I entered the Catholic Church as a young adult after a self-imposed exile from my childhood faith. When I told a friend of my decision, a furrow appeared between her eyebrows. “That seems like such a strange choice,” she mused. “I guess many young people are looking for more structure and ritual in their lives these days.” How could I convince her that my choice wasn’t about ritual or structure but about where Jesus was leading me? Deciding to follow Jesus puts us at odds with the culture around us. At a time where moral relativism is the law of the land, we have chosen a path clearly marked “this is the way, walk in it.” When we debate objective truth with skeptics, some defensiveness is natural. Our frustration with the slippery slope down which so many of our acquaintances are sliding can make us want to dig in our heels and drag people back up onto the straight and narrow. The trouble with this approach is that any of us could slip at any moment. As Jesus warns His disciples in today’s reading from Saint Matthew, “Unless your righteousness surpasses that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will not enter into the Kingdom of Heaven.” The Law was everything until Jesus came. In His Kingdom, though, the Law is only part of the equation. If we are practicing faith solely by the Law, we can never do enough. It’s Love that saves us, not the Law . . . and we’re not going to save anyone else by the Law, either. When we encounter people who don’t understand why we follow Jesus, imposing the Law on them is not likely to convince them. We don't depend on our own goodness. As Saint Paul wrote in today's First Reading, "Where the spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom." It is Jesus—and being face to face with Him—that transforms us. A deep and abiding love for Jesus enables us to take right actions that follow the Law and make it live in our hearts, but it also draws others to Him. As we practice our faith and do what is right, let’s remember that no moral checklist or behavior guideline can bring the freedom found in knowing Jesus Christ. A real encounter with Jesus can truly change someone. Our hope is in the One who can heal the world, one heart at a time. [bctt tweet="Our hope is in the One who can heal the world, one heart at a time. // @dere_abbey"] Go to Adoration today or this week. Make time to sit with Our Lord. Abbey Dupuy 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.

When was the best day of your life? Do you like to go back and relive the beauty of that day in your memories? When I remember the best day of my life, I imagine joy radiating from the face of God onto me, my family, and my friends. I cherish the photographs from that day and look at them to remind myself of God’s faithfulness and love. It was June 19, we were celebrating Father’s Day, and I became a child of God. I actually don’t remember a single thing from that day because I was only six weeks old. My parents brought me to Mass that Sunday morning, holy water was poured over my head, and the priest proclaimed, “Rose Marie, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” I was cleansed from Original Sin. My soul was given an indelible mark as a beloved daughter of the Father. I was anointed with Holy Chrism and I received the light of Christ. In today’s Gospel, Jesus says, “Your light must shine before others.” We must shine because in our Baptism we were made to shine. Some days we may shine more brightly, but regardless of how we feel, we must shine. It doesn’t have to be a bonfire or extravagant fireworks, just the simple flame burning with love by the tabernacle. Jesus is with us in the Eucharist, and His Eucharistic Presence will protect our light from being extinguished. Saint Anthony of Padua, whose feast we celebrate today, also gives some wonderful advice about how to shine. He was a Franciscan priest from Portugal who preached in France and Italy during the thirteenth century. In his sermon on how actions speak louder than words, he described how the Holy Spirit speaks in different languages through our virtues. “These languages are different ways of witnessing to Christ, such as humility, poverty, patience, and obedience.” It is the Holy Spirit who so creatively helps us to communicate the light of Christ to others. Let us pray: Holy Spirit, speak Your language of humility through me today. Speak Your language of poverty through me today. Speak Your language of patience through me today. Speak Your language of obedience through me today. Jesus, help me to shine and witness to You today through my virtues. Father, please help the light of Christ from my baptism bring glory to You today. [bctt tweet="We must shine because in our Baptism we were made to shine."] Pray with me today, sister. Rose Coleman is a contemplative in action who delights in all things beautiful. Her adventurous heart has traveled many places—from circumnavigating the globe on a ship during college to some years in the convent as a religious sister. Exuberant from her childhood, she is an elementary school teacher who learns so much from her students. You can find out more about her here.

