For most of my life, I didn't want to hear about being a temple of the Holy Spirit. That tired line repeated by speakers at high school and young adult retreats sounded cliched and boring. I wasn't a temple; I was a young woman. I didn't want to live "a dull, boring life of contemplation"—the only thing I could imagine for a "holy, temple of God" life, and I certainly wasn't thrilled with the idea of Jesus "tossing the tables" in my heart. It's not as though my sins were that awful (cue the need for humility and a closer look at who I was versus who I am called to be). Was Jesus even like that?! I wondered. I could not wrap my mind around the image of an angry Jesus, making a whip and driving people out of the temple. Zeal indeed! Table-tossing Jesus wasn't my Jesus; that Jesus was crazy. But this table-tossing Jesus is the same Jesus I love, the One Who loved me before I even existed and loves you too. His zeal isn't from an angry rampage, it's from a love desiring a rightly-ordered respect for His Father's house, the temple. And what does the ancient temple have to do with me? By virtue of my Baptism, the Spirit of God dwells in me. I am a temple of God, as Saint Paul told the Corinthians in 1 Corinthians 3:16. And this is why Jesus' zeal isn't crazy. His zeal is for my heart. It is the burning love of His Sacred Heart, a love so strong and pure that He wants not to create chaos, but to bring order to my life by ridding it of what tears me away from Him. He wants holiness and a life of joy for me. Sister, this is your reality, too. You are beautifully fashioned and loved by God. He desires your heart. Pray today for a greater awareness of the Holy Spirit in your life and offer your day for His glory. Let Him draw you close and make you holy. [bctt tweet="Let Him draw you close and make you holy. // Gina Fensterer" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

I am a modern day Jonah. Before you spit out your morning drink, sputtering about how ridiculous a comparison that is, hear me out. Jonah, after ranting and complaining to the Lord about Nineveh, built himself a hut to watch events unfold. If you've ever seen the GIF of Michael Jackson eating popcorn and watching a movie, that's how I imagine Jonah. So consumed with anger, Jonah seemed to want quick, drastic changes in every way—except for in his own heart. Like Jonah I also rant about the world's problems, then find myself a front-row "seat" scrolling social media to watch drama unfold on current hot topics. Even worse, I've taken the ranting to my loved ones, bemoaning all that needs changing, while neglecting to bring any of it to prayer. The sad reality is I've expected and demanded change in every way, except in my own heart. Sisters, the Lord is ever merciful and so gracious. He knows how and why I'm angry. He waits patiently to hear from me—even about my frustrations—just as He heard Jonah's discontented prayer. And He waits with His mercy to change my heart. As I've noticed my tendency to rant and watch for drama, I've seen discontentment taking root in my heart. It's a far cry from what I long for. I don't want to be angry and indignant like Jonah. There is hope, and it's in the Word. I can learn to pray as the disciples did. I can turn to the Scriptures daily, instead of doom-scrolling and ranting. This way never fails. When I quiet myself in His presence and His word, He transforms my life with His mercy and kindness (see Psalm 86:5). If you too are feeling stuck scrolling the news and unsure what or how to pray, read the Psalms and Gospel again today. Ask the Lord to show His mercy and teach you to pray. [bctt tweet="There is hope, and it's in the Word. // Gina Fensterer" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

I wonder if the woman from the Gospel (Matthew 9:18-26) remembers the heat of the sun, the noise of the crowd, the feel of Jesus' cloak, or the love in His eyes. Maybe the light streamed through the bedroom window onto Jesus' face when the little girl arose, and even into her old age she remembered His eyes every time the morning light glowed in her window. I wonder if these women from the Gospel looked back years later and understood that these moments in their lives were like a gateway to Heaven. In the Old Testament reading, Jacob's dream revealed truths about God and God's will for him (Genesis 28:10-22). Imagine the scene again with me. Jacob laid down for what he probably expected to be an average night of sleep outdoors. When he awoke in wonder to the realization that the Lord had spoken to him in that spot, Jacob declared it a gateway to Heaven. Perhaps each time we encounter the Lord—in major and minor moments—we find our own gateway to Heaven. Even in events that may seem insignificant to us, the Lord can and will use anything to draw us to Him. When the Lord reveals His will, heals illness, forgives sins, mends hearts, and renews His promises, He shows us the path to Heaven. Those moments are gateways, like Jacob's. They are where our journey to the Lord begins, or where we find our way again. They are like billboards declaring His invitation to embrace the love of His heart because of what He's doing. I hold places and moments like this in my memory, like seeing Saint John Paul II from a few yards away as the sun set in Paris, or a particular hill in a California neighborhood where I started to make sense of my life journey while on a long run. Sister, I encourage to pray and journal about any moments like these you remember. Ask the Holy Spirit to show you where God has worked in your life and is working still. Ask to hear His voice calling you to take another step towards Him and Heaven. [bctt tweet="Take another step towards Him. // Gina Fensterer" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion  

