As a young Christian I sometimes focused more on what I was not supposed to do. Don't love the best seat in the synagogues. Don't load people with burdens and keep things easy for myself. Don't have orgies or get drunk. Those were easier for me, especially since I didn't frequent synagogues or crazy parties, but some have been much more difficult. Don't be jealous or envious or have fits of anger. I have tried not to do those things, too, but they've required more work, so much so that I'm still working on them. As I have matured in my faith, I have shifted away from the rules of what I'm not supposed to do and found myself focusing on that which is far harder: the things I should be doing. God, Love, our Catholic Faith—they are not lists of "Thall Shall Not's." They are incredible affirmations of all that we know we want to be, telling us not only that we should but also that we can. We can be these things that are so attractive and holy but seem so far out of our reach—how refreshing to be told this! Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control—we can do and be and have these glorious virtues. These Fruits of the Spirit can make up who we are at our very core. But how? The Psalmist writes, "Blessed is the man who . . . delights in the law of the Lord . . . . He is like a tree planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in its season." When we keep in step with the Spirit, meditating on God's law, His Word, day and night, then we are blessed. Our roots are deep and are constantly being fed, just like the tree planted by water in the Psalm. Then the Spirit who fills us, leads us, and has been sent by the Father and Son to be with us bears fruit within us. At the appropriate time, "in its season," we will bear the fruit of the Spirit. Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control, they are being cultivated within us. Let us pray and work so that we never neglect the love of our God, Who has begun a good work within us and will see it to its completion. Bonnie Engstrom is a writer, baker, speaker and homemaker. She lives with her husband and five children in central Illinois. You can find out more about her here.

  Do parts of Scripture ever remind you of movie scenes? I always think of the movie Braveheart when I hear Saint Paul remind the Galatians to "stand firm therefore and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery." There is a pivotal scene where William Wallace is about to be executed, and the executioner asks him if he has any final words before his death. Through his pain, Wallace utters a gut wrenching cry, "FREEDOM!" In his last breath, he utters a rallying call to the Scottish people as a reminder of the freedom they so desperately lived, fought, and died for. Freedom is not free. It comes with a great price; both of which the movie Braveheart and Saint Paul today remind us of today. The rallying cry of William Wallace can be cry for all Christian people in today's world. We live in a world that is broken, hurting, and enslaved in sin and pain. One of greatest challenges of living the Christian life is breaking the chains of slavery in our own lives that bind us and hold us down. Jesus wants our freedom more than anything. He gave it to us freely, a gift of great love. Sometimes we can be enslaved in life and not even know it. But we don't have to go back to that yoke of slavery. Jesus has set us free from a life of brokenness and sin so that we can live in true freedom: the freedom of His love and mercy. Are there areas in your life where you are not free, but enslaved? Are you living in the freedom of Christ or the yoke of slavery? Bring those areas into the light . . . talk about them with the Lord today. Stand firm today and each day dear sister, and may you live in true FREEDOM. Patty Hubbard is a new-ish wife finishing grad school, working in youth ministry, and learning to cook more than your average Lean Cuisine. You can find out more about her here.

Oh, to have God give us concrete signs! Wouldn't it be great to have a direct sign from God about what choices to make for our lives? What should we do for a living? Whom should we marry? Where should we live? What house should we buy? How should we deal with this friend, coworker, brother, sister, mother, child? Should I buy this handbag? Pumpkin spice latte or hazelnut cappuccino? Or what if God gave us a single guidebook for how to please Him? What if we all had the same directions? What would our world look like devoid of personal choices? Maybe we would all have to perform the same jobs, marry the first person who came along, proceed to the next step of God's plan for our lives at the same time as everyone else? For as much as we sometimes desperately want a direct sign from God, something to tell us what to do in a difficult situation, there is the opposite effect of eliminating our choices. If there were no options from the smallest actions of how we treat strangers on the bus or in the coffee shop, to the big decisions of life like how to serve God in a particular vocation—would that glorify God at all? Would that be a fully human expression or would it be an automation? If God made standard signs for us all we would be deprived of choice. We would be deprived of the freedom which Saint Paul speaks of today in his letter to the Galatians. Jesus came to give us freedom. We no longer are dependent on what tribe we were born into, we are not pre-determined to perform only good and righteous actions nor evil and sinful ones. Christ broke open the doors of history to bridge us to the Father through love, and gave us the gift of freedom; the gift to choose to love. Jesus throws open the doors of heaven and history by giving us something human kind can barely fathom: personal freedom. Through the Incarnation of Christ the miniscule human capacity for love was blown apart and freed from death and sin. Through Christ's sacrifice we became able to participate in the divine love of the Trinity, but only through our own interior choice. We are never forced through signs, never disrespected by God and denied choice. But through choosing God, in choosing to love fully in the smallest of actions, choices, even hidden movements of our hearts we show our full capacity for freedom. Oh, to fully love and so, be fully free! Christy Isinger is the mom to five lovely, loud children living in the Canadian wilds. You can find out more about her here.