There’s a whole lot of encouragement happening in the First Reading. It’s mentioned at least ten times! But it’s not your everyday cheerleader encouragement that Saint Paul is referring to here—the kind he speaks of is tied explicitly to affliction and suffering. I don’t know about you, but my year has been filled with a whole lot of suffering that I wouldn’t exactly call encouraging. So what is Saint Paul getting at? According to Miriam-Webster, to encourage means: “to inspire with courage, spirit, or hope;” or, “to spur on.” (source.) The Christians of the early Church knew full well what they were up against. They knew that declaring the Truth would bring them face to face with any number of horrendous tortures. It wasn’t a question of if, but when they would taste the full grit of the Beatitudes: Blessed are you when they persecute you. When Saint Paul wrote these verses in Acts, he knew that to continue such dangerous, saving work they had to spur each other on in hope and courage. How else could so many proclaim Truth in the face of certain persecution? Because of such undying encouragement, the majority of us can enjoy the Word of God proclaimed loud and clear 2,000 years later. Instead of hiding out at secret Masses, we have the pleasure of church bells and Sunday dresses to accompany our Eucharistic gift. But affliction and persecution still remain. We may not carry the scarlet cross of martyrdom, but we stagger under our crosses all the same. The need persists, greater than ever, to rally each other in courage when one more step is too hard, when it would be easier to crumple under the weight and wave a white flag through our vale of tears. It’s in the abyss of those moments that we must allow our Savior to hold us, cross and all, instead of fighting His helping hand. We must ask Him to rally us in courage, to show us the next step, and—in courage—allow our example of faith to in turn encourage our fellow sisters in Christ. Let’s remind each other today that in walking our little way of Calvary in courage alongside His great Passion, it can become our sure path to Heaven. Lay your afflictions at His feet as an offering and ask Him the way forward. Be still, let His encouragement overflow in you, and wait for His loving response. [bctt tweet="We must allow our Savior to hold us instead of fighting His helping hand. // @PosImperfect"] 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 sporadic writing bug hits, you can find her musings on her blog. You can find out more about her here.

I am writing this at my nine-year-old daughter's bedside in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit. The last six weeks have been rough as we went from learning she had two heart defects to this: open heart bypass surgery. But this is not the first time God has asked us to carry a heavy cross. Miscarriage, seven weeks in the NICU, various special needs for various kids, and much more besides—all of it has always coupled with our tight budget to make the difficult times even harder. Each time our pride has wanted to hide the needs we had, to buckle down and get through it on our own, but that is not how the Body of Christ works for the glory of God. Instead friends, family, acquaintances, and strangers have stepped forward to identify our needs, fill the gaps, and carry our burdens for us. Their gifts range from $1,000 to a delicious loaf of homemade bread. Both were greatly appreciated and every single gift or act of service has shone a light on what we could not do for ourselves, but also, and even more so, on how much we are loved. Maybe you have given like this, too, when a friend was in need. If you have—and no matter to whom—please allow me to say thank you. The Archangel Raphael says in today's first reading, "Prayer and fasting are good, but better than either is almsgiving accompanied by righteousness." Your kindness and generosity have been greatly appreciated and have made such a difference—a real difference—and you have honored God in the act. May He bless you abundantly in return. And then maybe some of you have had to receive like this. You know all too well how it is both beautifully humbling and incredibly hard. I do not know why God allows some of us to receive much more than we can ever give, but I do believe it is a very special gift from Him. To be made little is a great gift in the Kingdom of God. To be the stand-ins for Christ as His followers love and serve Him through their love and service to us must be a significant honor. [bctt tweet="To be made little is a great gift in the Kingdom of God. // @BonnieEngstrom"] May we, like the widow, give from our poverty—may our lips praise and our hearts glow with gratitude worthy of such love. Bonnie Engstrom is a writer, baker, speaker and homemaker. She lives with her husband and six children in central Illinois. You can find out more about her here.

