I used to work in a hospital where a dove sticker was placed above a patient's door shortly after he or she passed away. This sticker, which was not much larger than a sticky note, carried more meaning than any diagnosis or lab value that could be found in the patient's chart. It communicated to those walking by that a soul had left an earthly body. That a wife would never feel her husband's warm embrace again. That a daughter would never get to go wedding dress shopping with her mother. Seeing this dove almost always made me tear up, but it also made me aware of another important aspect of dying: hope. Today’s readings are filled with countless reminders of this hope for a life after death. In the passage from the Book of Wisdom we hear "the souls of the righteous are in the hand of God, and no torment will ever touch them . . . they are at peace.” Jesus echoes a similar sentiment in the Gospel as He tells Martha, “Your brother will rise again . . . whoever lives and believes in Me shall never die.” While losing a loved one is undoubtedly life-altering and devastating, there is hope in knowing, “they are at peace,” and dwelling in the house of the Lord as described in the Psalm verses. And so as we commemorate All Souls’ Day today, let us pray for our loved ones who have gone before us and for all of the souls in Purgatory. And may we live our lives in such a way that if a dove were to show up on our own hospital door tomorrow, we would be ready to enter the Lord’s house. Joan Nagel is a Registered Dietitian, and in her spare time she can be found reading, writing, and drinking coffee. You can find out more about her here.

What rich and beautiful readings God gives us today on this Feast of All Saints. First, Saint John’s striking revelation of the “great multitude which no man could number . . . crying out with a loud voice” to God. I feel united with the Psalmist as I, too, daily seek God’s face. The First Book of John is one of my favorite books in the whole Bible (I’ll spend some time with that reading in a moment), and then we hear the Beatitudes, which can be so challenging, and yet bring so much peace. A wealth to reflect upon this day . . . . “It does not yet appear what we shall be, but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is.” Can you imagine? Can you even begin to imagine? I am not sure I can, which I suppose is part of the great mystery of Heaven. But what an incredible gift it would be to see God as He is, and not only that—to be like Him. This is what the Saints have done so well during their time on earth: they became like Him. Of course, like us, they had their human weaknesses, but they also had (many more) moments of great holiness. I found this quotation from Pope Benedict XVI on the Saints to be particularly profound: “Nothing can bring us into close contact with the beauty of Christ himself other than the world of beauty created by faith and light that shines out from the faces of the saints, through whom his own light becomes visible.” I’d invite you to take an extra moment to read that once more (and maybe spend some time reflecting on it later today. It’s really quite something). The Saints bring us into contact with Christ’s beauty. Saints know their identity as God’s beloved children, and they know what the Second Reading reminds us today: that we are God’s children now. Not one day in Heaven, but now! So let us not wait for our heavenly homeland to be like Him, but let’s start striving for sainthood this very day. Let us live the beatitudes, like the Saints that have gone before us, that we might also receive what the Lord has promised: our reward will be great in Heaven. May each of us become saints, that the light of Christ may shine through us and be visible to all the world. Elise Howe is a devoted wife and musician currently living in NYC, though she will always be a midwestern gal at heart. You can find out more about her here.

Do you have a Paul or Timothy in your life? Someone who is filled with the Spirit? From whom God’s love just overflows? Today I had the gift of attending a daily Mass. I wish it was a normal thing, but it is not. Not with a two year old. But here I was today with my two year old in tow, because I really needed to be there. After mass, I saw my “Paul or Timothy." She was seated in the pew at the opposite side with her own little two year old. I approached her without words and was able to put my head on her shoulder and just cry. She prayed while I let the tears flow. Her words and God’s peace surrounded me and I emptied myself in heaving sobs and let God work through her to fill me back up again. Life is tough. It is filled with frustrations big and small, with job losses and death, with fights and tears, but it is also filled with love. And we have others around us to share in our joys and struggles both. I love the line in the first reading: . . . I hold you in my heart, for you are all partakers with me of grace . . . . We are not in this alone. God gave us His son, and His Church for good reason. Just as the disciples and apostles and early church fathers relied on one another, we too can rely upon one another. Look at your own life—are you acting as a true servant of Christ in your community? Our domestic church is so important—but so too is the wider community in which we serve. No matter the day or the circumstances, we should be there to pull one another out of the well. Paul/Timothy writes with such excitement (and run on sentences) as they pray that our love abounds, that we increase our knowledge and grow in purity and righteousness. Perhaps as we allow this to happen, we may become more like Christ Jesus, and be the Paul or Timothy to everyone we encounter. MaryRuth Hackett is a full-time wife and mother doing her best to teach her four children to love God and country. You can find out more about her here.

