March 21, 2025 // Friday of the Second Week of Lent Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 21:33-43, 45-46 Reflect on the Word // Standing in the Florida heat, my grade school class picked teams for a thrilling game of kickball basketball. As each classmate was chosen to be on one team or another, I waited, hoping that I would be selected next. But I wasn’t picked. Not until the very end. A feeling of rejection washed over me. It was the first time I remember being self-conscious about my size. Over the past year, I gained some weight. In part because I was an awkward pre-teenager. But also because my home life was falling apart, and I turned to food for comfort. I knew I wasn’t the fastest runner, but I used to love running around the neighborhood with my friends. It made me feel alive and free. Now, all I felt was stuck, isolated, and alone in my grief. The game was close, and I was up to kick. As the pitcher released the ball, I ran up to it and kicked it with all of my might. And I kicked it far, so very far. I ran around the bases, back home, and scored as my team cheered for me. We ended up winning the game, and I was part of the victory. But the real victory had nothing to do with the game. It was about so much more than that. In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells a parable that foretells what would inevitably happen to Him. Jesus was rejected in the most real sense of the word, even by His closest friends. But He reminds us that “[t]he stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; by the Lord has this been done, and it is wonderful in our eyes” (Matthew 21:42). As we pray with this passage, Jesus reminds us of His promise to take our rejection, pain, and shame, and make it foundational to our redemption. Just like Christ’s rejection resulted in resurrection, if we unite our suffering to His—meeting Him in that place of rejection—ours will too. That day, playing kickball basketball, the Lord did this for me, and because of it I became part of His fruit-bearing vineyard. Sister, He wants this for you too. When we offer those rejected parts of our lives to Him, we will be amazed by the fruit His redemption will bear in us. Relate to the Lord // Have you experienced the sting of rejection? Turn your heart to Jesus rejected on the Cross and offer Him your pain.  

February 14, 2025 // Memorial of Saints Cyril, Monk, and Methodius, Bishop Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Mark 7:31-37 Reflect on the Word // Entering the solitude of the confessional, the noise of the outside world disappeared. While I knew the priest was waiting for me, it was not his presence that I sensed; it was Someone else’s. As I knelt down, and before I could even utter the words, “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” tears began to flow. Not again. I couldn’t remember the last time I didn’t cry, even sob, during the Sacrament of Confession. It was a difficult season. One in which I was trying hard to hold it all together for everyone else. Month after month, it was only in the safety of the confessional that I could be honest about my struggle. As I bared my soul and confessed my sins, Jesus opened all those places in my heart that were closed off to the hope of being healed. He opened my lack of faith. He opened the places filled with worry and anxiety. He opened my resistance to love. With each admission, it was as if Jesus was whispering in my ear, “‘Ephphatha!’ (that is, ‘Be opened!’)” (Mark 7:34). And immediately, all those places in my heart, where I was holding everything in, where I was closed off to love, were finally open enough for Him to enter, touch the pain, and heal my wounds. Sister, Jesus longs to open the locked up parts of your heart too. Like He did in the Gospel for the man, He wants to take you “off by [yourself]” (Mark 7:33) in order to personally commune with you and heal you with His embrace. If you close your eyes, can you imagine His tender gaze toward you? With an outstretched arm drawing you in, can you hear Him whisper, “Ephphatha”? Jesus especially longs to meet you in the Sacraments, where we encounter Him in the most intimate way possible. There, He will touch each closed-off part of your heart and open it to a fresh outpouring of His love and grace. All He asks is that you are open to His desire to meet you in your need and heal you according to His will. Relate to the Lord // Imagine His tender gaze toward you. What does He look like? How does it feel?

January 7, 2025 // Optional Memorial of Saint Raymond of Penyafort, Priest Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: 1 John 4:7-10 Reflect on the Word //  It was January 1. Enthusiasm bubbled up within me as I began my New Year’s resolutions. I had carefully discerned my goals and how I was going to execute them. I couldn’t wait for a “new me” to emerge. After only three weeks, “life” interfered with my best-laid plans. My children got sick. Projects and activities arose that required my attention. Feeling tired and frazzled, I chose sleep over my new early-morning prayer time. My plans fell apart. Once the busyness subsided, I contemplated what went wrong, and I realized that I failed to integrate my new plans into real life. I also recognized why I was so easily derailed. I relied solely on myself to succeed, not leaving room for God’s will or His grace. Even more so, I was so focused on striving, accomplishing, and checking boxes off a list that when I did not achieve my goals, I felt defeated. I didn’t even consider that what I was doing over those few weeks genuinely mattered—maybe even more than my resolutions—because in those moments, I was being called to love. And “everyone who loves is begotten by God and knows God” (1 John 4:7). I was reminded that what I do (or don’t do) does not define my worth; God defines it. My worth is found in Him. I am beloved. Loved by a God Who is love. He loves me for who I am, not what I do. And so, what matters most is how I respond to His call to love. As women, however, we often measure our worth by our contributions and accomplishments: our GPA in school, the raise at work, the healthy meals we prepare for our families. Even our consistent prayer routine is tracked. And when we don’t get the promotion, when we find ourselves in the drive-thru line ordering dinner, or when we miss our morning prayer for the third day in a row, we feel like failures. But none of these externally measurable things define us. However, our response to the call to love can transform us. We are beloved. God loves us whether we do certain things or not. He “sent his only-begotten Son into the world so that we might have life through him” (1 John 4:10), and all He asks of us in return is to love and be loved by Him. Relate to the Lord // How will you live in your beloved identity today?

For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named . . . // Ephesians 3:14-15 While I sit in the hallway of my childhood home, my parents argue behind a closed door. Why are they not getting along? I miss our time spent together, and I worry that our little family of three will soon be torn apart. Living in a home with parents divided on many things is hard on any child. Experiencing it as an only child, without a sibling to turn to and share the pain with, makes it even harder. During that time in my life, I felt lonely and isolated; my heart ached for companionship. While I could not always name it, eventually I learned that I suffered from wounds of abandonment and helplessness. Slowly, however, God showed me the reality of my adoption in Christ through Baptism. He helped me recognize myself as His daughter, who is “rooted and grounded in love” in order “to know the love of Christ” (Ephesians 3:17, 19). With confidence, I began to see myself as part of “the people he has chosen for his own inheritance” (Psalm 33:12).  I love my parents, and I am so grateful for them. I am especially grateful for their decision to bring me to the waters of Baptism, where I became a daughter of God. I cherish the good memories we shared together. As for that painful memory of me sitting in the hallway, now when I recall it, I cannot help but see Jesus sitting next to me, His arm around me, and my head resting on His shoulder. While I felt alone, I realize that I never was. The Lord was always with me, and He always will be. My dear sister in Christ, I imagine you have experienced your own sense of loneliness at some point in your life. Maybe it was years ago, but the scars still remain. Or perhaps you are in a season of loneliness right now. My prayer for you today is that you may know your true belonging, your true place in God’s family, your true part of “the design of his heart” (Psalm 33:11).