August 15, 2026 // Solemnity of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Psalm: Psalm 45:10, 11, 12, 16 Reflect on the Word // My longtime-favorite statue sits in a lovely stone chapel in West Point, NY.  It’s of our Lady, draped head to toe in glorious gold, an intricate golden crown resting regally atop her head. She cradles a delicate gold scepter in her right hand and the Child Jesus in her left, dainty gold slippers on her feet. Lavish as it may sound, this statue is not ostentatious or overdone. It’s elegant and graceful enough to make the heart ache with both longing and satisfaction.  Perhaps this is why today’s Psalm is one of my favorites: “The queen stands at your right hand, arrayed in gold” (Psalm 45:10). I distinctly know and love this Queen in all her beauty, tenderness, and purity. Perhaps it’s also why I’ve long been drawn to gold: gold jewelry, gold accents throughout my home, the stunning golden tabernacle at my parish. I’ve spent hours gazing upon it, and I’m deeply struck whenever I reflect on the truth that traditionally, tabernacles are created to be even more beautiful inside than out.  This began with the Old Testament Ark of the Covenant—covered in pure hammered gold—to house the presence of God, and was powerfully fulfilled in the New Testament through our Lady, the New Ark of the Covenant, created to carry the incarnate presence of Jesus to us. Her outward beauty, reflected in my favorite statue and Psalm, is but the dimmest glimpse of her infinite inner beauty and purity as the most glorious living tabernacle to ever exist. This purity, the sole purpose of which was to honor our Savior, made her too beautiful to ever see corruption; at the end of her earthly life God assumed (brought) her, body and soul, into heaven.  We, too, are temples of the Lord; living tabernacles for His Majesty.  We, too, are invited to embrace this transcendent beauty of our Lady. One that understands external beauty as a gift to honor our Creator, and one that strives to become more beautiful inside than out: through the help of grace, adorning ourselves with ever greater virtue and love, allowing ourselves to become eternally stunning, everlasting tabernacles for Almighty God.  Relate to the Lord // Look upon a favorite image or statue of our Lady today. Contemplate her beauty.

July 15, 2026 // Memorial of Saint Bonaventure, Bishop and Doctor of the Church Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 11:25-27  Reflect on the Word //  I was deep in prayer with Jesus in my holy imagination, sitting with Him by a tranquil stream, when I realized I had a request for God the Father. Jesus encouraged me to go and ask immediately. So we set out, embarking on a journey to the Father’s house. I pictured how it would go: finding the grandeur of a heavenly castle, the Creator of the Universe on His glorious throne, and little girl me in a formal audience, tiptoeing toward Him, bowing, and timidly uttering my plea.  Yet as I let my prayer play out, I was amazed by what happened instead. We indeed arrived at a castle, but there were no crowds, guards, or holding rooms for an audience. The doors stood wide open, awaiting me. I heard a deep, booming chuckle echoing through the halls as I stepped inside, followed by the Father merrily calling my name.  Abba! The word instantly welled up in my heart in response, even though I’d never personally used it before. The Father continued to joyfully call my name, drawing me toward Him in a sort of divine Marco-Polo, and I continued to respond Abba! Abba! The Father’s call and my response became louder and more eager until I came upon Him waiting in the heart of the castle, in a literal heart-shaped room. He was down on one knee, arms stretched wide, ready to scoop me up and swing me around. All the while, Jesus stood by, gleeful and gratified to reveal the Father’s true nature to me: not only His loving Father, but my true Father (see Matthew 11:27). You and I are that heavenly castle. At Baptism we’re imprinted with a new, permanent identity—Child of God—and the Holy Trinity comes to dwell in us. Jesus reveals the Father as both King of the Universe and our loving, doting, caring Father. The more childlike we become, the more we experience this truth. The Father is not far away but intimately close, waiting for you. In Him, you’re never alone or abandoned. You are chosen, now and always, by a Father Who calls you by name—and calls you His.   Relate to the Lord // Imagine the Father receiving you in prayer today? What does He say? How does it feel?

