I’ll be bold: I think I had a “mini-vision.” It happened on the Mount of Beatitudes. Some years after my divorce, on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, on our last full day there, our priest led us through a thorough litany of forgiveness followed by a healing service. We lined up under the ancient trees, forgiving and begging forgiveness, and as the priest prayed, the Spirit stirred. Dressed in his alb, the priest moved from person to person, laying on hands and offering a private word. At one point, he turned in such a way that I could see his face. As long as I live, I will never forget that moment. It was the priest—only it wasn’t. It was my ex-husband. Dressed in dazzling white, moving from pilgrim to pilgrim, praying and blessing, he was beaming with an indescribable beauty, freedom, and joy. And I believe in that moment, that I was seeing my ex-husband in Heaven. All of the wounds and strife, every anxiety that had ever plagued him, had just been washed away and he was as he was meant to be: free and whole and ministering to God’s people. It flooded my spirit with peace and joy. I knew down to my bones that this version of him really existed. Maybe it was just a work of my very fine imagination, but I believe I was given a little “vision” of who my ex-husband was meant to be, of who he was really was, healed from all the wounds and sin of the world, when all of the corruption and injustice had been redeemed. For a flash of a moment, I was seeing him the way the Father did. Some years later, he died, and I know—at least one day—he will rest not only in peace, but in perfection. I wonder if sometimes God doesn’t give us these little glimpses so we will remember that He is "not God of the dead but of the living, for to him all are alive" (Luke 20:38) and fully alive, whole, and a magnificent reflection of His healing glory. [bctt tweet="I was seeing him the way the Father did. // Liz Kelly" username="blessedisshe__"] This fantastic depiction of the Last Judgment offers this artist's interpretation of what happens when we pass. Liz Kelly is a jazz singer who fell in love with Jesus. She writes, teaches, offers spiritual direction and retreats with a special interest in helping women to flourish in their faith. She’s written six books, including the award-winning Jesus Approaches and the Jesus Approaches Study Supplement. And she still sings jazz, but mainly in the tub and while washing dishes. Find out more about her here.

I love walking into an empty, dark church, preferably one that smells of musty hymnals, beeswax, and aged incense that has seeped into the walls. I love seeing only the light of the altar lamp illuminating dimly but with the comforting singularity of being the only source of light in the entire building. I think I love walking into an empty church because there are fewer distractions. I'm not worried about people looking at me and what I'm doing. I'm not concerned about how I need to help out before Mass or with music ministry. I'm not herding children into a pew with barely enough space for seven people. I'm not in an unfamiliar church searching for Christ's presence in the tabernacle, or making mental judgements of the church's art or lack thereof. Of course I'm not being distracted by other people because I'm the only one there! I can think of all my own hangups of when I enter a church and compare them with the untempered joy of the Maccabees from today's First Reading in 1 Maccabees 4. Their joy is so pure and heartfelt, a joy in simply being able to worship God again after years of persecution. They are so grateful to have their sanctuary back, their holy ground and sole place to worship the Lord according to Jewish law. Joy comes not simply from being able to access this holy place but to worship God again in the way of their ancestors. The Maccabees are rejoicing in every aspect of their prayer, worship, and temple. We are so privileged to be given Jesus Himself physically present in each and every tabernacle in Catholic churches around the world, but so often I don't recognize His presence and the sacredness of the space within my own heart and mind. I want to capture the joy of the Maccabees in worshiping and praying to the Lord every time I enter a church. [bctt tweet="The Maccabees are rejoicing in every aspect of their prayer, worship, and temple. // @christyisinger" username="blessedisshe__"] Questions about True Presence? See this helpful site. Christy Isinger is a wife and mom to five lovely, loud children and lives in northern Canada. When not homeschooling, she is a devoted reader of English literature from Jane Austen to Agatha Christie. She writes about the beauty of faith, life, and the home at her blog and is the co-host of the Fountains of Carrots Podcast. She is the author of our Blessed Conversations: The Ten Commandments study found here. You can find out more about her here.