  I have always been so perplexed by this Gospel. The reading from the Psalms? Great. Got it. At every wedding. God is Great; God is Good; He'll take care of me and my heart and soul are filled with Him. But this Gospel! This strange story of a wedding feast! Can you imagine this happening at your wedding? My parents . . . well . . . no. This is not how our wedding feast unrolled. What is Christ saying here? The regular A-list didn't care to show, and then some of them shamefully mistreated the servants and then killed them. The host destroyed the murderers and their city. Then the B-list shows up, and one man who is recruited doesn't wear appropriate garments. Was he homeless? Did he even have wedding clothes? He is thrown out in the darkness, bound up! This sounds like a nightmare host. But how can this king be a parallel to God the Father? That warm image I have in my head of Him with a soft beard, and twinkling eyes. Kinda like Santa, only less red velour? Clearly my vision of God is half-jocund, half-missing the fullness of a Just Creator. God has called us all. We get to choose how we respond. First the human race crucifies His Son. Then those living 2000 years later are half-hearted and sluggish attendees. Are we holding back from being wildly enthused about our faith (the wedding party) because the world doesn't condone our beliefs? Being Catholic is less and less popular (was it ever really popular? maybe in Medieval times?). The jokes about priests being unfit to be around your child. The unpopular stance on birth control and human reproductivity in general. The whole "men in Rome telling you how many kids to have" thing. As a mother to three little ones, I emphasize choice often. And that choices have consequences. Maybe our velour Santa-esque God the Father is not representative of the God who honors our choices. If we don't choose Him, if we don't choose to shoulder, accept, embrace our crosses, if we don't actualize love to those who need it the most, all of these uncomfortable choices, then we don't want to be at the party. Our actions speak louder than our words, or in this case, the man's outfit spoke of what he thought of the place he was attending: not worthy of his best threads. Today: choose God. Choose love. Tomorrow: attend His party in Heaven. I really really really want to go there. But that depends on what I do here. Nell O'Leary is an attorney turned stay-at-home mom to three lovelies. She and her husband live in the great city of Saint Paul. You can find out more about her here.

  Just imagine . . . a woman calling out to Jesus and telling Him that His Mother is blessed—and Jesus, in reply, tells her rather it is we who are blessed for hearing the word of God and keeping it. Thank you Lord! It is hard work to hear the word of God and keep it! We are asked to turn our back on those we love, to love our enemies, to give up all that we have as we follow Christ. This is not easy stuff. But we do this because we have FAITH. Faith is what unifies us, propels us, and keeps us following His word. The First Reading tells us that those of us baptized into Christ, have put on Christ. We have left our identities behind us, and now are no longer slave or free, male or female, but rather one in Christ. To be a Christian means more than going to church on Sundays; it means a complete and continual transformation of our identity. It is a constant and yet it is continual. Saint Theresa says God calls us from the center of our souls and we seek to find our way home to Him. This is who we are, and this is our life work—to find our way home. Where are you on your journey home to Christ? Are you stuck at a rest-stop? Have you taken the scenic route? What are the biggest road blocks to your faith? How do you express your faith and your love along this journey? 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.