June 16, 2026 // Tuesday of the Eleventh Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 5:43-48  Reflect on the Word //  As a recovering people-pleaser, I’ve had to wrestle with the reality that not everyone loves or likes me. I’m not everyone’s cup of tea—just as some people are not my cup of tea. One day in prayer, struggling over a situation involving someone who disliked me, I was inspired to ask the Lord, How do You see this person? God allowed me to imagine them in a glorified state, in the light of His love. Afterwards, I found myself more free to love this person with God’s transcendent love and genuinely pray for them even when their actions still stung. This prayer reminded me that God has beautiful reasons for making humans so different. He is infinitely creative and loves variety. He gives us different strengths and allows particular weaknesses so that we are interdependent, relying on one another in community and complementing each other in the process.  Yet as fallen human beings, we also have different wounds, sins, and defects. Our differences often grate against one another in painful ways. This friction can tempt us to deep resentment, fear, and division—or it can propel us toward authentic virtue, repentance, and charity. Thankfully, our Lord doesn’t call us to bulldoze healthy boundaries. We don’t need to give in to someone’s selfish whims or approve of unjust behaviors. Christ in today’s Gospel does not command us to like someone’s personality or actions, but rather to love the person themselves, made in the image and likeness of God (see Matthew 5:43-45). How do we love other fallen children of God as Christ does? Through intercessory prayer and self-gift. Even if we never exchange words with our so-called “enemies” (sometimes it’s best not to!), we can still love them intentionally by praying for them and making little sacrifices for them.  None of us can journey through this life alone. Some people serve as companions on our journey— others, as instruments of sanctification.  This friction we experience from those instruments of sanctification, when paired with love, is like fine sandpaper. It smooths our roughest edges and shapes us ever more beautifully into the infinitely unique saints we were created to be.   Relate to the Lord // If you’re struggling with someone today, ask the Lord to show you how He sees that person. Notice how your heart changes. 

May 25, 2026 // Memorial of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of the Church // Eighth Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: John 19:25-34 Reflect on the Word // There’s a glorious place I go in imaginative prayer: a cozy cottage at the base of a heavenly castle, which just so happens to be Mary’s house. There, I not only visit and learn from her, but get to live with and be mothered by her. I have a room of my own and know the grounds by heart. I’ve had pivotal conversations with Saints at backyard garden parties. On sick days Mother Mary stands vigil, tenderly caring for me. On desolate days, she helps me revisit hard memories and find lasting healing. I don’t have the greatest imagination, so praying this way takes extra effort—but the Lord blesses those efforts to help me truly know our Lady, who leads me ever closer to the Heart of Jesus. No mother and child have ever loved each other more than Jesus and Mary. In their generosity, we’re invited directly into this love by Jesus’ words from the Cross in today’s Gospel: “Woman, behold your son. [. . .] Behold, your mother” (John 19:26-27).  Here, at the Foot of Christ’s Cross, Mary becomes the Mother of all humankind—teaching us what it truly means to be part of God’s family. In her agony of heart, our Lady stands firm at the Foot of the Cross for boundless love of her Son. In His excruciating Passion, Christ lovingly spends His last breaths for His precious Mother. Seeing her profound grief, Jesus selflessly entrusts Mary with a new joy, a greater mission, an all-encompassing motherhood.  He commends His own Mother to His beloved disciple, and by extension, all of us—so desperate for a pure mother’s love. He then gives His newborn Church to her, for her joy as the perfect mother lies in giving herself for the good of her children. It is here at the Cross that Mary irrevocably becomes your Mother too. Here, she waits patiently with open arms—inviting you into her life, her home, her heart. Here, she comes to listen to you, comfort you, and console you. Here, she remains—to forever guide you to the Love of Jesus that you were made for.  Relate to the Lord // Spend some time with our Lady in imaginative prayer. Where are you? What does she have to say to you?

