Today we celebrate the feast of Saint Francis of Assisi, one of Catholicism’s greatest Saints, reformers, and spiritual fathers. Famously, one day while Francis was praying in his local church, the Lord spoke to him from the crucifix. Jesus commanded him to rebuild His Church. (Bio of Saint Francis here). I hear the same call now. The call from Jesus to Francis is the same call pressed into the lives of you and me. We are commissioned to be saints, to be lights, to be reformers at this exact time in the life of the Church. As today’s Gospel reminds us, "The harvest is abundant, but the laborers are few" (Luke 10:2). Working for the Kingdom is a labor. Being one of the few can feel intense at times. Loving God and His people consistently is no easy task. Holiness requires something of us. Striving for sainthood is not flashy or numbing. In fact, it’s the thing that will give us the greatest return-on-investment and make us feel most alive. But I have to be willing to work. I must be willing to completely rely on God (“carry no money bag with you”), to be a bearer of peace in my relationships (“peace to this household”), and to witness the joy of knowing Christ to others both in word and deed (“the Kingdom of God is at hand”) (Luke 10:4, 5, 9). Am I willing to answer Jesus’ call? Am I willing to go out? Am I ready for this particular time, this particular battle? Am I ready to get uncomfortable for the sake of the Kingdom? Am I ready to have hard conversations with myself, with God, with others? Am I willing to forsake distraction, to forsake sin, to do this work? Am I ready to risk reputation and relationship? Am I willing to demolish vice in my heart and renovate with virtue? Am I open to letting Christ rebuild my own soul so that I can help rebuild His Church? If the call to sainthood, to a sainthood like that of Francis, has felt like a long-term goal, or perhaps an unattainable one, let this be our wake up call. Christ rallies us in today’s Gospel, like He rallied Francis from the crucifix. The time for holiness is now. The time for rebuilding is now. The Kingdom of God is at hand. Let’s renew our hope in our Vindicator (Job 19:25). And let’s get to work. [bctt tweet="Christ rallies us in today’s Gospel, like He rallied Francis from the crucifix. The time for holiness is now." username="to_the_heights"] Turn in reliance on God to bring your best gifts forward to help rebuild His Church. Ask Him to illuminate your heart and direct you. We are praying together, sisters. 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.

As the child of divorced parents and having to constantly travel back and forth between my mom's house and my dad's, growing up I felt that the foxes and birds Jesus mentions in today's Gospel perhaps had a more stable living environment than me. Although I have always been well cared for and have always had a place to lay my head, I found some comfort in Jesus' words that He knew what it was like to not feel like you had a constant or consistent place to rest. "Foxes have dens and birds of the sky have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to rest his head" (Luke 9:58). The Christian life is not always so easy. Although our initial response to Jesus' invitation might first be enthusiasm that we will follow Christ no matter what, sometimes our Christian journey—or simply life in general—gets difficult. Following after Jesus can sometimes require us to leave behind and let go of what we thought we wanted, or needed, or surrendering what we felt we were responsible to do first before taking up Jesus' invitation. However, today's Gospel also shows that Jesus is willing to have that conversation with us. He's willing to speak to us and dialogue with us along that journey, hearing and responding to our initial enthusiasm and also speaking to our spaces of distrust, doubt and difficulty. Our own personal lives on this earth may not be as stable, consistent, or comfortable as we originally had hoped and idealized. But the invitation remains the same, "Follow me." Jesus is and will forever be our constant. Heaven is our true home, our place of eternal rest. We can have confidence in Jesus and follow Him along that journey even if it takes some courage and detachment for us to follow Him there. [bctt tweet="Jesus is and will forever be our constant. Heaven is our true home, our place of eternal rest." username="blessedisshe__"] Jesus may be asking you to follow Him in little ways. Getting to Mass on Sundays to fulfill your Sunday obligation. Holding back gossip that's right on the tip of your tongue. Not wasting time online you could be offering in prayer. Start small and accept His invitation. Mary Catherine Craige enjoys spending her time creating art, writing, and playing her Irish harp. As a life coach for business leaders and creatives, she encourages and challenges women like you to design your life and accomplish your dreams as the person God has created you to be. You can find out more about her here.

