If you’ve heard of the five love languages, you know that among them are "gifts," "quality time," and "service." I’ll let you in on a secret: I’m a quality time person. I’m not a gifts person (it’s such a struggle to find just the right gift!), and service hasn’t come naturally to me, though I do enjoy being part of a group effort to make a difference. Those love languages that I struggle with matter quite a bit to my family. As a wife and a mother, serving never ends. I’m up at all hours, soothing my children when sick or frightened. I’m constantly working to better love my husband in making a peaceful home and taking care of the things which matter to him. I know gifts are special to my children, to celebrate their birthdays and other momentous occasions. Loving my family motivates what I do, day in and day out. Saint Paul reminds us that the command to love our neighbor sums up all the other commandments. Love is, in fact, the fulfillment of the law. (See Romans 13:10.) So why is it hard to swallow Jesus’ words, that we must hate family and renounce possessions (see Luke 14:25-33) in order to follow Him? It feels disparate. Love your neighbor, but hate your family. I wrestle with this contradiction and the detachment required of me to follow Jesus while loving my family. Jesus knows my struggle and calls me gently to meet Him as I take up my cross. It's there that I learn Who love is, and where He teaches me to meet the needs of my family. Carrying my cross means that I’ve put Him first, necessarily putting my family second. With more of Jesus in my life, I love my family—those people I don’t and can’t ever hate—better. [bctt tweet="I take up my cross. It's there that I learn Who love is, and where He teaches me to meet the needs of my family. // Gina Fensterer" username="blessedisshe__"] Did you catch our BiS blog post on the five love languages? Gina Fensterer finds daily life to be perfect for practicing virtue and sometimes blogs about raising up saints (she has six children). She loves the Jesus prayer, long runs, and coffee at any time of day. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book, Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.

All I did was watch her kids for a couple hours so she could go to a doctor’s appointment. It was nothing special or heroic. I was already at home with my own kids, so why not add a couple more to the chaos? But as she stood in my doorway, forcing shoes and coats back onto her children, she poured forth thanks as though I had just handed her a wad of one hundred dollar bills. To me, I had hardly done anything, but to her, it was everything. Sometimes I struggle with comparing the gifts I’ve been given with the flashier gifts of some individuals in my life. I am not a leader or a public speaker; I don’t hold any advanced degrees, and there aren't a lot of subjects that I am particularly knowledgeable about. I’m not very good at making money, and I’m about equally bad at being generous with the money I do have. I know and believe that in the Body of Christ “we have gifts that differ” (Romans 12:6) and everyone’s gifts are needed, even the “smaller” ones like mine (caring for little kids all day with, ahem, patience and cheerfulness). But sometimes I wish that I could be setting the world on fire in a big important way. Until my friend bursts through my front door with joy and gratitude written all over her face because she didn’t have to go to the doctor with toddlers in tow. That’s when I realize that it doesn’t really matter what my gifts are, what matters is that I am being a gift to someone. Maybe you need to be reminded of this as well: you are a gift to someone. And even if it’s just one person, that one person is intrinsically precious and radically loved by God. He is using you to bring that person into His Kingdom. [bctt tweet="It doesn’t really matter what my gifts are, what matters is that I am being a gift to someone. // Anna Coyne" username="blessedisshe__"] This short essay on Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI's thoughts on gift is profound. Anna Coyne is a wife, mother, and convert to the Catholic Faith. She is a classically trained pianist who, after teaching for ten years now stays home with her three young children. but still manages to flex her creative muscles through writing, knitting, and gardening. She is proud to call Saint Paul home and loves everything about living in Minnesota, except for winter. You can find out more about her here.