April 28, 2026 // Tuesday of the Fourth Week of Easter // Optional Memorial of Saint Louis Mary de Montfort, Priest // Optional Memorial of Saint Peter Chanel, Priest and Martyr Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: John 10:22-30 Reflect on the Word // I couldn’t take the suspense.  I’d been considering a new commitment for months. I had gathered information, prayed, and discerned sincerely, and felt the Lord’s invitation to move forward. Now all I needed was the official response—but it was taking forever. After anxiously checking my email for the millionth time, I reluctantly tried to settle into prayer. How long will I have to wait for the answer?! I grumbled at the Lord. You already have it, came His quiet reply.  Did I? Sighing, I set aside my obsession with the outcome to think back on all questions I’d asked and the answers the Lord had already confirmed throughout my discernment.  “Are you really calling me to do this, Lord?” I’m inviting you to take the first step.  “What if they say no?” No matter the outcome, My love is more than enough. “What if I’m just attached and it’s not actually Your will?” You know how to listen to Me and the things I’ve confirmed. My plan for you is good.  “What if they say yes—but I’m not truly equipped?” I will give you everything You need to do My will.  “How can I possibly wait even more?” I am always with you and will strengthen you whenever you turn to Me.  My fears and fixations were nothing new, and He’d already answered each of them many times before. Like the Jews in the crowd, I’d simply refused to recall God’s truth or believe it in the waiting and the unknown. I was demanding more proof to relieve doubt rather than exercising faith (see John 10:24). But as His sheep, I could choose to hear and follow His voice in lieu of the world’s. Whenever we find ourselves anxious or in suspense, the answer lies in our relationship with the Lord. Whether we’re dreading medical results, hoping for a job or school acceptance, or waiting for resolution to some situation or difficulty, He is already speaking to us, His sheep.  In the waiting and uncertainty, the Lord already has the answer—because He is the answer. We need only follow.  Relate to the Lord // What word from the Lord do you need to choose to believe and follow today?

March 25, 2026 // Solemnity of the Annunciation of the Lord Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Luke 1:26-38 Reflect on the Word //  I paced restlessly, each second an eternity. My gaze darted between my husband and the test on the bathroom counter. Finally, the timer sounded; I bolted to look. “Only one line,” I announced, conflicting emotions swirling. My husband peered over my shoulder, then leaned closer. “I don’t think so,” he murmured, pointing. Squinting more closely, I caught my breath. The faintest second line was visible. His face broke into the widest grin as he wrapped me in his arms. “Another baby!” he breathed. Thank you, Lord. What a blessing!  My heart raced.  And . . . I’m already overwhelmed, so scared of another loss. Lord, please help!  I pondered how, much like our Lady at the Annunciation, I had only the word of an outside source to confirm the presence of this new life within me, the fiat echoing in my heart amid countless questions and worries, and the singular promise of God’s eternal plan for this precious soul. The physical assurance of symptoms would take several days and the visible evidence many months. The same demands of daily life would continue. Yet, like our Lady, we now knew its intentional direction and purpose. Another soul, created in the image and likeness of God. A deeper yes, a more surrendered trust, a fuller mission.  “May it be done to me”—this was our Lady’s unreserved, wholehearted response (Luke 1:38). The one God invited me to imitate. Not only with this new baby, but in everything He wished to conceive in me, heart and soul.  You, too, are invited to this response. In each and every calling. In every single prompting, big or small: Lord, may it be done to me.  Whatever tangle of joy and grief, suffering and redemption may await: May it be done to me.  No matter how vague the details or uncertain the future: May it be done to me.  Why? Because whatever the Lord does to us is always for us—for our highest good. Everything the Lord does brings about life. New life from nothingness, eternal life from death, abundant life from human limitations.  Relate to the Lord // Pray today with our Lady: Yes, Lord, may I let Your life be conceived in and through me—now and always.

