Philip answered him, “Two hundred days’ wages worth of food would not be enough for each of them to have a little [bit].”. . . Jesus said, “Have the people recline.” Then Jesus took the loaves, gave thanks, and distributed them to those who were reclining, and also as much of the fish as they wanted. // John 6:7-11 I’ve told the story a hundred times, but my wonder only grows. The doctors had grimly warned that I probably couldn’t have more children. Two back-to-back losses confirmed their bleak prognosis. I’d whispered a numb request to our family patron, Saint Jude: pray that we can raise just one more child? A month later I held a positive test—but fear of more loss ruled over any thought of a miracle. Our precious son was due, then gloriously born, on Saint Jude’s feast day!—but I was initially ignorant to the date’s significance. The realization that we had witnessed—nay, participated in—a legitimate miracle would take months. Yet as those months turned to years and our miracle son grew, so did my understanding, my belief, my awe-filled gratitude. More trials came, but I could face them with more firmly-rooted faith. These days, recalling our overwhelmingly obvious miracle of unlikely life heightens my awareness of every miracle, big or small—and helps me more confidently share God’s love and hope. Thousands of people experienced Christ’s miraculous multiplication of the loaves. Yet the more I pray with this incredible miracle, the more I see how Christ’s heart was tenderly and attentively turned first toward His beloved disciples. He knew their faith was young and weak. He knew how often they would fall and fail and doubt. Still, He invited them to participate in His miraculous work—to build in them a foundation of belief that would persevere to the end and invite others to salvation. They didn’t fully get it at first, but the truth of God’s presence and provision gradually worked its way into His disciples’ hearts—ultimately forged into immovable fortitude as they faced the birth of Christianity, persecution, and martyrdom. Whether you’ve noticed it or not, your life is brimming with His miracles, too—each detail tenderly worked for love of you. Miracles of life, breath, provision, seemingly unanswered prayers that turn out to be mercies of protection. Countless miracles that He’s invited you to participate in. Today, take notice—and let the miraculous truth root your belief in His unfailing love. Listen to Today's Devotion

People were coming and going in great numbers, and they had no opportunity even to eat . . . . When Jesus disembarked and saw the vast crowd, His heart was moved with pity for them. // Mark 6:31, 34 I rubbed my eyes, bleary with exhaustion, and scanned my lengthy to-do list. I’d just gotten over being sick, had a major surgery scheduled in three days, and could hardly process the overwhelm of tasks underscored by the ticking clock. There were work projects to wrap up and countless logistics to arrange so my family could still make it to school, sports, and have food to eat during my recovery. I didn’t relish the thought of surgery, but at this rate at least I’d have a few uninterrupted hours of rest under anesthesia! Then the email came. My son was dealing with something difficult, and it surpassed every other task and thought of rest. Stress over my schedule dissolved into heartbroken pity; my exhaustion reached a new low. I was already stretched far beyond my human means, but now I was being asked to give infinitely more. “Lord, I can’t.” I prayed. “But You can. I need You to do this—in me and through me.” In that moment, Our Lord’s Own heart moved with pity, and I felt a surge His love infused with supernatural strength—enough for me to take a deep breath and the next grace-filled step. Our God never grows weary of meeting us in our need. As Psalm 23 so poignantly reminds us, whatever our valley of suffering, God desires nothing more than to meet us there “with His rod and His staff that give [us] courage” (Psalm 23:4). Notice how Our Lord doesn’t swoop in to pluck us out of the dark valley, but instead draws alongside us to walk intimately with us, to help us reach even greater heights of glory. Sometimes in life we have to be stretched beyond our perceived limits, propelled beyond all natural human limitation, in order to notice God’s invitation: Will you turn away from self-reliance in order to receive My supernatural strength? Today, let the Lord gently point out where you’ve been trying to manage it all yourself. Give Him permission to walk with you—and give yourself permission to ask for the supernatural help He’s longing to freely give.