We all have a battle we are facing. The Enemy ultimately is always the same: that little rascal snake. The hardest battle in our lives we face is choosing Christ in our lives. I have found that this battle doesn't happen just once in our lives, but it’s over and over again a constant choosing, by the day, by the minute, choosing Christ over anything else. Our battlefields look different. Mine right now is the chaos of child rearing, making decisions to choose patience, not losing my temper, letting the mess not bother me so much, holding my tongue. My husband’s battlefield resides more at work, making choices in the work force that are not popular or “mainstream,” not laughing at jokes or pranks that do not withhold human dignity, boldly declaring the Gospel in many a political discussion. Your battlefield is different too and can even change at an instant. We are all battling the same thing, because the Enemy is always the same, but our own struggles and the way that we fight to get the end result are different, too. Good news, though, folks, God has given us the tools, the right equipment at the right time for the battlefield we are in. We've got the proper gear. Maybe because football season just started this analogy is fresh in mind, but God does not give you soccer gear if you are going out to play football . . . sheesh that would really bang you up good. NO! God gives you the right equipment for the right game. He gives us the good stuff too. I know we all appreciate those name brand goodies, and brag about them when we do! Breastplate of righteousness, faith as our shield, sword of truth—those are some heavy hitters right there. Quality. If I got a sweet Kate Spade purse, but never used it . . . what's the point?! Use that baby, put it to work, enjoy it. Same goes for the swag God is giving us in today's reading; we need to pick them up and USE them! Do not let them go to waste. We need to use all the gear God has given us, because the battlefield is thick and we need them to survive, if not thrive. God does not give us tools to look at and think “Oh, that’s shiny.” They were given to us to be used and have a specific design and purpose to our advantage in the craziness of the battlefield. Gird those loins, ladies, roll up them sleeves, put on your favorite pair of stilettos (or sweatpants), and walk out in courage on that battlefield ready and prepared to choose Christ, every minute of every day. Work it. Cassie is a wifey, mommy, likes to get a little crafty and writes in her spare time on her blog-y. You can find out more about her here.