January 16, 2026 // Friday of the First Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Mark 2:1-12 Reflect on the Word //  I’d clung to it as a beacon of hope: a long-awaited appointment with a specialist who’d worked wonders for others. Yet he had no novel ideas or solutions for me, just the usual treatments. I left deflated and disoriented, bone-weary from my suffering. I sent a dejected text to my friend who had been praying, and she called immediately—grieving with me in my tears, gently consoling me, and carrying me back to the Heart of Jesus—just like the paralytic’s friends in today’s Gospel. Like the paralytic, I marvel at this Divine Physician Who triages health of the soul before physical health. “Child, your sins are forgiven,” Jesus declares to the paralytic upon his friends’ great show of faith (Mark 2:5). Then, to the doubting and indignant hearts in the crowd, Jesus says, “Which is easier, to say to the paralytic, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Rise, pick up your mat and walk’?” (Mark 2:9)  Why easier, Lord—of all the words You could choose?  Easier implies degrees of difficulty, a comparative challenge. I gradually grasp how the spiritual healing of forgiveness that Jesus offers takes more effort, is more rare—and therefore, is more precious even than physical healing. Physical healing can come through many means; the healing of forgiveness can only come through Him. This is the healing He knows we need most. How many times have I shuffled into the confessional, spiritually paralyzed by my sin—only to stroll out minutes later, restored and redeemed? How many times have I received this miraculous healing yet hardly acknowledged it, or considered it inferior to physical relief? Still, despite my ignorance and reluctance, the moment I cooperate, He continues to heal me in the most priceless way.   Lord, You desire this priceless gift for each of us. You offer us inexhaustible forgiveness and give us faithful community to carry us back to You, the Divine Physician. For our sake, You never take the easy way out.  Thank You for inviting us to the same. Thank You for prioritizing what’s eternally best for us, and always offering us first the healing we need most.  Relate to the Lord // Where have you been looking for the easiest way? Ask Jesus to reveal the most valuable way.

December 25, 2025 // The Nativity of the Lord (Christmas) Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel for the Mass during the Day: John 1:1-18  Reflect on the Word // Dim candlelight dances upon the stone of the sanctuary, illuminating its rough-hewn edges. Tucked below in its alcove, the golden tabernacle gleams invitingly, flanked on either side by a row of evergreens, soft with twinkling lights. A reverent, contented hush is soon broken by the opening chords of the organ, which builds as a swell of joyous voices join in:   “O come, let us adore Him—  Christ, the Lord!” The stone of this sanctuary is a far cry from the humble, rough-hewn stone of the humble cave in Bethlehem; the twinkling trees a far cry from the twinkling star of Bethlehem; the chorus of voices, a far cry from the exultant choirs of angels on that blessed morn when Christ was born. Yet the joy—the joy is the same. In my mind’s eye, the humble Nativity scene takes shape. Quietly, our Lady beckons; invites me to come and behold. To hold. Gently, she nestles Him in my arms. I inhale softly, cradling the Spinner of stars, the Maker of men.   The Word made flesh—He is truly here, among us. The whole light of Heaven, contained in one tiny Person.  The Author of the eternal, now robed in the finite.   He takes on our limited flesh, that we might be clothed in His expansive divinity.  He submits to mortality, that we might gain eternal life. He allows Himself to cry human tears, that we might experience heavenly joy.  He leaves the vastness of paradise for earthly exile, to lead us out of exile—and show us the way Himself.    He lights up every darkness, and even the darkest shadows quake.   He is both Giver and Gift. He gives everything—spending His entire self—that we might gain everything: above all, Himself. He waits in a rough-hewn cave: small and vulnerable, with love inexhaustible. Inviting you to know Him, to be known by Him. To behold and to hold Him. To let Him dwell intimately within you. To light your every darkness.    We but only need respond. Come, O come— and let us adore  the Infant God come to rescue us Christ, the Lord. Relate to the Lord // Read this reflection again prayerfully. What line or image stands out to you and why?