I was talking to my mom recently about a foul mood that I could not shake. It lasted for days, and I was aware the whole time that there was a physical cause to my mood: dropping progesterone. I was so, so crabby. I tried to be a kind wife and friend and a patient parent, but I felt so annoyed all day long. My mom suggested to me that this mood, my desire and yet inability to shake it, and this knowledge of my own misery was a gift. The Lord, in a sense, scourged me with this mood through the hormonal cycles I experience as a woman. May his holy name be praised throughout all the ages, Because it was he who scourged me, and it is he who has had mercy on me. (Tobit 11:14-15) Perhaps PMS is a result of the Fall. Yet, even this difficulty outside my control reveals to me how utterly dependent I am on the mercy of God. He is the one who helps me in all good that I do, any act of charity I perform. And just when I think I am doing well on my own, I hit the end of my cycle, have a bad night of sleep, or simply wake up on the wrong side of the bed. When a good man is troubled, tempted, or vexed by evil thoughts, he comes more clearly than ever to realize his need of God, without whom he can do nothing good. (Saint Thomas a Kempis, The Imitation of Christ, I. 12, source.) I am like Tobit, striving to live justly, but struck blind in my own attempts to follow God’s commandments. Tobit was physically blinded after an act of charity and God brought him healing through the gall of a fish. I am spiritually blind, taking pride in my own accomplishments and striving to prove I am enough. When my self-sufficiency falls flat, His mercy is the gall that heals my soul and frees me from my blindness of heart. God, in His great mercy, allows us to fail at times in order to see more clearly how feeble we are without Him. And when He picks us back up, let us, like Tobit, give Him praise. [bctt tweet="God, in His great mercy, allows us to fail at times in order to see more clearly how feeble we are without Him."] Where in your life are you prideful of your own abilities? Have you forgotten that all you have is a gift from God, and it is He who deserves the credit? Offer Him your weakness and let Him be your strength. Susanna Spencer once studied theology and philosophy, but now happily cares for her three adorable little girls, toddler boy, and her dear husband in Saint Paul. 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.

Having served a Youth Minister for nine years, I have heard a lot of unique questions from many young people. Some of the most interesting ones have particularly been around the topic of life after death, Heaven, and Hell. I love to see what they are wrestling with in their hearts and minds. What will we look like in Heaven? Is there any way we can know for sure what Heaven will be like? Why does Hell have to exist? Are people in Heaven still married to each other? And of course, my personal favorite: "Will my dog be in Heaven?" These are universally some of the most fascinating and scary questions for people in the world today. Why? Because no matter what we believe (or don't believe) we know we have a limited, finite amount of time on Earth. And there is nothing we can do to change that reality. While our lives on Earth, we are transformed and enter into a whole new realm with Jesus Christ. Even when our physical bodies die, we are very much alive and become more fully alive. In the Gospel, the Sadducees, who don’t believe in the afterlife with rewards for the wicked or righteous, the immortality of the soul, the resurrection of the body, or the existence of angels or spirits, present a specific situation and question Jesus to throw Him off. But it doesn’t even phase Jesus. He references the Word of God to Moses as the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, who have already lived their earthly lives, but are living the afterlife of the just awaiting Christ’s atonement. Jesus says at the very end, “He is not God of the dead but of the living. You are greatly misled.“ What they fail to grasp is that for God to be the God of someone, that person must be in relationship with God. For He is not God of the dead but of the living. When we are in relationship with God, death cannot have any power over us! That is why death never has the last word and will never win. Our relationship with God is eternal and will continue on in the afterlife, for Jesus makes clear that there is one. While our physical life ends and our bodies cease to exist, we are transformed and enter into a whole new realm with Jesus Christ. Our bodies return to the dust of the earth and our souls face judgment. In the life after death we are very much alive, and when Christ comes again and creates the new Heaven and the new Earth we will be reunited with our bodies for all eternity. This resurrected blessedness is that which we believe and for which hope, when our bodies and souls are one again. Each Sunday, Catholics and many other Christians profess our faith in "the resurrection of the body" as we recite the Nicene Creed. Yet how many are fully aware of this truth and all that it implies? At Mass this Sunday, close your eyes as you pray the words of the Creed. Really listen and pray those words from the depths of your heart. Hold tight to that promise and hope of the Resurrection. Are you able to hold close to the promise of the Resurrection? [bctt tweet="Hold tight to the promise and hope of the Resurrection. // @amoderngrace"] Patty Breen is midwestern gal from the Mitten state who finds joy in running, Ignatian spirituality, and reading lots of books. She's a fulltime youth minister whose learning how to find grace in all things. She is passionate about ministry to divorced Catholics and those battling sexual addiction. You can find out more about her here.