Think about a person, situation, or a material item that you have or own that you prayed for with great fervor. Name the blessing aloud. What emotions come up when you contemplate this blessing? Now imagine that an altar is in front of you. Facing the altar, you place your dearly loved person/situation/item on it and pray in thanksgiving to God Who in His generosity has given you such an immense gift. Now it’s time to leave. What happens next? Do you quickly pick up your beloved possession and take it with you? Do you leave the offering on the altar but linger for some time before apprehensively walking away backwards so as to stay within eye sight? Or do you turn around and walk away, praising God for what He gave you? Today we celebrate the Presentation of the Blessed Virgin Mary, a traditional feast for Our Lady. It reminds us that everything we have is a gift from God that belongs to God. Tradition shares that Saint Joachim and Saint Anne longed and lamented for children but were unable to conceive. They prayed for many years and in their advanced age, God answered their prayers! Mary, their daughter, was in their midst! What makes this all the more extraordinary is that Joachim and Anne never lost sight of the fact that God was always in their midst. In sorrow and grief they took their mourning to the Lord; and in joy and elation they brought Mary to Him. They presented their daughter, their cherished blessing, their long-awaited gift back to the Lord as an offering for His most gracious generosity. Sometimes, in our absolute love for what we have received from God, we forget that everything—our families, health, relationships, jobs—everything is His. It can be a little scary when we offer our cherished blessing to God, but He is not careless with what we deem precious. Rather, when we present our gifts as an offering, He strengthens our faith in His omnipotence and gives us the grace to trust Him. Do you trust God with the gift that is on your altar? [bctt tweet="Everything we have is a gift from God that belongs to God. // @chikasworld" username="blessedisshe__"] A few surprising details about this feast day can be found here. Chika Anyanwu is a Catholic evangelist based in Southern California and is also the author of My Encounter: How I Met Jesus In Prayer. She has a deep love for Jesus, loves her beautiful Nigerian family, and is a firm believer that if coffee is good, there’s no need for cream or sugar. Find out more here.

I can still remember the disappointment I felt as the woman I had spoken with walked away. She was sharing about a problem and my first instinct was to share something about God and His mercy with her, but I hesitated. I didn’t know her well and I worried she’d think I was weird. The words were on the tip of my tongue, but I lost my moment. Deep down, I knew it was only fear that kept me from speaking in that small window of opportunity. That scene came back to me when I read today’s Gospel, Luke 19:11-28. When the king passed out the coins, he knew that the third servant was capable of accomplishing the task or he wouldn’t have given him the coin in the first place. It wasn’t the lack of ability that kept the servant from making a profit, it was fear. Fear paralyzed him from taking action. When the king asked for an accounting from the servants, he was not upset that the second didn’t make as much as the first. He was pleased with the jobs they had done. However, the third servant was reprimanded for not even trying. God wants us to be bold, but He takes into account our abilities, personalities, and circumstances. Not all of us can travel the country or write eloquent books. However, God has a specific mission with our name on it, and only we can accomplish it. It’s our duty as Catholic women to discover the mission and purpose of our lives. It can change from season to season, but none of us are exempt from living and sharing the Gospel. We can’t wrap ourselves up like that gold coin and remain hidden. Sometimes all we can do is prayerfully offer up the daily crosses of our lives, but let’s not be afraid to challenge ourselves. Let’s invite that friend to Mass or pray with them when they are troubled. Let’s host that Blessed Brunch or get involved in a ministry. The Holy Spirit wants us to be open, docile, and brave so He can produce much fruit through us. [bctt tweet="God has a specific mission with our name on it. // @bobbi_rol" username="blessedisshe__"] Have you seen any of the videos on the BiS youtube channel about the Holy Spirit moving in our lives? Bobbi Rol is a wife, mama and blogger living on the Monterey Bay in CA with her husband, teen daughter, and three rambunctious boys. When she is not dodging light sabers or stepping on Legos, she can be found outside with her family, catching a late night movie, or decorating her planner. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book, Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.