November 18, 2025 // Optional Memorial of Dedication of the Basilicas of Saints Peter and Paul, Apostles // Optional Memorial of Saint Rose Philippine Duchesne, Virgin [In the Dioceses of the United States] Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Luke 19:1-10  Reflect on the Word //  Hangers clattered in protest as I heaved another stack of dresses onto my bed. The growing mountain of clothes boasted a colorful array of sweaters, shirts, pants, and skirts.  Earlier that day I’d been pondering the evolution of fashion: For centuries women’s wardrobes had been far higher in quality and drastically lower in quantity. This prompted me to Google, “reasonable number of items in a wardrobe”—hence, my current closet purge and donation pile. Although I’d always delighted in lovely, modest clothing, my wardrobe had grown far bigger than I needed or could manage—especially without an impeccable laundry schedule (yeah, right).  These garments weren’t bad in and of themselves. It was my attachment to them and my underlying reasons for collecting them that kept me from deeper healing. For months, I’d been dialoguing with the Lord as He helped me peel back the layers of attachment and deeper desire: Why did I want this particular thing?  To feel more beautiful or accepted. This can neither add to nor take away from your authentic beauty, My daughter. Those who admire you for material reasons cannot love you as you deserve. Those who love you as your dignity demands will not be swayed by superficial things. What was my deeper desire beneath this huge pile?  To be loved. I died for love of you. Will you receive it? Choose to believe it? Like Zacchaeus in today’s Gospel, whenever I felt small I’d try to compensate by accumulating things I thought could make me feel—or at least appear— more special and significant. Like Zacchaeus, it was my ongoing encounter with the Lord that helped me receive and believe the truth that I was priceless and set apart, independent of any material goods, accomplishments, or relationships.  The Lord blesses us with material things expressly to point us back to Him. We don’t need an excess of worldly goods; we need Jesus. Like Zacchaeus, we can let Him invite us down from our self-imposed perches. We can give Him access to the home of our heart. We can allow Him to elevate us to a beauty and dignity the world can never buy—or manufacture.  Relate to the Lord // Stand before your closet and talk to Jesus. What are your deepest desires as a woman?

September 11, 2025 // Thursday of the Twenty-third Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Luke 6:27-38 Reflect on the Word //  I’d been really anticipating the holiday, but my excitement was dashed a few days prior when a miscommunication and someone else’s desires led to changed plans. I was annoyed that I cared so much, and felt selfish for “overreacting.” I told myself it wasn’t a big deal, but couldn’t shake the disappointment. Still, the hurt lingered, so I mentioned it to my spiritual director. I was shocked when she suggested I was having difficulty forgiving. Forgiveness hadn’t even been on my radar because this person hadn’t intended to hurt me. I imagined my disappointment was my fault. Yet relationships are a two-way street, and I had to acknowledge the impact of another’s actions in order to be freed by forgiveness. Thanks to my spiritual director’s wisdom, I finally admitted the pain this person’s actions had caused me. Once I’d fully acknowledged it, I was able to extend forgiveness and mercy that brought lasting inner peace.  As we sit with our Lord’s challenging words in today’s Gospel, we’re confronted with very real wounds of rejection, indignity, and injustice. It may seem the Lord is telling us to ignore healthy boundaries or turn a blind eye to the evils that assail us.  On the contrary, Jesus is inviting us to adopt a posture of true humility with intentionality, a posture that recognizes the inherent dignity in ourselves and others, instead of reducing another’s identity to their words or actions. It is never our place as humans to judge another person’s soul, nor assume the intent behind their actions, which is complex and layered in our wounded humanity. However, neither should we misunderstand the command to “stop judging” (Luke 6:37) as a directive to ignore evil and its effects on us. We must prudently identify evil when it occurs—and acknowledge the full extent of the damage it causes—if we hope to fully heal from the effects of evil and truly forgive others. Intentionally or not, imperfect people will continue to hurt us. Our Lord shows us a path forward—one that acknowledges their fallen humanity and ours—while always upholding both their eternal dignity and our own.  Relate to the Lord // Whom do you need to forgive? Talk to the Lord about it and ask for the grace to forgive.

August 6, 2025 // Feast of the Transfiguration of the Lord Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Luke 9:28-36 Reflect on the Word // I recently finished an intensive nine-month prayer program. The final day was a mountaintop moment, reveling in the accomplishment and pouring out my gratitude to God. I wanted it to last forever, but the feeling was fleeting. The next day a valley was waiting: the engine light in my car went on, and other demands of daily life sent me spiraling mentally and spiritually.  Airing my frustration to the Lord, I recalled a deep truth from my months of prayer: this pattern of mountains and valleys in the spiritual life is never aimless. Christ gives us mountaintop moments, or graces of consolation, to sustain us through life’s valleys that tempt us to desolation. These graces, revisited in desolation, can help propel us on to the ultimate consolation of Heaven. With this reminder from the Lord, the graces of gratitude from my prayer program came flooding back; I was able to face my current valley with renewed trust in God’s provision and reliance on His goodness.  In today’s Gospel of the Transfiguration, Saint Peter confronts this truth in an intensely powerful way. He glimpses Heaven and stammers in awe as he beholds God’s glory, suggesting they build three tents and stay there forever (see Luke 9:28-36). But Peter’s mission on earth is not yet finished. Christ intends for Peter to bring the graces of this moment of Transfiguration back into the world, and into the valleys of His impending Passion and Death, in order to experience the greatest good of all—Resurrection. Like Peter, Christ has something far better in store for us than even the best moments of this life. Our mountaintop moments aren’t meant to be substitutes for Heaven or consolations that we compartmentalize. They are glimpses of Heaven intended to accompany us as beacons along the difficult journey that leads to true glory.  The Lord gives us these mountaintop moments to become a grace of Transfiguration in our lives. With Christ, we can allow these glorious graces to infuse life’s most desolate valleys with hope. In turn, every redeeming valley, united to Christ, will help purify and prepare us for the greatest consolation of Heaven—where our joy will never, ever end.  Relate to the Lord // Recall a mountaintop moment of consolation to meditate on when in times of desolation. Give thanks to the Lord for it!  