  I am often a house divided. In fact, I spend most evenings running through a list of how much I'd like to change, and how determined I am to change it. Wake up early, be more present, read to them, spend time in silence, turn off your phone, be prepared, be gracious, go slowly, don't raise your voice. I fall asleep often totally sincere in my confidence to wake up on the other side of the night a new person—better, more efficient, more loving, changed. But 19 times out of 20, the day goes on like it did a hundred times before . . . and nothing's changed. I'm wasting my time, I'm losing my temper, I'm scatterbrained, I am unkind. And I grumble and I chastise myself and sometimes I even say "How foolish . . . ." How foolish to spend so much time convincing yourself it could be any better. But I realize something important about that one day out of the 20 (probably something more like one day out of 100). Those days are only different because I am undivided. My intention is pure and my prayer sincere—not my will, but Yours. All too often, I seek change so that I can spend more time being happier. I find myself complaining about how tired I am of the stress of our lives or how disconnected I feel from my children or from my husband and I want to change it. I mean, I want to be faithful, but mostly I just want things to change, to be better. It makes me realize that the days when it all falls apart, I am nothing more than a house divided. I have one foot there and one foot here, and so I mope and I fuss about my own inability to tackle my little battles. But my intention isn't unified or even good, and so it fails me, every time. The interesting thing about the days when I feel the grace of God so mightily and so closely is that they are still days that "don't go right" . . . but it doesn't matter anyway, because my goal was wholly one. "All my prayers, works, joys, sufferings . . . ." And I am still happy. My purpose was singular. I am not divided. And I am happy. Funny how that works, huh? I want to work harder at my own sincerity, so that I can be a whole, unified sanctuary, really only wanting the will of a God Whom I know to be good. Be a strong house today with me. When we are, we move mountains, just like Abraham. When we are, even our weakness is strength, like He promised. Blythe Fike is the wife of Kirby and mother of 5 smallish kids. She homeschools and loves the quiet life in small town SoCal. You can find out more about her here.

  "How much more will the Heavenly Father give . . . ?" Can you or I or wise theologians even begin to guess how much our Heavenly Father will give us? We human beings only understand finite things, so to even try to wrap our heads around the infinite nature of God's love and mercy is impossible. We just can't ever know how much God can and will provide. In some ways, that's incredibly frustrating! We don't know how amazing and unending God's love is, and often I think we give up on prayer and trusting because we don't know: "Well, I've been praying about this for so long, and nothing. Is God listening? Does He care? Is my prayer in vain?" Never! Jesus tells us in the Gospel to ask, ask, and ask! Knock! The story he tells to illustrate His point basically is a blueprint for our prayer. If the friend got up to answer the door just because of the man's persistence, Jesus is telling me, "KEEP ON PRAYING. DO NOT GIVE UP. God will give you SO MUCH MORE than you can even imagine. Knock. Ask. Seek ME." Not only does Jesus tell us to pray, seek, and knock, He assures us that "it will be given to you . . . you will find . . . [the door] will be opened to you." Are we trusting Jesus enough to believe it? Are we asking, seeking, knocking with the belief and hope that we will be answered and God will provide for us? I try to trust and believe in Jesus' promise that our Heavenly Father will give us all we need, and so much more. I find it hard to even understand how God could give me more than I need or want, when I don't even know what I need and want (at least, I think I know, but God knows best). It seems impossible sometimes for God to "work all things for the good" in my life when everything seems so insane and disordered that from my point of view. There is nowhere even to begin to untangle and make sense of the crazy mess that my life seems to be some days. I wonder if I was needing something at 3am, would I keep knocking on my neighbor's door until I got what I needed? Do I consider what these words mean not only for God's promise to me, but the example He is setting for my life? Will I look at the needs of my friends, family, neighbors, and strangers in a new way? When my kids are "knocking" at 3am, for fourth time that night, will I grumble, or give generously as our Heavenly Father does? When a relative calls in need but it is an inconvenience, will I turn them away, or give of my time? When I see a need anywhere, will I pray and see how God might want to use me and work through me to touch the life of someone in need? Trusting in God's great plan, His unending love and mercy, and abounding graces and providence is hard. Opening myself to be generous with my life to others in need is hard. Letting God work in my life in His time is hard. Letting God work through me to touch others is hard. And yet, Jesus reassures us that it will be done, abundantly and so much better than we can imagine, if we only ask! Gina Fensterer is a wife, daughter, mother, friend, homeschooling mama and Colorado native. You can find out more about her here.