It was late at night. I was on the phone with my sister, in tears. I knew I was going to make the painful decision of breaking up with a man because I did not have peace moving forward. "I don't even know what to pray right now," I whimpered, "All I can say is Jesus, help me." "That's okay, Patty," she gently affirmed. "Just go with that." The next day while cleaning out my old car before purchasing a new one, I found this tattered, coffee-stained prayer card with an image of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. I turned it over, and the title was "Jesus help me." After each invocation throughout the prayer it said, Jesus help me. It felt like a little love note from Jesus. He was letting me know He saw my sadness and pain. I felt like God personally heard and answered me. I am reminded about that reflecting on today's Psalm, Psalm 69. What I love most about the Psalms is that they convey the depth of human experience and emotion: pain, joy, passion, anger, betrayal, loneliness, hope, grief, and many more. They speak to our unique joys and sorrows, the highs and lows of what we experience in life. The Psalms give us permission to bring our real feelings and emotions before God in prayer, not just our shiny, put-together selves. King David cried out to the Father, "Lord, in your great love, answer me. I am afflicted and in pain; let your saving help, O God, protect me" (Psalm 69:30). God was not put off with King David's vulnerability and honesty. I do not know how God will answer the prayers and desires of your heart, sister. But I do know even in the messy moments, He hears and see us. Bring all your emotions and feelings to Jesus in prayer, and then ask Him what He wants to say to you about them. [bctt tweet="The Psalms give us permission to bring our real feelings and emotions before God in prayer. // @amoderngrace" username="blessedisshe__"] Do you pray the Divine Office or Liturgy of the Hours? It's simpler than you think. Patty Breen is a full-time lay minister who finds joy in running, strong cups of coffee, and all things Ignatian spirituality. A Midwestern gal from the mitten state, she is constantly learning to find grace in all things. She is passionate about ministry, writing, a great lipstick color, and smiling is her favorite. Find out more about her here.

Recently, I was mindlessly scrolling social media, as I do quite frequently. I was scrolling and an article caught my eye. Someone had posted a link to an article with a rather inflammatory title and added her own commentary along the lines of, if you are not with us you are against us. Do I remember the article? Absolutely not. I try to scroll right on past those posts where the comments sections are akin to a Spartan war zone. But it got me to thinking about something else. We live in a society that tries to push us to the extremes. We are told that we must live on one end of a supposed spectrum. We must plant ourselves in one of two schools of thought, mutually exclusive. I constantly feel bombarded and pushed to exist in a constant state, never to evolve, never to grow, never to change, or learn, or be redeemed. Faith and belief can be like that sometimes too. One the one hand, some say, once a sinner, always a sinner, just as people viewed the chief tax collector in today’s Gospel. Then on the other hand, some say, well once I’ve been saved, then that’s it and I do not have to change my ways. But Scripture and Tradition teach us something wholly different. We are shown again and again that one must not live on either end of the extreme. Yes, Christ died for our sins, but you better believe we still have to live out His commandments and teachings while we are on this earth. And yes, we should strive for holiness and turn away from sin, but we are human, and by that nature, we sin. But we are not doomed from that moment on. We can be forgiven and strengthened by His graces. God’s mercy is infinite. "The LORD supports all who are falling and raises up all who are bowed down" (Psalm 145:14). May we strive for that middle ground where we know we must live out His commandments, but also know His mercy. [bctt tweet="We are shown again and again that one must not live on either end of the extreme. // @Substance_Soul" username="blessedisshe__"] Going deeper into mercy, have you seen our study on the Corporal and Spiritual Works of Mercy? Dr. Samantha Aguinaldo-Wetterholm is a wife to Paul, mom to three little ones, and practices dentistry at a public health community center for low income families in the Bay Area, California. She (unashamedly) thinks ice cream is its own food group, does not leave the house without wearing sparkly earrings, and is an enthusiastic proponent of the Oxford comma. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book, Rise Up. Find out more about her here.

