For years before my deep conversion, I led a “double-soul-life.” I am a cradle Catholic, but I truly encountered Jesus as a Person for the first time when I was in high school. Once I met His gaze, I couldn’t shake Him entirely. But I tried. On the outside, I upheld moral standards. On the inside—in my personal, private life—I faltered. I defended the Church’s teachings, but turned a blind eye to the Commandments that were a little too inconvenient for a high school girl with a boyfriend. I refused to miss Mass, but avoided God in prayer. I led campaigns for the defense of life and clean water in third world countries, but would participate in ruthless gossip about a classmate. I sought earthly pleasures and happiness while trying to be just good enough to warrant eternal happiness. I was the generation that Jesus speaks of in today’s Gospel. I wanted it all: both the ways of God and the ways of the world. I wanted to be a good Catholic while remaining attached to my sins. I desired to walk in the way of sinners while also delighting in the law of the Lord (Responsorial Psalm). This double-soul-life never satisfied me. Eventually, my charade crumbled. I was left only with the reality of who I really was. And Him. He was always there. And who I really was wanted all of who He really is. So I allowed Him to “teach you what is for your good, and lead you on the way you should go” (Isaiah 48:17). For the first time, I experienced lasting happiness, true peace, unmatched clarity, and authentic affirmation. Of course, this is a lifelong journey. Daily, I have to choose Jesus over myself. Daily, I have to choose the way of holiness over the way of the world. Most days, I fail or fall short. But there’s not a day that passes without my deep understanding that I can’t have it both ways, and that my Lord’s way is the only one worth having. [bctt tweet="Daily, I have to choose Jesus over myself." username="to_the_heights"] To better understand and identify sin in your life, read the Catechism of the Catholic Church's section on it here. 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.

Today is one of those days when social media can make Catholic women everywhere feel like losers before they’re even done with their morning coffee. “My daughter didn’t wake everyone up with breakfast on a tray while wearing a traditional, handmade Saint Lucy costume with real lighted candles on her head! I don’t even know who Saint Lucy is or why she has candles on her head! I don’t even have a daughter!” It’s not a big deal but it can feel like an epic fail, or at least it did to me. In my effort to do better I sat my kids down a few years ago to feed them traditional Santa Lucia buns while I told them the story of how Saint Lucy had her eyes gouged out and was martyred. I thought it was a complete success and I gloried in my excellent mothering. That is until a family viewing of "The Nativity Story," during which my five-year-old son asked when the woman was going to lose her eyes. No matter how many times I explained that Saint Lucy was not in this story he couldn’t move on. As the Virgin Mary was about to birth our Lord and Savior in a humble stable, he asked again, "Is she gonna lose her eyes?" “NO ONE LOSES THEIR EYES IN THIS MOVIE!” I responded. Unlike me, the Lord is gracious and merciful; slow to anger, and of great kindness (Psalm 145:8). The Lord’s motivation for all He does is love while my motivation is often applause, frustration, or envy, and when I fail my response is, obviously, seriously lacking. The lesson I learned on that Saint Lucy’s Day is that Christ should be my only standard, and on this Feast of Saint Lucy, whose name means light, my family celebrates the True Light who has come into the darkness, including the darkness of my insecure, jealous heart. [bctt tweet="Christ should be my only standard." username="BonnieEngstrom"] Learn more about Saint Lucy's life, the origins of the feast day, and the traditions here. 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.