I've prayed quite a few "why" prayers lately. Lord, why is my daughter suffering? Why did that relationship hurt so badly? Why must I struggle to find a community of friends? Please, Jesus, answer me. I'm trying to trust in Your goodness, Lord. It's hard when I don't understand and can't see the path ahead. Sister, you're not alone when you cry out "why?" You are never wrong, a "bad Catholic," or a terrible woman if you struggle with doubt, anxiety, and trust. Those are common human experiences and should not keep you from approaching the Lord in prayer. Asking "why" does not intimidate or upset the Lord. Even His Mother asked Jesus why when she asked, "Son, why have you done this to us?" (Luke 2:48) Mary poured out her heart to Jesus, letting Him know of her anxiety. Her most Immaculate Heart knew anxiety and sought understanding. This brings me some consolation; I am not alone in feeling anxiety and wondering "why." Not all my prayers have been answered clearly. Mary's response to Jesus' answer shows me what I can do in times of uncertainty. She went home and took care of her duties by loving Jesus and Saint Joseph. She "kept all these things in her heart" (Luke 2:51). I am renewing my efforts to trust, persevere in my ordinary duties, and ponder His Word and work in my life. Today, ask Him "why." Seek His way. Let your "why" begin a sincere prayer, revealing your heart to the Lord Who longs for you to give Him your cares and anxieties. Immaculate Heart of Mary, pray for us. [bctt tweet="Seek His way. // Gina Fensterer" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion  

My heart raced as I tapped the return key to publish a post on social media. It shouldn't be this way, I thought. It shouldn't be so nerve-wracking to invite people to stand up for {the unborn, religious freedom, insert cause here}. And yet, here we are, I sigh while making the Sign of the Cross in anticipation of backlash. "If the world hates you, realize that it hated me first," whispers Jesus to my heart (from John 15:18). Not exactly the consolation I wanted. Lord, You know I hate confrontation. I want to stick with things that make people smile . . . not challenge them. At first the comments were respectful. Then came the challenge not only to the article, but to me personally. I did my best to respond with charity and questions to encourage a dialogue. Insults came back at me. Lord . . . why? I continued a silent conversation with Jesus as my heart ached and my mind criticized my decision to share that post. Jesus' response was the same: a quiet reminder that He was hated first. I don't feel better. I don't feel strengthened to dust myself off and rejoin the battle for truth and goodness. Instead, I look back at the previous failures to defend Christ, the failed attempts to start small fellowship groups, the closed doors in my life as I try to be a disciple. It all looks sad and discouraging. It's hard to know why the Spirit moves in some places and doesn't allow us into others. Even Saint Paul found his way blocked from time to time (see Acts 16:1-10). But the closed doors weren't the end of the story for Saint Paul's ministry, nor was the hate from the world the end of the story for Jesus. Sisters, that is encouraging. The story doesn't end with rejection or because of our weakness. The Holy Spirit continues to work through us. Pray with me today to see the open doors and take courage in sharing Jesus' love and truth. Where is He reminding you of this in your life today? [bctt tweet="Take courage. // Gina Fenseterer" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Holy Spirit, breath over me the graces of courage and fortitude.  