Squeals. Dash. “Slow down.” Giggles. Repeat. My family home becomes an instant obstacle course with children darting in and out of rooms, around and under tables. The adults mostly love the whirling sounds of joy and excitement as we talk over food and drinks. Well, sometimes it can be hard to distinguish talking from yelling when the level of frenzy climbs to the point at which one of the moms or dads needs to go quiet the herd. This image of my nieces and nephews scurrying around my parents’ house comes to mind as the Church remembers the Holy Souls today. The First Reading is rich with images and descriptions of the difference between the way we tend to think of death and what Heaven knows. This passage from the Book of Wisdom is probably among the most gorgeous of the Church calendar. It is exceptionally breathtaking in light of our faith in eternal life. (See Wisdom 3:1-9.) The writer says that in the eyes of those who do not have faith, the death of someone is “an affliction and their going forth from us, utter destruction” (Wisdom 3:2-3). But we who have the gift of faith can think of our beloved faithful departed as having completed the test of this life and pray for and with them today trusting in Our God Who is Love and Mercy. Perhaps you have lost a loved one and your grief is very present to you. This day is also full of graces for you because your loved one is receiving much grace today as the Church prays for departed souls. I often wonder what Heaven will be like. What will we do? How will our hearts and minds experience the unspeakable joy of union with God? The First Reading says the souls of the just “shall dart about as sparks through stubble” (Wisdom 3:7). This reminds me of how Lord says we must become childlike to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. We need to allow the Lord to teach and nurture our hearts. May we become so trusting of Love that we receive the freedom to move about under the gaze of our Good Father with joy in our hearts. Will we be darting about in Heaven? It is our true home, after all. [bctt tweet="We who have the gift of faith can think of our beloved faithful departed as having completed the test of this life and pray for and with them today trusting in Our God Who is Love and Mercy. // @srmariakim" username="blessedisshe__"] Sisters, let’s join in praying for the Holy Souls and for those of us who are mourning the passing of a loved one today. See this list of prayers for the dead. Sister Maria Kim Bui is a Daughter of Saint Paul, women religious dedicated to evangelization in and through the media. She is originally from Tempe, AZ, spent most of her fourteen years in religious life in the northeast, some time in Texas, and now was recently asked to serve as the director of marketing and sales at the Sisters' publishing house in Boston. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book, Rise Up and the author of our Blessed Conversations Mystery: Belong found here. Find out more about her here.

As I stepped inside, the air seemed to vibrate. Dark wood cases lining the walls, softly glowing, beckoned me into the semi-darkness. As my eyes adjusted to the half-light, names began to pop out at me: Saint Therese of Lisieux. Saint Maximilian Kolbe. Saint Paul. With increasing joy, I spotted old friends and recent acquaintances, long-time mentors and names I had heard only briefly. Each relic preserved here represented a relationship. I was surrounded by my personal cloud of witnesses. Saint John describes a great multitude gathered before the throne of the Lamb, crying out their praise to God. (See Revelation 7:4, 9-10.) "Who are these?" one of the elders asks Saint John (Revelation 7:13). We know, even before he answers. They are the ones we remember today on this feast of All Saints. They are those who have come through this life and found themselves at Jesus’ feet. Their earthly suffering at an end, they now see Him as He is. They pray for us, still on our way. In their example, in the community of Christ’s body, we see what love the Father has bestowed on us . . . that we may be called the children of God. "Yet so we are," the First Letter of Saint John says (1 John 3:1). Our shared belonging to Christ makes those faithful Saints surrounding God’s throne our brothers and sisters. As Saint John’s letter says, "What we shall be has not been revealed" (1 John 3:2), but we do know that we are God’s children now. Through Christ and the prayers of those gathered around His throne, we are called homeward to this great reunion. May we, one day, see Him as He is. May we see them, too—may we run right up to greet our dear friends and mentors, recognizing that they’ve been praying for us all along, and join in their unending song of praise. Lord, we are the people that longs to see Your face. Help us get there. [bctt tweet="They pray for us, still on our way. // @dere_abbey" username="blessedisshe__"] All you holy men and women, Saints of God, pray for us! Abbey Dupuy is the Assistant Theological Editor for Blessed is She and writes her life as a homeschooling mama of four frequently barefoot children. She muses about imperfect parenting, practicing gratitude, and celebrating the liturgical year with her young family on her blog. In her spare time, she enjoys running, gardening, coffee, and cookbooks, not usually at at the same time. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book, Rise Up and author of our Blessed Conversations: The Virtues study found here. You can find out more about her here.