I spent a lot of evenings in tears my first semester of college. Night after night I plodded through the hall in my pajamas and slippers and downstairs to the ground floor chapel to pour my heart out before a traveling replica image of Our Lady of Guadalupe, our Marian feast day today. God was healing me so deeply that my heart physically ached. He stripped away layers of pain and hurt and poured in His love. Honestly, I cannot even remember what I needed healing from, just that I was broken and needed to be loved by Him. Looking back I see that He was preparing my heart for my future life, the one I am living now with my husband and children. Thirteen years later, I encountered the traveling replica image again in an adoration chapel at woman’s conference. I saw her and my heart leapt, and I felt her call to me to pray with her awhile. So, I did, just like those days in college when I wept out my sorrows of loss and told her all my fears. This woman who consoled me, was the same woman we hear about in the Gospel today, bravely accepting God’s will with all of its joys and sorrows. She is the same woman who appeared to Saint Juan Diego in Mexico in 1531, and whose image miraculously appeared on his tilma after he gathered the miraculous roses. She said to him: “Am I not here, who is your Mother? Are you not under my protection? Am I not your health? Are you not happily within my fold? What else do you wish? Do not grieve nor be disturbed by anything.” She is our Mother who wants to console our sorrows and relieve our fears, and wants us to come to her so that she can lead us to her Son. As I prayed before her image surrendering my sorrows, fears, my health, and my very life to her care, I was washed over with a sense of trust and hope. And my burdened heart believed again that “nothing will be impossible with God” (Luke 1:37). [bctt tweet="She is our Mother who wants to console our sorrows and relieve our fears, and wants us to come to her so that she can lead us to her Son." username="blessedisshe__"] Read more about this amazing story set in Mexico, and the Saint whose testimony converted a nation. 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.

"Like a shepherd he feeds his flock; in his arms he gathers the lambs, Carrying them in his bosom, and leading the ewes with care" (Isaiah 40:11). I sat in my plastic folding chair, head bowed in the darkened school gym, the gentle strum of an acoustic guitar and the hum of the HVAC system swirling in the thick silence of a group of women in prayer. It felt like a deep exhale after a frantic week. I leaned back in my chair and tried to quiet my racing thoughts, pulling myself back again and again to the mysterious Presence on the altar before me. It was a beautiful gift to have an hour of quiet praise music, adoration, and a few priests tucked into the corners of the gym to offer the Sacrament of Penance. It should have felt like a retreat from ordinary life, but instead I found my mind wandering to my piled up laundry. Something I'd seen on Instagram earlier that evening. A disturbing news headline. The mental grocery list I accrue. It was so frustrating to not feel present to Him. I tried fumbling through a decade of the Rosary. I think I started the same Luminous mystery over three times. Finally I surrendered, figuring that at least I'd been present physically, if not mentally or spiritually. Just before the priest returned for Benediction, the Lord broke into my busy train of thoughts with a whispered suggestion in a tone so different from my own that I recognized it as unmistakably His: Be gentle with yourself. I'm glad you're here. I don't need anything else from you. I don't speak to myself the way Jesus speaks to me. I'm not gentle, and I'm not very forgiving. I am learning to practice kindness, but I'm still a demanding task mistress, most of all when it comes to me. Jesus reminded me that He doesn't judge us by the same standards we judge ourselves, thank God. His heart remains tender towards us as we work to be faithful, even when our hearts are cluttered with the business of ordinary living. Jesus doesn't seem to find our humanity an impediment to intimacy with Him—imagine that. [bctt tweet="Jesus doesn't seem to find our humanity an impediment to intimacy with Him—imagine that." username="jkuebbing"] Saint Alphonsus Liguori offered us this prayer before the Blessed Sacrament. Share with a friend, inviting her to Adoration with you. 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.

The paralyzed man is healed, body and soul, because his friends were an unstoppable force of getting this guy to Jesus. He can’t walk there? No problem. They get a stretcher. Then the crowds are so dense that they can’t get him anywhere near Jesus. Do they give up? Decide to try again next time? Not them. These guys climb onto the roof, drag their paralyzed friend up, proceed to dismantle the roof, like you do, and lower the guy into the presence of Jesus. What an extraordinary love these friends must have had for each other (Luke 5:18-19). Amazingly, though, I know two different people who have kind of a similar story. Both were immediately converted from nothingness to Catholicism—which I think we can agree is its own form of miraculous healing—by being brought to Mass by a friend. My daughter’s godfather was invited to midnight Mass by his Catholic roommate. He left that Mass in the wee hours of Christmas morning convinced of the Truth of Christianity, and is now a Benedictine monk. Another friend was a young gal working at a family-owned ice cream parlor. The mom of the family offered to give her a ride home, if she didn’t mind stopping at a daily Mass on the way. She went, and knew by the end of Mass that she wanted to be Catholic. She converted, married a Catholic fella, and now has eight kids. The roommate and the ice cream mom were just as daring as those rooftop stretcher-bearers. It takes a unique kind of courage to invite a friend to Mass. After all, there are plenty of things that might go wrong. Maybe she’ll say no. Maybe she’ll say no and laugh in your face. Maybe she’ll say yes, but hate it. Maybe she’ll want to go, but the Mass is really crowded and you’ll have to lower her down through the roof. Those are all possibilities (although, admittedly, the roof one seems pretty remote). But another possibility is that she will say yes, and Jesus will work a miracle in her, and YOU will get to be part of that. [bctt tweet="Another possibility is that she will say yes, and Jesus will work a miracle in her, and YOU will get to be part of that." username="kendra_tierney"] Did you see this blog post from last year on books for converts? It's such a helpful list! 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.