If you were fortunate enough to make it to Mass today (I was not), you heard this Psalm refrain: The Lord is faithful in all his words (Psalm 145: 13 ESV) If you're like me, when you do make it to Mass, nine times out of ten, the Psalm refrain goes in one ear and out the other. Maybe I'm distractedly still thinking about the First Reading, or more likely I'm distracted by my crazy toddler, or someone sitting in front of me, or my hungry stomach. Maybe I don't have a missal to look at and am struggling to make out what the words of the refrain even are. Instead of hearing God's promises proclaimed I'm hearing the scattered mumblings of other mass-goers. I go through the entire Mass without any notion of what that refrain was. During the Liturgy of the Word God is speaking to us, His people. And during the Responsorial Psalm, we have the chance to respond to God; to offer Him thanksgiving, praise, and all the things we carry in our hearts. These are some of the Psalm refrains from the last week: I love you, Lord, my strength. Psalm 18:2 Let us go rejoicing to the house of the Lord. Psalm 122:1 Lord, this is the people that longs to see your face. Psalm. 24:6 The earth us full of the goodness of the Lord. Psalm 33:5 And today we say: The Lord is faithful in all his words. But today this is a hard response to voice. Do I really believe that God is faithful, when I see friends struggling with illness and loss, marriages falling apart around me, and family members dealing with unemployment? In my own family there is uncertainty about the future, and stress about finances. Do I believe that the Lord will be faithful to us through it all? When my own faith is weak I gain encouragement from the Psalmist himself, King David, a man after God’s own heart. He started out humbly as a shepherd. He too struggled with temptation and sin. He had one son taken from him, while another son sought to steal his kingdom and take his life. But despite all this, he always came back to a posture of praise. The Lord is faithful in all his words And holy in all his works. The Lord lifts up all who are falling And raises up all who are bowed down. -Psalm 145:13-14 When you feel like you are falling, know that the Lord sees you, and “He is mighty to save.” (Zeph 3:17) He is a faithful God who has already destroyed death and all our sins on the cross. This doesn’t mean that every aspect of our lives will or should be easy. But He sees the suffering, loss and brokenness, and he will lift us up. And so with confidence and joy we can proclaim: The Lord is faithful in all his works. Spend a few moments reflecting on the ways God has been faithful in your life. Anna Coyne is a wife, mother, musician, knitter, and gardener from St. Paul, MN. Read more about her here.

  Full disclosure: some days I have no clue how to run a household. My husband and I have one house, two jobs, and three kids to take care of. We have a garden to tend, cars to maintain, bank accounts to balance, chores to complete, and bills to pay. For crying out loud, we’re 33 years old. But some days I feel like we’re failing at adulthood. The kitchen never gets clean, the laundry never gets folded. Bills get lost in the paper clutter, and weeds threaten to take over the yard. Every few months it feels like we have the same tired conversation, way too late at night: Why can’t we keep it together? Why is it so hard to keep this house running? I secretly fear that everyone has it together except us. When I was a teenager, itching for independence, I could almost taste the thrill of living on my own. I’d be in charge. I’d make all the decisions. I’d have everything humming along, happy as can be. And as a young adult, living on my own in my twenties, I did love the freedom of buying whatever I wanted at the grocery store. Choosing how I wanted my apartment to look. Coming home as late as I wanted. But it was far from perfect. Reality meant I was also responsible for all the financial stress, all the drudgery of chores, all the juggle of time between work and home. The thrill of my own place wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. When I got married, the challenges of running a household only magnified. Yes, I had a partner to help with this work, but we also brought different approaches and expectations for household management. Enter kids into the picture? More laundry, more dishes, more questions about how to pay for it all. I wouldn’t trade this life for any other, but these are still the verbs I use: stretch, crunch, juggle, squeeze. The household of God? Those words stop me in my tracks. As Saint Paul describes it, the household of God is about people, not perfection. About holiness, not achievement. About community, not isolation. It’s not about having it all together, but about becoming holy together. Whether we’re single or married, parents or children, friends or neighbors, we are part of a household bigger than ourselves and our to-do lists. Imagine what would happen if we trusted that we were part of God’s household. The freedom of fear, the release from anxiety, the joy of knowing we are loved and cared for beyond our wildest dreams. The reminder that we are not the ones in charge, and we never had to be. Not while God’s joyful, abundant love keeps calling us home. Chore charts and household helps and the perfect Pinterest plan can guide our labors of love. But if our eyes aren’t fixed on the bigger dream of beyond--of God’s longing to draw us together in a home of justice and peace and love and holiness—then we get dragged down by the daily grind. Today I’m choosing to see this home as a household of God. As walls echoing with laughter, not baseboards needing to be scrubbed. As a fridge with food to share, not sticky shelves needing to be sanitized. As a checkbook with enough extra to give to those in need, not a failed math problem where we always come up short. Because Christ is the cornerstone of this household. Holding together the whole structure, even when we worry it’s shaky. Growing us into holiness, even when we fear we’re stuck. Building us together—mysteriously, miraculously—into a dwelling place for God. Laura Kelly Fanucci is a writer and mother to three little boys who never stop talking. She and her husband live in the suburban wilds of Minnesota. You can find out more about her here.