I often joke about conquering my laundry piles. Having four boys makes that nothing to joke about. Outside of practical chores though, ‘conquer’ is not really an action I consider often. In today’s reading from Romans, Saint Paul writes, "In all these things we conquer overwhelmingly through him who loved us" (Romans 8:37). While there are some scenarios in this passage I don’t relate to like famine, persecution, and the sword, there are many battles I do struggle through. The spiritual and emotional battles where I feel overwhelmed, daily temptations, feelings of worthlessness, isolating myself because I’ve convinced myself I’m the only one in this situation. I forget often how the love of Christ enables me to conquer my fears, my doubts, my sins. Thankfully there are people who have bravely spoken truth into my life. They’ve gently reminded me of the overwhelming love of Christ and of He Who gives us all we need to be conquerors. These friends have stood by me in times of distress, heard me out when I’m overwhelmed and feel like I’m drowning, and they have reminded me time and again that I’m not alone. So don’t let the trials of today, the anxieties of the future, the powers of petty lies, the height of that laundry stack, or the depth of your bills separate you from His love. Hand over what’s draining you today, the unknown of tomorrow, the power of unhealthy habits, the height of your sorrows, and the depth of your loneliness. Lean into that Divine Love and take a step to conquer what scares you, to throw off the chains of temptations and sin, and to know you are loved beyond measure. Jesus doesn’t want us to get stuck in a place of anguish or distress. Nothing can come between us and His love. If we turn towards Him, He’s always there ready for our return. [bctt tweet="The love of Christ enables me to conquer my fears, my doubts, my sins. // Sarah Ortiz" username="blessedisshe__"] On this eve of All Souls, let us entrust our soul to our Creator by praying the Act of Faith. Sarah Ortiz is a Catholic convert, wife, and mother to four boys while living in a 200 year old farmhouse. When not folding laundry, she can be found reading, experimenting in the kitchen, or snagging amazing antique furniture deals. She is a contributing author to our Advent devotional book, All the Generations. You can find out more about her here.

Are you good at accepting help? When you have too much to do, do you let other people take some of the tasks off your plate? If so, I’d sure like to learn your secret. Because in most areas of my life, I’m an “I have to do it myself” kind of gal. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s the messages I internalized in childhood—messages that the women around me probably had no idea they were even sending—that a woman should be able to do it all herself. Maybe it comes from efficiency; after all, it’s quicker to do a task myself than explain to others how to do it. The reality, though, is that it’s better when I let other people help. Not only does it take the heat off of me, it also allows for the positive surprise, the thing I didn’t plan, the little bit of grace at work. This, then, is why the First Reading speaks to me. "The Spirit comes to the aid of our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes with inexpressible groanings" (Romans 8:26). I like to think of the Spirit as the friend who doesn’t even wait for permission but just dives in, helping us before we even think to ask. If you—like me—have a hard time relaxing your grip on the steering wheel of life, this is good news indeed. And this help is not directed only at concrete chores, but at our spiritual life. I may think that I am in full control of when and how I pray, but the reality is that the Spirit is there, too. When my prayer feels especially rich, or when I'm inspired to try something new, or when I have a sudden transcendent awareness of the divine even though I’m not formally “praying,” I suspect that’s the Spirit lending a hand. These are the positive surprises, the bits of grace at work. They’re the reminder that in prayer—as in everything—we don’t go it alone. [bctt tweet="I like to think of the Spirit as the friend who doesn’t even wait for permission but just dives in, helping us before we even think to ask. // Ginny Kubitz Moyer" username="blessedisshe__"] Want to know more about the guardian angel you've been assigned? Take a read over here. Ginny Kubitz Moyer is a mother, high school English teacher, and BBC period drama junkie. She is the author of three books, including Taste and See: Experiencing the Goodness of God with Our Five Senses and Random MOMents of Grace: Experiencing God in the Adventures of Motherhood. Ginny lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband, two boys, and about thirty thousand Legos. She is the author of our Blessed Conversations: The Seven Sacraments found here and a contributing author to our Advent devotional book, All the Generations. You can find out more about her here.

