January 1, 2025 //  Solemnity of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Mother of God and the Octave Day of Christmas (Holy Day of Obligation) Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Luke 2:16-21 Reflect on the Word // “Those teens!!” I groaned, exasperated about their ability to misunderstand details of a story to the point of getting the facts wrong, which then resulted in several people upset for no reason. In hindsight, it was an insignificant situation. Yet this Story That Teens Got Wrong Again illustrates something important about listening to and sharing stories: I either get the story right, or I don’t.  The Christmas narrative is so familiar to me that my eyes glide right over the words, too fast to let my heart soak in a deeper message. It’s so familiar after forty-plus years of hearing the story that I nearly have the words to Luke’s infancy narrative memorized. Or do I? I wonder if I would get the details just right if I was in a position to proclaim the Good News to someone who’d never heard it.  Am I able to listen and tell as the shepherds did? They “made known the message that had been told them” (Luke 2:17) and “returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, just as it had been told to them” (Luke 2:20, emphasis mine). Just as it had been told to them. No more, no less.  I want to listen to Your Word, Lord, as carefully as the shepherds did—with ears of faith and a heart filled with joy, and fully attentive down to the smallest detail. When You call on me to act, I want to pay attention and do what You ask, just as the Mother of God heeded the angel when naming Jesus, eight days after His birth.  The Holy Spirit will guide us to witness as the shepherds, to listen with attentive ears and to share with truth-filled words. We, too, can give glory to God when we share all we’ve heard and seen of God’s love and goodness, just as it has been told to us. Relate to the Lord // Revisit the Nativity story in today’s Gospel. Allow the Lord to highlight something new and meditate on it today.

Take delight in the Lord, and he will grant you your heart’s requests. // Psalm 37:4 This is such a sweet verse from today’s Psalm, right? It almost reads like a fortune cookie message. It’s encouraging, tells me to take action—delight in the Lord—and promises a reward: my heart’s desire. Yes, please, and thank You!  God does not disappoint when it comes to delighting my heart. I love morning walks, when I see beautiful sunrises and low fog creeping across the corn fields down the street. My shoulders will relax, I exhale deeply, and I audibly praise God for the beauty and gift of the morning. Beyond the morning’s beauty, it can be a real challenge to delight in the Lord in the midst of everyday annoyances, suffering, and dryness in prayer. When I chose this verse to write about, I texted my friend Joann. “Talk to me about delight in the Lord,” I practically demanded. I wanted to hear from her what practicing delight looks like, to round out my admittedly slightly saccharine experience. After a deeply painful loss in her life, she’s relearning to delight in the Lord’s will. “Having [my son] safely was pure delight and healing [. . .] but unveiled areas that I wasn’t delighted in the Lord.” She shared how God continues to heal, little by little, as she surrenders her heart to Him. “He created my heart for wholeness, so of course my heart’s request (whether I know it or not) is for repair and restoration,” Joann shared.  Embracing the Lord’s will over our own is the only way to find what we seek. As Saint Augustine famously wrote in his Confessions, “Our hearts are restless till they find rest in Thee.” Not even the most brilliant sunrise, the most physically pain-free day, or the most powerful prayer will fulfill our heart’s request. Only God will satisfy. The Lord desires only what is good for us, which is what will make us holy and draw us to Heaven. Let’s pray today for the courage to surrender more to Him, to delight in His will and allow Him to make us holy.