Were you ever that kid in class? You know the one I mean; the one with all the questions and the smart retorts. The one who always knew better than the teachers and was out to prove it. I imagine the lawyer in Matthew 22 to be that kid. He knows this Jesus guy is full of baloney and he's going to prove it; publicly and without shame. Can you imagine being a Pharisee AND a lawyer? This man probably filled out forms in triplicate just to get out of bed in the morning. Order and law was this man's bread and butter, literally and spiritually. I can imagine him approaching Jesus with his rationale so water tight, complete with footnotes and appendices, that it would float. He was probably brimming with confidence that he could shoot holes in whatever response Jesus gave him, proving that this "man" was an impostor and not his Messiah. And so he approached, asked and received his answer. “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments depend all the Law and the Prophets.” No lectures. No debates. No detailed treatises complete with footnotes and appendices. Just love. It must have shaken these by-the-book Pharisees to the core. How often do we forget that everything depends on these two commandments? How often do we look for the answers in all our rules and regulations, our rituals and prayers, but lose sight of the bigger picture? Are my actions showing love for my neighbor? Am I treating them as I would wish to be treated? Is my life guided by a love of God? Is a love of God and my fellow man the root of my being? Jesus does not say that our law, our traditions, and our rituals are wrong (though he has more to say to the Pharisees later on this subject), but that all our actions, our traditions, our celebrations must be rooted in the love of God as our foundation. God must be our rock and our fortress which guides our every action. Without that love for God supporting and guiding us our actions, our traditions, our very words are empty. When the love of God is our base, all of our actions big and small fall into place. When the love of God drives us the care of our families becomes in itself an act of love. Our prayers become an act of love. Work, play, church, happiness, and sorrow all become an endless, seamless act of love. Today, let us not be afraid to reexamine the foundation of our faith. Push away all your false foundations and cling to the rock that is God's love. Molly Walter is a wife, mother and homemaker (with a pesky job outside the home). She writes at Molly Makes Do about making the life she wants with the life she's been given. You can find out more about her here.

“Let it alone this year also, until I dig around it and put on manure. Then if it should bear fruit next year, well and good” Luke 13:8 In today’s gospel we hear the parable of the fig tree. Here is this tree that hasn’t produced fruit in three years. Now, I’m no master gardener, but I get a pretty decent harvest from my little backyard vegetable patch. And if I had a plant that wasn’t producing any fruit, I would get rid of it without a second thought, and make room for something that would yield a harvest. But the gardener in this parable is patient and merciful. He’s going to put in time and energy to give that tree one more chance. Sometimes it’s easy to think of God as a God of wrath, just waiting for me to make a mistake so that He can give me the condemnation that I deserve. But this is not an accurate image of our Lord. Our Lord is “rich in mercy” Eph 2:4 He is “slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness.” Ps 86:15 He is a God who “desires all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth.” 1 Timothy 2:4 And “from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.” John 1:16 The image of mercy found in today’s gospel brings me to my knees in humble gratitude. I know that the soil of my heart can be hard and rocky. I know I go through times of barrenness, where my soul is dried up, and I have no fruit to show. I am so thankful that during those times Jesus has not given up on me, rather He has tended to my heart, so gently and so lovingly, bringing the grace and healing that I need. Are you going through a spiritual drought today? Come to the fountain that is Jesus Christ. Come to Him in Scripture, come to Him in the sacraments, that you may receive “grace upon grace.” Anna Coyne is a wife, mother, knitter, gardener and convert to the Catholic faith. Read more about her here.