I started gardening recently. Nothing big, just a few tomatoes and peppers in the backyard, but the project itself often has me reflecting on growth—not just of the vegetables, but of myself too. There’s something vulnerable about placing a seed in the ground, hoping that the work and love you put into it bears fruit. You can research and study all you want, but there is no way to really know things will turn out as planned. You just have to trust—and hope. I’ve had similar thoughts with regards to the students I minister to, and imagine I will think similarly while I’m raising a family. I try my hardest to share the love of Christ and wisdom of the Faith, yet there is no way to know what is taking root and in whom. For a control freak like myself, this practice of patient hope can be exhausting. It would certainly be easier to buy cherry tomatoes from the grocery rather than wait for them to ripen, three at a time. And golly it is a dream to work with students who want to learn verses instead of ones who may barely show up to "fulfill their requirement." But there is something satisfying and exciting about seeing the result of your dedication and work—even when that result is as tiny as a newly blooming jalapeño, or a student coming to an event after their grade had already been submitted. An excerpt of this poem reads, “We plant the seeds that one day grow. We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise.” We aren’t told that the man Jesus mentions in today’s Gospel knows that his seed will grow, or that the woman knows her dough will rise (see Luke 13:18-21), yet their actions, seemingly simple, are used to describe the Kingdom of God. And keeping that in mind, I can’t help but wonder if my actions are contributing to the coming of the Kingdom and pray that I might wait with endurance in the hope that they are. (See Romans 8:24-25.) [bctt tweet="I try my hardest to share the love of Christ and wisdom of the Faith, yet there is no way to know what is taking root and in whom. // Sarah Rose" username="blessedisshe__"] This Catholic artist shares her botanical love, especially of Marian symbolism, in her art. 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. She's a contributing author to our Advent devotional book, All the Generations. You can find out more about her here.

My conversion—reversion, really—to the Faith started off with a bang. Ignited by a heavenly jolt to the soul as I sat transfixed before the news coverage of the death of Pope John Paul II, I knew immediately and with deepest conviction that my life had to change. I wish I could say that day marked the last blackout, the last hangover, the final indiscretion with authority, but alas, I am a slow learner. Still, I followed the promptings of the Holy Spirit and mucked my way out of the very worst cliche of the college lifestyle that I'd wallowed in for four long years. And I began to find friends in high places. First and foremost, JPII. Then Saint Thomas Aquinas, Saint Joan of Arc, Saint Therese, and Saint Michael the Archangel. As this army of intercessors amassed in my spiritual life, my prayer life deepened, my capacity for temperance increased, and I generally became a slightly less terrible person than I'd been able to manage on willpower alone. The Saints—those members of the household of God—became real for me in a way I would never have imagined. They have continued to astonish me with the depth and breadth of their differences from one another, their personal struggles, and complicated narratives. They submitted their imperfections to Christ, culminating in lives of heroic virtue. Today as the Church celebrates the feast of two great Apostles and martyrs—Saints Simon and Jude—ask the Holy Spirit to nudge you towards your heavenly siblings. You might be surprised by who you find. [bctt tweet="As this army of intercessors amassed in my spiritual life, my prayer life deepened. // @jkuebbing" username="blessedisshe__"] Did you catch this workshop on finding your saintly friends? It's still available for replay. 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. She is a contributing author of our Advent devotional book, All the Generations. You can find out more about her here.