I can't bring myself to fully read the Book of Job. I’m familiar with the basics of the story and have heard it proclaimed at Mass but it's so hard for me to read and study it in its entirety. I am uncomfortable taking in all the details of the poor man’s sorrow and misery, and I struggle to search his grief for lessons (Job 3:1-3, 11-17, 20-23). I suppose, too, I don’t know how to get involved. What do we do with Job’s story? What do I say to Job or anyone else who has lost everything, everyone, he loved? How do I care for a person who wishes he would have never been born? And then, too, I hardly know what to say to God about all this besides, I don’t know what to do here. I wonder, what does He want me to do with these horrible, sad facts about Job's life? I don’t have answers, just a nudging in my heart that God wants me to be uncomfortable here, in this safe spot with Him and His Word, so that He can stretch me, love me, show me. Perhaps eventually, with enough time spent in His presence I will have the words. Perhaps then I will know what to do. Today is the Feast of our Guardian Angels, the beings God has sent to guide and guard us through our days. In light of the readings, I wonder how often they try to guide us to prayer, the Bible, or the Sacraments so that God can form us while we are close to Him. I also wonder how often they try to guide us to love and reach and touch and serve in ways that are uncomfortable. And how often do I ignore them? Today let us all ask the Holy Spirit to be receptive to the ways our Guardian Angels are leading us, so that we may see those who need love, comfort, and joy. [bctt tweet="Today let us all ask the Holy Spirit to be receptive to the ways our Guardian Angels are leading us, so that we may see those who need love, comfort, and joy." username="BonnieEngstrom"] Re-read today's readings. Click back over. Sit in the uncomfortable parts and ask God what is here for you to take in and be changed by. Pray to the Holy Spirit to guide you. 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.

When we were kids, my brother and I constantly were whining to our mom about fairness. He had a bigger piece! Or Mom, you didn’t listen to both sides of the story! (This was even if only one person carried physical evidence of culpability.) We constantly believed that there was some fundamental miscarriage of justice in our young lives. Life isn’t fair, she usually responded. On some level, I understood at the time, and now, I kind of get it. Life isn’t fair, but God is just and merciful. I don’t always or even usually have my desires fulfilled in the way I want or feel I deserve. Whenever I am confronted with readings from the Book of Job, I am not sure I could withstand that kind of suffering. I am far more like the Psalmist in my requests: "Incline your ear to me and hear my word. Hear, O LORD, a just suit; attend to my outcry; hearken to my prayer from lips without deceit" (Psalm 17:1). I want God to hear me, to listen to me, to pay attention to what I have to say. Am I offering a just suit? That’s the question that remains. I am not Job. My life, to be fair, is charmed. I am exceedingly lucky. Where is there a lack of justice and mercy in the world? That is where God is calling me to go—to incline my ear and do His work. People are crying out for a world that is a little more fair, in which the circumstances of our births don’t define our experiences of justice, where mercy and forgiveness flow like a river and our outcries are heard. Am I listening to the outcry in my neighborhood, my church, my city, and my country? Can I respond as a part of the Incarnate Body of Christ? Instead of desiring fairness and honor for myself, I can offer my privileges for others and work to become the least of my brothers and sisters (Luke 9:48). [bctt tweet="Instead of desiring fairness and honor for myself, I can offer my privileges for others and work to become the least of my brothers and sisters." username="br1gid"] Where is there unfairness in your heart to those around you? Examine how you can make a little change today in your own sphere of influence and respond to the unfairness in your relationships. 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.