  I smiled at Jesus's words to the crowds: "When you see a cloud rising in the west, you say at once, 'A shower is coming'; and so it happens. And when you see the south wind blowing, you say, 'There will be scorching heat'; and it happens." Umm, sorry, Jesus, but I'm a pretty rotten interpreter of the weather. Horrible, in fact. If I wear my cute rain boots it will be 80 and sunny. Sandals and shorts and it's a downpour. I am perpetually too cold, too hot, too . . . something. My only grace is Minnesota in winter, which is (praise God for consistency) faithfully frozen. Yet the Lord puts faith in us to be attentive to these simple things, and even more so: "Why do you not know how to interpret the present time? Why do you not judge for yourselves what is right?" These quiet, persistent words echo in my heart whenever I actually take the time to be attentive to them. My life (and I'm guessing yours, too) are full-to-the-brim with opportunities to seek the truth within the present day. For me, it is the grumpy, unresponsive clerk at the grocery store, the friendship that has been wounded and in need of reconciliation, the tears of a clingy little one, the moans of a mother in labor, the vacant stare of my papa whose mind and body have been gripped by Alzheimer's and Parkinson's. What is right? And what is true? To lead a life that is, as Saint Paul exhorts, "worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all lowliness and meekness, with patience, forbearing one another in love." It means to wish a good day to the one who is having a hard time of it, to seek forgiveness from a beloved whom we've wronged, to brush away the tears of a little one and hold the hand of a woman in need, and to sing to the man who might not remember me with his mind, but remembers me instead with his heart. I may not be able to interpret the weather, but it is these things that are far more important. What is Our Lord asking you to speak truth about today? Let it sink into your heart as a Truth that is unshakeable. Karen Schultz is a Certified Birth Doula living a Twin Cities life with a country girl's heart. Read more about her here.

  After a day of playing in the crashing waves, we washed up in the public shower as best one can when trying to wash sand off while still wearing a bathing suit. We carefully managed to change into some dry clothes, doing our best to avoid the questionable bathroom floors. Blankets were passed around, and if you managed to get a chair then you considered yourself lucky. As the sun set on the wet horizon, and the last rays of sunshine faded into the darkness a new light started to shine. Bonfires scattered up and down the coastline were slowly growing in strength and warmth, and our salty selves huddled around the flames with our friends and families. I looked up and down the shore. The sun was gone; the moon was hiding somewhere behind the clouds. We looked like nomads, making temporary homes. While some ventured out to the water's edge, most returned to the gatherings around the fires—perhaps out of the sense of safety we felt near the light. It's funny how fire can be so attractive despite the power it has to completely and utterly destroy. Like the fire we stood around that attracts and compels awe in us, so does the glory of God call us to reverence and wonder. He desires for us to acknowledge that He should be placed above all others in our hearts. And because of this, relationships and other desires might be divided from our lives. In today’s Gospel, Christ presents this dangerously attractive love and calls us to examine what is first in our heart of hearts. Is He first in your heart? Or is someone or something else taking precedence? Perhaps you can take a moment today and invite the refining fire of God’s love into your heart and ask that you might learn to love Him first. Jacqueline Skemp is a daughter, sister, wife and mother who endures living in Minnesota after leaving California for her one true love. You can find out more about her here.

Have you ever stopped to wonder—to truly wonder—how people shared news 2000 years ago? There were no social media networks, no television programs, and no smart phones. There were no billboards, no newspaper ads, and no Google searches. But people had voices. And they had a passion for sharing the Gospel with others: an invitation and desire to transform lives and hearts. In the first reading we learn of Saint Paul’s call to preach the Gospel as he writes: “To me though, I am the very least of all the saints, this grace was given, to preach to the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ, and to bring to light for everyone what is the plan of the mystery hidden for ages in God who created all things.” Note that Saint Paul does not boast about receiving his call to spread the Gospel, but rather he accepts his invitation to evangelize with humility. In choosing to respond as a faithful servant, he avoids facing the consequences of ignoring the call of his Master described in Saint Luke's Gospel: “And that servant who knew his master’s will but did not get ready or act according to his will, will receive a severe beating.” And so today as we celebrate the Feast Day of Saint John Paul II , may we strive to carry out his message of “Open wide the doors to Christ.” If you have been feeling a desire to serve the church in an extraordinary way, listen to that call. It’s not there by accident. Pray that you may always be ready to answer the door of your heart when you hear God knocking. Joan Nagel is a Registered Dietitian, and in her spare time she can be found reading, writing, and drinking coffee. You can find out more about her here.