June 19, 2025 // Optional Memorial of Saint Romuald, Abbot Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 6:7-15 Reflect on the Word // It was a small need, but combined with so many others, it felt like a colossal weight. The old, oppressive lie began hounding me: If we just had more money, it could solve these problems.  Yet for months, my husband and I had intentionally prayed, “give us this day our daily bread” (Matthew 6:11, emphasis mine)—seeking to trust the Father’s provision and timing more than our self-reliant solutions.  How often had we exhausted our own means only to have the Father lavish us with His miraculous provision?  There were the farm-fresh eggs from a friend and countless other gifts from family and community. There were sudden surges in my husband’s small business and my ministry work that came at the perfect moment. We had come so far in surrendering our own self-reliance in this area to embrace childlike dependence on God the Father. We had learned that our solutions paled in comparison to God’s far more humbling and creative ways. In this moment, it was as if the Lord was reminding me: You can’t solve it all yourself, daughter . . . ask Me!  Your way is too narrow.  Seek Mine! It encompasses so much more. Entreat Me to provide for every big and little thing. I want better for you than you want for yourself.  Human worry and anxiety spring from an underlying fear that things will not turn out the way we think they should. The solutions we seek are usually rooted in a desire for good things—security, health, comfort, connection, and love. Yet when these desires aren’t fulfilled immediately or they don’t happen in the way we imagine, we lose patience and hope. We glimpse others’ seemingly fulfilled lives and think God has forgotten us.  Thus, we become anxious and controlling, stepping outside God’s will and sometimes even His commandments to try to make things happen on our own terms, instead of waiting on the Father’s healthier, holier, more lasting provision. The waiting is hard—sometimes brutal—but it’s never without reward.  Our Father is always ready to provide His divine daily bread for our true needs when we allow Him, when we surrender our way for His more loving way.  Relate to the Lord // What do you need? Pray the Our Father and ask in faith for your daily bread. 

May 5, 2025 // Monday of the Third Week of Easter Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: Acts 6:8-15 Reflect on the Word // For several months, I’ve been praying through the Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius of Loyola. One day, I was asked to pray with this little nugget of wisdom: that life lived freely in Christ means welcoming insults and humiliations.  Memories immediately flashed unbidden through my mind: childhood friends laughing at my expense, a college professor mercilessly taunting me during a presentation, Army bosses mocking me for having children on God’s time, and too many moments of failure and shame in motherhood to count.  Shudder.  Unlike Saint Stephen in the First Reading, my face has never shone like that of an angel in the face of humiliation. I instinctively retreat from insults, persecutions, or false accusations—grasping for self-preservation and agonizing over others’ opinions of me. Wrestling with this reality in prayer, I pondered: why have so many Saints been able to face humiliations worse than mine, while I try to escape them and cower in fear? Fear. There was the answer. It wasn’t humiliation itself that did the most damage, but the fear of it that ensnared me.  Saint Stephen boldly faced humiliations, insults, and martyrdom—not because he was fearless, but because he looked to the Lord in his every fear. He forgave his oppressors not by his own power, but because he allowed God to forgive his own sins, and leaned on God’s strength in his every weakness.  He stood physically bound yet was completely free, face shining with uncontainable divine love—the only thing powerful enough to break every chain forged by fear. You and I can access the same exact grace and power to break free whenever fear of worldly esteem seeks to bind us. Worrying over your reputation amidst the shifting opinions of the world will always lead straight into the enemy’s trap. You’ll be tempted to despair in your weakness, believe lies about your dignity, or become defensive at perceived injustice. Like Saint Stephen, we must remember that what matters most is how God sees us. Looking to your identity in Christ can preserve you in peace. He provides ample mercy for your every weakness, He refutes every lie, and He defends your honor from the assaults of the enemy—always. Relate to the Lord // Ask God how He sees you. Believe Him.