“Repay to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God,” we hear Jesus instruct in the Gospel today. This is a familiar line from Scripture, yet what does it really mean for us? For me, the key to unlocking Jesus’ message is not so much in Jesus’ above answer, but in the way He first poses the question: “Whose image and inscription is this?” He asks. What image does this coin bear? What is inscribed upon it? We know from the book of Genesis that “God created mankind in his image; in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them” (1:27). Each of us is made in the image and likeness of God. It’s yet another one of those lines of Scripture that is so familiar—but do we really understand what this calls us to, sisters? We are called to bear God’s image to the world. We should desire to become more like God—not try to be God or to play His role in our life—but to become like Him. We should love one another the way He first loved us. We should be quick to show mercy. We should strive to grow in virtue. And we should do all these things as a gift to Him, for we belong to Him. Our modern society often promotes individualistic notions: my life belongs to me, and I have the right to do what I want with my life and with my body, when and however it pleases me. Yes, God gave us free will, but let us not forget: We are His, sisters. Our lives, our bodies are not our own. Everything we have is a gift from Him. Certainly we have a responsibility to a variety of civic duties as citizens of our country. How much more important is it, though, for us to fulfill our responsibilities as citizens of God’s Kingdom here on Earth, with every hope of being an eternal citizen of Heaven? When someone meets you, sister, whose image do they see? Let’s pray today that our sisters and brothers might clearly see God’s image when they encounter us. Let’s pray that God’s Truth is inscribed upon our hearts, that we might live in the freedom of belonging to Him. [bctt tweet="Everything we have is a gift from Him. // @inendlesssong"] Elise Howe is a devoted wife, momma, vocal artist and teacher. She currently resides in New York City, though she will always be a Midwestern gal at heart. Elise has a heart for ministry, dark chocolate (but not too dark) and coffee with a generous amount of cream + sugar. Find out more about her here.

Blessed is the man who fears the Lord. (Psalm 112:1b) Fear. Not that scary kind of fear. Not that fear that makes you cower in the corner. You are not frightened or anxious or confused. You are standing at the edge of a vast precipice. Your toes just graze the edge of that towering cliff. Your veins are filled with the humming that accompanies your quickening heart beat. You hear your heart’s thump thump THUMP in your ears. You feel that weightlessness in your stomach as if you were about to free-fall into open space. Your senses are so heightened that you notice everything in slow motion. You feel the wind brush against your cheek and tousle your hair. Then everything stops. Your skin prickles with the unknown of what lies ahead of you. But, you finally see. You know, with every single cell in your entire body, that what you are seeing in front of you is not empty space. It’s HIM. It is not empty, but open. And it is not a fall; it is a leap. Straight into His open arms. Are you ready to leap, sister? [bctt tweet="It is not a fall; it is a leap. Straight into His open arms. // @Substance_Soul"] 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.

We were packed in like sardines—sweaty, exhausted, ravenous—yet, no one really minded. It was July 2002 in Toronto, Canada, at World Youth Day with then-Pope John Paul II. Mass was starting and our pilgrimage group was fresh off the high of having been just feet away from him as the Popemobile rolled right in front of us, the Holy Father’s eyes fixated on our entire group. It's a rare Mass for a Polish pope, living in Italy, to celebrate in English in North America. The words he spoke have stayed with me nearly fifteen years later: "The world you are inheriting is a world which desperately needs a new sense of brotherhood and human solidarity. It is a world which needs to be touched and healed by the beauty and richness of God’s love. It needs witnesses to that love." And as I looked around the crowd of nearly a million pilgrims, we were all nodding our heads. Y’all. These people were from all over the globe, yet we could feel the impassioned words from the Holy Father. And we shouted, “AMEN!” There might’ve also been a few “JP2, we love you!” If I felt it at Downsview Park on a deserted aircraft manufacturing campus and Canadian military base, can you imagine how forceful that wind and the power of the Holy Spirit must’ve been all those years ago on Pentecost? How puzzled, yet emboldened those people must’ve been? In all the years since I converted to Catholicism, nothing compares to that specific moment at World Youth Day, when I saw the Holy Spirit in action. To see the universality of the Church on display was to feel God’s desire for us to receive the Holy Spirit and then go forth and preach the Gospel. I think we worry that somehow our gifts aren’t as spectacular or as useful to the New Evangelization as we hope. That’s hogwash. We each have a unique gift to share with the world. Why are you hoarding it, comparing it, filtering it? Use it, sister! Take Pope Saint John Paul II’s words to heart: it needs witnesses to that love. Get to sharing His big love with bravado, mercy, and confidence. [bctt tweet="Let's get to sharing His big love with bravado, mercy, and confidence. // @kwhitaker96"] Kathryn Whitaker is a former agricultural communications consultant turned mom and freelance graphic designer. She enjoys writing, practicing her charism of hospitality, planning killer parties, organizing/DIY projects and discovering good food trucks in Austin. She likes her tea sweet, her men handsome, and her kids obedient. Two out of three isn't bad. She's a fifth-generation Texan who found the love of her life on a blind date at Texas A&M. She and her husband, Scott, have six kids, teen to toddler. Find out more about her here.