Jesus turned and saw them following him and said to them, “What are you looking for?” They said to him, “Rabbi, where are you staying?” He said to them, “Come, and you will see.” // John 1:38-39 I paused for an instant, my thumb hovering over the screen time warning on my phone. A hundred thoughts and justifications raced through my mind before I finally shifted my finger with great effort to close the app instead of ignoring the limit. Instantly, my mind and body exhaled with relief. What were you looking for? The Lord nudged my heart with the question. What did you really want? To escape myself, I answered honestly. I didn’t really know what I was looking for, but I knew what I was running from: discomfort, demands, guilt . . . and most of all, fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of not being needed. Fear of not being loved. Well that escalated quickly, I thought wryly. Lord, what’s Your answer to my desire to escape? I’m right here, He whispered into my heart, loving you. Waiting to remind you of who you are to Me. With renewed conviction I picked up my Bible and followed the Lord into His Holy Word. The peace of His truth flooded me, far better than the temporary relief of escape. When Jesus asked the disciples what they were looking for, they didn’t quite know how to answer. Instead they replied, “Where are you staying?” With a simple invitation, Jesus showed rather than told them. “Follow Me,” He said, so that they’d know exactly where to find Him that day and the next—and where to lead others to Him, too. Christ’s question and invitation extend to you, too. What are you looking for? Like the disciples, we’re often unsure how to answer—too caught up in a pattern of avoiding, hiding, and escaping. Yet the Lord knows what we can’t articulate: in every circumstance, we’re looking for real love, and we can only find it fully in Him. In response to our uncertainty, He shows us where we can always find Him: in the Eucharist, in Holy Scripture, in the healing Sacrament of Confession, waiting to fulfill. Today, probe beneath the surface of your desires. What are you really looking for? Christ is waiting to provide it and ready to show you just where to find Him.

And coming to her, he said, “Hail, full of grace! The Lord is with you.” But she was greatly troubled at what was said and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. // Luke 1:28-29 I agonized over the invite. I can’t add anything else to the schedule! I need to prioritize prayer and family, said the realist in me. But what if she feels rejected? Or she rejects me? The people-pleasing part of me wavered. Finally, I sent my regrets and received a surprising reply: “I admire your ability to say no to adding something else!” It was a powerful reminder that a small but impactful no can free us for a far greater yes. Today, we celebrate the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception. The term “Immaculate Conception” means that from the moment of the Blessed Virgin Mary’s conception, God in His grace preserved her from the stain of Original Sin, and gave her the grace to say no to sin in every circumstance thereafter. One definition of the word ‘immaculate' is “free from sin,” while another is “free from flaws or mistakes.” Often, we aim for this second definition rather than the first in response to our culture’s distorted ideal of perfectionism. The pressure to be flawless or never make a mistake leads us to constantly say no to our own needs or God’s will and yes to others’ flawed opinions. Mary, our immaculate role model, shows us another way. Her perfect sinlessness did not make her mistake-free in the eyes of the world, nor did it relieve her discomforts—far from it. She was “greatly troubled” at the Annunciation, and searched “with great anxiety” when she lost Jesus in the temple several years later (Luke 2:48). Immaculate Mary experienced very real turmoil and confusion—yet in all these imperfect circumstances, she did not sin. She said no to worldly perfectionism that claimed it could help her relieve discomfort, escape criticism, or avoid rejection. She said yes to the humility of sinlessness, even when it looked like foolishness to the world, in order to do God’s will and glorify Him. As a result, Mary now shares God’s glory forevermore—and she invites us into the same. Worldly imperfection does not negate your goodness. Today, say no to sin in order to say yes to God’s greater goodness, asking our Immaculate Mother’s intercession! [bctt tweet="Mary now shares God’s glory forevermore—and she invites us into the same. // Megan Hjelmstad" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