In today's Gospel, we hear of Zacchaeus who is “short in stature” and climbs a tree to see Jesus. (See Luke 19:3.) Countless times I stood on a kneeler as a child to see a priest during Mass, so I feel Zacchaeus’ pain when he has to scramble up a tree to catch a glimpse of Jesus. The thing is, Zacchaeus could’ve been at armpit height, hidden in the crowd, and Jesus still would’ve sought him out to save him. Immediately the gossip begins and judgment rises higher than the tree Zacchaeus descended. The people in the crowd only see what they want to see: a short, sinful, tax collector. But did they ever dare invite him into their home, wash his feet as it was customary to do, and get to know him? “Wash a person’s feet until you know why they walk the way they do.” I recently heard this and have accepted it as my mission for the year. Are we capable of doing this? Are we capable of welcoming into our homes someone with whom we don't agree or have judged in order to wash their feet time and time again until we know why they walk and live the way they do? Because this is what Jesus did for Zacchaeus, and this is what Jesus is asking us to do! Everyone wants to be seen and known. Everyone is looking for Christ whether they know it or not. Zacchaeus is a reminder that Christ sees every person, regardless of our stature or sin. His goal remains the same yesterday, today, and forever: to mercifully wash every person's feet till they understand why they walk the way they do and set before them a new way of walking, as a disciple following Christ. [bctt tweet="Everyone wants to be seen and known. // @SoCalTriciaT" username="blessedisshe__"] Learn more about foot washing in ancient times over here. Tricia Tembreull is a California girl with a boundless passion for life. After two decades of ministering to teens and youth ministers as a trainer, ministry mentor, and speaker in Catholic youth ministry, Tricia now serves as Campus Minister at USC Caruso Catholic Center. She loves adventure and seeks it everywhere she goes. As an avid foodie, she enjoys testing new recipes out on friends and family, gathering them around the table to encounter Christ in one another and be drawn to the satisfying unity we crave in the Eucharist. You can find out more about her here.

The account of the blind man Bartimaeus (named for us in Mark 10:46-52) crying out to Jesus is one of my favorite Gospels for many reasons. I am always struck by a new part of it each time I sit with it for a while. What strikes me most as I pray with it this time is the people shushing him, rebuking him, telling him to be silent. He is crying out desperately for help, and the people around him completely shut him down. This very same thing can happen to us. Perhaps it has happened to you. You realize within yourself or express a need for help to someone, anyone . . . you share that you are struggling, that you need counseling, help, or healing in some other way . . . and you are shushed. You are told to be quiet. Sometimes it comes from the outside but sometimes those voice come from within. "That’s for weak people," we hear, from ourselves or others. "You shouldn’t need help. There are people with far bigger problems than yours. Seeking help or healing is for needy people, and you aren't needy." Perhaps you heard it yesterday, or perhaps it was when you were six. It is painful to think about the times we may have been told these things and the ways we can be shut down when we are struggling deeply. But Bartimaeus illustrates the necessary response when we are shushed in our time of need: he moves past those shushing and reaches out anyway. He ignores those voices to get the help and healing he needs. It is surely easier said than done, but he shows us how. He approaches Jesus with boldness, allowing nothing to stop him, even when it proves difficult and the path is full of obstacles. When we come to the realization that we have a need like Bartimaeus, we are invited to look to this blind man and mirror his actions—pressing through and onward to reach help, healing, and the Healer Himself. [bctt tweet="He approaches Jesus with boldness. // @emwilss" username="blessedisshe__"] Lord, help me to recognize and admit my needs, knowing that they don't define me but rather provide an opportunity to draw closer to You. Guide me toward You today and always. Emily Wilson Hussem planned her whole life to become a sports reporter but turned out to be a Catholic musician and speaker at the hand of God. She lives out of her suitcase and travels across the world speaking to people of all ages. The heart of her ministry is offering encouragement to teen girls in search of their true identity, and she loves every second of it. She is the author of I Choose the Sky and Go Bravely. You can find out more about her here.