[I]n him you also are being built together into a dwelling place of God in the Spirit. // Ephesians 2:22 I like to think I can do quite a few things on my own. In reality, I rely upon my family, friends, and strangers for nearly everything. I can’t even cook a meal without the farmers who grew the food, the truckers who delivered it, the electricians who wired my home . . . you get the idea. My spiritual life is no different. I can attend Mass, pray daily, offer up my sufferings, and still not create a perfect dwelling place in my life for God. I need Jesus’ help. I don’t even know what the “finished” me should look like, for “what we will be has not yet been revealed” (see 1 John 3:2); how would I even begin to build this dwelling place? Saint Paul wrote of the dwelling place as a temple (see 1 Corinthians 3:16). Another traditional image is that of a garden of the heart. I’ve prayed with garden imagery before; mine is a little messy and definitely a work in progress.  Lately I’ve imagined a deeper, almost hidden part of a garden, like the garden where Jesus was buried. In my prayer, I imagine my heart as a tomb. Let me explain. Beautiful old Italian Stations of the Cross line the walls of my parish. Every Sunday as I approach to receive the Precious Blood of Christ, the final Station—Jesus is Laid in the Tomb—captures my gaze. I can’t help but think of the depths of my heart being like the tomb in which Jesus’ battered and bloody body was laid.  Just as Jesus’ Resurrection brought new life, when He descends into the abyss of my heart (as Saint Elizabeth of the Trinity calls it), reaching further into the dark corners that need His Light, He brings new life to my soul. He recreates me into a beautiful dwelling place for God. I can’t see what Jesus is tending to in the depths of my heart, but I trust that He is nurturing new life. It’s only with Him that I can become holy and my heart can be a dwelling place for God.

“Simon, I have something to say to you.” “Tell me, teacher,” he said. // Luke 7:40 “Gina! Wait. I forgot to give you the homework . . .” The final school bell had rung and I was already down the steps nearing the sidewalk, arm in arm with one of my best friends. Dread and aggravation rose inside. I wanted to ignore that voice, avoiding the teacher of one of my least favorite high school classes. If I remember correctly, my friend and I kept walking, pretending not to hear.  Simon, the Pharisee in today’s Gospel, responded to his teacher much differently than I did as a teen. “Tell me, teacher” (Luke 7:40). Maybe Jesus broke the silence as they watched the woman anoint and kiss His feet (see Luke 7:38), or maybe Jesus’ voice carried over the sounds of servants serving food or other guests chatting. Either way, Simon heard the Lord, and responded. I wonder how Simon felt when Jesus directly addressed him during the meal. Perhaps a twinge of anxiety tightened in his chest, or perhaps Simon eagerly awaited words to affirm his judgy inner monologue about the woman. Did Simon respond out of politeness while continuing his interior criticisms, or was he filled with anticipation, ready to receive what Jesus had to say to him? As much as I’d love to know the ending of Simon’s story, the Gospel reveals little about whether his heart softened or whether he dug in his heels with a bitter heart when Jesus forgave the woman’s sins. My curiosity about Simon in this story turns a mirror on myself. In place of Simon’s name, today I hear my own.  Gina, I have something to tell you. Every day the Lord has something to tell me—and you. He speaks through His Word in Scripture, through people around me, even through nature. I try to listen, but I sometimes still avoid Jesus’ words, just as I avoided my Physics teacher. Some days, I tune Him out; some days I neglect my prayer time and don’t even hear His voice. Today, I’ll start over. When Jesus calls me, I’ll listen. Tell me, Teacher. Soften my heart to Your words.

They all ate and were satisfied, and they picked up the fragments left over. // Matthew 14:20  I stepped out into the courtyard with hundreds of women (perhaps some of you?) after a morning BIS retreat session, eager for fellowship during the lunch break. The sun warmed the Phoenix air perfectly, women chatted joyfully, the smell of tacos floated through the air . . . I was deeply satisfied. Those tacos still stand out in my memory as the best tacos I’ve ever eaten. As delicious as that meal was—and as uplifting as the conversations were—the satisfaction of that weekend faded away as everyday duties at home demanded my attention and my stomach growled for more food day after day. I look back at that retreat, the conversations, and even the tacos with fondness. The Lord filled me that weekend in ways I’m still unpacking, yet I’m hungering for more. My homemade tacos pale in comparison, and my soul longs for more sisterhood and more of Christ. My satisfaction was temporary, just as it was for those whom Jesus fed on the hillsides so many years ago. The Gospel doesn’t tell us what the Apostles did with the fragments they gathered, but I like to imagine they weren’t wasted. As I consider how this applies to me, I have an idea for fragments in my life—I want to gather them up and treasure them. What fragments? I’m thinking about memories of retreats and homilies, Bible verses saved in my prayer journal, friendships deepened in conversation, a stronger yearning for the Lord that keeps me seeking Him. In your prayer today, think about a time you felt deeply satisfied and loved by the Lord’s gifts, and thank Him. If you’re still hungering, ask Him to fill your heart with His peace today. Lord, thank You for Your abundant love and generosity. May I always turn to You for my needs. Amen. 