  I don’t know about you, but lately I’ve had so much to do. I have a sink full of dishes, piles of laundry, a stack of homework, long hours at work, errands to run, events to attend—just so much to do. The list seems never-ending, and I’m just so busy. Can you relate? Do you ever ask a friend or colleague how they’re doing and they reply, “busy”? I hear people say that all the time, myself included, and the statement is often true. Our culture values busyness. We busy ourselves with this and that and everything in between (and sometimes we keep busy on social media finding out what other people are busy doing). Granted, sometimes being busy is not a choice; we may have responsibilities in our families, our neighborhoods, our communities. But sometimes we make the choice to busy, and more often than not, we choose it without realizing. Perhaps what’s important is not how busy you are, but how you handle the busy. What are your priorities? Does your life reflect the priorities you have set in your mind? Are you too busy for prayer? Too busy for studying Scripture every day? Too busy to devote time to growing in your faith? I hate to admit how often I am caught in this place. And in those crazy seasons of life, when I finally take a moment to stop and quiet my spirit, I find I am missing something: peace. The peace of Christ. But praise God for what we hear in the First Reading from Ephesians today: to those who were far off and to those who were near, Jesus preached peace. No matter where you are in your faith journey today, no matter where you are in your relationship with Christ, you—we—have access “in one Spirit to the Father.” He Who is Our Peace wants to give us Himself. What a beautiful gift. Spend some time pondering the gift of Jesus’ peace. How often are you open to receiving it? Let us pray that we may be like the servants in the Gospel who are ready and waiting for the Master when He comes knocking. May our doors be unlocked and ready to swing open wide for Jesus, Who is always knocking at our hearts. Can you hear Him? Let us be vigilant in seeking peace, dear sisters in Christ, that we may be blessed. Elise Howe is a devoted wife and musician currently living in NYC, though she will always be a midwestern gal at heart. You can find out more about her here.

  18 And he said, ‘I will do this: I will tear down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. 19 And I will say to my soul, “Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.”’ 20 But God said to him, ‘Fool! This night your soul is required of you, and the things you have prepared, whose will they be?’ I don't have any grain, myself. But you know what I do have? Baby clothes. Washed and folded, sorted by size and separated into bins. I installed built-ins in the guest room closet to fit all the little seasons and sizes. All so I could rest easy knowing that I had enough tiny sneakers and sweater vests to last me a lifetime. Now, fortunately for all the little sneaker-wearing people who live in this house, my life has not yet been required of me. But, nor have I required all that stuff I so carefully hoarded for so many years. I moved winter girl clothing from the Bay Area, to Chicago, Chicago again, and two stops in LA, all so they could live in my guest room for when my next future daughter would need them. And this while other mothers in this world didn't have any lovely warm dresses at all to put on their babies. I saved all of those things from a place of trying to be a responsible steward of our resources, and be able to use again things that we had bought or been given. But, in his "Sermon to the Rich" I think St. Basil pretty specifically calls me out on it: “The coat, which you guard in your locked storage-chests, belongs to the naked; the footwear mouldering in your closet belongs to those without shoes. . . . Thus, however many are those whom you could have provided for, so many are those whom you wrong." They are strong words. But, to me, they ring true. I still pass clothes from one brother to the next, from one boy's drawer to another, and I have a few items saved that are of sentimental value. But, even though I hope to have another baby or two before this part of my life is over, all my stores of baby clothes are heading to new homes. Packing up a huge box of my 0-12 month hoard to send to my new baby nephew, who just came to the family (with very little notice) through adoption, was a joy in all sorts of ways. It was a little hard, too. I am attached to those clothes. But that's exactly the problem. My Christian faith calls me to be recklessly, generously detached from my possessions. Even baby clothes. Now I just have to steel myself to pass along the tiny little dresses. Gulp. Kendra Tierney can be found tending nine chickens, seven children, and one husband in Los Angeles, CA. You can find out more about her here.