"It's not real until the moving truck pulls away from the empty house," I joke with other military wives. I have experienced the agony of plans and lives turned upside-down because of deployments, unexpected job changes, and family crises taking hold of what "should have been." I have stopped planning and believing things will "go a certain way." And I have become the woman who scoffs, "I'll believe it when I see it." So when I receive good news, or the so-called promise of a long-awaited dream soon to be realized, I want double and triple confirmation. I need to hear the story told over and over, see the photos, hold the babies so I can experience the miracle of life. I probably would have fit right in with the crowd Saint Peter addressed. It's like he's looking right at me when he repeats, "[L]isten to my words . . . hear these words . . . God raised this Jesus; of this we are all witnesses . . . see and hear" (Acts 2:14, 22, 32, 33). Drawing upon the stories of David and the prophet's promises in the Acts of the Apostles, our reading today, Saint Peter called on the people to remember their past and to interpret their present experience with the truth of God's work in their lives. It's no different for me. I'm invited to pay attention to how God has revealed Himself in the past and the multiple ways I can know and deepen my faith in His saving action now. The Lord knows I've become a skeptic. He knows I struggle to believe in His promises for a future of hope when there's so much pain and confusion around me. I think He planned for me to stumble on this reading, to be reminded that His work in my life gives meaning to my present moment. Turn to the Lord and ask Him to open your eyes and ears to His promises again today. Let Him remind you of His works in your life when doubts creep in. Proclaim His love and Resurrection just as Saint Peter and Saint Mary Magdalene did. listen to today’s devotion [bctt tweet="Proclaim His love and Resurrection. // Gina Fensterer " username="blessedisshe__"] Lord Jesus, give me courage to proclaim You.  

Even though I was heartbroken a year ago when our local churches stopped offering public Masses, I was filled with gratitude that at least the doors were still open. I was free to enter my beloved church and pray before the Lord in the tabernacle. Many were not so fortunate; I listened with sadness as the months dragged on and my friends were still unable to enter their churches. I wondered then, and I still do: what will I do if ever confronted by more barriers to my faith and worship? The more I surrender to Jesus and try to live every aspect of my life according to His will, the more people notice. I wonder if I will be confident when confronted by strangers or neighbors about my faith, my Sunday worship, my life choices that set me apart from the status quo. What if religious persecution one day threatens my freedom to worship, or even my life, as it does to so many of our sisters in Christ around the world? I long for the convictions of the men threatened with fire in today's reading from Daniel 3:14-20. If faced with questions about (or attacks on) my faith, I want to be strong in the truth and trust in the Lord. I want to have the confidence in faith that sets me free from fearing what others think. Sister, pray with me for this holy courage. Pray with me for religious freedoms around the world. Lord, help us to daily remain in Your Word, to know the truth and grow as Your disciples (John 8:32). Strengthen us with Your Word. When confrontation comes (can any of us expect to slip quietly through life without having to defend her faith?), give us assurance that You are with us as we witness to You. You promise that the truth will set us free. Jesus, we trust in You. We trust You will be with us in all things and will give us courage as Your disciples. Blessed are You, Jesus, Word of God and hope of Christians. Amen. listen to today’s devotion [bctt tweet="Jesus, we trust in You. // Gina Fensterer" username="blessedisshe__"] Pray with our prayer today slowly and thoughtfully.  

Jesus, How do You shepherd all these people? You knew well Your mission from the Father and never wavered in loving. You submitted fully to the Father's will and gave us all. You never stop loving us now. "Tend the flock of God in your midst," Saint Peter writes in 1 Peter 5:2. I know he wrote that to other leaders in the early Christian community, but I feel like he's speaking encouragement to me about my family. Like he's reminding me about the mission You have for me. What can I do to imitate You, the Good Shepherd, more in my life? I'm sitting here struggling with my little flock. Struggling to be patient and gentle. Struggling with my willingness to do the hard work of each day, the tedious and mundane work, the necessary work. How would You have me love my family better and also serve my community? In what unique way have You called me to reflect Your image and glory in my life? To be like You, Jesus, to know You and do Your will, that is what I desire. Jesus, speak Your will to me again. Remind me who You called me to be. And please give me courage to embrace my Imago Dei and live well the unique mission You have for me. Amen. Sister, while I prayed, I reflected on Jesus' life and words. The answers came: I can tend my flock by living the works of mercy, by saying "Thy will be done" throughout my days, and offering them to the Father. I also recalled that today is the feast of the Chair of Saint Peter. My heart is moved to pray for those selected to be pope, cardinals, bishops, and priests so they can be holy and courageous, wholly dedicated to following Christ while serving the Church. Father, draw our men to Your heart so they may be holy leaders! [bctt tweet="Remind me who You called me to be. // Gina Fensterer" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion If you don't have a devotion to Saint Peter, learn more about him here.  