A divided heart. How easy it is to let my eyes wander toward those around me, toward what is not mine, toward all which I seemingly lack. How easy it is to forget how truly generous and gracious He is. How easy it is to fall into comparison and ingratitude. To look outward and desire what is earthly and fleeting above what is of His kingdom. The followers, the ‘likes’, the material, all that sometimes consumes me but that I know within the depths of my heart is meaningless. My eyes—they lead me astray daily. And yet I eagerly pray: Lord, help me to see this world, myself, and those around me as You see. Help me to look to what is above in and through all things. Help me to see Your light and love in my life, so that I may also be a reflection of Your light and love to others. Help me to remain cognizant of Your work in my life—the gifts you continue to give, the promises You continue to make, the way You continue to lead me. And so easily, still, I falter and fall. I am back to looking outward, at the world around me—not in gratitude, but in want for what I seemingly lack. And in His presence I hear, softly, gently: My child, I am with you. Look to Me, seek My face, set your eyes upon Me on this new day and let your gaze rest only on Me and the way I lead you. Look outward in gratitude for what you see, and back to Me when you feel your heart begin to wander. Come to Me and I will be your comfort, your rest, your all. And so day after day, moment by moment, today, I actively choose to return to His gaze, to rest in His line of vision instead of my own. For when my eyes wander and lead me toward living with a divided heart, He renews my sight. He gives me new eyes to see. "The precepts of the Lord give joy to the heart." Psalm 19:8. [bctt tweet="Help me to see Your light and love in my life, so that I may also be a reflection of Your light and love to others." username="blessedisshe__"] Let your heart rest in Him today, Sisters. 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.

When Mike and I were taking our Pre-Cana classes, we suddenly found things getting real. We had both heard of Natural Family Planning, but it hadn’t dawned on us until that moment that it would be something we would have to implement in our lives. NFP wasn’t something in which I was well-educated; I just assumed that I would be on the Pill once we got engaged, like everyone else I knew. Now I was listening to someone talk to me about signs of fertility and periods of abstinence. We walked out of the first meeting in silence and hopped into Mike’s car. “So, are we going to do this?” he asked. “I mean, I don’t think we have another choice.” I replied. While my resolve was tenuous at best, that response was a big moment in my faith life. Both Mike and I were finding our ways back into the Church after years of being lapsed, and we wanted to be all in. We wanted to side with God, and that has made all the difference. Today we celebrate the feast of Saints Michael, Raphael, and Gabriel, three angels who chose God’s side and continue to battle and serve on His behalf, unlike Satan who freely chose to rebel against God and forever lose his place in the heavenly banquet. We can call on these Angels, particularly Saint Michael, in times of trial. They will help give us the strength to fight the good fight. My road has not always been full of comfort, but we all know what Pope Benedict XVI has to say about that: we were made for greatness. Ask these Angels to fight for you today and always so that you may also side with God in your life even with knowing that the road ahead is full of adversity. Let God find no duplicity in you. [bctt tweet="My road has not always been full of comfort, but we all know what Pope Benedict XVI has to say about that: we were made for greatness." username="callherhappy"] Call upon your own Guardian Angel to help you today; that is literally what the Angel is there for! Jenna Hines has a teeny army of four children and is married to a bearded fellow named Mike. She is happiest when she has a moment to create or read, and she loves to chat about mental health. You can find out more about her here.