Have you ever seen the movie The Prince of Egypt? It is based on the Exodus account of Moses and his liberation of the Hebrews from slavery to the Egyptians, and it's amazing. Not only is it profoundly moving, but the musical score is gorgeous and you can watch it with kids in the room. My favorite scene in the movie is when Moses encounters God in the burning bush (if you've never seen it, watch it right now; it's like 6 minutes but it's totally worth your time, cross my heart). Are you back now? Great. Wasn't that beautiful? Moses is first astounded by the bush that does not disintegrate, and then he hears his name. God calls him by his name. God captivates Moses' attention by the mention of his name and then reveals the mission that He will entrust to him. Name and mission. The two are profoundly connected. We see this in today's First Reading: "I call you by your name, I name you . . . .I equip you, though you do not know me, that people may know, from the rising of the sun and from the west, that there is none besides me[.]"; and again in the Second Reading: "For we know, brothers loved by God, that he has chosen you[.]" God called Moses by name, because, as Dale Carnegie said, "There is no sweeter sound to one's ear than the sound of his name." God uses Moses' name to bring him into an intimate encounter, to reveal His plan to him. And God calls Moses by name in order to comfort him. He does the same thing with us, dear friends. The Lord calls us by name. We are chosen by Him and for Him. The sound of our name is not only sweet to our own ears, but it is sweet to Jesus. You are sweet to Jesus. You are not forgotten. You are not an orphan. You are not merely another face in the crowd, scurrying along without being noticed. He sees you. He knows you. He knows your name, and He calls you by it because His love for you penetrates you to the deepest mystery of who you are. Sweet sisters in Christ, may we listen for that small Voice that calls us by name in our happiest times and in our darkest times. Because He has chosen us, He is calling us by name, and He will not forget us. Olivia Spears is a middle school religion teacher turned SAHM who is married to her high school best friend. You can find out more about her here.

The First Reading today grips my heart. Can you imagine? Discerning that your death is near and trying to encourage and instruct your son in the faith one last time? That’s exactly what Saint Paul is doing throughout his second letter to Timothy. He writes of rejection and betrayal, but also of friendship and God’s faithfulness. This has always been a favorite epistle of mine, but one simple line in today’s reading struck me even more than the beautiful encouragement found elsewhere in the letter: “Luke alone is with me.” We know that Saint Luke was a physician, and that his Gospel reveals a particular concern for Gentiles and compassion for women. We don’t know much else about him, but through the eyes of Saint Paul we can see that he was also a faithful friend. I’m in the middle of a lot of Big Life Changes (trademark) right now, including preparing for two cross-country moves in the next six months and a wedding on the horizon. I’ve certainly felt the sting of rejection, and have fallen into the “I don’t have a lot of friends, woe is me!” pity party trap. It’s hard, isn’t it? To feel isolated by or because of our location, our careers, our lack of careers, our faith. It isn’t as dramatic as, say, being literally thrown to lions because of the betrayal of a friend. But we are a people created for community, and we will always feel the absence when we’re divorced from that. I just have to be careful that I don’t ignore the friendships I do have because they aren’t the friendships I want to have. When everyone else had abandoned Saint Paul or was sent away, Saint Luke remained at his side. We remember Saint Luke as a Gospel writer and a physician—he’s even the patron saint for doctors and surgeons. But today I also want to remember him as a friend. Through his intercession may we nurture the relationships God has placed in our midst, bring comfort to those near us who are hurting, and find our hope in Christ, the one who always stands beside us and gives us strength. Kassie Rutherford is a dancer, fiction writer and editor from Texas currently relocating from LA to NYC. You can find out more about her here.