So much of the Christian life involves meaningful suffering—or at least perseverance in trying to find meaning in our personal suffering. We know Jesus makes our suffering fruitful, at least on an intellectual level. But do we feel it in our hearts? It's easy enough to claim our allegiance in good times, to make sweeping promises and pledges of fidelity. I think back on my wedding day, to the vows that we made to one another, unblinking and unafraid in the face of days and decades to come. This month my husband and I will celebrate a decade of marriage, we'll welcome our sixth baby, and we'll no doubt find ourselves plunged into a new season of mingled good times and bad, sickness and health. It's easy to love when times are good; when love springs forth as an effortless expression of feeling. More difficult? To choose love in the face of despair and pain, to bear the weight of suffering patiently and—most difficult of all—willingly. Jesus is inviting us to precisely that in His explanation of what is to come for His followers: wars, persecution, sufferings, and even death. (See Luke 21:10-11.) He promises us that we will be hated for His sake, hated for our fidelity to Him. (See Luke 21:12.) But He also promises that in our perseverance, we will be saved. Not in our success. Not in our victory. But in our perseverance. Let's take comfort with that promise today, sisters. [bctt tweet="Choose love in the face of despair and pain. // Jenny Uebbing" username="blessedisshe__"] Saint Hilary offers us a pray for perseverance that can bring grace into hard times. Jenny Uebbing is a wife, mother to six, creator of the online NFP resource community, Off the Charts, and author of the blog Mama Needs Coffee where she writes about sex, marriage, and the Catholic Church. She's a freelance writer, a speaker, and an espresso enthusiast. You can find out more about her here.

In my morning drive to work I often try to turn the radio down, pray a rosary, and tell the Lord the who and the what of all the desires of my heart: . . . for healing for a friend's little one—check. . . . for family bonds to be restored—check. . . . for my vocation to be realized—check. . . . for all the others who have asked me to pray for them (even though I can't remember them all in that particular moment)—check, check, check. I would love to say that I mention each one of these intentions with love and trust, confident that He'll hear me. The truth is that sometimes I grow tired of praying for the same things, over and over again. I desire to be more like the widow in today's Gospel (see Luke 18:1-8) and I am truly willing to pray, but I want to see the results on my timeline. I am a painful product of our results-oriented culture that puts too much emphasis on the end goal and not nearly enough emphasis on the journey. It's this widow, Sisters, who is keeping me motivated today. She's the one who isn't afraid to ask for big things, or difficult things, or impossible things. She trusts that justice and goodness will be done in her life. And, she's not afraid to be a bother. Don't I wish I could master that! If you are feeling discouraged in prayer, look to the story of the widow today for encouragement. Take a deep breath, and ask the Holy Spirit for a newfound zeal and perseverance in prayer as you recount your heart's intentions. Ask Him for the courage to "be a bother," and stand in gratitude for the good He will do. Not on our timeline, but on His. [bctt tweet="If you are feeling discouraged in prayer, look to the story of the widow today for encouragement. // Karen Schultz" username="blessedisshe__"] Select one of these gratitude prayers today. Karen Schultz hails from the Land of 10,000 lakes, where she is often found in or near one of them. As a doula, lactation educator, and FertilityCare Practitioner, she finds joy in helping women to embrace the gift of their bodies. Downtime is found in quiet adoration chapels, farmers markets and gardens, listening to bluegrass music, and embracing the diversity of Minnesota’s seasons. She is a contributing author to our Works of Mercy Study: Misericordia. You can find out more about her here.

I didn’t want to move to Colorado. Visiting was fine, but the stark landscape was so different from home. I was used to the lush greenery, rolling hills and winding rivers of the East Coast. Nevertheless, God told us to go—and it was like scales fell from my eyes. Suddenly I saw vast, incomparable beauty everywhere, as if for the first time. It was filled with endless skies, stunning clouds, ever-changing vistas. Seven years later, I’m more in love than ever, constantly catching my breath and praising God for His intricately beautiful creation. "All men were by nature foolish, who from the good things seen did not succeed in knowing [God] who is, from studying the works did not discern the artisan" (Wisdom 13:1). Likewise, when I met my future husband on the first day of basic training, I was unimpressed. We were polar opposites, and as Jane Austen aptly described, "I had not known [him] a month before I felt [he was] the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed upon to marry" (Pride & Prejudice p. 170). But God grew both of our hearts and souls, and by graduation we were planning our future together. Twelve years into that future, I’m more in love than ever, constantly catching my breath and praising God for the intricately beautiful soul He has gifted me. "For from the greatness and the beauty of created things their original author, by analogy, is seen" (Wisdom 13:5). So often we look but don’t truly see. We brush past the One behind every good, the Love Who breathed all of Creation into being. And we are most blinded when it comes to His most glorious Creation: humanity. It’s easy, especially in contentious times, to strip others of their innate personhood in favor of seeing only opposites: age or appearance or creed or ideology. But what if we did the opposite? What if we looked past our first impressions to glimpse the Artisan’s image imprinted deeply in each soul? I think we’d find ourselves surprised—catching our breath, and praising God for His intricately beautiful creation, right here in our lives, right in front of our eyes. [bctt tweet="I’m more in love than ever. // @PosImperfect" username="blessedisshe__"] The USCCB offers insights into caring for God's glorious creation here. Megan Hjelmstad is a wife and mom 24/7 and an Army Reservist in her “spare” time. She is the Stories Manager for the Blessed is She Instagram account. She’s a bibliophile, tea drinker, sleep lover, and avid admirer of Colorado’s great outdoors. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book, Rise Up. When the writing bug hits, you can find out more about her here.

