence just as others are aware. I fiddle with my cross. I catch their glance down at my neck. My status as Christian is worn openly. In Saint John’s instructions to the early Christians he makes it clear that as followers of Christ, those in the church are expected to live lives free from the domination of sin. Actually, we're not just expected but required to be continually repenting and use the Sacrament of Penance. In the early Church it was imperative that Christians live a life as free from sin as possible, especially serious sin. The physical person of Christ was gone. Conversion was only going to happen as the Holy Spirit worked through that rag-tag group of early followers. If they were hypocrites, failing to live out the fullness of the faith, how could the Church possibly grow? As modern day Christians, we, too, are called to perfection. The call to overcome our personal sins has not changed. We don’t get to sin just a little here and there because we turn from sin so many other times in the day. We are bearers of Christ to the world, and as such we too must model our lives after Christ. It is our identity. It is who we are. Whether we wear a cross or not, we are diplomats for Christ in a secular world. That is a heavy responsibility, but we do not have to bear it alone, for Christ gives us the grace to live out the call to holiness. Sister, if you struggle with a particular sin in your life, I encourage you to take it to prayer. Go to Confession. Recommit yourself everyday. When you fall and fail, as we all do, pick yourself up and try again. Distance yourself from the occasions that lead you to sin. Build in accountability and support systems to help you break whatever sin with which you may be struggling. And know that you are not alone. We join you with our own struggles every day. [bctt tweet="Sister, if you struggle with a particular sin in your life, I encourage you to take it to prayer. Go to Confession. Recommit yourself everyday." username="blessedisshe__"] This priest gives a great answer to someone struggling with an unbreakable habit of sin. Take heart, sister! Dr. MaryRuth Hackett is Director of Operations for Blessed is She and host of the podcast Parenting Smarts. She loves historical fiction, dark chocolate, watching her children play soccer, a good cup of coffee 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.

I love telling stories about my dad. Like the time my family went tubing in the rapids, and he called my sister “the lamest” when she flipped him over, and he lost his glasses. Let’s say he was not a “happy camper” that day. Or the time when he looked me in the eye with fear after falling, but went to the hospital without putting up a fight. His willingness to surrender and accept help taught me more that day than he will ever know. I could go on and on about how he was the one I could talk into buying me anything or how he showed me what it meant to love and be loved. And I know I’m blessed with these memories, and not every woman reading today has stories of her father that are good, but good or bad, the stories we tell about our fathers say a lot about the relationship we have with them. I believe that when I tell stories about my dad, people who have never met him know him and, by knowing him, know me better. I believe the same to be true about the stories we tell about God, our Father. We need to testify that we are daughters of God by sharing the glorious, painful, at times corrective, defining remembrances we have of our Father to those who don’t know Him. In doing so, they will know Him, and in return, get to understand who we are and who we are becoming. Saint John testified that Jesus was the Son of God (John 1:32-34). In a similar manner, we must get comfortable sharing stories of God, our Father, Christ, our brother, Mary, our mother, and all the Saints in Heaven (whom I like to call cousins). How we talk about these people and stories in our lives show the relationship we have with each of them. We can trust our advocate, the Holy Spirit, to give each of us the voice to communicate the narrative. [bctt tweet="We must get comfortable sharing stories of God, our Father, Christ, our brother, Mary, our mother, and all the Saints in Heaven." username="SoCalTriciaT"] Curious about our relationship with the Saints and want to know more? A quick read on it. 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.

"Who are you?" . . . "I am not the Christ" (John 1:20). When I first read these words uttered by Saint John the Baptist, it's the feast of Christ the King that comes to my mind. It's one of my favorites. The feast was established by Pope Pius XI in 1925 in his encyclical, "Quas Primas." Pope Pius XI was responding to the fact that the world was becoming nationalistic and secular, so he created this feast to help the faithful remember who Christ is: our King, and that our allegiance is to Him above any other thing or person (at the time, particularly any government or nation). To take things a little closer to home, the reason this feast day stands out so much when faced with this question and this answer is because I recognize that sometimes I want things done my way and I seek that out—my will, my desires, my happiness, instead of seeking Christ and what He has to say about my life. When I do that, if Jesus or anyone else were to ask, "Who are you?" I can say, at fault, that I'm trying to act like the ruler, or king, of my life—like what I say and want is the most important. In doing so, I'm not living out my belief that Jesus is Christ—that He is my King, and that I am His beloved daughter. John the Baptist gives us a good example, though, of how to respond to that question—and to our lives: with humility, with an emphatic distinction that he isn't Christ, and with a willingness to do the work that will allow others to know who Christ is. In order to let God work through us, we have to acknowledge who we are, who we aren't, and who He is. Let's ask Saint John the Baptist to pray for us to know these things today so that we can live out our faith as he did. [bctt tweet="In order to let God work through us, we have to acknowledge who we are, who we aren't, and who He is." username="praymorenovenas"] The Catholic Encyclopedia entry on Saint John the Baptist is lengthy and fascinating. Take a look to learn more about this cousin of Jesus. Annie Deddens is a writer and producer. She runs a prayer ministry with her husband called Pray More Novenas. She has a heart for the sick & suffering, and she writes about living with greater faith (hope & love, too) in this imperfect world as a Catholic wife. You can find out more about her here.

I kind of hate New Year's. First of all, I fall into a deep post-Christmas slump most years during this in-between week. The shine of the hyper-commercialized frenzy that is secular Christmas has worn off, the continuous 24-hour Christmas music is pulled abruptly from the local radio station by midnight on December 26th. The kids are stuffed full of sugar, off school for another week, and beginning to tire of their toys. I usually start side-eyeing the Christmas tree around now and wonder to myself, "Is it too grinch-y to pull it down now?" Not this year. This year I'm asking the Lord to pull me deeper into the liturgical year. I'm praying that I "did" Advent well, better at least than in years past. That I can, therefore, "do" the Christmas season well. That I can lean into the feasting and lead my kids into a prolonged period of joy, which is deeper than happiness and more enduring than excitement. If I can muster the energy to keep plodding along, maybe they'll follow my lead. If I can lean over the manger in my heart, so to speak, and remind myself that it's all about the little baby lying there in the straw, and that any post-holiday exhaustion or decor fatigue I might be feeling is my doing, not His, then maybe then I can keep the peace this year. I'm training my eyes on His mother, gathering Him in my heart like she gathered Him in her body, and then in swaddling clothes. I'm looking to Mary, the Theotokos, and asking for her guidance in this holy season of hush. The world has perhaps moved on from Christmas, and from Christ. But we needn't follow. [bctt tweet="The world has perhaps moved on from Christmas, and from Christ. But we needn't follow." username="jkuebbing"] If the term "Theotokos" is unfamiliar, take a read at how the Catechism of the Catholic Church explains that title of Mary and her role in general. Jenny Uebbing is a wife, mother to five, and the author of the blog Mama Needs Coffee where she writes about sex, marriage, and the Catholic Church. She's a freelance writer, a speaker, and an espresso enthusiast. You can find out more about her here.