“For the Son of Man is Lord of the Sabbath.” // Matthew 12:8 “Mom,” my teenage son asked, “aren’t we supposed to rest and not work on Sunday?” I could tell he was wrestling with the morally-correctness of my request for help with yard work one Sunday afternoon. I love the time outdoors, sprucing up our yard and cooperating with the Lord to make a beautiful space around our home. While I find it rejuvenating (albeit sweaty and dirty), it doesn’t feel like work in the way doing laundry, scrubbing toilets, or managing business is work. When I answered my son’s question, I told him some agree that yard work should be avoided on Sunday. We talked about how some Christians don’t prepare any food on Sunday. In contrast, our family prepares and enjoys a brunch every Sunday morning. Some rest by reading quietly, others by hiking with friends. Volumes can be said about how best to live the sabbath and keep the Lord’s day holy. Jesus Himself met with criticism about His actions on the sabbath, as we read in today’s Gospel (see Matthew 12:1-8).  Perhaps a few questions we ought to ask ourselves are these: What holds my attention on Sunday? What or whom is my priority? Is Jesus Lord of my Sunday? I could rest, yet avoid prayer and Mass, ignoring the Lord. I could make an idol of “how” to rest, forgetting why we rest, and lose sight of the joy of living in God’s love. Or I can rejoice in the Resurrection, attend Mass, rest from normal work, and live in a way that glorifies God in my state in life (which sometimes includes a smidge of “work” for me, as a wife and mother). Like Hezekiah who cried out, “O LORD, remember how faithfully and wholeheartedly I conducted myself in your presence, doing what was pleasing to you!” (Isaiah 38:3), I want to live faithfully and wholeheartedly for Jesus.  With that in mind, I pray the Holy Spirit will convict me as needed when I need to adjust how I rest, work, and play. Let’s pray together, sister, that we’ll glorify God with our actions on Sunday and every day.

So [Peter] followed him out, not realizing that what was happening through the angel was real. // Acts 12:9  Chained, sandwiched between guards, locked in a cell guarded by more guards at the door, Peter’s situation looked grim. By normal human efforts, it would be next to impossible to peacefully walk away to freedom. Yet that is precisely what Peter did. He walked away from his chains and right out into freedom (see Acts 12:1-11).   Surely it was a miracle; we know from Acts that an angel of God helped Peter. As I read the story again, I’m marveling about another miracle I find: that Peter followed the angel without question. Without proof, understanding, or hesitation Peter obeyed the angel’s words. Imagine if he picked the chains back up, spoke to the angel, or doubted the angel. I wonder if Peter would have been free had he doubted or hesitated. I’ve been thinking about the weight of Peter’s chains (I’ve seen them in the Basilica of Saint Peter in Chains in Rome; they appeared quite heavy), how he let the angel lead him to freedom, and the great faith Peter demonstrated. My thoughts turn inward, and I consider the things that weigh me down as chains do. I wonder about how God is already at work freeing me from these chains—the fears, worries, and sins in my life—that keep me from living and loving fully.  My life has room for greater trust in God’s plan, a trust and faith that exceeds understanding. I want to walk in faith and freedom as Peter did, even when I don’t understand how God is at work. Sister, if you, too, feel the weight of chains in your life, trust that God is already making a way for you to live in greater freedom. Jesus already conquered sin; we have only to trust and follow Him.  Let us pray for each other, and step boldly each day into life with Christ. Saint Peter, pray for our faith and trust to increase! Guardian Angels, guide us and guard us!