Gratitude filled my being as I watched the red-orange sun slip slowly into the horizon of Lake Michigan from the deck of the vacation lodge. The others were chatting over drinks inside while the children were supposed to be asleep in their bunkbeds. This was our fourth vacation in the eleven years since college with these friends, friends who know us as well as family. We spent our college years together, pouring out our hearts, praying for each other, watching relationships grow. Afterwards, we attended each other’s weddings and have seen our families grow from across the country. These vacations, where we share a house bursting with adults and children, never seem long enough and never happen often enough. They are like a taste of Heaven—living in a community of believers where all we have to do is spend time with each other. We take turns cooking meals and cleaning up, go to Mass together, discuss our lives and struggles, and—my favorite—discuss philosophy and theology. Weeks like this show me that the Kingdom of God is indeed among us as Jesus tells us in today’s Gospel. (See Luke 17:21.) But while I experience these and other beautiful moments of Heaven with family and friends, the Kingdom of God being among us now is not limited to the good, happy times. Christ shows us this when He talks about how the Son of Man must suffer and be rejected. (See Luke 17:25.) Christ’s suffering has redeemed all of our suffering—He is among us in our suffering. The Kingdom of God is among us in the suffering of each and every human. We all have to endure suffering, just as Jesus did, before we are brought into our eternal Heavenly home. The way of this passing life is joy intermixed with suffering, but we must remember that it is all for the sake of the never-ending, eternal joy of Heaven with the whole Body of Christ—joy we get a foretaste of in our beautiful times together. [bctt tweet="Christ’s suffering has redeemed all of our suffering. // Susanna Spencer" username="blessedisshe__"] This piece on God cultivating the garden of our souls is a beautiful draw in on meaning in suffering. Susanna Spencer is the Theological Editor for Blessed is She who studied theology and philosophy in her earlier life. She happily cares for her three adorable little girls, toddler boy, and her dear husband in Saint Paul when not writing and editing. She loves beautiful liturgies, cooking delicious meals, baking amazing sweets, reading good books, raising her children, casually following baseball, and talking to her philosopher husband. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book, Rise Up and Theological Editor of the Catechism Studies, the Mystery Studies, and the Works of Mercy study. You can find out more about her here.

Perhaps my favorite hymn is “O God Beyond All Praising.” Not only is the music absolutely magnificent, I find the words to be incredibly powerful. The first line alone, which doubles as the title of the song, communicates so much about Our Lord. All the praises in the world would not be sufficient to glorify Him. He surpasses everything we know and understand about love, generosity, and mercy. But it is the message of the last stanza that always brings me to tears: "We’ll triumph through our sorrows and rise to bless you still: to marvel at your beauty and glory in your ways, and make a joyful duty our sacrifice of praise." I am humbled by the lyricist's faith that there will be triumph, no matter the suffering. I am inspired by the desire to always praise, thank, and bless God. Because, to be honest, that’s not my first inclination. When we look at the ten lepers who are all healed by Jesus, I think we all hope to be like the one who returned to praise the Lord. (See Luke 17:15.) But when I consider how often God does something beautiful for me and how infrequently I bless and thank Him, it is easy for me to see that I am usually one of the nine. I want to be full of gratitude. I want my life to be a joyful sacrifice of praise. I want to be the one who immediately turns back to the Giver of all good things. God is good. Praise the Lord. Let us pray for the graces to live this way, sister. [bctt tweet="He surpasses everything we know and understand about love, generosity, and mercy. // @BonnieEngstrom" username="blessedisshe__"] Hear this congregation's rendition of the hymn. Bonnie Engstrom is a writer, baker, speaker, and homemaker. She lives with her husband and eight children in Illinois. Bonnie is the author of "61 Minutes to a Miracle" which tells the story of her son's miracle that was approved by Pope Francis for the beatification of Venerable Fulton Sheen. She likes to bake, putz about the yard, and tell her kids to tidy the house. She is the author of the Blessed Conversations Mystery: Believe study found here. You can find out more about her here.