In all circumstances, give thanks, for this is the will of God for you in Christ Jesus. // 1 Thessalonians 5:18 The incessant chiming dragged me from my blissful slumber. I groaned and rolled over to silence the alarm, heavy with fatigue. As I mentally began wishing the day away, a quick nudge from the Holy Spirit stopped me. Right. Hi, God. Thanks for waking me up today. Help me offer it all to You. I slid my feet toward the floor, headed for my closet, when pain shot through my leg. No! Not today. I sucked in a sharp breath and clenched my teeth. My joint disease had been more manageable the past week; I didn’t have the time or energy for another flare up. Again, I checked myself. Thanks for the good days, Lord. For this sanctifying suffering today . . . even though I don’t understand it. Please use this pain for good. And so it went throughout the day. Overwhelm at my packed schedule was softened by a prompting to be thankful for my husband, family, and ability to still work. Annoyance while stuck in heavy traffic shifted to gratitude as I beheld the morning sun glinting off the majestic mountains and breathed, “Oh! Thank You, Lord!” Weariness over my bland, restrictive diet was checked by the chance to thank God for the blessing of food and the means to buy it. A spiritual director had long ago encouraged me to thank God for everything—especially in difficulty—even if all I could muster was gratitude for what hadn’t gone wrong that day. A slow shift had occurred, despite my deeply ingrained and seemingly infinite moments of grumbling. I noticed the whisper of grace more often in response to my headstrong protests. Teach me how to be more grateful, I’d pray. Day by day, He did. Day by day, He can for you too. Ask Him for the grace of gratitude, especially in the hardest circumstances. Thank Him—even for the suffering, and even when you don’t feel like it or understand it. Slowly, your difficulties will become infused by God’s upholding grace. Slowly, you’ll begin to understand that all is a gracious gift from Him. And ultimately, even your most difficult moments will be ruled and redeemed by Love Himself. [bctt tweet="Thank God for everything. // Megan Hjelmstad" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

"When you hold a lunch or a dinner, do not invite your . . . relatives or your wealthy neighbors, in case they may invite you back and you have repayment. Rather, when you hold a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind; blessed indeed will you be because of their inability to repay you.” // Luke 14:12-14 It was a Pinterest-perfect party: a Splish-Splash Birthday Bash that my daughter had requested for her fourth birthday (or had I pushed the theme on her?). I’d spent all night and into the morning stressing over the flip-flop cake I’d baked, getting adequate photo documentation for social media, and anticipating the other moms’ reactions. I was utterly exhausted before the first guest arrived, with virtually no energy left to attend to my daughter—whose value and dignity we were supposed to be celebrating. In my insecurity and pride, I had made the entire thing about me. I’d expended myself for appearances’ sake, hoping to get what I wanted in return. Feelings of satisfaction from the admiration of wealthy friends. Cheap affirmations of staged perfection from my social media posts. I had tragically dismissed the far greater importance of my daughter, who in her childlike poverty could give only her love and delight in return. We’re constantly tempted—in every area of our lives—to act in self-interest. The desires for convenient comfort or self-satisfaction often lurk as underlying motives. Even seemingly charitable actions can become pride-filled rather than love-infused when motivated by approval, admiration, or fear of rejection. To combat these temptations, the Lord invites us to self-forgetfulness. Not because we’re not good, but in fact because we’re too valuable to reduce each other to a bartering tool for superficial status. When you’re tempted to compromise Godly values for superficial gain . . . When you’re distracted by worries about how you’re coming across . . . When you find yourself seeking self-preservation instead of self-gift . . . Stop and pray this simple prayer: Lord, help these other souls focus on You more than they focus on me. And give me the grace to focus on You more than I focus on them. [bctt tweet="The Lord invites us to self-forgetfulness. // Megan Hjelmstad" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