As he who called you is holy, be holy yourselves in every aspect of your conduct, for it is written, Be holy because I am holy. // 1 Peter 1:16 I was an 8th grader in 1994, and, at least in my school, white canvas Keds were The Shoe all the girls wanted. My best friend had a pair, making my desire for these Keds more intense. It seemed like a dream to own a pair of those (impractical, impossible to keep clean) shoes.  Thirty years later, I can’t say I’ve changed much; there’s still a part of me that wants to have the “cool kid” shoes. I don’t usually buy new, trendy shoes, but there are other ways in which I do imitate others: whether I’m adopting meal prep habits, reading a recommended book, or joining a fitness or business challenge, you name it, I’ve probably tried it.  Yet no matter how many good tips and habits I imitate, I’m not content; I keep looking for more tips and tricks, ways to improve my life. No amount of “1% better” habits will make me who God made me to be. It’s not that the women I admire don’t do very good things (they do!), but Saint Peter’s direction in today’s first reading is far simpler—and greater. The call is to be holy, as Jesus is holy (see 1 Peter 1:16). Saint John of the Cross echoes Saint Peter: “First, let us have a habitual desire to imitate Christ in everything that we do” (Ascent of Mount Carmel I, 13:3).  Sister, if this seems too difficult or unrealistic—after all, who can be like Jesus?—remember how Jesus taught us to pray in the Our Father. I think Jesus gives us the key to holiness with His own words: “Thy will be done.” In all things, we can be like Jesus simply by desiring to do God’s will.  In my relationships, Lord, Thy will be done. While I work, Thy will be done. As I run my errands, Thy will be done. In my seeking You, Thy will be done. Jesus, make me holy. It is only by Your grace that I can be who the Father made me to be, holy just as You are holy. Amen.

When they heard this, they were cut to the heart, and they asked Peter and the other Apostles, “What are we to do, my brothers?” // Acts 2:37 “Oooh, that was such a good homily.” I exchanged a glance with my husband as I shared my appreciation after Mass one Sunday. I texted with a friend about the “mind-blowing” messages, too. That afternoon, I immediately went about living the same as always—unchanged by the Gospel. In contrast, the people who heard Peter’s message in the First Reading from Acts were cut to the heart. They heard Peter’s message, and rather than brush him off as “just one more wacko prophet,” avoiding his gaze as they shuffled about their daily business, they responded. Instead of returning to “business as usual” as I so often do, or distracting themselves from the uneasy feeling that their lives needed to change, they asked for more. These people allowed the truth to pierce their hearts, realizing their lives had to change. So they asked, “What are we to do?” Peter called them to repentance, and again the people allowed this invitation to penetrate their lives. They responded yes with their lives, being baptized and then guided by the Holy Spirit. Since reading how these early believers changed their lives, I’ve been looking back to see how I’ve been changed by the Resurrection and how I’ve let Jesus be Lord in my life. How am I changed by the Resurrection and continued outpouring of graces even today in 2024? Knowing that Jesus conquered death and rose in glory ought to cause our hearts to skip a beat and our minds to desire change, asking as the Jews of today’s Reading did, “What are we to do?”  Today, we continue to rejoice in Easter. Alleluia! Let today also be the day the Word cuts to your heart. Let today be the day of renewed life in your soul, because the grace of God continues to pour forth just for you.    Lord, fill my heart again with joy in Your Resurrection, and by the grace of the Holy Spirit, show me what You are asking of me in this season. Show me how to live more fully for You. Amen. 