My sister and I weren’t given an allowance for doing our chores growing up. My parents’ reasoning for this went something along the lines of “you’re allowed to have a room in our house,” or “you’re allowed to eat the food we buy.” And that was usually the end of the discussion. And while at the time this seemed unfair, looking back, I can see they had a point. As a member of the household, of course I should share in the responsibility of keeping things tidy. And while I didn’t see the generosity of my parents in the form of a weekly paycheck, they certainly did everything in their power to provide me with the things I needed, and within reason, those that I wanted. In a way, my parents’ refusal to formally grant an allowance echoes the story Jesus shares in the Gospel of Luke today (Luke 17:7-10). "Is he [the master] grateful to that servant because he did what was commanded?" (Luke 17:9) In other words, would your boss give you a bonus because you did work you were hired to do? And I can’t help but wonder, do I ever ask that of God? Are there times when I’m expecting an answer to my prayer because I’ve "done my chores"? Lord, I’ve participated in the Sacraments, practiced the Corporal Works of Mercy, and am learning to be patient when my spouse leaves dishes in the sink . . . oh, and I made the bed! Could you maybe lend a hand with that promotion now? Or resolve that conflict? Or (insert prayer request here)? Sisters, we have a generous God of abundance Who loves to shower us with blessings. But that doesn’t mean we will be granted every exact desire, right when we want it, if at all—no matter how objectively good it may be. Yet as hard as the 'no' may be right now, I pray for the patience to move through the pain and confusion and one day be able to understand how through His goodness, that 'no' has led to an even greater 'yes.' [bctt tweet="Are there times when I’m expecting an answer to my prayer because I’ve 'done my chores'? // Sarah Rose" username="blessedisshe__"] Learn more about Saint Josaphat whose feast day we celebrate today. Sarah Rose is a small town Ohio girl who is obsessed with all things Ignatian and is passionate about faith, social justice, and the intersection of the two. She left Ohio in 2012 and after a year of service in rural Alaska, earning her Master of Divinity in California, and working at a Connecticut High School, is officially back in Ohio serving as a university Newman Campus Minister. When she’s not working, she enjoys contagious laughter, clever puns, and finding the good in all things. You can find out more about her here.

When I first came to faith in Christ, I received a New Testament in which Jesus’ words appeared in red lettering. As a Jew who had only recently begun to read and study the Gospels, Jesus’ words seemed to leap off the pages and say to me, “Listen carefully, I’m talking to you!” As a new believer, I was paying very close attention to every word. Years later, I’m embarrassed to say that I’ve become way too comfortable with Christ’s words; they are like conversations in seasoned, familiar friendships (or my marriage) where I think I already know what the other person is going to say, and I’m only half listening. In today’s Gospel (Luke 17:1-6), Jesus addresses the unpopular topic of sin and asks me as His disciple to pay careful attention to how my own sin can affect the “little ones” in my life—my spouse, children, co-workers, friends, and others in my faith community. It is easy to hear this strong warning from Jesus and direct my attention to others. I can point to Church leaders, authors, public figures, and those who have personally offended me and think, "These warnings are for them!" And while my anger and frustration toward others may be justified, the two-edged sword that Jesus wields is alive and active, discerning the thoughts and intentions of my feeble heart. Every time I read the Scriptures (hopefully daily), I should hear Jesus say to me, “Hey, I am talking to you!” His words never condemn me, but everything He speaks, whether comforting and affirming, or challenging and corrective, is intended to bring deeper conversion and indelibly imprint upon me His own character. Lord, today I am paying attention to Your Holy Word, and I hear You say that sin is very serious and there are consequences. I want to be very careful that my actions do not cause others to stumble or lose their trust in You. I also hear You say that forgiveness is not optional, and that I must extend limitless mercy to my brothers and sisters in Christ who repent. Like the Apostles who heard your difficult words, I ask you to increase my meager faith so that in obedience to the Truth and in the power of Your Spirit, I may do the impossible. Speak Lord, Your servant really is listening. [bctt tweet="Everything He speaks, whether comforting and affirming, or challenging and corrective, is intended to bring deeper conversion. // @bloverevolution" username="blessedisshe__"] Pray the prayer from our devotion today with us, sister. Debra Herbeck, a Jewish convert to the Church, has worked extensively in youth and women’s ministry. She has directed Pine Hills Girls Camp for the past 32 years, is the founder and Director of the Be Love Revolution, and also helps lead a ministry called i.d.916. She has written a number of books that can be found here. Debra and her husband Peter live in Ann Arbor, Michigan and are the parents of four children and five adorable grandchildren. She is a contributing author to our Works of Mercy Study: Misericordia.