“You are of more value than many sparrows.” We are of more value than the sparrows that are not forgotten before God, and the hairs of our heads are numbered. It is a comfort to be reminded that we will never be forgotten by God. The Holy Spirit, the guarantee of our inheritance until we acquire possession, values each and every one of us. We are so valuable to Him that He wants us to guard our souls more than anything. We have nothing to fear from those who would kill our bodies, that is, if our souls are in a state to face God. So, we must be vigilant before God, and seek to become more like Him. “Beware of the leaven of the Pharisees, which is hypocrisy. Nothing is covered up that will not be revealed, or hidden that will be known. Therefore whatever you have said in the dark shall be heard in the light, and what you have whispered in private rooms shall be proclaimed on the housetops.” While this can be taken in one light as a warning, it also can be seen as encouragement. Our faith even when lived quietly is known to God. If we whisper good things in the dark, these will be made known, as well as all the bad that we say. It is so easy to have a begrudging thought towards others or a despairing moment in the midst of a hard day, but to be saints we must turn these uncharitable, hopeless thoughts into prayer. When we find ourselves in a miserable moment of a day, we must offer that up to God. When we encounter unkind or irritating persons, we must offer prayer for that person in our hearts. When nothing seems to be going well, and the situation seems hopeless, we must remember that God "works all things according to the counsel of [H]is will." Let us be mindful of God in our lives today. During the still moments, place your heart in His presence. In the crazy moments, let your heart reach out to Him for help. For whatever we say and think to ourselves, will be made known, so let it be good, and for our salvation. We are so valuable to God, that He wants us all to be with Him forever. Susanna Spencer once studied theology and philosophy, but now happily cares for her three adorable little girls and her dear husband. You can find out more about her here.

  There is something about worship music that completely overtakes me. As I lift my hands up in praise and as I worship Him with the congregation, I am always overcome with intense emotion. I feel the music deep in soul as it bubbles up. I become filled with the words of praise and I weep. Every. Single. Time. I remember noticing this when I was about fifteen years old at my youth group. We would always begin and end the night with praise and worship and I would always bawl my eyes out. As a teen, I felt like an anomaly; I felt strange. I would question my emotions. I would be thinking, Why am I crying? No one else is crying. I would try to distract myself during the music so I would not cry. I would try to block out the words of the song so I would not be overcome with emotion. I was self-conscious and I doubted myself. But one day, I remember it clearly, one of my youth group leaders and I were talking and I mentioned to her that I would always cry during worship music. I explained to her of my self-doubt. But she said something that has stuck with me for the last ten years: “Your emotional expression is a Gift of the Spirit.” This simple declaration completely floored me. She went on to explain that when our hearts are touched by the Holy Spirit, we simply cannot help but release this emotion. Our earthly bodies are simply not capable of containing the immensity of the Holy Spirit. Our bodies find ways of cathartic release—and for me it is through crying. Today’s Psalm completely echoes of this notion: "Oh sing to the Lord a new song.” "Make a joyful noise to the Lord.” “With trumpets and the sound of the horn make a joyful noise before the King, the Lord!" All of Heaven and earth sings His praises. Even when we picture the angels in Heaven, what do they always have with them? Harps and trumpets. God’s Own angels in Heaven are constantly singing His praises! It only fits that when we sing His praises on earth we catch a glimmer of the perfect sounds of the angels. It is as if during worship music, the heavens part and the angels sing with us and the Holy Spirit is called. Now whenever I am lifting my arms in praise and singing with my brothers and sisters, I allow my emotions to pour out. I feel no shame. I feel no embarrassment. I feel connected to the complete faithfulness of our Lord. It is beautiful. Do you feel overcome with emotion when you sing His praises? Is there anything you do in the name of the Lord that completely overtakes you? Samantha Aguinaldo-Wetterholm is a wife, mom, and soon-to-be-dentist currently living in San Francisco, California. You can find out more about her here.