Jesus withdrew toward the sea with his disciples. A large number of people followed from Galilee and from Judea. // Mark 3:7 There’s a joke among mothers that moms of toddlers cannot even use the bathroom in peace and quiet. Little fingers show up under the door, reaching for Mom. The pursuit doesn’t end in toddler-hood, either. My tweens and teens have frequently walked past Dad to ask me a question—one which he could easily have answered. I once answered a call while on retreat, thinking an emergency happened at home, only to have my son ask a rather unimportant question, “because Dad is working on the car." Talk about a relentless pursuit. Kids don’t seem to care or notice if it’s inconvenient for Mom. They just know it’s her they want. Imagine being even more persistent in seeking the Lord.  Imagine being so intent on Him, that you would walk miles to follow Him, to seek His healing, to hear His voice—like the people in today’s Gospel—relentless and determined to be near the only person who can fulfill our hearts’ desires. They weren’t deterred by distance or convenience, or Jesus’ apparent unavailability when He withdrew to the lake. In fact, they seem even more determined as they “were pressing upon him to touch him” and be cured (Mark 3:10). Perhaps the persistence of children is what Mark had in mind when he wrote this passage, especially as later in his Gospel he records Jesus saying, “[W]hoever does not accept the kingdom of God like a child will not enter it” (Mark 10:15). ​​I can see a parallel between my young children constantly following me and the people following after Jesus. My children haven’t been deterred by my apparent unavailability, just as the people were not deterred by Jesus’ retreat to the lake. There’s a childlike quality in this kind of pursuit of the Lord, and in pressing in until we’re near enough to touch Him and be healed by His love.  Sister, I encourage you today to press in, to keep pursuing the Lord in prayer. If you have a chance, stop by your local church and pray before His Real Presence in the tabernacle, drawing near the Lord’s loving presence.

Jesus told his disciples a parable about the necessity for them to pray always without becoming weary [ . . . ] “But when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?” // Luke 18:1, 8 Pray without ceasing. Never give up. God hears you. I grew up learning the importance of prayer, and—by way of frequent exposure in Catholic school—committing to memory myriad words from Scripture and the Saints, all summed up with “Pray without ceasing.” But if you’ve known long-lasting struggle, you may feel like I do: praying without becoming weary or giving up is much easier said than done. Take a moment to imagine the longest-running intention in your life. Maybe you’ve been praying for healing from chronic pain or for reconciliation in a strained relationship. Maybe you’re certain what God’s call is for your life, but you’re still waiting for the job offer, the loving relationship, a baby in your marriage, the welcome into a religious order.  How has your prayer changed as the days pass and the Lord’s answer is yet to come? I’ll be honest with you, sister. My prayer weakens in the waiting.  Instead of growing bolder, as I imagine the widow in today’s Gospel to be, I tend to grow complacent in prayer. The days pass, and the fervor that initially burned in my heart dwindles. But the widow in Jesus’ parable persisted. Her hunger for justice kept burning in her heart, and she boldly kept asking.  Jesus’ question about faith at the end of the parable reveals a secret to me about prayer. I think Jesus connects faith to praying without becoming weary because faith strengthens us. Faith gives us endurance. Faith in God’s promise keeps us praying. As our faith grows, so does our ability to persist in prayer, to not grow weary, to hold tight to hope that God will answer in His perfect timing.  Bring your longest-running intentions back to the Lord with renewed faith and vigor today, sister. I’m praying with you.  Lord, You desire only the good for us. Increase our faith. Give us boldness and persistence. If our hearts grow weary, may the Holy Spirit pray for and with us. Thank You for hearing us. Jesus, I trust You. Amen.

The Lord remembers his covenant forever. // Psalm 105:8 The Lord remembers. I do not (always) remember.  During the pandemic, a friend and I committed to sharing one good thing, one tiny miracle, with each other every day. Our families were in crisis, and not just because of the global shutdown. We needed a lifeline. We needed something to help us keep trusting. Recalling even the simplest good things strengthened our hope and trust. I don’t think I’m being dramatic when I suggest that “learning to remember” changed our lives.  Because I tend to be easily swayed by emotion and the drama du jour, the hard situations threatened to shake my trust in the goodness of God’s plan—and not only my trust, but also my memory of the good He had already done in my life.  Our small daily habit taught us to remember God’s goodness and His promise to work good in our lives. Since my friend and I shared good things almost daily, we could recall those moments for each other when life’s storms threatened to overwhelm. “Gina, think about what was happening last month, and what progress you have made. God is with you and has a plan.” In turn, I recalled God’s work in my friend’s life. By remembering God’s work in our past, we held more firmly to His promise for the present and future. We learned together to trust that His promise is true, and for forever. Lord, I want to be faithful to Your promise. I want to remember Your goodness, to hope against hope like Abraham (see Romans 4:18), to be a woman of joy because I know Your promise is true. Thank You for the good You have done, are doing, and will do in my life. May I never forget.