I remember hearing the Gospel passage from today, Luke 20:27-38, as a blissful newlywed and not liking it one bit. Like, if we were at dinner, I would have had to say, “Look, Jesus, I just can’t talk about this with you, perhaps we could change the subject?” Eighteen years later, as a happily married woman . . . it’s still not my favorite. But I think I have come to terms with the fact that my dislike is a function of my temporal lack of understanding, rather than a problem with Jesus’ words or God’s eternal plan for mankind. I love my husband, and I also like him. I particularly appreciate the primacy of our relationship, that we are cleaved to one another, that I “outrank” the other people in his life. If I were to die first, and he were to remarry, wouldn’t I still want that prime relationship with him in Heaven? Wouldn’t I want him to love me more than his second wife, or his seventh? Earthly, fallen, attached me would want that. But as I’ve come to understand it, a me who would have made it to Heaven, who would be purified of selfishness and attachments . . . would not. I would have a perfect, generous love for my husband and for any number of his subsequent wives. Our relationships in Heaven will be of God’s love and in God’s love and before the face of God Himself. They will be perfect and not subject to jealousy. It’s just one more reason to strive for Heaven. Heaven isn’t just some astral plane. It’s real, and perfect in all ways, including community. All of those difficult relationships, all our misunderstandings of and being misunderstood by friends and family members, the way we make less-than-charitable assumptions of why they say or do things, none of that exists in Heaven. We will have a perfect love for God and a perfect love for everyone around us. Now all we need to do is get ourselves to Heaven and bring our loved ones with us. Now all we need to do is strive for Heaven, trust in God’s mercy, and encourage and pray for our loved ones to do the same. [bctt tweet="Our relationships in Heaven will be of God’s love and in God’s love and before the face of God Himself. // @kendra_tierney" username="blessedisshe__"] The Catholic encyclopedia entry on Heaven provides remarkable insights. Kendra Tierney is a forty-three-year-old mother of ten and wife of one living in and working on a big old fixer-upper house in Los Angeles. She's a homeschooler and a regular schooler and is relishing the new freedom from carpooling that's come with a sixteen-year-old in the house. Her new book, The Catholic All Year Compendium, Liturgical Living for Real Life, is here. You can find her first book, A Little Book About Confession, here, her blog here, and her word art here. She is a contributing author to our Works of Mercy Study: Misericordia.

I sat on a cold, hard chair, listening to the sounds of hushed voices, the tap-tap of tourists shoes walking among pillars, and looked down and across the swirling pattern on the marble floor of this old Roman church. With the ring of a bell, we stood, and Mass began. Chant, candles, incense rising, and the mystery of a language I had not yet mastered surrounded me. It would all later feel like a dream, sitting there in Mass, in the cathedral that belongs to all of us. The Lateran Basilica, celebrated today as a feast day, is the Cathedral of the Bishop of Rome, our Pope. Being in that temple, you can feel the heaviness of the walls and sense the strength of its pillars. It feels so permanent, and yet, like everything else on earth, it is temporary. In a way that is so wonderfully Catholic, our physical church buildings point to a spiritual reality. Our God is bigger than us, more permanent than heavy stone walls. He engulfs us with His majesty and promise and might, and at the same time meets us in an intimate way in Holy Eucharist. If you are able to step into a church building today, or recall your favorite one, take some time to notice how it makes you feel. All of these bells, candles, and colored glass are symbols of a living church. How do the things you see, hear, feel or smell point to spiritual truths? How do those feelings shed light on your relationship with God? [bctt tweet="In a way that is so wonderfully Catholic, our physical church buildings point to a spiritual reality. // @jacquiskemp" username="blessedisshe__"] Learn more about this Basilica today with this brief video. Jacqueline Skemp is a daughter, sister, wife, and mother who endures living in Minnesota after leaving California for her one true love. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book, Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.