I have a great affection for the writer of today’s Gospel. Saint John the Beloved Disciple earned said title when he gave it to himself while writing about himself in the Gospel of John. Can you imagine having the nerve (or confidence!) to call yourself the Beloved Disciple in the company of other disciples? It must have driven Saint Peter to distraction. In their humanity, we can imagine that there were many dynamics at work in the relationships between the apostles, including envy. As in today’s exchange wherein Saint Peter asks Jesus, “What about him?” I’ve fallen prey to the trap of comparison many times. It started when I was just a kid. I noticed early on that most other girls were pretty petite; I was built a little sturdier. In high school, while I had no shortage of guy friends, my girlfriends had actual boyfriends. It seemed that romance eluded me. Unfortunately, the temptation to look left or right and ask, “what about her?” or “why not me?” doesn’t stop in adolescence. When you watch a mom at Mass as she wrangles a herd of little ones but your arms remain empty, sadness may start to creep in. When a coworker gets the promotion you’ve been working for, or a younger friend announces her engagement while you long for marriage, bitterness can be pretty convincing. When we’re looking at the lives of other women, worrying and wishing that their story was ours, we’re not able to look at Jesus. But if we can train our gaze upon Him, the fears that envy and jealousy bring will calm and quiet. Jesus’ words to Saint Peter aren’t a reprimand, but a reminder: “You follow me.” There’s a reason Jesus doesn’t directly answer Saint Peter's inquiry about the Beloved Disciple: they’re not on the same path. No two stories are the same. God is telling a unique story with your life—and the lives of the sisters that surround you. There’s no need to despair; God has a big imagination and a more generous heart than we give Him credit for. How can you embrace your story? Talk to a sister or a close friend about what you can celebrate about where you are today. [bctt tweet="God is telling a unique story with your life—and the lives of those around you. // @thebethdavis"] Beth Davis is a lover of Jesus, an aunt to five beautiful humans, and a full time youth minister in Flagstaff, Arizona. She is passionate about winning the hearts of young people for Jesus through discipleship. You can find out more about her here.

“Instead they had some issues with him about their own religion, and about a certain Jesus who had died.” (Acts 25:19) Imagine, 2,000 years ago, a ragtag collection of social outcasts, zealots, and lower class riff raff running after the image of the freshly crucified Jesus of Nazareth, calling the carpenter from Nazareth “God,” and confounding the ruling authorities not because their stories were so impressive or eye catching, but because they were so weird. I can imagine this guy, Festus, a mid-level government bureaucrat scratching his head over an interred prisoner and wondering why the state is paying to keep him imprisoned when instead of bringing pertinent charges against him, his accusers keep arguing about doctrinal differences. You can almost hear the world-weary sigh when he brings it up with King Aggripa a few days into his visit to Cesarea. The men hear Saint Paul out, mildly intrigued by unmoved. And guess what? It gets Saint Paul nowhere. He isn't granted a royal pardon. The king doesn't fall to his knees and accept Jesus as his Lord and Savior. They just kind of squint at him and decide, “eh, he's a little crazy” and send him on his way to Rome, where he will preach and write and minister to the Body of Christ there during his long years of imprisonment until finally, finally he makes his appeal to Ceasar and is . . . beheaded. It's not exactly a rags-to-riches story. Too often I fall into the trap of the health and wealth gospel, seeing God as a kind of divine vending machine who will deliver the desired outcomes of my plaintive prayers if only I can put the right coinage (prayer, fasting, right living, just plain needing Him) in. It doesn't work that way. He wants mission hearts on fire with the truth, in love with humanity, and, quite frankly, oblivious to obvious signs of success. Because in this world—in this lifetime—those signs might not appear. I wonder if Saint Paul was so in love with Jesus that he didn't mind looking objectively foolish, in the eyes of the world. And I wonder if that un-self consciousness is at the heart of what it takes to become a Saint. If so, then Lord, I want more. More of Saint Paul's boldness but, possibly more importantly, more of his humility. How can I be less self-conscious and more foolish in love with the Lord? [bctt tweet="He wants mission hearts on fire with the truth and in love with humanity... // @jkuebbing"] Jenny Uebbing is a freelance writer and editor for Catholic News Agency. She lives in Denver, Colorado with her husband Dave and their small army of toddlers. You can find out more about her faith, thoughts on bioethics, and potty training failures here.