"Girl, you've been on heart. I'm praying for you. Would love to catch up . . . call if you are free . . . I'm missing you." The text came after I laid part of my heart bare, sharing some hard circumstances causing pain and grief in my life. She invited me to connect, to find support in her friendship. I did call her back, realizing that through her, Jesus was extending His love. I'm too often guilty of stubborn independence and self-reliant "I can do it all, myself" tendencies. It's certainly not a sin to be independent, but pride in "me" can twist my strengths into self-absorbed ugliness. It's when I live the lies that "I can do this on my own," or "I don't want to be vulnerable to ask for help," or "I can tough it out" that I stumble, fall, and even fail. Lies keep me in fear and doubt. Fear of showing my withered heart, battered by life and shriveled by sin. Doubt that anyone can help. Doubt that Jesus answers my prayers. Even so, Jesus never fails to call out to me. He waits for me, so He can dispel the lies and renew me. "Come up here . . . stretch out your hand" (Mark 3:1-6). I crave the wholeness and life He promises. His offer requires that I reveal the brokenness and the pain. And it means I must confront the lies. To find restoration from Jesus, I need to stretch out my hand, revealing my battered heart so in need of His mercy. "Come up here," Jesus beckons. He already knows my pain and has seen my sin. He knows what needs restoring, just as He knew about the man's withered hand. He wants me to accept His life. Sister, sometimes I don't see or hear Jesus. But He is there. He reaches out me through friends. Sometimes He's urging me towards the confessional for forgiveness. Always, He waits for me to respond to His healing touch. [bctt tweet="He knows what needs restoring. // Gina Fensterer" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Jesus, I trust in You. Let me be restored in You.

Once upon a time, my favorite book whisked me away on a new adventure each time I read it. I read that "Choose Your Own Adventure" story over and over, choosing every possible path over mountains, along trails, through the woods. I still love stories. Stories of hope, of love, of triumph. Stories to dispel fear of darkness and imagined monsters. More than ever in my life, now is when I need stories of hope to show me that light does and will break through the darkness. After a long global health crisis, while carrying some of the most splintery crosses in my life, I feel the weight of darkness. Darkness which threatens to overwhelm me. So today I'm filled with joy to re-read a story from my favorite Gospel. It offers the greatest story of hope of all time, because the Word is the Light which cannot be overcome (John 1:5). This light is Jesus Who became human in the Incarnation and walked among us. Still today, Christmas 2020, Jesus offers His very life so that you and I can accept Him and become children of God through Baptism. This is the greatest "choose your own adventure" story. "Life with Christ is a great adventure," Pope Saint John Paul II is quoted as having said. The adventure is allowing Jesus to shine into the darkest crevices of my heart, into my daily living, into my struggles with temptation and sin. He brings grace and life, continuing to write a story of hope and salvation in my life. That's my favorite story: the triumph of God's promise. The Light shines in the darkness, sisters, and the darkness has not overcome it. [bctt tweet="He brings grace and life, continuing to write a story of hope and salvation in my life. // Gina Fensterer" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion May Baby Jesus' light shine in your life today!

I’m a sucker for a good training program. It can be a challenge to eat healthier, a few weeks to a decluttered home, a small business course, or a tailored plan for improving my running. I’ve completed only a handful of these plans. Distraction kicks in, and I quit. Sometimes the plan didn’t meet my expectations, so I put less effort in. So many of these alleged "this will change your life!" plans have let me down. To be fair, not every plan lets me down. I recently finished my third half-marathon race, training using the same plan I started with years ago. It's good enough to repeat! Today is All Saints' Day. It's an incredible solemnity in our Catholic tradition. We celebrate the holy men and women whose exemplary lives show their love for Christ so profoundly that they are proclaimed Saints. In them, we recognize heroic sanctity and profound union with Christ. I want to be a Saint. As a girl, I had no idea how to be a Saint, even with my strong Catholic upbringing. One thing is for sure, I knew many Saints were martyrs, and I did not want to be a martyr. How else could I become a Saint? Jesus taught the crowds how when He gave them the Beatitudes in today's Gospel, Matthew 5:1-12. Try reading the Beatitudes again. This time read as though they're part of a training plan: the plan to reach sainthood and the ways by which to shape our hearts and live our days, that we may be among the ones who survive the time of great distress (see Revelation 7:14). Each "blessed are they" statement reminds me how to live with heroic virtue and sanctity. We will face distressing times in our lives; in fact, you may already have. Jesus asks us to pick up our cross and follow Him. He longs to see us in Heaven to be counted among the holy ones. And He shows us the way, with His own "training plan" to live by: the Beatitudes. [bctt tweet="He shows us the way. // Gina Fensterer" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Learn more context about the Beatitudes today.