  Every time I pray the Our Father I can't help but remind myself that these words were first spoken from the lips of Jesus. Is there a more perfect prayer? The image of God as a loving Father is a great comfort to me but I know for others it is difficult to embrace that image. The other day I was talking to a friend and she shared that she had a very dysfunctional relationship with her dad. As a result, she had a difficult time viewing God as a loving Father because to her fatherhood equated pain, not love. In some way or other, we all have issues or emotional baggage that we have to deal with in order to completely surrender ourselves to God. Do you see yourself as the precious child of God the Father? Do you see yourself as a beloved daughter of the King? As the sister of Christ? Sometimes we do. Sometimes all we hear is the evil one whispering his lies: You are unlovable. You are ugly. You are incapable. You aren't good enough. God could never truly forgive your sins. You can never truly change your old ways. And the list goes on and on. Don't believe the lies! You are God's precious daughter. You are wonderfully made. You are beautiful in your uniqueness. You are strong and able to do all things in Christ who strengthen you. I'll admit that sometimes it's hard to accept and truly believe that. We are not the first to have a difficult time changing the way we think and act. In the First Reading, there is considerable division amongst the early Christians. Some were maintaining that one needed to keep the old Jewish laws in order to obtain salvation. Saint Paul vehemently insisted that the old ways had passed, and salvation was for everyone, regardless of their background. It was difficult for many of the Jews to wrap their head around the fact that they had to change their way of thinking. Their previous understanding of salvation had been turned upside down. Christ's death and resurrection brought forth a new life in the Church. A new understanding of God's love and mercy and his desire for each and every one of us to be saved. In the same way, we need to embrace a new way of thinking about ourselves. We need to let go to the old negative lies that run through our head when we are feeling defeated. We need to understand that like a father holding the hand of His little girl, God knows when to let us walk on our own and when to pick us up and hold us close. When we surrender ourselves and truly believe this, then we can more fully live out the words of the Lord's Prayer. We lift our hands in praise of God and accept his divine will. We trust that He will provide our needs. We ask for His forgiveness and are given the grace to forgive. We rely on Him to help us live a life worthy of a precious daughter of God. Bobbi Rol is a wife and blogging mama to a teen daughter, three rambunctious little boys and two babies in heaven. You can learn more about her here.

It's a haunting notion, that God knows us inside and out. He can "discern [our] thoughts from afar" as the Psalmist tell us. He is even "acquainted with all [our] ways." !!! Even our loved ones in life don't really know us the way God does. Even our own mothers and fathers whose genetic material we share. Even those who raised us, were raised around us, sharing our every waking breathing fighting moment. I'm a mother. I've carried three babies inside me. I've felt their bones knitting together inside my womb. I've felt their hiccups and their kicks. I felt their journey out of me, and watched them take their first breaths. But even so, I'm a vessel. I'm not the creator. I'm not the maker. I'm not the knitter. Although I am a knitter. Hoping for really great lessons in Heaven, God. But back to the point. Even as their mom I am not their beginning nor their end--despite my being the last word on when bedtime commences. God is the ultimate knower and lover of us. God is our Alpha & Omega. He's it, people. He is the only one who can really say to us, like He says to Martha, while you're freaking out and cleaning in an OCD fashion, because goodness knows there's a lot of bacteria around here in 31 AD, that's not who Mary is. I know who she is, and she has chosen to be my listener right now. Don't try to take that away from her. Don't try to change her. I always saw this reading as a "Don't bustle about, remember to just sit and be fully present." But upon viewing it with the Psalm, I feel like it's also saying, God knows you. He knit you in the womb. Martha should respect who her sister is and appreciate her for her because God does. Even if she thinks she's being lazy (like I would if it were me with whatever kind of swiffer they used back then). Who am I not letting be the person God knit them to be? Who am I trying to control and shape for my purposes, instead of letting them serve God's as He sees fit, acting on her heart? Who do I need to let go of and love even if I don't understand them fully? Nell O'Leary is an attorney turned stay-at-home mom to three lovelies. She and her husband live in the great city of Saint Paul. You can find out more about her here.