Have you been wearing a “robe of mourning and misery” (Baruch 5:1)? Have you shed tears over broken relationships? Have you grown weary from long seasons of waiting? Has your heart been aching with the loss of a loved one? Have your prayers come back to you unanswered? Have you stumbled through the darkness of doubt and uncertainty? Have you been weighed down by sin and crushed by shame? The Lord says to you today: “Take off your robe of mourning and misery; put on the splendor of glory from God forever” (Baruch 5:1). He longs to be your Healer and your Comforter. He longs to carry your burdens. He longs to come to you exactly where you are right now. He longs to free you from sin. He longs to make you whole. “The One who began a good work in you will continue to complete it until the day of Christ Jesus” (Philippians 1:6). Let Him take your sorrow and give you His joy. Let Him wash you clean with the grace of forgiveness. Let Him nourish you with His own Precious Body. Let His mercy flood through the dry places of your heart, “like the torrents in the southern desert” (Psalm 126:4). This is why He comes, dear sisters. To meet us in our dark valleys and desert places, to raise us up and restore us, and to show us His Salvation, so that we might say, “The Lord has done great things for us, we are filled with joy” (Psalm 126:3). [bctt tweet="He longs to be your Healer and your Comforter." username="blessedisshe__"] Do you know the Anima Christi prayer? It's from the 14th century. Let's pray it today. 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.

“Hello?” my mother’s voice sings as she picks up my call. “Hi, Mama!” “You sound tired,” she immediately diagnoses me. Surprised, I start soul searching, “Oh really?” “Yes. I can hear it in your voice,” she says confidently, “Take care. I know how hard you work. Remember you can only do what you can do. Have you eaten?” I used to tease my mother about her sixth sense. But as I grow older, I just lean in. I lean in and thank her. I lean in when I listen to stories about how my squirminess in her womb told her I had different character than my brothers. I lean in when she tells me about my sass at three years old. I lean in when she reveals to me who I am in her eyes because I have learned that no one knows me like my mother. Today, we celebrate the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary. It’s a huge day in our family, the Church—not only because it’s a solemnity and not a feast—but also because we celebrate the unfathomable beauty of the one who was “full of grace” (Luke 1:28). Mary is totally pure and therefore the perfect reflection of God’s love and she is also our Mother and the Mother of God. Sisters, imagine if we all asked for the grace to love Jesus’ mother more today and believed that God would make it happen. Let’s ask this for ourselves and for every sister in Blessed Is She. Then let’s ask with faith that “[God bless] us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavens” (Ephesians 1:3). God will answer our prayers. And we will not only find delight together in Heaven, but we could gain graces now to catapult all of us closer to one another, to the Saints in Heaven, and to God Himself. [bctt tweet="God will answer our prayers. And we will not only find delight together in Heaven, but we could gain graces now to catapult all of us closer to one another, to the Saints in Heaven, and to God Himself." username="SrMariaKim"] For details on what it means to be conceived without original sin, check out this section of the Catechism of the Catholic Church. 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. Find out more about her here. She is the author of our Blessed Conversations Mystery: Belong found here.

According to my life plan, I would be well enough to have another child right now. I would have a thriving art business with specific days and times dedicated to its growth so that I can do my job as a mother, too. I would be planning out our homeschool days to include educational field trips and projects to go along with the themed units I carefully crafted. According to my plan, I wouldn’t have any health issues holding me back from doing all of the good I planned to do. As much as I know that it isn’t according to me, I hold tight to those plans like my life depends on them. God has put me somewhere else in this season of life. And everything that I planned for? There is no room in God’s plan for my desires right now. Perhaps He needs me to let go so He has room to do His work. If I could just scooch out of the way a tad, He could get in there and heal me according to my faith—just like the blind men in today's Gospel. This season, the Blessed Virgin Mary gives us the best example of laying down our lives so God could be in charge. She said, “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38). And with those words, she entered into a reckless and loving relationship with our Savior. She put aside her life’s plans and gave God room to save the world. What could God do with my life if I let it be done according to my faith and His word? What about you, sister? Advent is starting so let's crack ourselves open to His plan this liturgical season. [bctt tweet="Advent is starting so let's crack ourselves open to His plan this liturgical season." username="callherhappy"] Do you already pray the Liturgy of the Hours? If not, start with praying the Canticle of Mary. 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.

It was November 1st, All Saints’ Day, and—true confession—I did not want to go to Mass. I was exhausted from a day’s teaching and from being a mom; attending the 7 pm liturgy just didn’t sound appealing. But it was a Holy Day of Obligation, so I drove to church. I went reluctantly, even a bit resentfully, but I went. And as I sat there in the back part of the church, listening to the homily, a memory suddenly flashed to mind. I recalled sitting in that same church three years before, on a weekday afternoon. I’d just had one of the worst teaching days of my life, with the most challenging group of teens I’d ever taught. I’d left school utterly demoralized, in desperate need of peace and perspective, so on the way home I stopped at the empty church. There I sat, gazing at the red sanctuary lamp, just praying. And it had worked. After twenty minutes of focusing on God, I recovered a sense of peace. Sitting there on All Saints’ Day, gazing at the same red sanctuary light, I remembered that afternoon. The memory was a reminder of how foundational my faith truly is. I take it for granted sometimes; I often turn to other things (food, the Internet, TV) in times of stress. But in the end, those things are like the foundation of sand in the Gospel; they can’t prop me up through the worst storms (Matthew 7:26). But God’s love for me: that’s my rock. That’s the foundation that sustains me, in times of teaching storms or family storms or any kind of storm. When I take refuge in the Lord, I am far more resilient than I was before. And sometimes, it takes a little nudge—like the pause provided by a Holy Day of Obligation—to remember that, and to be thankful. [bctt tweet="When I take refuge in the Lord, I am far more resilient than I was before." username="blessedisshe__"] For a quick list of Holy Days of Obligation, see what the USCCB says here. Ginny Kubitz Moyer is a mother, high school English teacher, and BBC period drama junkie. She is the author of Random MOMents of Grace: Experiencing God in the Adventures of Motherhood and Mary and Me: Catholic Women Reflect on the Mother of God. Ginny lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband, two boys, and about thirty thousand Legos. You can find out more about her here. She is the author of our Blessed Conversations: The Seven Sacraments found here.

I shook my head as I listened to one more news clip about a tragedy that happened earlier that morning. Normally, I try to keep a positive attitude, but sometimes the bad news of family, friends, and the larger world can be really heavy. I can imagine that Jesus felt something similar when He looked out at “the lame, the blind, the deformed, the mute and many others” (Matthew 15:30). Jesus’s heart was “moved with pity for the crowd,” but He didn’t just snap His fingers and make it all better. Instead, He looked to the Apostles to see what they had available—a meager amount of food for such a vast crowd—and yet, He took that little bit and multiplied it. In the same way, I imagine Jesus looking with pity on the souls in pain around me and instead of automatically making it better, He looks to me. Admittedly, in turn, I ask Him, “Why are you looking at me? What can I possibly do?” But the more I surrender my feelings of helplessness to Him, the more He inspires my heart to take small steps towards bringing comfort, strength, and love to those around me. He gives me the grace to make an extra Holy Hour or inspires me to do something kind for a friend-in-need or to not be afraid to give her a hug and let her talk, even if I don’t know exactly what to say. These meager offerings I have to give will be blessed and multiplied to help those placed along my path. In the grand scheme of things, you and I may be small, but when we are in the hands of Jesus, He can make wondrous things happen. [bctt tweet="You and I may be small, but when we are in the hands of Jesus, He can make wondrous things happen." username="bobbi_rol"] To read more about the Biblical context for loaves and fishes, read this priest's article. Bobbi Rol is a wife, mama and blogger living on the Monterey Bay in CA with her husband, teen daughter, and three rambunctious boys. When she is not dodging light sabers or stepping on Legos, she can be found outside with her family, catching a late night movie, or decorating her planner. You can find out more about her here.

The twinkle lights. The tree. Shiny ornaments. Fresh cookies. Cheerful music. Happy movies. Warm get-togethers. Laughter. Love. That was my Christmas season—even my Advent season—as a young child, and I remember the specific feelings I experienced of joy and wonder; joy with open hands and a full heart, and wonder with the beauty of the season and with what was to come. At the time, it was a lot less about Jesus than it is for me now, but the joy and the wonder still remain, and I realize their importance even more recently: to show me how to trust God in the most child-like way—in the way that lets you live freely because you know you're in good hands, in the way that accepts pain and wrongdoings and knows this isn't the end, and in way that believes—and believes and believes and rejoices—that God has not left us. In the way that Jesus did as He was born, as He lived, and as He died. So this season, I still celebrate with open hands and a full heart like I did all those years ago, however this time it's all about accepting how Jesus comes, accepting what He brings, and believing completely that God is with us, and that justice will come, as our Responsorial Psalm tells us today. [bctt tweet="I still celebrate with open hands and a full heart like I did all those years ago, however this time it's all about accepting how Jesus comes, accepting what He brings, and believing completely that God is with us." username="blessedisshe__"] Need help finding joy? Try praying for the intercession of Saint Philip Neri, literally the patron of joy! 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.

"Lord, I am not worthy . . . but only say the word and my soul shall be healed" (Matthew 8:8). At every Mass, each word of that prayer hung heavy on my tongue. Could I truly be healed and reconciled to the Lord after all I had done? These worrisome thoughts plagued my heart until one glorious day, I met Jesus in the Sacrament of Penance. I had not been to Confession since I was a little girl, when my greatest transgression was stealing a Barbie doll from my neighbor. As the kind Ugandan priest prayed the words of Absolution over me with a radiant smile on his gentle face, I knew that my soul was healed. I could almost hear the joyous laughter in Heaven for this victory. In today’s Gospel, a centurion approaches Jesus and shares that his servant is at home paralyzed and suffering. When Jesus tells the centurion that He will go and heal the servant, the centurion says, "Lord, I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof; only say the word and my servant will be healed" (Matthew 8:8). Jesus responds by saying, "Amen, I say to you, in no one in Israel have I found such faith" (Matthew 8:10). The centurion gives witness to the truth that we can call out to Jesus even if we feel unworthy. We can have faith in His merciful love for us and proclaim, “Lord only say the word and I shall be healed.” How often do we avoid placing ourselves in His loving arms because we feel unworthy to be held? Yet, Jesus, in His infinite love for us calls us one step closer. Jesus never tires of inviting you into His embrace. [bctt tweet="Jesus never tires of inviting you into His embrace." username="blessedisshe__"] The Catechism of the Catholic Church offers wonderful insights into being prepared to receive Our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament and the Pascal Banquet here. Leana Bowler lives in Arizona with her husband, five children, feisty grandma, and three dogs. She love Jesus, writing jokes, books, strong coffee, and drawing upgraded stick figure people. You can find out more about her here.

And so it begins. Advent. A season of waiting—of preparing our hearts for the marvelous gift of Emmanuel, our Hope. We wait, patiently, for our Light in the darkness. But y’all, I have to admit, I am not a patient person and I do not like to wait or to be kept waiting. If I did not already know how the story ended—with beautiful baby Jesus—I don’t think I would be as pro-Advent as I am. It is easier to wait when you know God’s promise has already been fulfilled and there’s not really a question of when and how. God always keeps His promises and God is always with us. Emmanuel. But if that is so, why am I anxious with every other part of my life? Why was waiting for my future husband such a laborious, heart-wrenching attempt at trusting in God’s wisdom? Why now, months from our wedding, am I anxious for our future family, begging for the blessing of children and terrified of what happens if they are not God’s will for us? Why can’t I just sit still in my present season of life and soak in the abundant blessings I’ve already been given? I know God is good and I trust that He will provide, but the waiting can be rough. But maybe that's why we celebrate Advent. In addition to the preparing for Jesus’ birth, this season is a reminder of the goodness of our Lord and that His promises are always fulfilled—even if they don't look exactly how we had planned. I don't think Mary’s birth story went exactly as she had thought it would. (I could do without the manger and animals, but that’s just a personal preference, I suppose.) And yet, she trusted. And through that trust came Christ. What would happen if I could mirror that radical trust? How might my life change if I lived perpetually in a state of knowing God’s love for me and anticipated excitedly, rather than anxiously, the goodness that will flow from that love—if my life proclaimed Emmanuel? [bctt tweet="This season is a reminder of the goodness of our Lord and that His promises are always fulfilled—even if they don't look exactly how we had planned." username="blessedisshe__"] Pray Padre Pio's prayer of trust and confidence with me today. 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.

As our liturgical year closes tonight, we end with a somber tone in today’s Gospel. Jesus' words feel so heavy and hard and gloomy. My melancholic heart loves it because I see how He is pointing through darkness into light. Jesus is my gentle but firm teacher, and He’s asking me to hope in Heaven. Since I am so melancholic through and through, I can easily get stuck in the dark. It takes great effort on my part to reach out and see the promise that Jesus is pointing to. But when I allow myself the time and space to sit quietly in His presence, I can feel that little tug on my heart that longs for Heaven and union with my Creator. The reality is that our hearts were made for forever, and as we enter a season that can become contorted and focused on the material, I hope that you and I can focus on the things that point to that forever. Our Christian faith gives us a unique perspective to see that the good things in life carry a common current: this world isn’t the end, and the good things point to something greater. Good friendships, good food, good music. . . they all carry a shadow of the ultimate goodness of God. When I orient my heart towards Heaven, all those good things in life become even sweeter because they are tastes of it. As we enter this season of Advent, sisters, let’s delight in the good things of life not simply because they are enjoyable, but because they are signs of God’s deep love and desire for us. [bctt tweet="Delight in the good things of life not simply because they are enjoyable, but because they are signs of God’s deep love and desire for us." username="jacquiskemp"] When we pray the Liturgy of the Eucharist at Mass, we pray in union with Our Lord, Jesus Christ. Read more about the Eucharist Prayer and the Communion Rite here. Jacqueline Skemp is a daughter, sister, wife, and mother who endures living in Minnesota after leaving California for her one true love. You can find out more about her here.

I’m always amazed at the immense faith and trust Saints Peter and Andrew (whose Feast Day we celebrate today) show in today’s reading from the Gospel of Matthew, chapter 4, verses 18-22. Even while being amazed, the cautious, likes-to-have-a-plan, worrier in me wants to scream at them. “What are you doing?! You don’t even know who this man is! He just spouted off something about you ‘fishing for men’ (Matthew 4:19) and you’re going to leave behind your livelihood, everything you’ve ever known, and just follow this stranger?!” Yes, we readers know who Jesus was, but these two had no clue. It would seem there was just something about being in His presence that made them throw caution to the wind. And only when I begin to meditate on the Blessed Sacrament does this story start to make sense in my heart. The belief in the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist can easily be seen by others as odd or even crazy. I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to explain transubstantiation, but I imagine to some it sounds about as clear as the idea of “fishing for men.” It’s a reality that is hard to comprehend until you’ve experienced it firsthand, and then, just as it was for Andrew and Peter on that historic day on the Sea of Galilee, there is no turning back. How could they refuse to follow after meeting Jesus? How could they do anything but place their trust in Him after hearing His voice? They did not have the answers and their lives would not be free from hardship, but their knowledge and relationship with Christ was worth sacrificing for. I have been struggling in my faith since the scandals broke this summer. It has not been easy remaining faithful to the Church with all of the abuse, cover-up, and divisiveness that has been revealed. But even in the painful humanity of the Church, in the face of uncertainty, and in the fear of the unknown, I cannot deny my belief and experience of Christ present in the Blessed Sacrament. And so with that knowledge I pray for the faith and trust of Saints Andrew and Peter to “at once” follow where Christ leads. [bctt tweet="I pray for the faith and trust of Saints Andrew and Peter to “at once” follow where Christ leads." username="blessedisshe__"] Make Adoration visits a regular part of your week along with receiving the Blessed Sacrament at Mass. Visit the confessional and get that clean slate. Jesus is waiting for you, sister. 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.