“Those who are well do not need a physician, but the sick do . . . I did not come to call the righteous but sinners.” // Matthew 9:12-13 I glanced up from my phone and studied the long line snaking toward the confessional. It was moving like molasses. The notes I’d been typing as I diligently worked my way through my examination of conscience suddenly seemed silly, even futile. Do I really need to go today? These sins aren’t that bad. It hasn’t been that long. It’s just the same little mistakes over and over. What will the priest think? My eyes panned from the confessional to the tabernacle. Instantly the Holy Spirit’s encouragement welled up from my heart and pushed back. No! If I’m tempted to bail, then I need confession all the more. It doesn’t matter what the priest says or thinks; it’s really Jesus waiting for me. He wants my freedom and healing even more than I do. I need His strength to battle my weakness. The humbling conviction worked its way through my resistance and fear, and my encounter in the confessional that day was beautiful. It’s a moment the Lord often reminds me of when I’m tempted once more to avoid this Sacrament of healing. Saint Matthew must’ve also faced countless temptations as he sat at his post, surrounded by money and might, justifications and judgments. Yet the freedom in Christ’s eyes, His voice, His gaze was so convicting that in a single instant Matthew got up and left it all behind. What allowed him to follow Christ so freely while the Pharisees sat around and touted their own self-sufficiency? The difference between Matthew and the Pharisees was not in their sinfulness. It was in their humility. Matthew was willing to admit not only his sinful condition, but accept his need for healing from it. When we come to the table with the Lord, are we able to admit to the same? Or do we persist in our stubborn ways and shy away from God’s help, no better than the Pharisees who thought they could save themselves? Christ is waiting and longing to free you for the sake of real relationship and fulfillment. Today, ask for the grace to push through the resistance and leave your self-sufficiency in the confessional—then follow Him. [bctt tweet="Christ is waiting and longing to free you. // Megan Hjelmstad" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to a place that he was to receive as an inheritance; he went out, not knowing where he was to go. // Hebrews 11:8 The notary laid out the papers and slid two pens toward us with an expectant look. My husband and I locked eyes, nodded to each other, and took a deep breath as we signed our respective names on the line. We were officially starting a business. Just months prior, we had discerned a shift for our kids to a Catholic school, decided I needed to step back from my military work, and I was hit with a lifelong medical diagnosis. When my husband began to feel a strong call to leave his job and start a business, it made no practical sense. Who in their right mind would venture into such an unknown while already cutting a paycheck and taking on new school expenses? Yet now, signing our names in indelible ink, instead of doubt and trepidation, I felt only holy freedom and exhilaration. The reason? Every last decision had been the result of dedicated, deliberate, prayerful discernment—every step of the way. It took real investment through encouraging each other to seek God’s will above our own, to detach from fears or expectations about the outcome, and to honestly pour out our hearts’ desires while asking the Lord to align them with His desires. Every earnest attempt at surrender built an assurance of faith—in God and in each other—that I never thought possible. Like Abraham in today’s reading, we were able to step out not knowing where we would end up because we trusted our Guide with the destination. Like Abraham, our trust was born out of deliberate relationship and, knowing our own fickle hearts, sincere attempts to follow God’s way over our own. When you’re tempted to follow your own will instead of truly discern, or when you want to trust, but cling to control out of fear—invest in real relationship with Him. Set aside ten minutes to pray, and really pour out your heart. Tell Him your hopes and fears and ask Him to align your dreams with His. I can’t say where we’ll end up. But I can tell you Who you and I can trust with the outcome—designed for our absolute, eternal, and everlasting good. [bctt tweet="Ask Him to align your dreams with His. // Megan Hjelmstad" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