  Oh, how the first reading spoke to me today: “I am astonished that you are so quickly deserting him who called you in the grace of Christ and are turning to a different gospel . . . .” How often do I leave Mass or a Bible study or just a deep conversation with a friend with my heart of fire and my faith renewed, only to quickly be caught back up in materialism and the pleasures of this world? Though I know with my whole being that Christ is the Way, the Truth, and the Life, how easily I am distracted by the shiny, shallow, fleeting things of this world. Lord, please take this fickleness from me so that I can follow your Son without ceasing. “. . . there are some who trouble you and want to distort the gospel of Christ. . . .” I am not worried about those who try to teach me a different Gospel, I am worried that I am myself an example of a false Gospel. Do those who know me know Christ through my actions, my words, and my joy? Or do they think Christianity is about something else altogether—judgment or hate or sorrow—because of me? Do they see a disciple or a hypocrite when they see me? Most of all, do they see Christ? “. . . For am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God? Or am I trying to please man? If I were still trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ . . . ” I seek to please God, but I also look for the approval of others. What a much needed reminder that too often God and man are at odds and that I should seek nothing but Him. Did these words speak to you too? Did they highlight your failings as they did mine? If so, I have good news for you. Having our faults pointed out to us is a blessing because we can start anew and use this self-knowledge to guard ourselves from these poisonous influences. Today is a new day; today we can begin again. We can fill ourselves with the Word of God, turn our backs on all false Gospels, and walk in the Way of Him Who is the Way. Lord, guide our steps. Mandi Richards is a wife, mother, and cheese lover who calls Raleigh, North Carolina home. You can find out more about her here.

  To the anxious ones: There are always a few of those thoughts lurking in the back of my mind, waiting to come out at night. They start as tiny prickling what-if's that tumble around each other, gaining speed and size as they race back and forth. As I watch them churn, they spiral down, creating a vortex of fear that sucks me in. I wonder if I should get up and write them down so I can stop worrying about them, but committing them to paper seems to give them a power I don’t want them to have. What if something goes wrong? What if there isn’t enough? What if someone gets angry? What if I never fall asleep? Anxiety is a familiar companion to me. Some of it is hereditary—my grandmother and my son both struggle with it. Some of it comes from trying to do too much with the time I have. Whatever the reason, I am often anxious, and my reaction to this passage is usually guilt. Have no anxiety at all. We are not supposed to be anxious . . . and yet, I am. Just pray about it, and God will give you peace. To someone struggling with anxiety, this almost sounds dismissive. Just pray. If you’re still anxious, well, maybe you haven’t prayed enough (and now you have something else about which to feel anxious!). The second part of the passage, though, changes everything. “Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things... Then the God of peace will be with you.” This is a prescription for peace—not just peace of mind, but true, abiding peace that comes from the God of peace, the Only One who can provide it. We fool ourselves by thinking that if we can just fix our worries, we will feel peace. Our worries are not the problem. Our hearts are the problem . . . our small, scared hearts that are afraid to fully trust that God can and does strengthen and sustain us and provide for all our needs. Try this: the next time an anxious thought creeps in, replace it with something true, or just, or lovely, or worthy of praise. Make a list of things you see and hear and experience that are honorable and excellent and gracious. Think about these things. Write them down. Meditate on them at night when anxious thoughts threaten to rob you of sleep. Make a commitment to banish anxious thoughts by refusing to allow them their power. Then the God of peace will be with you . . . just as He always has been, yesterday, today, and forever. Abbey Dupuy is a freelance writer and homeschooling mama to two-year-old twins, a first grader and a new baby. You can find out more about her here.

  Then Job answered the Lord and said: “I know that You can do all things, and that no purpose of Yours can be thwarted. (Job 42:1-2) When was the last time you wanted something really, really badly? I’m not just talking about a cute outfit you’ve been admiring online, or an extra helping of your favorite dessert. I mean something truly significant: for your friend to forgive you when you were insensitive, or for your grandfather to recover from his stroke, or (close to my Mama’s heart) for the baby to just go to sleep so you can perhaps feel slightly more like a human being again. Now . . . when was the last time you wanted something really, really badly that God wants? When did you last seek His will with the same intensity and determination as you pursued your own desires? In today’s first reading, Job has been through the wringer, man. He lost everything he holds dear, including material goods, and family members. Even his wife encourages him to just give up—to “curse God and die.” So Job, worn down by his unending trials, questions God. And God responds. And Job listens. Finally, Job addresses the Lord: “I know that You can do all things, and that no purpose of Yours can be thwarted.” Despite all his experiences of profound struggle, pain, and devastation, Job does not ultimately despair; he admits and proclaims that God is sovereign—that He is King. Job recognizes that, at the end of the day, God is in control. Job submits. He submits to God’s authority over him. He submits to God's will. He surrenders. "Oh, what dirty words,” I inwardly shudder. “I don’t want to submit. I don't want to surrender. I want to be in control. I want to hold the cards. I want my way. I, I, I!” But don’t we actually align ourselves with Job’s declaration of God as King of our lives and submit ourselves to His sovereign authority every single time we pray the “Our Father?” “Thy Kingdom come, Thy Will be done.” Thy will. Not mine. Our son’s godfather is a youth minister, and introduced me to what he calls “The Most Dangerous Prayer.” It goes like this: "Lord, do anything You desire in my life for Your greater glory.” Although he can’t recall the prayer’s origins, he warns that it comes by its title honestly: it’s dangerous simply because once you give yourself completely over to God’s will, things begin to happen, and these things might make you uncomfortable. Personally, I am a big fan of comfort. Yet as Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI reminds us, we are not called to comfort—we are called to greatness—a greatness that is as unique and individual to us as our DNA. Sometimes, when I am feeling especially brave, and capable of greatness, I pray my own version of The Most Dangerous Prayer—I pray to get out of God’s way. And you know what? He hears. Next time you find yourself wanting something really, really badly, consider if you are allowing God’s will to reign sovereign in your life. Are you holding on to your own will, or are you submitting to God’s? On this Memorial of St. Francis of Assisi, let us begin to live—not for comfort—but for our intended purpose—for His greater glory. Heather Anderson Renshaw is currently not drinking enough [coffee] to keep up with her five young kiddos. You can find out more about her here. photo credit top / bottom

  Woes. Such an intense word. Surrounding us are sorrows, destruction, and bitterness. Sometimes life might seem hopeless, but like today’s Gospel reminds us, we’ve been given the ultimate trump card. Though miracles and awe-inspiring Sacraments are to be found, our sinful ways can feel comfortable and just not worth working through. Why trust past what we already know to be fairly easy and safe? Sometimes, as hard as it is to hear, we need that jolt to remind us of our humanity and the Truth we have been offered in Christ. Today also happens to be the feast day of a pretty incredible saint, Saint Theodora Guerin. Not unlike many women today, she was strong, independent, and responsible for much. She held the roles of leader, educator, pharmacist, and traveller on top of her vocation of being a religious sister. Born in France in the late 1700s, Saint Theodora was left to care for her mother and sister at the young age of 15 when her father was murdered. Ten years later she entered the novitiate of the Sisters of Providence, but she was taken ill and left with digestive issues that were with her until she died. At the invitation of the Bishop of Vincennes, Sister Theodora Guérin and five other sisters set off on a journey first via ship and then by stagecoach to the unknown wilds of Indiana to the little town of St. Mary-of-the-Woods. Instructed to teach and care for the sick and poor, the Sisters carried out this mission while forming a new community. The trials of life didn’t pass this faithful woman by. Threatened by spiritual and emotional trials as well as physical attacks from fires to crop failure, Mother Theodora didn’t back down. The way of Truth and goodness is hard. It certainly can be weary. Like Mother Theodora, we can seek comfort in the Blessed Sacrament. As Christians, we’re called to accept God’s plan, to submit our strength and independence. I think, and I’m pretty sure I’m not alone here, that this is by no means an easy call. St. Theodora submitted to Christ’s will for her life and those she led, encouraging her fellow Sisters with the words: “Have confidence in the Providence that so far has never failed us. The way is not yet clear. Grope along slowly. Do not press matters, be patient, be trustful.” Her greatest strength was submitting her will to Christ. Be comforted by these words passed down to us from this godly woman, who is now interceding for us from Heaven. I know I often feel like I am lacking. In patience. In compassion. In charity. Our Blessed Mother gave us the perfect example of simply stating our needs to Jesus when she said, “They have no wine.” (John 2:2). She knew He would act and bless her with what she truly needed. Jesus gives us daily full access to His grace. One of the most beautiful things about our faith is we can ask and our needs will be met. God is moving regardless of our ability to see. We need not fear the woes and destruction but instead be open to the calling and vocation Christ has for us. Remember today the words of the Psalmist: “Thou art aquainted with all my ways” and find hope and reassurance in the knowledge that we are known by our Creator. Sarah Ortiz is a Catholic convert, and when not folding laundry, she can be found reading, experimenting in the kitchen, or writing at her blog. You can find out more about her here.

  "Leave the dead to bury their own dead." I don't know about you, but whenever I hear this verse I get all indignant and think, Where is your compassion, Jesus?! This man just lost his father! Don't you care?!? Technically, his father may have passed away some time before; many scholars believe today's gospel referenced the tradition of a second burial (waiting until the deceased had been in the tomb long enough that the family could collect and re-bury the bare bones). Thus it could have been months or over a year before the man was "free" to follow Jesus. Still, it seems Jesus is rather insensitive to a pretty darn reasonable request, no? In reality, I think Jesus is trying to demonstrate the radical detachment we need to have, whenever it is that He happens to call us. It won't work for us to dictate the "right" time, or place, or stage of life before we're ready to put God first. He wants us to learn that whether it's "convenient" or not, nothing—nothing—is more important than Him right now. The drastic examples in today's Gospel show us that it's easy for us to say our priorities are properly ordered, but infinitely more challenging to live it out. In practice, putting God first (before family and neighbor and material goods), would mean happily giving up those lesser priorities for Him right now if He asked. Isn't it much easier, though, to look at our list of priorities and slip God in where it best suits our agenda? But the further reality is this: Jesus doesn't ask us to do such things for His benefit; He wants us to put Him above our important events and relationships for our own good. Because in choosing God above all else, it becomes clear that His call is not one that separates us further, but unites us—and in a manner more complete than we could ever attain through our own agendas. Saint Therese of Lisieux, whose Memorial is today, had an incredibly firm grasp on Jesus's lesson in self-denial. She recognizes in her own little way that choosing God's will above our own is not an easy teaching . . . . "Ah! How contrary are the teachings of Jesus to the feelings of nature! Without the help of His grace it would be impossible not only to put them into practice, but to even understand them." . . . but if we can unite our will with God's, Saint Therese reminds us of the potential to be infinitely happy: "In Heaven the good God will do all I wish, because I have never done my own will upon earth." So with Saint Therese as our example, let us make God our highest priority in all of today's moments. Let's try to unite our will with His as we pray the words that Jesus himself uttered to the heavens: "Not my will, but Yours. Thy will be done on Earth as it is in heaven." Megan Hjelmstad is a wife, mom, writer and former soldier whose real passion is equal parts faith and chocolate. You can find out more about her here. photo credit top / bottom

Upon reflecting on today’s readings, one theme consistently came to mind - the evolution of the heart. I believe these readings set up an interesting progression of how one can deal with despair. Although each reading has a sentiment of its own, they beautifully coalesce into a prescription for the evolution of the heart. We start with Job. In this passage, he spends his time questioning his own existence and adopting a woe is me attitude. Upon reading this, quite frankly, I felt a little annoyed by him. He goes so far as to curse the day he was born. But as the Word often does, it causes us to turn inward and question our own actions. I am guilty of the same thing as Job. I have spent countless hours in self-pity, asking Why me? I have wondered why the whole world seems to be against me. But this is not the case. Our troubles are not the problem - our reactions are. This leads us to the psalms. They call us to offer up our troubles to the Lord, our God. He has not forsaken us, so why would we ignore Him when we struggle? In times of distress, in times of hardship - offer it up! The first step of the evolution of the heart takes place here. Instead of throwing our arms up and cursing our own existences, we must offer up our prayers to Him. In the deepest depths of despair and when we are thrown into the pit of hopelessness, we must call out to our Father. And finally, we are shown the ultimate end-point of the evolution of the heart in the actions of Jesus. He was condemned. He knew his fate. But did he say woe is me and throw up his arms? No. He resolutely journeyed towards His fate. I know that I have not reached this kind of conviction. I have not reached a point in my personal evolution of the heart to just accept the hardships and journey towards them. But I must look to the example of Jesus to continue my spiritual growth. How do you handle the hardships in your life? Do you resolve to self-pity? Do you offer up your prayers to our God? Do you work on your own evolution of the heart? 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.