Sometimes it just feels like a lose-lose situation. You find yourself in a conversation over social media, and no matter what position you hold, there is someone there to challenge you. More often than not, we Catholics find ourselves on the countercultural side of a debate. The world wants fast and big and now and uninhibited pleasures. But our faith preaches a slow, sanctifying struggle that yields indescribable joy when we finally hand our wills over to Him. Then there is the less often, but still prevalent situation, where you find yourself butting heads with another person in our Church. Perhaps it is a nuance, an interpretation, or something big. Either way, we must remember, “Being a Christian is less about cautiously avoiding sin than about courageously and actively doing God’s will.” (Eric Metaxas on Dietrich Bonhoeffer, source.) In other words, do not worry so much about what either side is chattering about. Do not worry about being right and winning. Instead, use your life to courageously LIVE out God’s will. The Bible will tell us, there is a time for discussion and a time for action—for living faith out loud. Today is the feast of Saint Justin Martyr. He is an example of just that. Saint Justin was beheaded, along with his students, for bearing witness to Jesus Christ. How courageous is that? He certainly paid no mind to what was being said around him. In today’s First Reading, Saint Paul has a similar story: he found himself on trial and in between the Sadducees and the Pharisees. But the Lord comforted him and told Saint Paul to “take courage.” So, where are we in our faith journey? Are we cautious, afraid of sin, and battling both sides in an attempt to be right? Or are we courageous, seeking goodness, and letting the trivial pass us by? [bctt tweet="There is a time for discussion and a time for action—for living faith out loud."] Jenna Hines has a teeny army of children: Ellen, Samuel, Theodore, and Maryn and is married to a bearded fellow named Mike. She is happiest when it is sunny outside and she has an embroidery needle in her hand. You can find out more about her here.

I was on an anniversary vacation with my husband when my phone made the familiar “ding” in response to a text message. It simply read, “I know this is crazy, but want to help me plan an epic surprise?” Of course, I was all in. The husband of one of my dearest friends knew his wife needed something big for her birthday. And while the lure of jewelry or musical tickets was tempting, he knew she was craving a kindred spirit. Problem was, that kindred spirit lived three states away. I suppose that’s what they make airplanes for, you figure? When I walked in the door, she was cradling her newborn son in her arms. She was exhausted. I poked my head around the kitchen door, “Susan!” I said. But before I could get the word “surprise” out of my mouth, she was on her knees in tears. All of us were, actually. Never before have I experienced such elation at seeing someone who knew my soul, and I, hers. We both needed one another I often think about the joy Mary and Elizabeth must’ve experienced as they greeted one another—in rejoicing not only in friendship but in God’s big love. He is a good, good Father, isn’t He? God knows when we need the Holy Spirit’s power and strength delivered to us by a friend toting chicken wings and beer, with a promise of a pedicure and college football. I’m 100% sure of it. Holy and beautiful friendships with other women have opened my eyes to God’s graces. His promises. His mercy. His love. I may not have stayed three months, instead just a short three days. But, as Susan and I stood in the airport to say our goodbyes, embracing one another and crying the ugly cry, my heart was full. God doesn’t promise us an easy life, easy deliveries, easy marriages, easy kids or easy crosses, but He does promise us eternity. That, I believe, is worth making the journey. [bctt tweet="Holy and beautiful women friendships have opened my eyes to God’s graces. // @kwhitaker96"] The Visitation is one of the Joyful Mysteries of the Rosary. Try to pray those mysteries today. Start here if you need help remembering them. Kathryn Whitaker and her husband, Scott, have 6 awesome kids, teen to toddler. She is a former public relations consultant turned freelance graphic designer, party planner, organizer, and preemie advocate who hails from the Lone Star state. You can find out more about her here.