“God forbid, Lord!” [ . . . ] “Get behind me, Satan! You are an obstacle to me!” // Matthew 16:22-23 My college roommate once wrote a paper about Jesus calling Peter “Satan.” Shocking words from the Lover of our souls. I cringed thinking about Peter being equated to the Evil One. That was part of the Gospel I opted to ignore; thinking about the next verses––and about how much I don’t want to carry my cross––instead. I haven’t thought about it much since then, no matter how many times this Gospel is read at Mass. But now it’s my assigned devotion day and the Holy Spirit has a word for me that I can’t ignore any more. It’s me. I am the obstacle to God’s work in my life. The number of times I’ve cried in prayer, Lord, no. Jesus, this can’t be happening, are many. I may as well echo Peter’s words: “God forbid!” Jesus hasn’t called me out like He did to Peter, yet any time I choose my way over His, I may as well side with Satan. I once heard a priest say that we either choose God or “not God.” Every time I drag my feet to do His will or choose a task less important than what needs to be done, I choose “not God.” God cannot work in my life when I avoid His will.  When I pay more attention to news headlines and other people’s lives captured in tiny squares before I check in with God, I leave little room for His Word to take root in my life. I’ve filled my mind with noise, instead of quieting it to listen to the Holy Spirit. I am the obstacle. Until I surrender my pride and selfish will, Jesus’ action in my life is limited––by me. He won’t force me to follow Him, and He won’t force me to talk to Him. His omnipotence will never supersede my free will, precisely because He loves me so much.  Your will, not mine, Lord. Reform my heart and my desires so that I am no longer an obstacle to Your loving work in my life. I want what You want for me, Lord. Increase my trust in Your plan.

“These last ones worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us.” // Matthew 20:12 My daughter and I spent her junior year reading and discussing Dante Alighieri’s The Divine Comedy for her homeschool literature course. In this poetic trilogy, Dante journeys through hell, purgatory, and finally Heaven. He meets many souls, each sharing a lesson about how their lives led them to a final destination separated from or remaining in God’s love.  A major theme throughout is the soul’s search for God. As I think back on it, I think Dante also revealed—intentionally or not—something about the mystery of God’s love and mercy. (As an educated Catholic poet, his writing reflects his knowledge of the theology of his day and traditions of the Church.) Certain souls found God late in life, yet they (in Dante’s portrayal) progressed towards union with God quicker than others. One question my daughter and I grappled with in Dante’s poem was, “Why are some souls so close to God when much of their lives looked anything but holy?”  That question reminds me of the workers in the parable, who grumbled, “These last ones worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us” (Matthew 20:12). Apply that complaint to the spiritual life and it sounds like, “Lord, these people only turned to You in their last hours, and You have elevated them to a level of holiness like us who served You for our entire lives.” I think the answer lies in God’s abundant mercy. Mysterious to us but perfect in His plan, God distributes His mercy freely. While we still have breath, we have time to seek the Lord. He will welcome us with open arms and the fullness of His mercy. It is never too late, sister. Like the workers who wandered in for a job at day’s end and received full wages, any time we turn back to the Lord, His mercy will be complete. He will draw us nearer, as with the souls Dante met in The Divine Comedy. Today, let’s pray in gratitude for God’s abundant mercy. Holy Spirit, return our hearts to God. May we rejoice in others’ conversions and in God’s generous gift to us all.

And those he predestined he also called; and those he called he also justified; and those he justified he also glorified. // Romans 8:30 Through blurry, tear-filled eyes I read the text message from my friend: “You are exactly the mother for this child. God chose you to be her mother for a reason.” I felt anything but qualified to be facing the trials of raising teenagers. That day found me particularly down. I was exhausted, scared, and unsure about what to do for my child.  Those words from my friend changed my perspective, at least about who I was as my children’s mother. I still didn’t know what the next right step would be, or how to best meet the needs of my child in that situation. But the words affirmed a truth about my God-given role as a mother to the specific souls in my family. God chose me to raise my children, to love and serve them to the best of my ability. He knows what He is about; my part is to say yes to His purpose for my life and trust in His graces for me along the way. I took a deep breath (or twelve), washed the tear streaks from my face, and prayed, “Lord, help.”  Another frequent prayer of mine begs for His grace: “Lord, you gave these children to me. You know their needs. Give me the grace to do what it takes to get through this challenge.” He always does give the needed grace. It’s our reliance upon His grace that helps us progress in the spiritual life while we live our daily lives. His grace moves us each step of the way, from the calling to the justification (being made righteous, or holy) to the glory (sainthood!).  Sister, the Father knows the unique struggles you and I face, no matter what our specific vocations entail. His plan is perfect, and His grace is more than enough to help you through each day’s challenges towards a life of holiness.