So much of today’s Word is meant to bring consolation: "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted" (Psalm 34:19). "The one who serves God willingly is heard" (Sirach 35:20). "The prayer of the lowly pierces the clouds . . . the Lord will not delay" (Sirach 35:21). Yet what if they bring frustration and feel like mere platitudes instead? When suffering, it’s easy to think: But I’m faithful, Lord. Where are these answers You promise? You say You’re all-good, so why this suffering? You work miracles of healing for others—why not for me or my loved one? Through the struggle and grace of twenty years of compounded chronic suffering, I’m learning it comes down to one hard, simple thing: detachment. It’s good to desire good things. Ample shelter, healthy relationships, fulfilling work, safety for ourselves and loved ones. But God has been revealing most of the plans I agonize over tend to encompass only this world (especially this or day, or this week). My most pressing desires center around physical comfort and instant gratification, crowding out spiritual growth and eternal considerations. God’s plan, on the other hand, always encompasses eternity. His most pressing desire is for me to spend forever with Him, in never-ending joy and comfort. His highest consideration is what will most help my eternal soul. Yes, detachment is the answer: not from inherently good things, but from the desires and anxieties that leave so little room for Him to act. Do I bring my desires to prayer wrought with anxiety and control? Am I fixated on knowing the details, understanding the meaning, dictating the timing of the answer I’ve determined is best? Or do I ask Him to purify my desires to align with His will? Do I continually surrender my demand to know it all? He’s always answering our prayers, sisters. Right now, with His all-knowing wisdom, He’s working all things together for our good because everlasting joy awaits. And He is forever healing us—not always the ways we might expect, but in the soul-deep, eternal ways we need most. [bctt tweet="He’s always answering our prayers, sisters. // @PosImperfect" username="blessedisshe__"] Do you know about Saint Rita? She suffered tremendous physical pain including wounds on her forehead associated with the Crown of Thorns. 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 and our Advent devotional book, All the Generations. When the writing bug hits, you can find out more about her here.

Let’s journey back to the glorious day of your Baptism. Imagine that beautiful day, the sounds of that morning, and the preparations taking place. As your family and friends helped you get ready, think of the rejoicing in Heaven. Your Guardian Angel was protecting you from harm and your patron Saint was interceding for your needs. But most of all, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit were desiring to come dwell in your heart. We will never fully understand this longing of God to free us from our sins so that He might live His life in us. As the priest poured water over your head, baptizing you in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, you became a beloved daughter of the Father. Sister, nothing can tarnish that indelible mark on your soul. Now remember the joyful day of your First Holy Communion. Imagine that beautiful day, the sounds of that morning, and the preparations taking place. As your family and friends helped you get ready, think of the rejoicing in Heaven. Your Guardian Angel was protecting you from harm and your patron Saint was interceding for your needs. But most of all, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit were desiring to come dwell in your heart. Jesus came to dwell in your heart in a deeper way, as you received the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Jesus Christ in the Holy Eucharist. Sister, nothing can separate you from His love. Finally, recall the grace-filled day of your Confirmation. Imagine that beautiful day, the sounds of that morning, and the preparations taking place. As your family and friends helped you get ready, think of the rejoicing in Heaven. Your Guardian Angel was protecting you from harm and your patron Saint was interceding for your needs. But most of all, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit were desiring to come dwell in your heart. The Holy Spirit strengthened you with His gifts of wisdom, understanding, counsel, fortitude, knowledge, piety, and fear of the Lord. Sister, you have His strength inside of you. Live according to the Spirit. [bctt tweet="Sister, nothing can separate you from His love. // Rose Coleman" username="blessedisshe__"] Re-read today's Letter from Saint Paul to the Romans, Romans 8:1-11. Rose Coleman is a contemplative in action who delights in all things beautiful. Her adventurous heart has traveled many places—from circumnavigating the globe on a ship during college to some years in the convent as a religious sister. Exuberant from her childhood, she is an elementary school teacher who learns so much from her students. She is the author of our Blessed Conversations: Ways to Pray study found here, a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book, Rise Up, and a contributing author to our Advent devotional book, All the Generations. You can find out more about her here.