A night owl and city girl moved to a little convent in the country. She left behind a life she loved to follow the One she loved! Talk about following the Spirit and being led on an incredible adventure. I set aside a year to discern a vocation to the Consecrated Life when I was twenty-four years old. I made a daily Holy Hour of Adoration, learned how to pray the Liturgy of the Hours, received the Eucharist at daily Mass, lived with other women who were discerning, visited religious communities around the United States, and met monthly with a spiritual director. Dreams of my wedding and future family naturally filled my thoughts throughout my life, but I also felt drawn to ask Jesus if I was to be Consecrated to Him alone. While explaining my countless fears to a wise religious sister, she gently reminded me that Jesus would not force me to become a sister. Sister Helena told me, “If He is calling you to the Consecrated Life, you will run into His arms.” A few months later I received clarity during a silent retreat. With the guidance of my spiritual director, I resigned from my job, sold my car, donated my clothes, said goodbye to my cell phone, social media profiles, friends, and family and ran into His arms with freedom and joy, completely blind to what the future held. Discernment of perpetual vows in religious life is typically an eight-year process. The Evangelical Counsels of poverty, chastity, and obedience felt burdensome to me at times, but with the gift of Grace, they often became a place of deep union with Jesus who was poor, chaste, and obedient. However, after six years with my community, I was not thriving. Moving out of the convent seemed to be the best way to help me become more fully alive in Christ. During a prayer of deep gratitude for my time of formation with the sisters, my heart heard Jesus’ voice saying, “Go in peace.” So, once again, I was compelled by the Spirit to set out into the darkness. Jesus has faithfully remained by my side as we continue this mysterious course. Today, sisters, with Saint Paul, let’s pray that each one of us will have perseverance and know Jesus’ companionship as we run our races. May the ministry we have received from Jesus bear witness to the Gospel of God’s grace. [bctt tweet="May the ministry we have received from Jesus bear witness to the Gospel of God’s grace."] Where is the Spirit leading you? Are you resistant or not listening? Take some time to discern with good counsel. Rose Coleman is a contemplative in action who delights in all things beautiful. Her adventurous heart has traveled many places—from circumnavigating the globe on a ship during college to some years in the convent as a religious sister. Exuberant from her childhood, she is an elementary school teacher who learns so much from her students. You can find out more about her here.

In the world you will have trouble . . . You have mouths to feed at home, and you’ve been with the company for years, but you were just let go. You have always been healthy, and you never miss an annual check-up, but you have just received a terminal diagnosis. You are surrounded by people, and the noise is deafening, but you feel completely alone. In this world you will have trouble . . . She sat at my kitchen table under a facade that all was well, but deep inside she was broken, and I missed it. Her friends weren’t truly friends. Her fears were justified but never shared. And, the weight of her worries became too much. This world dealt her so much trouble . . . so much that she was blind to the fact that He had already conquered it. In the end, she lost her life to this anxiety. Her struggle was one many of us can relate to. This beautiful world that God created is littered with troubles that are often too much. Too much for you. Too much for me. And, even too much for the both of us to carry together. In turn, we can feel so alone. But, He assures us that there is peace in Him. Sometimes, even with the assurance of His peace, the troubles do not go away. Instead we are just given the courage to face them until we are with Him again for eternity. In this world you will have trouble . . . Our journeys may never get easier. Our problems may ebb and flow for the remainder of our days. Our burdens may feel too heavy. But, have courage! Do not let your troubles overshadow your knowledge of His presence. You do not have to conquer a thing. He has already done it for you, and in Him alone you will find peace. So, let’s open up our Bibles, pull out our rosaries, or simply kneel at His feel and let Him fill us with it. [bctt tweet="You do not have to conquer a thing. He has already done it for you."] Jesus, we trust in you. Britt Fisk is the wife of Jeremy and mother of six young kids. She spends her days living simply in the-middle-of-nowhere-New Mexico helping with the family beef cattle operation. You can find out more about her here.