The more I called them, the farther they went from me. Yet it was I . . . who took them in my arms; I drew them . . . with bands of love. Yet, though I stooped to feed my child, they did not know that I was their healer. // Hosea 11:2-4 I jumped at the shout of dismay from the basement. My husband, working diligently on a deadline, hadn’t seen our teething puppy under the desk chewing contentedly on the poison rat trap. One emergency vet trip and hefty bill later, they returned with a freshly pumped stomach, new prescription, and strict orders to keep the puppy from any running or jumping activities for thirty days to prevent internal bleeding. I laughed/cried at the absurdity. The eighty-pound puppy, of course, did not agree to his confinement. He fought tirelessly against the leash in the yard and would make a beeline when released from his crate to bodyslam the back door in protest. “This is for your good!” I cried one day in exasperation as I chased him in vain toward the crate. “You’re just going to hurt yourself worse!” Instantly, the Lord spoke through the comedy of errors to highlight all the times I’d railed against my own suffering. How many times had I blamed the Lord for my circumstances, slamming my will against His closed doors of safety? How often had I protested suffering that served as purification and healing from the poison of eternal death? My pup had no way of understanding my attempt at reasoning, no way to appreciate that I was distraught enough over his little canine life to put myself through such humiliations. I did it anyway—for thirty long days. The Lord has done the same for us—for hundreds of thousands of years. The enemy loves to convince us that suffering is God’s fault—but Satan is the greatest con artist in the world, and God has remained our Healer and Rescuer in this fallen world since the moment we turned away. Sometimes, we won’t recognize or understand it. While we should always strive to learn God’s truth with the reason and intellect He gave us, He does not require our perfect understanding as a prerequisite to heal and rescue us. When God’s ways seem incomprehensible, it’s an invitation into greater faith and trust that He’ll allow only that which has the potential for our greater good. Today, challenge yourself to truly receive it as you hear Him say, “In every circumstance, my beloved, I am your Healer—working always for your highest good.” [bctt tweet="God has remained our Healer and Rescuer. // Megan Hjelmstad" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

When Peter saw him, he said to Jesus, “Lord, what about him?” Jesus said to him . . . “What concern is it of yours? You follow me.” // John 21:22 “Eyes on your own paper . . . .” I can still hear her voice years later: our fifth grade teaching aide patrolling rows of desks, lovingly warning our class against the temptation to search elsewhere for an answer. I haven’t taken a graded test in quite a while, but I’ve learned that I’m still being tested every day. It happens at work, in ministry, in my vocation: the temptation to look around at how everyone else is doing—just to compare answers—only to conclude that my accomplishments, faith journey, and approach to vocation are by contrast quite inadequate. I imagine you can relate. You might feel your work is a failure compared with others’ success, or divert your day to jump on a social media bandwagon lest it seem your voice is missing. You might feel pressured to copy another’s trumpeted approach to school, work, prayer, or raising a family. You might observe someone’s vocation or faith timeline and assume you’re late to the game. Saint Peter was also tempted to look around in comparison—just moments after he’d received Christ’s life-changing call to be the first pope and give his life for the Church. “What about him . . . ?” Saint Peter asks when he sees Saint John in the distance. “What concern is it of yours?” Jesus redirects. “You follow Me.” Just like Peter, the key is to honestly bring our feelings to Jesus and let Him draw our attention back to our personal mission and relationship with Him. Eyes on your own paper, daughter. What if I gave you different gifts or a different reach? You follow Me. What if My plan and your timeline differ from hers? You follow Me. What if our relationship is unique, our experiences different? You follow Me. What if the future is unknown? I Am your future. Follow Me. In every circumstance, there is only one answer: Jesus. He’s the only Person we need to look to, and the only answer we need to look for—no matter what. What is Christ inviting you to shift your eyes from today so you can look to Him as the answer—and freely follow? [bctt tweet="In every circumstance, there is only one answer: Jesus. // Megan Hjelmstad" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

“I am going away and I will come back to you.” // John 14:28 Lord, where are You? I whispered desolately into the darkness. I knew objectively that the Lord was there. I could’ve offered any number of platitudes about God’s promise of presence to someone else in the same situation. Yet captive to my own circumstances, a tear-stained pillow offered little comfort and my heart wrestled against the latest developments in my present suffering. As I hurled desperate frustrations and pleas at our seemingly-absent Lord, I sensed a palpable invitation—to pursue Him into the apparent darkness where He’d retreated, and in this place of hiding, let Him envelop me with an even deeper reality of love that defied all worldly sight, sound, or sense. The disciples must have felt a similar confusion as they watched the Lord ascend into the heavens. He had explained before His death that He was going away, but also promised to return. Yet here He was going away again. Many wise spiritual masters have described this truth of the spiritual life—Christ draws tangibly close one moment, then seems wholly distant the next. Consolations come and go. Difficulties ebb and flow. Prayer may be effortless one day and an all-out battle the next. Saint Paul was no stranger to such hardships, and in our First Reading, he himself gives us the remedy: persevere (Acts 14:22). The enemy’s goal is simple: for us to give up when God seems distant in the hardships of life—be they physical, relational, financial, or emotional. It may indeed seem like God’s just toying with us in some sort of divine hide-and-seek. Yet He’s really just dimming the lights, that we might tear our eyes from the world to search more attentively for Him. He’s stepping back a little, so that we might step away from our own self-sufficiency and step forward onto firmer ground—where His strong arms can lead us into ever greater security and purposeful mission. When the Lord feels distant, press in. When you’d rather give up, dig in your heels in pursuit. No matter how tired you are, ask for the grace to persevere in prayer. He will return. He promises. [bctt tweet="When the Lord feels distant, press in. // Megan Hjelmstad" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