To be quite honest, I struggle with discouragement. I’m not a complainer or a pessimist, but I am a realist, and there are times when my personal life and ministry, even when going well, can be tinged with hopelessness. At first glance, today’s words from Ecclesiastes—“Vanity of vanities, all things are vanity!”—don’t necessarily inspire hope in me. (Ecclesiastes 1:2) But this is the Word of God, so I pray through it, dig a little deeper and what I find is sacred wisdom for today. I love the Hebrew word for vanity here, which is translated as puff or vapor. It describes so well the transitory, illusory nature of many things in life that disappoint me. I can think that financial security, new experiences, greater knowledge, and working harder will bring me lasting happiness, but they cannot and will not deliver on their empty promises. When I put my efforts into being more relevant, more successful, more seen and heard, I’m never full of lasting peace and joy. . . but most often just full of myself. Vanity of vanities! Today’s sacred wisdom gives me much needed perspective and re-orients me to my fundamental position as a creature, dependent on God, with a destiny that extends far beyond this world and its offerings. As I sit on my deck taking in the view of my beautiful garden, the short-lived days of a Michigan summer tick away, and my heart is stirred with such an intense longing for beauty and peace that will last. I am reminded that even the good is temporary and fleeting; it's a tiny glimpse of the eternal for which I am made. It should not tether me to this world, but rather point me towards Heaven. So, I will put my trust in the One who made Heaven and Earth and try to remember that one day soon, everything but Love will pass away like a puff of smoke. I will be satisfied. And today, I am filled with hope. [bctt tweet="I will put my trust in the One who made Heaven and Earth and try to remember that one day soon, everything but Love will pass away like a puff of smoke." username="bloverevolution"] Does the goodness in your life point you toward God and help you grow in your relationship with Him? Re-focus on that 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 32 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 and five adorable grandchildren.

It’s Wednesday. At our home there will be the hustle of breakfast, clothes, teeth, hair, shoes, book bags, pile in the car, drive across town, car line, pre-school drop off, drive back across town, and sit in the minivan in the garage and . . . I exhale. And by exhale I actually mean “scroll Instagram.” I will then unload my 15-month-old and almost three-year-old and settle them with a mix of toys and PBS Kids. Then I will sit down to my breakfast of eggs, bacon, toast, and coffee. I will crack open my Bible and pray The Morning Offering, Grace, and three simple words, “Come, Holy Spirit.” I know people who start their day with prayer as they lie in bed, before their feet even hit the floor each morning. I know others who wake up before everyone in the rest of their household to read, pray, and journal. They need that time with God before the crazy even begins and their ways make so much sense. But nothing, nothing, has worked for me like my current routine. My daily breakfast dates with the Word Made Flesh shine light on the ways that I need to recenter, refocus, and begin again. My God meets me in Sacred Scripture and He guides me through my days. Or, as the psalmist put it, “Your Word, O Lord, is a lamp for my feet.” There are days when schedules change and my daily time of breakfast, prayer, and Scripture doesn’t happen in quite the same way, but this pause in the hectic is my favorite encounter with Christ. To me it feels the same way as my husband coming home from work while I am cooking dinner, breaking up fights, holding a crying baby, and quizzing a child on spelling words. The love of my life has arrived! He has met me in the middle of my messy life! His loving presence will make all of this better, will make of all of it worthwhile! At five o’clock in the evening there is nothing better than a kiss from my husband in the middle of the kitchen. At nine o’clock in the morning there is nothing better than a moment with Jesus over coffee, bacon, and buttery toast. [bctt tweet="My daily breakfast dates with the Word Made Flesh shine light on the ways that I need to recenter, refocus, and begin again." username="BonnieEngstrom"] Have you made time for Scripture? We have the only Catholic journaling Bible if that's what you're looking for! 