Today I am emotionally exhausted, but spiritually awakened. My day started watching the news revealing the destruction of a hurricane, followed by an email about a sophomore in college on our campus who had committed suicide. Two daily Masses followed, packed with grieving students entering our church for the first but, hopefully, not the last time. Today I’m left with the same question Jesus asked in Luke’s Gospel: “Why do you not know how to interpret the present time?” (Luke 12:56) Despite the terrible things happening all around us in the world, we do not realize how much we need God. When we open an app to see a hurricane’s path, we often ignore the rest of the headlines revealing a world turning away from God. We see school shooting after school shooting, families broken up by divorce, all signs that we still need our Savior. We tear ourselves down with self-deprecating comments about our weight, our ability, or how we don’t compare to someone else. We choose to listen to Satan’s whisper over God’s voice and wonder why we are unable to hear God in prayer? We are starving for God and don’t even know it. Today, over 400 students in the midst of losing a friend to suicide decided to seek God to answer the question of why. Love won over 2,000 years ago on the Cross, and love won today when a fraternity of men prayed a Rosary together on their front porch. If we want to see God in the signs of our time, our focus needs to change from the headlines to the Word of God, from our sin to God’s overwhelming mercy, from death to eternal life. Let us focus on the ways God inviting us to focus on His Word, mercy, and eternal life. Let us pay attention to how He is speaking to us in our hearts. And let us most of all bring this love to those starving for Him. [bctt tweet="We are starving for God and don’t even know it. // @SoCalTriciaT" username="blessedisshe__"] Let us abandon ourselves to God with this beautiful prayer today. 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. She is a contributing author to our Advent devotional book, All the Generations. You can find out more about her here.

One night, during my freshman year of college, my best friend and I got into an epic argument because he was tired of my “disappointing” behavior. “You’re getting to the point where you do something new and I’m not surprised anymore.” I thought that he was being petty, but in reality, his words proved to be the light of the Holy Spirit that illuminated all that I thought was safely hidden in the dark. The life that I was living was making me miserable, and although I knew that I was made for greater dignity, I still clung tightly to the “carefree” party lifestyle in hopes that my outer expressions of happiness would seep inward. I was becoming increasingly dependent on trying to replicate fleeting euphoric feelings of fulfillment. I was constantly grasping for something or someone to satiate my want to be wanted. My next move was to act like nothing bothered or affected me. Truth be known, I wasn’t happy, healthy, or holy. My audacious pride made me think that my joy could be found in choosing everything else over the love of God. But there is nothing else in this world but the love of God. It is by the grace that flows from His merciful heart that we are able to turn away from the slavery of sin and choose a life dependent on Him Who is Love itself. Our repentance leads to conversion, and conversion is our response to God’s invitation to love, trust, and worship Him alone so that we can share in the ultimate fulfillment of Heaven. There is joy and relief in the freedom of knowing that Christ died and rose so that neither you nor I would stay chained to sin, but rather become servants, friends, and children of God. This freedom "benefit leads to sanctification . . . and its end is eternal life" (Romans 6:22). God is merciful! God is forgiving! God is love! Time and again He gives us the grace to amend our lives so that we can one day experience "eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord" (Romans 6:23). [bctt tweet="There is nothing else in this world but the love of God. // @ChikasWorld" username="blessedisshe__"] Turn your heart to Him in quiet prayer today. Ask Him for the courage to amend your life and turn yourself over to His loving will for your life. 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. She is a contributing author to our Advent devotional book, All the Generations. Find out more about her here.

Should I go to Confession this week? I see Father is sitting in the confessional and the line isn't that long . . . but I just went last month. How bad have I been? Did I really intend to commit those sins I know were wrong? I mean, it was the heat of the moment and Jesus loves me. His love is bigger than those sins! It really wasn't that big a deal, I can go to Confession next week . . . maybe. It's extremely easy to think myself out of the seriousness and gravity of my own sins. Easy to explain them away, excuse myself, blame other people or circumstance, and even use Jesus' welcome supply of mercy and love to downplay my need for acknowledging my own actions and the state of my own heart. It's easy to explain away and ignore our own sin. We can do it for a long time, but sooner or later the wages of ignoring our sin, the burdens of guilt and shame will catch up to our hearts and enslave us. Make no mistake, we may think we are not choosing to be slaves to our sin when we explain away the little things we do, convincing ourselves they don't matter to God, but what we're really doing is choosing sin as our master. We're choosing to give sin the upper hand in our lives. We're choosing space and distance from God. We're rejecting the true freedom of Jesus, rejecting His forgiveness and mercy. The treasure Jesus has left us with to take care of is His very life within our souls. If we fail to keep watch on our own hearts, we will be letting sin and its master destroy the home Christ has made within us. [bctt tweet="We're choosing space and distance from God. // @christyisinger" username="blessedisshe__"] If you're feeling uncomfortable about going to Confession or it's been a long while, take a peek at our guide to Confession on the BiS blog. 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 and a contributing author to our Advent devotional book, All the Generations. You can find out more about her here.