“What I am doing, you do not understand now.” // John 13:7 For so long, I grappled with my season of life. It was a painful season, a seemingly barren season, a season of weak faith in which I went through the motions with a distant, desolate heart. Even years later, I couldn’t quite understand the “why” behind it. Yet gently, gradually, and oh-so-patiently, the Lord showed me that I didn’t have to fully understand why, or try to extract some “lesson learned” for Him to bring about real resurrection and healing in my life. I simply needed a relationship with Him. In today’s Gospel, Saint Peter—dear, impulsive Peter—grappled in a similar way at the Last Supper. He puzzled over Christ’s actions and argued from one extreme to another when he could not understand the reason behind Our Lord’s ways. Yet Christ approached Peter anyway, heart brimming with emotion at His looming Passion and death. The God of the Universe bent low before Peter, foreshadowing His ultimate gift of self on the Cross. He took Peter’s soiled, worn feet in His hands, and—despite Peter’s protests—continued to tenderly wash his feet, patiently explaining that Peter didn't need to fully understand the why. Even if Peter had received all the understanding he craved, it still wouldn’t have given him the grace to follow where Christ was leading. The Lord didn’t need Peter’s perfect understanding to call Him as a disciple, invite him into mission, or for Peter to receive His inexhaustible love. He didn’t need Peter’s understanding or perfection to make Peter the rock, the foundation, of the everlasting Church. The Lord only desired a relationship with him. The Lord only desires a relationship with you. You don’t need to understand God’s ways for Him to love you, guide you, call you, heal you—or feed you with Himself. It is enough to let the King of the Universe lovingly take your feet in His hands and call you His. It is enough to then step out in wholehearted faith and follow His example. Today, ask the Lord for the grace to understand only as much as He desires—and relinquish the rest to Him. [bctt tweet="Relinquish the rest to Him. // Megan Hjelmstad" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

But if the wicked, turning from the wickedness he has committed, does what is right and just, he shall preserve his life; since he has turned away from all the sins that he committed, he shall surely live, he shall not die. // Ezekiel 18:27-28 Every New Year’s, my family clicks through the Saint’s Name Generator online and lets a saint randomly “choose” us. One year, my son got Saint Claude de la Colombiere, and I discovered a story about him that changed my life—and my understanding of Christ’s mercy. Saint Claude was living in France when Jesus started appearing to Saint Margaret Mary Alocoque with the message of His Sacred Heart. Few people believed her visions were authentic, so Jesus instructed her to ask Claude to be her spiritual director. Claude was understandably skeptical himself, so he devised a test. “The next time Jesus appears to you,” he told Margaret Mary, “ask Him to tell you something only He could know: the last mortal sin that I confessed.” When Jesus appeared again, Margaret Mary did as instructed. In reply, Jesus simply looked at her intently and said, “I don’t remember.” Needless to say, Claude became her spiritual director, and they both rose quickly to sainthood through God’s mercy and grace. I, for my part, still tear up at this reminder that God’s mercy is as infinite as His love. I have sinned greatly in my life. Gravely, at times. No doubt you have too. Yet every time we drag our shackles of sin to the confessional, the Lord not only frees us, but says the same thing to me, to you, “I forget.” Our God Who is all-powerful, all-seeing, and all-knowing actively chooses to forget our greatest offenses against Him—because He loves us so much that He only desires to remember our dignity. If our God so chooses to forget, why bow to the enemy’s reminders that only tempt us back into slavery? In the place of our rightful shackles, the Lord holds out His hand to lead us to freedom and life. In place of the shame-filled mire the enemy seeks to drag us back into, the Lord lifts our chin with a gentle finger to the healing radiance of His face. What sin or shame is holding you captive? Run to the confessional, and let the Lord remind you of who you truly are in Him. [bctt tweet="He lead us to freedom. // Megan Hjelmstad" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