Based on 7th Sunday of Easter readings One thing that surprises me almost daily about mothering teens and young adults is how much suffering it entails. In my days (and nights) of endless nursing and diapers and physical labor, I imagined that these later parenting years would be filled with lingering over lofty conversations with beautifully raised children. Don’t get me wrong, I think my big kids are splendid. But boy, are these days hard, fraught with the suffering that comes when we try to live out the call to make disciples of all nations, beginning very deliberately with the children God gave us. The lesson of the middle years of mothering is that suffering and joy are intertwined, and rarely is there a moment of joy that is not shining its glory against the shadow of its concomitant suffering. Saint Peter knew Christians share in His suffering, and he wants us to know that we can rejoice with confidence even in the unexpectedly hard times. He tells us that suffering is part of God’s purposeful plan to test us, to refine us by fire. Everything is inside out in God’s economy. Saint Peter assures us that in our most difficult moments, we will see His most glorious majesty. He writes, “If you are insulted for the name of Christ, blessed are you, for the Spirit of glory and of God rests upon you.” There will be great trials. And we can rejoice in them?! It seems ludicrous to say that we are to count our suffering as joy, except . . . God. God turns it all on end. He allows us to suffer “as a Christian.” The verses just beyond today’s reading promise that all who believe will be tested by suffering, and God will both judge us and purify us in the fires of hard times. He uses pain to purge what He hates. Do we remain faithful, proving and strengthening our faith? Do we learn more about His nature in the midst of our sorrow? We should, because there is a great promise just beyond the truth that we will suffer. “As a result, those who suffer in accord with God’s will hand their souls over to a faithful creator as they do good.”(1 Peter 4:19) [bctt tweet="Do we learn more about His nature in the midst of our sorrow? // @elizabethfoss"] What a beautiful image! The next time you are on your knees in sorrow, wondering where God is in suffering, hand your soul over to Him. Then see what happens next. Elizabeth Foss is a wife, the mother of nine, and a grandmother. She finds the cacophony of big family imperfection to be the perfect place to learn to walk in the unforced rhythms of grace. You can learn more about her here.

"Amen, amen, I say to you, whatever you ask the Father in my name He will give you.” That should be both promising and comforting but if I am completely honest, that Scripture also scares me. Why? Because to believe it and live it, I am required to humbly submit myself to my Creator in complete trust. The reality is that sometimes God answers in a way much different from what I wanted. I think back to some of the moments when I had the hardest time accepting God’s answers. Praying to find my spouse was definitely one of my top three since my heart ached with longing to live out my vocation of marriage but God was taking His own sweet time to answer. However, one of the most difficult ones was during my first miscarriage. When Brian and I found out I was pregnant after years of being unable to conceive, we were ecstatic that God finally answered our prayers. But when I started to bleed early in the pregnancy, I thought, “There’s no way. This is not happening. God would not be this cruel to us!” I pleaded with God, begged Him to spare our child but it was not meant to be. Our little one returned to his Heavenly Father, and we were left broken back on Earth. Broken. I had not felt such pain before that moment. But through the pain (and bitterness) God’s grace was poured down on us. I realized that something had to give so . . . I changed my prayer. I asked God, “Please help me to accept Your will and give me the strength to get through this and be at peace.” That prayer, He did answer. God sees the grand scheme of things, not just the situation we are focused on at one moment. He sees the entirety of our life and how each moment plays a part towards our ultimate goal – to be welcomed into His arms in Heaven. So whether you are praying for your vocation, your job, for a child, for a loved one, for healing, or that longing of your heart, take courage. God hears your prayer and knows how to best answer. [bctt tweet="Please help me to accept Your will. // @bobbi_rol"] Is there a special prayer on your heart? Is there someone in your life who needs special prayer? Take it to Our Lady and ask her to pray with you. Repeat her words, “I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.” Bobbi Rol is a wife, a mama of four and a blogger learning to love God in the midst of dishes, laundry and swinging light sabers. You can find out more about her here.