When I was a child, we took a vacation to Cape Cod and stayed in an old house right on the beach. My favorite spot was a tiny attic on the top floor that featured a round window overlooking the ocean. The owners of the house told us it was there so that the family could watch for returning ships. From the highest spot in the house, they could look out as far as possible and try to spot the tip of the mast on the horizon, and then have as much time as possible to prepare for the return home of husband or father or sons after weeks or months at sea. The family that lived in that home often comes to my mind as I remind my husband to text me with the exact time his GPS says he’ll be home so I can throw dinner together at the last possible minute. For all the benefits of modern technology, it has put us out of touch with the concept of waiting for the unknown. But we are, each of us, waiting. We know that, one day, we will come face to face with Jesus, either at our deaths or at the Second Coming. We can be like that Cape Cod family, watchfully waiting, prepared, lamps lit, loins girded. Or we can be like me when I forgot to check my texts and haven’t even started dinner, sitting in the dark, loins in the wind. Not as good a plan. It’s easy to put off being prepared for the end of times, or to ignore it completely, especially when we consider all our daily obligations and responsibilities. But that won’t stop it from coming. Jesus tells us that in today's Gospel, Luke 12:35-38. Fortunately, the Church gives us the means to be prepared at a moment’s notice to meet our maker. Frequent recourse to the Sacrament of Confession and reception of the Holy Eucharist will light our lamps and gird our loins and, whatever else we have going, we will be prepared for that most important thing. [bctt tweet="We know that, one day, we will come face to face with Jesus, either at our deaths or at the Second Coming. // @kendra_tierney" username="blessedisshe__"] Can't receive Our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament physically? Make a spiritual communion. More on how to do so here. 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 and our Advent devotional book, All the Generations.

One of my top love languages is gift-giving. I love to put a lot of thought into what I give someone I care about. I want them to feel—to know—it was something I had picked out just for them. I think our Father in Heaven is similar. I've seen Bishop Robert Barron say before that God exists in gift form and, "if you want His life in you, you have to learn to give it away." "It" being just about everything that we can give away: our energy, our time, the blessings we've been given, even our lives. Our life with Christ is hindered in moving forward—and His life within us is limited—when we cling to these gifts, holding onto them for ourselves, in fear. We become like the rich man in today’s parable held onto his possessions and lost them anyway. (See Luke 12:20-21.) It seems then that to be rich in what matters to God is to be generous with what we've been given, to recognize Who it all comes from—and what we might be called to do with it. He gives us what He gives us because He thought of us—He thought of you. And maybe He has a thought for His gift that extends beyond you too, of someone in particular, of someone by name: who could it be that He's thinking of—who could it be that would be blessed if you gave away your treasures and gifts this week? [bctt tweet="He gives us what He gives us because He thought of us—He thought of you. // @praymorenovenas" username="blessedisshe__"] This article by a critically acclaimed Catholic writer and speaker shares what Pope Saint John Paul II meant in giving the gift of self in relationship. Annie Deddens is a writer and producer. She runs a prayer ministry with her husband, called Pray More Novenas. She has a heart for the sick & suffering, and she writes about living with greater faith (hope & love, too) in this imperfect world as a Catholic wife. She is a contributing author to our Advent devotional book, All the Generations. You can find out more about her here.