Is anyone among you sick? He should summon the presbyters of the Church, and they should pray over him and anoint him with oil in the name of the Lord. The prayer of faith will save the sick person, and the Lord will raise him up. // James 5:14-15 The first time I received the Sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick, I was huddled in a confessional, my face awash with tears as I prepared mentally and spiritually for a serious surgery. The second time I received it, I stood in the back of the church, trying to drink in the grace as another surgery for the same condition loomed on the calendar. The third time I was anointed, I stood in a wind-whipped parking lot with a tender, pastoral priest who was praying for a different years-long sickness that stubbornly persisted. In this constant suffering, the questions grew heavy: Am I lacking faith, God? Doing something wrong? Am I asking too much? Not enough? Why haven’t You healed me? Through years of tears and wrestling with these questions, God led me to a small but powerful seed of His truth: while the fullness of suffering is always a mystery, God is, in fact, always offering His healing when we ask. It just often looks different than we expect. In every instance of anointing I received, I had begged God for physical healing, yet undervalued the deep and lasting grace of soul-healing that He continued to offer. Our God wants nothing more than to heal us from the inside out—permanently, not temporarily. God seeks our salvation and understands that creature comforts that can’t save. He doesn’t discount our bodies, but also knows what we so readily dismiss: the eternal importance of our souls. Our bodies don’t need to be free of infirmity to get into Heaven—but our souls do. As our Scripture today reminds us, the prayer of faith is meant to save the sick person—not just on earth, but forever. While we hyper-focus on the health and comfort of our bodies, often at the expense of our souls, God sees the sickness of our souls and prioritizes the kind of health and healing that leads to eternal life. What temporal healing are you longing for? What deeper healing might God be inviting you to? Ask Him for the grace to receive it today. [bctt tweet="God is always offering His healing. // Megan Hjelmstad" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

Saul was very angry and resentful of the song, for he thought: “They give David ten thousands, but only thousands to me." . . . From that day on, Saul kept a jealous eye on David. // 1 Samuel 18:8-9 “She’s just a saint,” he marveled. The moment the compliment slipped from his mouth, I stiffened. He was praising a friend for her heroic virtue—praise she rightly deserved—but it chaffed against the old wounds of insecurity inside me, and the familiar jealousy started to surface. By God’s grace, I caught myself, apologized to Him internally, and whispered a prayer for help. I had learned the hard way—from far too many similar instances—that the lies whispered through jealousy would only poison me where God desired to heal; they’d only divide where God longed to unite. I need this reminder often: that holiness is not a competition. We’re all meant to be on the same team together striving for Heaven. There’s more than enough of God’s love to go around—and there’s more than enough of God’s work to go around. He personally invites each of us into this work to bring His love to the billions of people who so desperately need it. Yet the moment we start to compare ourselves to others, our focus shifts from freely loving others to selfishly trying to serve and preserve ourselves. The more we entertain jealousy, even subconsciously, the more we get caught up trying to build our own kingdoms here on earth. When we seek to gain for ourselves, especially at someone else’s expense, we build a kingdom of death and destruction rather than God’s Kingdom of new life and restoration. When we covet praise and glory, we not only forget others’ dignity, but we forget our own dignity as God’s desired, beloved daughter. Affirming someone else’s goodness does not take away from our own. In fact, actively seeking to recognize another’s dignity allows us to become more like God and see them more clearly through God’s eyes. Today, commit to building the Kingdom of life and love in one simple way. Look in the mirror and affirm your own dignity and goodness—then go find someone else and affirm theirs, too. As you do, you’ll find the Lord’s endless love just waiting for you. [bctt tweet="Holiness is not a competition. // Megan Hjelmstad" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