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’ve been open about this before, and maybe it’s a tired old story, but I struggle a lot with doubt and dryness in my spiritual life. It can seem odd to some, discouraging to others, and baffling to the rest. How can you say you are a Christian and not be sure that you believe it at times? No one has directly asked me that, but I make a lot of assumptions about what people might think if they knew. Sometimes I am overwhelmed by confidence in Him. But the truth is, most of the time I feel like I’m standing in the dark, reaching out waiting to see if something will reach across the void and assure me that I’m not alone. It can be a scary place sometimes. So what draws me back? Today’s psalm is one of my prayers: “Make me understand the way of your precepts, and I will meditate on your wondrous deeds.” Jesus, help me understand, because sometimes I just don’t. “The way of truth I have chosen; I have set your ordinances before me.” I choose you, Jesus. I choose You today, in this moment. "Give me discernment, that I may observe your law and keep it with all my heart." When I’ve mulled over all the options, I always come back to Your commandments. “And I will keep your law continually, forever and ever” Where else can I go, Lord? Your laws are truth. Maybe you have been blessed with a faith that flows free and easy, and what a beautiful precious gift! Maybe you’re like me, and your faith life is a little drier, slower, rougher around the edges, but you keep coming back because something deep within you says this is where you need to be. Jesus said, "My mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and act on it." (Luke 8:21) I know that when I follow His commandments of love, I am in good company. [bctt tweet="I know that when I follow His commandments of love, I am in good company." username="jacquiskemp"] Are you in a place of dryness or darkness? You're not alone, Sister! Reach out to a friend or trusted priest. You don't have to face this by yourself. 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 didn’t want to be seen. My wet hair hung bedraggled around my makeup-less face—sporting a fresh crop of glaring blemishes—and my dark circles could have passed for a set of black eyes. I’ll just duck my head, I thought as I dropped the kids off, and run before anyone notices. But the odds were not in my favor; just as the thought crossed my mind, there she was—dead ahead. She, who always looked like she’d just stepped out of a magazine: never a stray hair out of place, outfit always on point, little model children in tow. I diverted my gaze, busying myself with the needless task of adjusting my child’s backpack, as she breezed by without a sideways glance. But the damage was done. Back in the car, I beheld my appearance in the rear-view mirror, writhing with inner shame and berating myself for being so (comparatively) slovenly. Finally, I caught myself: Why was I ashamed? I’d done nothing wrong. Yet in an instant I had let my reference point for goodness and self-worth slip from Eternal Creator to . . . plastic Barbie. Had I actually tried to physically hide myself from the world? Ultimately, my folly had nothing to do with my dress or presentation. It had everything to do with rejecting my personhood, my irreplaceable value, in the eyes of the Creator. Whether we’re tastefully made-up or in our most natural state, God created us to be wholly seen and loved. Far beyond the surface, He’s looking to our depths. From the very second He first animated our souls, He illuminated us from the inside out to become living beacons of His love and His light. Yes, we are the light, sisters, never to be hidden. Yet we conceal our light under the bushel of comparison and misplaced shame. We slip on the dark disguise of false humility, allowing the darkness of pride and fear of rejection to rule over us. We deliberately shroud our soul-deep virtues so as not to stand out against the dimness around us. Don’t settle for the darkness, sister. Our Creator intentionally created us for more—and He needs us to help light the way for others. It’s time to remove the bushel basket, stand tall, and let the light of your being shine. [bctt tweet="Don’t settle for the darkness, sister. Our Creator intentionally created us for more—and He needs us to help light the way for others." username="PosImperfect"] Sit with God and consider what you’ve been hiding. Ask Him to illuminate those places of your life so that through them, the light of His love may be better reflected to the world. Megan Hjelmstad is a wife and mom 24/7 and an Army Reservist in her “spare” time. She’s a bibliophile, tea drinker, sleep lover, and avid admirer of Colorado’s great outdoors. When the writing bug hits, you can find out more about her here.