Tears slowly rolled down my face, catching me off-guard. It'd been over seventeen years since my grandmother died; I wasn't prepared for that wave of grief. I felt a longing for her wisdom, sadness for what I missed. Grandma suffered from Alzheimer's and had not had the chance to pass on nuggets of wisdom gained in her life. Yet the Lord knew that she did not need words. Her living witness in two areas would etch into my heart, speaking volumes to me. She often said, "It is what it is," as if to shrug off worry. It seemed she took life in stride, more like Mary than Martha (Luke 10:38-42). I'd be willing to bet that my grandmother's acceptance of challenges and joys alike grew through constant prayer. She always had a rosary with her; I once found one under her pillow. This curious—seemingly "old fashioned"—habit of hers stuck with me. Now I'm the woman with a rosary and prayer book always near, in my truck, on my dresser, in my purse, even under my bed pillow. I find myself clutching my rosary through the night, seeking consolation and hope. From all eternity, the Father knew who I would be, and what examples of surrender and faith I would need. "With all my ways you are familiar" (Psalm 139:3). He knew that my grandmother's strength in prayer and willing surrender to each day would guide me in my adult life. And while as a girl I wondered at the rosary in her bed, as a grown woman I now see her surrender in faith and trust to lay all the cares of the day at His feet even into the darkest hours. My grandmother's life taught me any time is the right time to pray. I gained her silent witness to choose the better part. I gained an outlook of surrender to God's grace in every moment, made possible by turning to Him in all things and at any hour. [bctt tweet="Turn to Him. // Gina Fensterer" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Learn more about how to cultivate the Rosary habit.

I dreaded conditioning season as a high school athlete. Equally awful was sitting the bench, and I sat the bench for almost an entire season of volleyball my freshman year. Yup, I was that kind of athlete. Enjoyed the game, dreamed of being stronger and contributing to the team, but hated the training. If you're an athlete, you know how important training is. Maybe you're an artist or a musician. Whatever your work or hobby, training and discipline matter in order to improve or reach a goal. After my fifth baby's birth, I started running. At the time, I knew very little about training. Running is running, isn't it? I didn't experience the benefits of training until a few years ago when a friend coached me for a 10K race. During that season, Saint Paul's words—like those in today's reading (1 Corinthians 9:24-27)—resonated deep in my soul. He became my spiritual running coach. After miles and hours of training runs, my race came. The "glory story" wasn't in a first, second, or even third place win (I didn't). It was in learning discipline and perseverance and in allowing the transformation to shape the rest of my life. My spiritual life is what it is today because of my race training. With Saint Paul's words in my mind as I ran, I realized that the same kind of athletic discipline can shape my prayer life. "Every athlete exercises discipline in every way. They do it to win a perishable crown, but we an imperishable one" (1 Corinthians 9:25). I learned to show up in prayer, even when I don't feel like it. I learned to work hard for a goal, even if no one notices. "Discipline in every way" applies to how I care for my family, my health, my home, and how I do my work. I learned that effort counts and nothing is wasted with the Lord. And winning that crown? That's the whole goal of this life—holiness and life with Christ. Winning is following the path laid by Christ. Run so as to win, sister. I'm cheering you on. listen to today’s devotion [bctt tweet="Winning is following the path laid by Christ. // Gina Fensterer" username="blessedisshe__"] Let's re-read today's reading and think about how it can apply to your life.

Saint John the Baptist never seemed like a Saint for me. How does a married woman and mother find connection with someone like John the Baptist? I don't want to eat grasshoppers, thankyouverymuch. And as for having the courage and conviction to speak out about moral issues to the most powerful leader in the region, I'm sorely lacking. Good ol' John the Baptist isn't "my" type of saint-friend. Until recently. John the Baptist knew who he was, and Whose he was. He knew his calling: to proclaim the Truth and point to Jesus. I imagine him speaking boldly and with confidence, part of his charism which drew crowds. John wasn't deterred by threat of imprisonment or even death; he knew the Truth, and his joy was complete in the Lord. I'm convinced he lived so boldly because he focused on the Lord and relied upon His grace. John the Baptist didn't doubt God or his relationship with God. He simply lived for God. This knowledge is what I think Saint Paul means when he talks about "boasting in the Lord" (1 Corinthians 1:31). Rather than a puffed-up self-absorbed pride, this boasting is confidence in the Lord. It is giving credit to the Lord for dependence upon Him. It is recognizing and praising the Lord for His grace at work in my life. It dawned on me that I, too, boast in the Lord. When people ask me how I "do it all" as a wife and mother of six children, the only response I have ever offered is, "By the grace of God, one day at a time." His grace is the only way I can do anything. Now I look to Saint John the Baptist as a mentor of sorts. I also want to simply live for God. I want to be so dependent upon Him that I'm bold in doing His will. I want to be confident in seeking and speaking truth. And since I want this for my children as well, Saint John the Baptist is my newest intercessor for them. Saint John the Baptist, pray for us! listen to today’s devotion [bctt tweet="His grace is the only way I can do anything. // Gina Fensterer" username="blessedisshe__"] Pray along with the Joyful Mysteries of the Rosary and pause at the Visitation to celebrate John the Baptist and Jesus' special relationship!

Pain is awful. I've suffered through sickness, surgery, unmedicated labor, and natural childbirth. Not so long ago, even the pain from a measly splinter in my hand left me feeling faint and queasy. I feel pathetically weak when it comes to enduring pain. It's no surprise then that Jesus' words in today's Gospel, Matthew 10:37-39, make me uneasy. Taking up my cross and losing my life aren't high on my life's "bucket list." I've never wanted to be a martyr. No part of the fearlessness, the suffering offered to Christ, the "choosing joy in the face of death" excites me. Instead, my pulse quickens and my stomach twists in knots. I feel anxiety instead of holy courage. I cannot imagine being selfless enough to surrender everything, brave enough to look death in the face and choose Christ anyway, in love with the Lord enough to give up anything He asked of me. I think I'm too weak, too attached, too cowardly to suffer and lose my life for His sake. It's the paradox of the cross and life with Christ: to fully live I must die. To gain everything, I must give it all up. To follow Him, I must leave behind all that I think gives me life in order to find Him Who is Life. But I do love the Lord, and I want to follow Him. When I choose trust over fear, surrender over grasping to things less magnificent than Jesus, selflessness over selfishness, I've chosen the way of the cross. When I trust Him with my life, I find it's not so awful anymore to take up my daily cross. listen to today’s devotion [bctt tweet="Find Him Who is Life. // Gina Fensterer" username="blessedisshe__"] Lord, please forgive me for the times I haven't surrendered to You, and give me courage to stay with You.

Lord, attend to my sighing—do You hear me? I have so much weighing on my heart. This {day/event/broken relationship} doesn’t make sense. Injustices in the world, unfairness in our family experiences, confusing and distressing situations that strain our relationships—none of it makes sense. I try to do Your will, and my loved ones strive to do what we have learned from You, but still we struggle. Will You be our peace? Be with us. “Lord, listen to my groaning" (Psalm 5). Jesus, King of my heart, hear my prayer. I am worn down. Do you hear me? I sigh with exhaustion and grief. Come, Jesus, make haste to help me. I need You. Lord, attend to my sighing. Over and over I plead with You. At times I prayed on my knees. Lord, today again my soul cries out to You. I wait for Your answer, for Your help. Jesus, turn Your ear towards my plea. My weary heart is restless. My mind wanders. It is You who I seek. You alone are all that I need. You are goodness and truth. Jesus, thank You for all that is good in my life. I trust in Your promise because I know You have been my rock and refuge in the past. Come, Lord Jesus. Be with me now. While I wait for Your clear answer, be present to me. In Your presence is my rest and fullness of joy. Jesus, attend to my sighing. [bctt tweet="Be with us. // Gina Fensterer" username="blessedisshe__"] Sister, let us trust in His listening to our pains today.