"Mary set out in those days and traveled to the hill country in haste . . . where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth." // Luke 1:39-40 What’s on your gift list this year? My screen lit up as the text came in, and, for the first time, I actually considered the implications behind it. I had always been chock full of ideas about what I wanted for Christmas, yet far less excited to brainstorm gifts for others. I desired what the world prized, items that promised to impress others, increase my comfort, or bolster my sense of self-worth. As I thought about the perspective the world tries to sell us—one that objectifies based on accomplishment, appearance, intellect, and possessions—I allowed myself to also wonder about God’s perspective. What do YOU want me to desire, God? In response, He showed me that I wasn’t asking for too much; I was desiring too little. Our Blessed Mother Mary models a different way; a way to truly receive that authentically fulfills. She says no to the world’s perspective by saying yes to God. She says no to the endless anxiety of achieving and possessing by saying yes to fully receiving the gift of Christ. That yes immediately propels her to share Christ with others as she hastens to bring Him to Elizabeth. His indwelling presence filled and fulfilled Mary to overflowing, which in turn inflames Elizabeth’s heart with joy beyond anything the world could offer. Our Blessed Mother knows what we long for, even more than the possessions or perfectionism we might seek. She carried Christ to Elizabeth in haste because she knew there was no better gift on earth. And, this Christmas season, she wants to do the same for you. She’s not waiting for better timing. She’s not waiting for you to think you’re more worthy, more acceptable, or perfect enough for Jesus. She’s bringing Him to you now, in haste. Imagine Our Mother hurrying to you now, pregnant with His truth of your worth—bursting to overflow with His love. Will you receive her? Let her minister to you? Let her bear Christ to you in the most personal of ways? This Christmas, sister, ask for the grace to truly receive the Greatest Gift of all time. [bctt tweet="There was no better gift on earth. // @Megan_Hjelmstad" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

My eyelids drooped as I scrolled well past bedtime, when suddenly I caught my reflection in the dresser mirror—face sallow in the harsh glow of my phone. I half laughed, half sighed in shame. Switching off my phone, I firmly resolved that—starting first thing in the morning—I would go to God first to satisfy me. I would give Him the first fruits of my time, not the idols on my screen. Yet, the next morning, my resolve had waned. I anxiously reached for my phone, just for a quick check-in. The next morning, I rushed through prayer time to get to my phone. That Lent, I even gave up social media, yet quickly reverted to my old ways with the first rays of Easter morning. It was clear that my heart had grown drowsy, sedated by the toxic pleasures and worldly anxieties that Jesus sternly warns us of in today’s Gospel, Luke 21:34-36. I loved the Lord, but was only willing to give Him my time when it was felt most convenient or attractive to me. I could recognize and admit this—week after week in Confession, in fact—but I felt powerless to overcome it. That is, until one day when a wise priest suggested a new penance: “How about no social media before noon?” Instantly, I felt free. No rushing through morning prayer and meditation for my “fix.” No frantically running first to idols that could only enslave, not save. I was free to meet the Lord without interruption, to let His love heal and fill my insatiable longings. It can be easy to view relationship with God as a task rather than a gift. To turn to fickle emotions and fleeting endorphin rushes to distract us from discomfort, rather than inviting real relationship with the Lord to deeply heal and fulfill us in every circumstance. Yet, Our Lord doesn’t seek to satisfy halfway. He speaks so strongly in today’s Gospel because He wants only the very best for you—for forever. What worldly distractions is He inviting you to “wake up” from so He can satisfy your heart with the eternal? [bctt tweet="Our Lord doesn’t seek to satisfy halfway. // @Megan_Hjelmstad" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion