Praying used to come easily for me. I’d find a quiet nook or a shady tree and sit right down to hash out the longings of my heart with Christ. My eyes would pour over His word as praises played out of my iPod and straight into my ears. All was calm. And then it wasn’t. Because life got busy. Marriage, mortgage, school, jobs, having a child—they all contributed to the slow demise of my prayer life. Now I am lucky if I can squeak out an Our Father before my tired eyes shut for the night. But you know what? I still try. I pour out my heart to God in the shower or say a quick “thank You, Jesus” when I find the keys buried down deep at the bottom of my purse. I go for runs and sing His praise through heavy heaves and torrential sweat. I listen to Gospel-based podcasts while juggling the dishes and the dinner and the requests of a hungry three year old. "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength" (Mark 12:30). This will look very different depending upon the season of life you find yourself in. The key is to keep pursuing, to keep praying, to keep striving for a relationship with Him. I don’t know which season of life you find yourself in right now. I don’t know if you’re worn thin from all of life’s burdens or if you’re constantly racing from commitment to commitment. The key, my friends, is to keep pursuing Christ and love will flow forth in your life from there. [bctt tweet="I still try. // @iambritcal" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion If you don't have a prayer routine, now is the time to start one! Make sure you're subscribed to our daily devotions and begin each morning in praying Scripture and immersing yourself in our reflections.

First Reading: 1 Samuel 4:1-11 The Philistines gathered for an attack on Israel. Israel went out to engage them in battle and camped at Ebenezer, while the Philistines camped at Aphek. The Philistines then drew up in battle formation against Israel. After a fierce struggle Israel was defeated by the Philistines, who slew about four thousand men on the battlefield. When the troops retired to the camp, the elders of Israel said, “Why has the LORD permitted us to be defeated today by the Philistines? Let us fetch the ark of the LORD from Shiloh that it may go into battle among us and save us from the grasp of our enemies.” So the people sent to Shiloh and brought from there the ark of the LORD of hosts, who is enthroned upon the cherubim. The two sons of Eli, Hophni and Phinehas, were with the ark of God. When the ark of the LORD arrived in the camp, all Israel shouted so loudly that the earth resounded. The Philistines, hearing the noise of shouting, asked, “What can this loud shouting in the camp of the Hebrews mean?” On learning that the ark of the LORD had come into the camp, the Philistines were frightened. They said, “Gods have come to their camp.” They said also, “Woe to us! This has never happened before. Woe to us! Who can deliver us from the power of these mighty gods? These are the gods that struck the Egyptians with various plagues and with pestilence. Take courage and be manly, Philistines; otherwise you will become slaves to the Hebrews, as they were your slaves. So fight manfully!” The Philistines fought and Israel was defeated; every man fled to his own tent. It was a disastrous defeat, in which Israel lost thirty thousand foot soldiers. The ark of God was captured, and Eli’s two sons, Hophni and Phinehas, were among the dead. Responsorial Psalm: Psalm 44:10-11, 14-15, 24-25 R. Redeem us, Lord, because of your mercy. Yet now you have cast us off and put us in disgrace, and you go not forth with our armies. You have let us be driven back by our foes; those who hated us plundered us at will. R. Redeem us, Lord, because of your mercy. You made us the reproach of our neighbors, the mockery and the scorn of those around us. You made us a byword among the nations, a laughingstock among the peoples. R. Redeem us, Lord, because of your mercy. Why do you hide your face, forgetting our woe and our oppression? For our souls are bowed down to the dust, our bodies are pressed to the earth. R. Redeem us, Lord, because of your mercy. Gospel: Mark 1:40-45 A leper came to him and kneeling down begged him and said, “If you wish, you can make me clean.” Moved with pity, he stretched out his hand, touched the leper, and said to him, “I do will it. Be made clean.” The leprosy left him immediately, and he was made clean. Then, warning him sternly, he dismissed him at once. Then he said to him, “See that you tell no one anything, but go, show yourself to the priest and offer for your cleansing what Moses prescribed; that will be proof for them.” The man went away and began to publicize the whole matter. He spread the report abroad so that it was impossible for Jesus to enter a town openly. He remained outside in deserted places, and people kept coming to him from everywhere. NAB I talk. . . a lot. Just ask my husband. He knows precisely how many grey hairs I find on my head on any given day or the amount of peanut butter I globbed onto my banana this morning. It’s a curse, really (probably for him more than me—let’s be real here). But when something big happens. Oh, when something big happens, just you watch out. I will shout it from the rooftops, or type it out IN ALL CAPS WITH AN EXCESSIVE AMOUNT OF EXCLAMATION MARKS FOR ALL TO SEE!!!!!!!!!! Because when something big happens, I share it. It’s like it’s my duty as a human being or something. This is precisely why the story about the leper has always resonated with me. I suppose it’s because I see so much of myself in him. Can’t we all, though? I mean, just take a look at Facebook. But I’m always left stumped by Jesus, because why would He want this beautiful miracle kept secret? Didn’t He want people to know Him as the Messiah? I suppose this is something we’ll never fully know, but I like to imagine. I imagine that when He stretched out His hand to touch the leper, He did it solely because of His intense love for that man—not for crowds, or notoriety, or fame. I imagine the compassion in His eyes and the care in His heart. I imagine the intimacy of that moment—The Creator recreating His created. Sometimes I think there are so many intimate moments we miss with God because of our need to immediately share them with others. The quiet sunsets we recycle through Instagram filters, the exhilarating crest of that wave we had to take a selfie in front of—sometimes those moments are meant for you. Only you. From Him. With love. [bctt tweet="Sometimes moments are meant for you. Only you. From Him. With love."] The next time you feel the urge to Instagram or tweet a moment, stop and take a few minutes with God. Just you and Him. photo by Jacqueline Kayleigh Brittany Calavitta is an enthusiastic advocate for a good book, strong coffee, and a hopeful heart. She currently resides in Irvine, California with her hipster husband and overweight Chihuahua. You can find out more about her here.

Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe First Reading: Revelation 11:19A; 12:1-6, 10 God’s temple in heaven was opened, and the ark of his covenant could be seen in the temple. A great sign appeared in the sky, a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars. She was with child and wailed aloud in pain as she labored to give birth. Then another sign appeared in the sky; it was a huge red dragon, with seven heads and ten horns, and on its heads were seven diadems. Its tail swept away a third of the stars in the sky and hurled them down to the earth. Then the dragon stood before the woman about to give birth, to devour her child when she gave birth. She gave birth to a son, a male child, destined to rule all the nations with an iron rod. Her child was caught up to God and his throne. The woman herself fled into the desert where she had a place prepared by God. Then I heard a loud voice in heaven say: “Now have salvation and power come, and the Kingdom of our God and the authority of his Anointed.” Responsorial Psalm: Judith 13:18BCDE, 19 R. You are the highest honor of our race. Blessed are you, daughter, by the Most High God, above all the women on earth; and blessed be the LORD God, the creator of heaven and earth. R. You are the highest honor of our race. Your deed of hope will never be forgotten by those who tell of the might of God. R. You are the highest honor of our race. Gospel: Luke 1:26-38 The angel Gabriel was sent from God to a town of Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin betrothed to a man named Joseph, of the house of David, and the virgin’s name was Mary. And coming to her, he said, “Hail, full of grace! The Lord is with you.” But she was greatly troubled at what was said and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. Then the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. Behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall name him Jesus. He will be great and will be called Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give him the throne of David his father, and he will rule over the house of Jacob forever, and of his Kingdom there will be no end.” But Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I have no relations with a man?” And the angel said to her in reply, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. Therefore the child to be born will be called holy, the Son of God. And behold, Elizabeth, your relative, has also conceived a son in her old age, and this is the sixth month for her who was called barren; for nothing will be impossible for God.” Mary said, “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her. NAB “For nothing will be impossible for God.” On those good days, I believe it. My heart soars with confidence in Him. . . in hope. But those bad days. . . oh, those bad days will wreck you. Because those bad days will remind you. They will remind you that the impossible still seems, well, impossible. So much of me aches with wistful desire when I read today’s Gospel. I ache for the hope in it, for the beauty, for the fulfillment. I suppose it’s because part of me perpetually lives in those bad days, tangled tightly in a web of seemingly impossible circumstances. Day in and day out, I reach for those good days, for hope; but these arms of mine, they fall short. . . often. And it makes me wonder about Elizabeth, because I know her specific pain. I live her pain—the cyclical sorrow, the crushing defeats. I, too, am called barren, and I know how much it hurts. I wonder about her bouts with doubt or her tear-soaked pillows, her good days, and her bad days. I wonder if she gave up and screamed at the sky in a frustrated fury. I can only guess that her heart hurt like mine, because that’s what infertility does. It knocks the wind right out of you over and over again. But nothing is impossible for God, is it? It’s a scary thought, really. Because the moment you fully allow yourself to become consumed with that belief is the very moment you allow yourself to become vulnerable to disappointment. But the truth of the matter is that we never saw Elizabeth in the depths of her sorrow, when overcoming the impossible seemed so very, very. . . impossible. She must have had those bad days, too, when hope seemed an insurmountable task. [bctt tweet="Are you in the midst of one of those bad days when hope is an arduous undertaking?"] But there it is, right there in today’s reading—the impossible made possible. Isn’t it a beautiful reminder? So, if you’re in the midst of one of those bad days when hope is an arduous undertaking, seek out the vulnerability hope brings and remember that “nothing will be impossible for God.” photo credit Brittany Calavitta is an enthusiastic advocate for a good book, strong coffee, and a hopeful heart. She currently resides in Irvine, California with her hipster husband and overweight Chihuahua. You can find out more about her here.