"I myself am convinced about you, my . . . sisters, that you yourselves are full of goodness" (Romans 15:14). Saint Paul is convinced of this. Are you convinced as well? Are you convinced that you yourself are full of goodness? In my work as a life coach and from my experience in my own personal journey, I am convicted that once we know, accept, and honor the truth of our own goodness, our lives transform. Change happens in big and powerful ways. We make our decisions no longer from places of fear, insecurity or people-pleasing, but rather from a place of grounded strength, honoring the truth of who we are and the goodness, blessings, and abundance that God truly desires for us. Honoring our own value is simply accepting what is true. God has created us in His image, and we are good. This is the truth of who we are and how God has created us. We can let go of the self-criticism, the negativity, and the shame. We can stop making excuses about why we think we can't live up to the greatness God intends for us. We can look at our mistakes with self-compassion and now make powerful choices to show up differently in ways that more fully align with who we are and who God has created us to be. Perhaps this is the "new song" to sing to the Lord. Perhaps even our own lives can become this kind of song of praise to the Lord. "Sing to the LORD a new song, for he has done wondrous deeds. Sing joyfully to the LORD... break into song; sing praise" (Psalm 98:1, 3). We truly can live an abundant life that honors our own goodness, celebrates the goodness in others, and continually praises the goodness of God! That is wondrous indeed! You are good, sisters. You are full of goodness. I am convinced of this. Are you, sister? [bctt tweet="Honoring our own value is simply accepting what is true. // Mary Catherine Craige" username="blessedisshe__"] Have you listened to any of these Catholic artists? Their praise gives conviction to our being beautifully made. Mary Catherine Craige enjoys spending her free time dancing, writing, playing the Irish harp and surfing the ocean waves of northeast Florida. As a transformational life coach, she supports women like you to create beauty out of challenging circumstances and to design a life of abundance, freedom and joy as the person God has created you to be. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book, Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.

I sat across the table from my friend and listened as she aired her grievances against the Church. She was living in a state of unrepentant mortal sin, of which she was aware, and she was frustrated that she was “not allowed” to receive Communion unless she went to Confession and worked to change her situation (which she was unwilling to do). “I guess the Church is saying that God doesn’t love me if I’m not perfect in this exact way.” Sometimes we believe the lie that when we sin, God leaves us. But the truth—and what the Church teaches—is that when we sin, we choose something else over God. When we choose mortal sin, we leave the Lord. Not the other way around. (See Catechism of the Catholic Church 1855.) Today’s Gospel parable proves it. Jesus identifies Himself as a shepherd who sets off from the majority of His flock in order to find a single sheep who got too distracted, too lazy, or too stubborn to stay close. The shepherd doesn’t shrug it off and say, “Eh, we’ll be alright with 99.” No, He actively and relentlessly seeks out the lost sheep. (See Luke 15:3-6.) Saint Paul emphasizes this point in the First Reading. “[W]hether we live or die, we are the Lord’s. For this is why Christ died and came to life, that he might be Lord of both the dead and the living” (Romans 14:8-9). This is why Christ died and came to life. And while Paul’s most obvious reference here is to physical life and death, the same idea is true for spiritual life and death. Jesus never leaves us or stops loving us when we sin. On the contrary, He gave His life so that we would be His whether we are with the 99 or if we’re a little lost and dead inside. When we sin, we’re the ones who leave. And even when we leave, He never stops lighting His lamp, leaving the 99, or calling us His own. So let’s resolve to stop leaving Him. And let’s allow Him to find us. [bctt tweet="When we choose mortal sin, we leave the Lord. Not the other way around. // @to_the_heights" username="blessedisshe__"] Need a little help examining your conscience and being confident in getting to Confession this week? Review our BiS blog post here. Olivia Spears lives in Kentucky where sweet tea and bourbon flow like milk and honey. She is the Blog Manager for Blessed is She and works from home as an editor and social media manager. She likes to binge novels and Netflix while raising her children and laughing with her husband. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book, Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.