April 10, 2025 // Thursday of the Fifth Week of Lent Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: Genesis 17: 3-9 Reflect on the Word //  “God’s Pearl.” Since childhood, the little wooden plaque on my bedside table had proclaimed the meaning of my name, but not until adulthood did I shift from mild disdain to deep appreciation for my name.  My mom had liked the name Shannon before I was born, but the neighbors picked it first for their daughter—so Megan it was. I joined a quickly-growing sea of other Megans; in elementary school, I was distinguished by my first name and last initial. By high school, I was one of seven Megans in my high school orchestra (with as many spelling variations to match). Nearing my third decade of life and battling with chronic suffering, I was prompted one day to pray with my name's meaning: God’s Pearl. Oysters form pearls as a response to discomfort and suffering, I remembered. A beautiful gem of redemption born from pain. Maybe my name isn’t just the next best choice on the list. Maybe I’m more than a nobody in the crowd of Megans.  Indeed, I sensed the Lord respond, You are MY beloved Pearl, being formed in beauty and grace throughout a lifetime of redemptive suffering.  Names are extremely meaningful to God. The Catechism tells us that Jesus’ name “expresses both His identity and His mission” (§ 430). In Genesis, God named Abraham, which means “father of multitudes” (see Genesis 17:3-9). In his name, a childless Abraham received not only an irrevocable promise, but discovered his own deeper identity and greater mission. Likewise, when I learned the truth of my name through God’s eyes, my identity was anchored; my mission became clear.   Today’s First Reading invites us to ponder the deeper meaning of our names. God has made a covenant with each of us, just as He did with Abraham. He’s inviting us to receive the name proclaimed over us at Baptism as part of that covenant, and consider how our names might reveal our unique mission.  Your name is not arbitrary to God. It is intentional. He calls you by name—with delight. Hear Him proclaim it now with tenderness and love. Through it, learn how incomparably, eternally precious you are to Him. Relate to the Lord // What does your name mean? How do you feel about your name and how is God revealing your identity through it?   

February 27, 2025 // Optional Memorial of Saint Gregory of Narek, Abbot and Doctor of the Church Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: Mark 9:41-50 Reflect on the Word // I dropped the remote on the couch and sighed. There was nothing good to watch—especially since my standards of “good” had changed. I once thought that being strong in my faith meant I should be unaffected by the world’s crudeness—that sensitivity equaled naiveté. I waved away the crass language in my Army unit; I thought I could tolerate films and books with some smut. Yet the more I truly came to know the Lord in His purity and goodness, the more I realized that He desired the same purity and true goodness for me—right down to the content and conversations I consumed. “Whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better if [. . .] he were thrown into the sea” (Mark 9:42).  We are the Lord’s little ones. He so values our dignity as a child of God that He invites us into a restoration of innocence—through all of our senses.  “If your hand causes you to sin, cut it off. [. . .] And if your foot causes you to sin, cut it off. [. . .] And if your eye causes you to sin, pluck it out” (Mark 43-47). Consider how the Lord has given you the gift of each of your bodily senses to help you know Him, love Him, and receive His love more deeply. Ponder how He tenderly created your body and soul not as a junkyard to collect the world’s vulgarity, but as a temple and treasure room to house His divine glory.  A growing sensitivity and a pruning of what you consume can heal your human senses from this abuse of the world. It can reclaim your memory and imagination from the demeaning words and images forced upon it.  Through the intensity of Christ’s hyperbole, allow yourself to feel His zeal for establishing healthy boundaries for your body, mind, and soul. He longs to rescue you from this degradation. He is waiting to fill your mind and memories with eternal goodness—preparing you for a life of pure love, pure freedom, and pure joy in Heaven.  Relate to the Lord // What is He inviting you to prune? What boundaries might be healing for your body, heart, mind, and soul?