Today is the feast day of Saint Padre Pio. Among my Catholic friends, devotion to this modern Italian saint is bountiful. Constantly, I hear sweet bon mots from his teachings and little anecdotes about his life and ministry. Okay, I have thought to myself over the years, He’s a cool, trendy saint. Great beard. Some unusual miraculous stuff. He seems like a very lovely friar! I didn’t think much of him beyond that, but he just kept popping up. Again and again and again. Okay, Pio, I thought to myself. You clearly aren’t letting me off the hook over here. As I began learning more about him and looking to him in prayer, I found a reality more complicated than, “Pray, hope, and don’t worry.” The miracles and holiness of Padre Pio’s life exist where mystery meets fear. The levitation, bilocation, and stigmata that he experienced alongside visions of Angels, Jesus, and Mary are not things of myth. This is a man who lived in the last century, whom we can see in video footage. His life exemplifies the places in our faith that defy easy answers and resist the purely rational. When we consider lives like Padre Pio’s, we are asked to step into the unknown. My curiosity about the miraculous draws me in, but at the same time, I fear encountering what I truly cannot explain or understand with my human mind. Padre Pio, I have found, was so much more than a charming Italian monk. He was not a “tame lion,” as C.S. Lewis might put it. His life contains the wild, uncontrollable grace of God. Padre Pio offers a human lens of what is contained in the kerygma and the Sacraments. The true nature of our faith is at this crux of mystery and reality, suffering and transcendence. [bctt tweet="Padre Pio, I have found, was so much more than a charming Italian monk. He was not a “tame lion,” as C.S. Lewis might put it. His life contains the wild, uncontrollable grace of God." username="br1gid"] Read more about this great Saint today! 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.

My husband jokes that I have a black thumb, because every time I try to grow an herb, it dies. I plant flower seeds and they don’t grow, or they grow but the gardeners for our rental house mow over them. Despite my failures with gardening, I’m not giving up. There’s something about taking part in sowing and hoping for growth that I cannot resist. Maybe it’s a part of the divine “spark” in me that yearns to create and bring forth something new and beautiful. Only, I can’t actually make plants grow. That’s entirely dependent upon God, who is the Master of the weather and seasons and bugs and life. The spiritual life is similar: no matter how much I long to sow the seeds of faith and be responsible for the growth of that faith in my family, it’s not up to me. I’m not the grower. I’m the sower. I find I’m quite a bit like the sower in today’s parable. Imagine this person, tossing seeds about wherever he walks. He doesn’t plant only in carefully tilled and prepared patches of soil, meticulously space each seed, or water with precision. No, the sower in Luke's Gospel scatters seeds everywhere. On the path, on the rocks, among the thorns. (Luke 8:5-8) I’m a bit haphazard with my literal planting, just as I’m a bit haphazard (though with my best intentions!) at sharing my faith with my family. One day we attend daily Mass and celebrate a Saint; the next feels like a struggle to gather my family for bedtime prayers. I pull out rich stories of the Saints and colorful books about Jesus’ life, and forget to actually read them with my children. On the flip side, when driving past a car accident or when hearing news that a friend has an urgent prayer request, we stop to pray right away for those in need. And lately, some of the better curious, faith-seeking questions and conversations have happened in the kitchen while we prepare dinner. I sow imperfectly, as did the sower in today’s Gospel. Yet I keep sowing. I won’t give up simply because my efforts frequently fall short. I won’t give up when I don’t see the fruits of my efforts. As a priest once said in his homily, “We do the planting, and God does the growing.” I will persevere and trust that God’s grace will make up for my shortcomings, and His timing will be right for abundant growth. [bctt tweet="I sow imperfectly, as did the sower in today’s Gospel. Yet I keep sowing." username="blessedisshe__"] We are the sowers; God is the grower. Take that to heart today. 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.

STOP SCREAMING FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. (Picture me screaming.) It was one of those days. Everyone was moody and tired and defiant. The four-year-old was whining . . . again. The one-year-old was shrieking and throwing himself on the floor. I couldn’t hear myself think. The volume of the TV was a tad too loud. There were dishes piled up and laundry to fold and emails to respond to and a pair of socks on the floor NEXT to the laundry hamper in my bedroom and I just lost it. EVERYBODY JUST STOP PLEASE. I CANNOT HANDLE THIS. (Picture me still screaming.) I stomped to my bedroom and slammed the door. Then tore into my bathroom and slammed that door, too, for good measure. My blood was pounding in my ears. I felt flushed and hot. I went to splash my face with water and that’s when I got a good look at myself in the mirror. I didn’t recognize myself. This blotchy, red mess in the mirror, hair askew, and manic in the eyes. There is nothing like a giant looking glass to offer perspective. And truthfully, I looked ill. But it was not just my outward appearance that indicated my sickness; it was my heart. I wasn’t approaching my family with humility, gentleness, nor patience. I have been called out of my sickness to follow Christ and be a disciple to His mercy. In my own heart and home, I stumble and fall. I lose my temper. But in the looking glass of Christ’s mercy, I see my true broken and redeemed self. I see what the One True Physician sees. (Matthew 9:12) A sinner, but a sinner striving towards unity with Him. [bctt tweet="In the looking glass of Christ’s mercy, I see my true broken and redeemed self." username="Substance_Soul"] Take a breath and a moment to re-center today. Ask Him for the healing you need. 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.