Today is the Feast of the Archangels. We tend to see pictures and representations of angels everywhere in our culture, but we don't often think about them as a real, constant presence in our lives. I certainly didn't, at least until one afternoon late last year. As I went to retrieve my happy one-year-old from his crib after nap, he pointed toward the small Christ the Redeemer statue on his nearby nightstand and started babbling about an angel. '"Well, that’s Jesus," I said, but then hesitantly asked, “Where’s the angel?” He pointed next to the statue again and grinned at me: "Right dere!" Intrigued, I asked again at dinner. “Right here!” he exclaimed, happily pointing to his belly. He then motioned to his big brother and sister and proceeded to point out their 'guardian angels' behind them. I left it at that, but was amazed and always wondered if he really saw something. Now that he’s two and much more verbal, I decided to ask him some more detailed questions the other day: “Where is your guardian angel?” “Right here by my belly!” “What does your angel do?” “This!” he said, rocking side to side and flapping his arms. “Does your angel say anything?” “Yes, Jesus loves me!” he began to sing. He answered each question with a huge smile and without hesitation. Maybe it was coincidence, or maybe in his innocence he really could see what the angels were up to. Either way, I was impressed that my two-year-old seemed to know far more about angels than I’d ever taught him. Our knowledge of angels is still limited, but snippets of scripture offer some insight on these mysterious beings. Angels are assigned to help us, protect us, and guide us toward God, though we often forget they’re there. In today’s gospel, Jesus even tells his newly-formed group of disciples that the glory they’ll soon witness involves angels. The Bible says that archangels, in particular, are powerful angel ‘chiefs’ charged with some of God’s most important work. Revelation tells us that St. Michael the Archangel has a personal vendetta against Satan; he fights directly against the devil in the great battle of heaven (and will help defend us as such!). We know that the Archangel Gabriel was God’s personal messenger, announcing to Blessed Mary that she would be the Mother of our Lord. And we learn in Tobit that the Archangel Raphael was sent as a healer. But most importantly, we learn that the angels utterly adore God—they sing to him, they bow down in worship, and they're overjoyed at any chance to do so. Why? Because they've seen God in his full glory. And their mission is to help the whole world see the same. So they whisper heavenly secrets to my delighted son in his innocence, and guide the rest of us in our oblivion, to hopefully convey what our human eyes are too clouded to see—that nothing on earth is as incredible as God face-to-face. Today, on the Feast of the Archangels, let’s pray this prayer that St. Michael the Archangel offered to the children of Fatima in 1916: My God; I believe, I adore, I hope, and I love Thee! I beg Thee forgiveness for those who do not believe, do not adore, do not hope, and do not love Thee! Megan Hjelmstad is a wife, mom, writer and former soldier whose real passion is equal parts faith and chocolate. You can find out more about her here.

The Responsorial Psalm refrain is “Remember your mercies, O Lord.” The psalmist begins by asking for guidance, and then compassion, and then concludes with praising the Lord. In many ways this mirrors our own paths with the Lord. We press and ask for how to be holier, closer, we examine our lives, and praise a good God with our newfound appreciation. “Guide me in your truth and teach me”—words so simple, yet so difficult to pursue. We want to be guided and taught! Yet our very nature resists. It’s so much easier to do what I want, and what I feel like. It’s so much easier to set up boundaries as to what I’m willing to do and not do. It’s so much easier to try to be in charge. “Remember that your compassion . . . and your love are from of old. The sins of my youth . . . remember not.” We examine ourselves before God and know, yes, know, that we come up short of what we could be. Even all those sins and mistakes and errors in judgment and immature actions—God’s love will trump. We need that kindness; we need that love to overcome our weaknesses. It’s hard to let go of our haunting mistakes and trust that God’s on our side and has forgiven us. “[H]e shows sinners the way”—sinner! Table for one! Right here. There’s a way forward, a way out of our bad habits and frailties. That way is God. He’s going to show us the way and love us along that way. Examine yourself—and see where you know you need to forgive yourself, ask for God’s forgiveness, and more forward. Which bad habits are you going to shed today? How can you heal from past wounds? The Lord is right there, awaiting you, to show you the path to completion in Him. Just leap. He’ll catch you. Nell O'Leary is an attorney turned stay-at-home mom to three lovelies. She and her husband live in the great city of Saint Paul. You can find out more about her here.