January 17, 2025 // Memorial of Saint Anthony, abbot Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Mark 2:1-12 Reflect on the Word// “Do you know this airport well?” The timid question came from the friendly face next to mine, mere inches away as we braced against the jostling of the overcrowded train. She glanced quizzically at a terminal map on her phone screen. I smiled and nodded: “I’m from here.” Relief shone in her eyes. “How do I get to West Baggage Claim?”  I didn’t love crowds, and we were packed in like sardines. Normally I would hang back and let the sea of bodies surge again when it was time to disembark to avoid the even more frenzied chokepoint at the escalators. Today, however, I had a mission. I offered to lead the way, directing my new friend to “stay close” as we pressed through the crowd. At the top of the escalators I pointed her toward her destination and she expressed her immense gratitude. Though the crowds were overbearing, my heart that day was light and free.  It’s striking to imagine how engaging and charismatic Jesus must have been to attract such a crowd Himself—people voluntarily pressed against each other merely to hear His words (see Mark 2:2). They were packed in so tightly that it was easier for the paralytic’s friends to break through the roof than through a wall of people. Yet where others would simply give up and turn away, these friends were wholly undeterred. They allowed nothing to discourage them from getting to Jesus—for love of their friend and propelled by unquestioning faith in Him.  How often do we give up on prayer or turn back from pursuing Jesus at the slightest hint of resistance? How much are we willing to fight through discomfort and persevere to reach Him? It’s tempting to believe the lies that prioritizing time with Jesus might be selfish, take away from others, or even take away from those who need you. Yet it’s the opposite. Unapologetically making time for Jesus benefits everyone in your life because of what He can then do through you. And sometimes, when the resistance seems most overwhelming, the greatest breakthroughs and miracles await on the other side.  Relate to the Lord // Make time for Jesus today by staying a few extra minutes in prayer right now. 

December 12, 2024 // Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Luke 1:39-47 (second option) Reflect on the Word//  It had been a tough six months filled with the usual suspects: financial uncertainty, health issues, vocational duties, fatigue in prayer. Searching for some stability, I clung to my daily Rosary. Soon after, I attended a consoling Marian retreat. Then a friend invited me to a grace-filled Marian study. Mother Mary’s presence soon seemed more tangible in every way, her companionship unmistakable. Even as my difficulties continued, I realized I was far from alone or abandoned. When I cried out in prayer for help, my attentive Mother was on the listening end—immediately responding and leading me to God’s heart.  This is the Blessed Mother’s continual mission—for all of us. Imagine the Visitation from today’s Gospel: a young Virgin Mary, hastening across the hills, pregnant with divine purpose, overflowing with Jesus’ incarnate joy and love. See her radiant smile, feel her gentle, comforting arms as they wrapped Elizabeth in their ready embrace. How delighted she is to love and serve Elizabeth, remaining at least three months.  Now imagine this same beautiful Mother 1500 years later as Our Lady of Guadalupe, still pregnant with divine purpose, hastening from Heaven to Earth and the Aztec hill of Tepeyac. How tender she is, responding to Saint Juan Diego in his great hour of need. How delighted she is to remain with his people through her miraculous imprint left on his tilma, still visible today.  Consider how she hastens to you in this same way: pregnant with purpose, spilling over with divine love. Wherever you are and whatever is burdening you, she is here and she sees. She cares. She does not delay in meeting you—her most beloved daughter—the moment you cry out. Imagine her eyes alight, her smile soft, her arms gently and capably embracing your weakness. Observe how she is not inconvenienced or exasperated by your need, but attracted to it with all the love in her heart. Feel her patience; experience her delight in remaining with you.  Hear her deep desire within the endless whisper, “Am I not here, who am your mother?” (source), and let her motherly love raise you to His healing Heart.  Our Lady of Guadalupe, Pray for Us.  Relate to the Lord // Pray the Rosary, a decade of the Rosary, or even one Hail Mary and ask Mary to mother you.