Today you may have looked at the readings and thought, “Not today. I don’t have the strength for apocalyptic Scripture right now.” I get that. There is so much going on in our world and especially our Church; it’s tempting to bury our heads and avoid what's hard. My mother-in-law once gave me great advice about times like these. She told me that when the conversation hangs heavy with death and fear, guide it back to life. Circle back to those things that bring us hope and trust in the Lord. Does that mean we ignore what the challenging? No, it means we look for life amongst death—just as Jesus did with His very life. So where is the life in Scripture today? The Psalm refrain is: “Blessed are they who are called to the wedding feast of the Lamb.” In the middle of fear, blessed are they who are called to celebrate life with Jesus. How does one get called to the wedding feast? Well, in order to be invited to a wedding, we must know the bride and groom, or in this case, the Church and Jesus. How well do you know Jesus, sister? You may know the laws well, but do you know Him? We come bearing gifts to help the couple in their life together. What gifts are you bringing to the wedding? What talents do you have to offer to Jesus, his bride, and the ones they serve? And we help the couple celebrate with festivities. Be the joy in our Church today. [bctt tweet="Be the joy in our Church today." username="callherhappy"] Each morning we may wake up just to shake our heads at the state of the world around us. We may even be the generations that see the end of times. But all of that is no matter. Let’s keep our heads in the right place and work on getting that invitation to the wedding feast. 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.

While I was praying one day, I had a vision. I was in a vast field. It was acres and acres of golden flowers up to my waist with no end in sight. I was standing in this field with my arms outstretched and my fingertips were just grazing the top of the flowers. I felt a warmth of sunshine on my face as I looked up to the sky. As my gaze returned downward, I saw a small hill in front of me. On that hill was the greenest grass I had ever seen and on the center of the hill was a weeping willow tree, with branch after branch hanging down creating a canopy of leaves. I started to walk towards that hill, feeling the cool dirt between my toes, the scent of those golden flowers wafting up to my nose. My lungs were filled with the crispest and cleanest air. As I approached the hill, I saw a figure dressed in white. He was sitting on a small boulder under the branches. He was not looking at me but out beyond me into the horizon. As I came to the foot of the hill, His gaze turned towards me. With sparkling eyes and the widest smile I've ever seen, He reached out His hand to help me onto the hill. I placed my hand in His and allowed Him to lead me up the hill. He sat back down on His stone and motioned for me to do the same. I could not take my eyes off His face. I felt like I was being pulled into the depths of His eyes. Then He motioned His hand in front of us, sweeping His arm forward as He said, "Daughter, look at all I have made for you. Look, all I have and am is yours." As I looked ahead to where He was pointing, the scene around me changed. No longer was it just the field of flowers but it was simultaneously vast oceans, forest trees, sprawling cities, shooting stars, and everything else in the universe all at once. And at last He said, "All you have to do is come here, to our special place, and know that I am yours and you are Mine." [bctt tweet=""Remain faithful until death, and I will give you the crown of life."" username="Substance_Soul"] "Remain faithful until death, and I will give you the crown of life." Dr. Samantha Aguinaldo-Wetterholm is a wife to Paul, mom to two 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.