My earliest memories of faith playing a role in my life harken back to being tucked into bed as a toddler, hearing my dad sing me another verse of "Jesus Loves Me." Like all two-year-olds, I expected it as a part of our routine every single night. I think my dad might have even invented some new verses just to appease me! Throughout my childhood, I had my first glimpses of why we were Christians, and what that meant, through how my parents treated others and how they even talked about them. Decades later, still hardwired into my being are these truths: 1) Faith is important and 2) Take the opportunity to share why both in what you say and what you do. I saw this played out first-hand: I saw meals made for the hungry, our doors opened to the lonely for lunch, and a beloved KitchenAid mixer given to someone who could use it more than us. This modeling of the Christian life during my childhood shaped how I approach my life, family, and community today. The testimony of the faithful doesn’t have to be extravagant. Oftentimes, it is in the simple day-to-day living of our lives in small acts of love that we first see Christ and are attracted to Him. For you, that may be helping with an extra project at school or work, or maybe it means reaching beyond your comfort zone to include someone in a playdate or ladies' night out. The process of being saved is a part of everybody’s story, wherever we are on our journey. In today’s First Reading Saint Paul writes, “But by the grace of God I am what I am, and His grace to me has not been ineffective . . . Therefore, whether it be I or they, so we preach and so you believed.” (1 Corinthians 15:10-11) Who has led you to Christ on your faith journey? Whatever it was that drew you to them and encouraged you to keep pursuing Him, remember to share that with those along the way. [bctt tweet="Who has led you to Christ on your faith journey?" username="blessedisshe__"] Say a prayer of thanks today for those who have been an example and encouragement in the Faith. Sarah Ortiz is a Catholic convert, wife, and mother to four boys. When not folding laundry, she can be found reading, experimenting in the kitchen, or writing at her blog. You can find out more about her here.

The world feels so loud lately. If we can’t prove someone else wrong through superior reasoning, can we do it through superior volume or more exclamation points? Even Christians are shouting at each other, trying to help guide others in the right direction when we fear they are slipping into error. Today’s reading might set up an impossible standard of conduct for our always-connected, social media lives. Having all knowledge and comprehending all mysteries? Not enough. Possessing faith that can move not just one, but multiple mountains? Not enough. Giving away every single thing you own and handing your body over? Nope, not enough. In fact, all those things together, without love, add up to nothing. (1 Corinthians 13:1-3) Love always does the correct thing, yes, but it is based in relationship, not in cajoling, lecturing, or forcefully posting links to articles or the Catechism. Love is the new commandment; it flows directly from God’s heart to us through Jesus. (Catechism of the Catholic Church § 1823) God made us because He wanted to love us. In relationship with Him, we are changed from the inside. When our hearts beat in unison with God’s heart, we embody Love, and we see others the way God sees them. We can only effect real change in the lives of others if we have first been transformed by Love. So should we overlook the errors and shortcomings of others? Love rejoices with the truth, after all. (1 Corinthians 13:6) Shouldn’t we be spreading the truth everywhere? Truth and Love are not mutually exclusive. This passage shows us clearly that Love is the Source: everything we need to behave as daughters of God flows from it, so we must stay connected to it. When we feel discouraged, like this list of qualities is too lofty for us to attain, let’s remember that our Heavenly Father embodies them perfectly. He delights in each one of us uniquely, as if we were His only one. All of His love is ours, ready to be poured into our hearts if only we ask Him. [bctt tweet="All of His love is ours, ready to be poured into our hearts if only we ask Him." username="dere_abbey"] May we all experience a real encounter with Love Himself. May we all pray together, along with Servant of God Dorothy Day, "Enlarge Thou my heart, Lord, that Thou mayest enter in.” 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.