. . . [T]hey realized that he had addressed the parable to them. So they left him and went away. // Mark 12:12It’s me. I’m the one to whom Jesus addressed the parable in today’s Gospel. You might have heard of the Ignatian style of imaginative prayer, in which you place yourself in a Bible scene. Maybe you observe as a bystander, somewhat removed from the action. Or perhaps you imagine yourself in the shoes of a key figure, among the disciples and friends of Jesus. Lately, the Holy Spirit has prompted me to imagine that I am one of the antagonists in the story. Ouch. I much prefer relating to one of the women like Martha or the woman at the well.  Today I’m stuck as a scribe. Scribes studied the Scriptures, interpreted them, and taught how to apply God’s law to daily life.  They knew the passage Jesus referenced, about the stone that the builders rejected becoming the cornerstone (see Psalm 118:22-23). I, too, have a solid knowledge of the Scriptures. I like to think of myself as a woman who stays with Jesus, keeping Him close to my heart. Every day the Lord speaks to me, and He also does to you. Most days I spend time reading Scripture, at least reading His word in the daily Mass readings.  But the hard truth is that sometimes, I’m just like the scribes who turn away, avoiding Jesus rather than turning towards Him to build my life upon Him. I’ll start my day with prayer and Scripture, often gleaning a nugget of consolation or depth of understanding I didn’t have before. No sooner have I blown out my prayer candle, the moment of consolation fades. I leave the Lord alone, forgetting His word and failing to act upon whatever He placed on my heart. I allow the daily demands of my routine to drown out the Lord, even after I experienced Jesus speaking to me in my heart. Lord, save me from wandering away from You, especially when You’ve spoken a word to me. Help me rebuild my life upon You, the cornerstone.

He went to visit them and, because he practiced the same trade, stayed with them and worked. // Acts 18:2-3 Piles of laundry, stacks of moving boxes to unpack, dinner to prepare, a spiritual life to nourish, children to raise to adulthood . . . part of me wistfully wanted the power to snap my fingers and get from here—the messy state of my life—to there—the “good part” where all things are accomplished—in an instant. Ordinary life can be so ordinary. Skipping the mundane and the challenges sounds appealing. I daydream about accomplishing grand things or having life-changing conversations . . . only to be snapped back to reality by a cry of, “Mom, I need more toilet paper!” coming from the bathroom. I sigh, bring toilet paper to the child in need, and grumble, “Why doesn’t anyone replace the toilet paper?!” Many of the small things in my life as a wife and mother seem insignificant, but every moment matters and every day weaves into God’s plan for my life. It turns out that the work of the present moment is necessary, even good and holy, when offered to the Lord in prayer. I have to believe that Saint Paul figured out this secret about the holy ordinary while he was in Corinth. Before he spent time preaching, traveling, and exchanging letters with growing Christian communities, Saint Paul spent time making tents. That time spent working side-by-side with Aquila and Priscilla made history. Perhaps his tent-making time is not as memorable as being knocked to the ground by Jesus or as inspirational as the quotable lines in his letters. Yet the writer of Acts found it significant enough to include in the story. Perhaps Saint Paul anticipated the many discussions with non-believers he would have. And maybe he felt impatient at times, waiting on the fulfillment of the Lord’s will. If he did, he didn’t let those feelings get in the way of the present moment. Today I’m looking at my duties with inspiration from Saint Paul. Pray with me today for our hearts and minds to be more fully present to the people and duties God places before us. No effort is insignificant in His eyes.