I felt it tear. As my feet met the hardwood floor, the pain reverberated throughout my body like a tidal wave. But the crowd! The crowd was watching. They were cheering and clapping and encouraging us along. And so along I went, along I danced and twisted and spun my way across the floor until the song ended and the applause subsided. And that’s when I saw it. With my dance shoe in hand, I looked down at my aching foot and knew that something was amiss. “Torn ligament,” the doctor said. And I knew then that I was out. I knew that the routine that I had spent an entire year co-creating and rehearsing and sacrificing for would have to go on to the World Championships without me. All because of a stupid ligament. When I was reflecting on today’s reading, I began to think about the body—the miraculous way our hearts beat and the astounding accuracy in which our brains function. But what I didn’t think about were eyelashes, the way they shield our eyes from harm. I didn’t think about sweat glands, the way they work to control our temperature. And I certainly didn’t think about ligaments. But this story isn’t about dancing or bodily functions. No. This story is about you. It is about the part you play in this great adventure. I think it’s easy to get sidetracked along the way, to let others' talents outshine the gifts that God has implanted in us. It is easy to see the heart and the lungs and the brain and feel discouraged about the underwhelming task of the eyebrow. But you, oh little one, you matter. There is a purpose for your unique skills here in this body. Because even ligaments are important. Even ligaments have value. So, my dear friends, whether you’re a hand or a foot or a fingernail, rest in the gift that you are. You matter here. [bctt tweet="Whether you’re a hand or a foot or a fingernail, rest in the gift that you are." username="IamBritCal"] Feel the joy of the gift of your body today. Nurture, love, and appreciate it as the temple of the Holy Spirit! 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.

In today’s Gospel, we hear the words we repeat at every Mass just before receiving Communion. “Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed.” (Luke 7:6) Praying these words sincerely during Mass places us in a state of humility and awe before Jesus. The centurion—who first spoke these words that left Jesus “amazed”—teaches us something profound about the coexistence of humility and boldness before the Lord. The centurion recognized that he was not worthy to host Jesus in his home. He knew about Jesus. He had heard of the miracles He worked. He acknowledged being a simple man, not even a Jew, and therefore had no right to be graced with the Lord’s presence. But this same understanding of Who Jesus is is also what made the centurion brave. The understanding of the power, authority, and goodness of Jesus is why he sent for Him in the first place. The centurion was desperate. His beloved slave was dying; Jesus was his last hope. And although he deemed himself unworthy of the Lord’s presence, he also knew he couldn’t do without it. The centurion reaches out to Jesus with confidence and boldness while maintaining a posture of praise and humility. He illustrates how to approach the Eucharistic table. He lives what Saint Paul encourages in the First Reading. He approaches the Lord humbly. He seeks to care for others. He waits. The next time we’re at Mass, let’s pray the words of the centurion with greater fervor. As we strive to approach the Eucharistic table with humility and awe, let’s boldly bring our intentions to the Lord. Who is sick in your life? Who is suffering? Who needs a miracle? For whom is Jesus the last hope? Pray for those people in the presence of Jesus. When we receive our God in the Eucharist, let’s embrace Him with confidence, desperation, hope, and humility. Jesus, at Your Word, we shall be healed. [bctt tweet="Jesus, at Your Word, we shall be healed." username="to_the_heights"] Pray this prayer at Communion even more whole-heartedly. Ask and trust for healing. 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.