Every time I plant flowers in my yard, I am confronted with the fact that the soil in my neighborhood is less than ideal. It’s too poor, too full of clay, to sustain the garden I have in mind. So before I do any planting, I drag over a huge bag of garden soil, slash it open, and mix it with the native dirt. The bagged soil is like good, rich chocolate, dark and fragrant. It would be quicker to put the plants right into the ground, but my flowers won’t thrive without first amending the soil. I know better than to skip that necessary step. I think of today's Gospel and all of Jesus' commentary on rich soil and take heed. And yet in my own spiritual life, I sometimes struggle to do the steps that will make me more fully alive. I go to weekly Mass, but I’m less consistent with habits of daily prayer, even though I know that it is necessary to enrich the soil of my soul. It’s not because I don’t care. Increasingly, it’s because the prayer routines I have always done no longer work at this point in my life. For years I did a morning Bible reading over coffee, but for whatever reason, that is less effective than it used to be; I’m too distracted to let the words sink in. These days, I find that the most helpful prayer habit is just sitting in silence, looking at the sky or the garden or a candle flame, simply feeling the presence of God. I am trying to be better about doing it more often. And those silent moments nurture me and strengthen me. Like the good soil in the Gospel, they make me more receptive to God’s word and God’s presence throughout the rest of my day. “Pray as you can, not as you can’t,” said the English abbot John Chapman. Those are words to live by. There are countless ways to commune with God, countless ways to make ourselves receptive to the seeds of His love. And when that love flowers and blooms for others to see, we will know that it’s working. [bctt tweet="These days, I find that the most helpful prayer habit is just sitting in silence, looking at the sky or the garden or a candle flame, simply feeling the presence of God." username="blessedisshe__"] Ground yourself in a rich sacramental life and see how those graces flow over into everything else. Attend daily Mass, regular Confession, and make a spiritual communion as often as you can! Ginny Kubitz Moyer is a mother, high school English teacher, and BBC period drama junkie. She is the author of Random MOMents of Grace: Experiencing God in the Adventures of Motherhood and Mary and Me: Catholic Women Reflect on the Mother of God. Ginny lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband, two boys, and about thirty thousand Legos. You can find out more about her here. She is the author of our Blessed Conversations: The Seven Sacraments found here.

I always found the Apostles in today’s Gospel reading to be rather bold, almost annoyingly so, to ask for such high positions near Jesus when He came into His kingdom. But when He asked if they really wanted to partake in the chalice He was called to drink, and they said yes, He did not deny them. It might have been easier for the Apostles to ask to share in the cup Christ would drink from: the cup of suffering, humiliation, and death because they did not fully understand what that meant. We have the burden and benefit of knowing what that cup was and knowing that He conquered death with life. Our Christian faith is radically uncomfortable and radically upside down. Just as He easily offered the chalice of His suffering to His Apostles who asked for it, He will offer it to you and me if we ask for it. The beauty of Christ is in the fact that He calls up life from death, gives meaning to our suffering, and invites us into His Resurrection. Our suffering can be yoked to His Passion, and our joy to His life. When I am frustrated with the circumstances of my life, I tend towards despair. I often need that reminder that if I invite Him into my suffering, He will sit there with me in the messiness of it all. He will also take what is dying and decaying and make it new. [bctt tweet="He conquered death with life." username="jacquiskemp"] Learn a few unexpected things about today's Saint, Saint James the Apostle, over here. 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.

In the Parable of the Sower in today's Gospel from Matthew, Jesus describes a man who throws seed rather carelessly. This sower’s seed ends up consumed by birds, shriveled on rocky ground, and choked by thorns. Only some of the seed happens to fall on rich soil where it produces fruit. Sisters, I desire the Holy Spirit to bear fruit in my life, and if I desire this then I must allow the Holy Spirit to be my sower. The Holy Spirit does not move carelessly in our lives. He moves with purpose and He plants us where we will bear the fruit that He has called us to bear in unity with the Father and the Son. When we cooperate with the Holy Spirit, we will bear fruits of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. By the power of the Holy Spirit we will become walking reflections of our merciful Savior. By the power of the Holy Spirit we will trust in the Lord, and we will not become discouraged. By the power of the Holy Spirit we will proclaim the Gospel and speak truth into the lives of our brothers and sisters in Christ. May we continue to pray for our outpouring of the Holy Spirit and allow Him to root us in rich soil where we will bear fruit for the Kingdom of God. [bctt tweet="The Holy Spirit does not move carelessly in our lives." username="blessedisshe__"] Take a moment to write down your prayer requests for the Holy Spirit to help you see the fruits of His gifts in your life today. Leana Bowler is a wife and mother of five little ones. She is a Holy Rosary enthusiast with deep devotions to the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Immaculate Heart of Mary. Her love for the message of Divine Mercy led her to become a Marian Missionary of Divine Mercy dedicated to spreading Marian Consecration and the beauty of Christ's abundant Mercy. She enjoys finding the miracles in the mess of family life, books, strong coffee, and encountering others wherever they're at in this blessed journey to sainthood. You can find out more about her here.

He stretches out his hand. He divides what we think cannot be divided. He redefines what we thought was solid. Moses did it. Jesus did it. Stretching out a hand at God’s command. Dividing nature, dividing family. Challenging us to see the world anew. Unsettling? Anxiety-producing? Yes. But also leading to new life, saving us from our limited definitions of Who God is and what God can do. We cannot sugar-coat: this truth is hard. Death and destruction stare us plain in the face from these stories. But also new life, unfathomable possibility, and the hard work of salvation. Think of every time your heart has been divided. A break-up. A best friend lost. A family rift. Division is painful. We long to move toward unity. Yet God can move to widen what was narrow, upend what seemed fixed, or redefine what was known. New life rushes through the broken places. We come out on the other side, astonished and changed. Remember that God’s hand is stretched over all of us. Remember that Jesus claimed us as His sisters. These words and actions change everything. There is nowhere we can go that God’s love hasn’t rushed ahead of us, preparing a way where there seemed to be no way. Every division, every death, and every destruction will be healed and made whole. This is the promise we are given. Can we come singing praise in this strange new world God is making for us? Can we follow where God leads? [bctt tweet="God can move to widen what was narrow, upend what seemed fixed, or redefine what was known." username="laurakfanucci"] When we make the Sign of the Cross with our hand, did you know it has six separate and powerful meanings? Learn more here. Laura Kelly Fanucci is a mother, writer, and director of a theological project on vocation. She and her husband are raising four sons and wrote a book together on grieving the loss of children, "Grieving Together: A Couple’s Journey through Miscarriage." She is the author of seven books including "Everyday Sacrament: The Messy Grace of Parenting" and "Living Your Discipleship: 7 Ways to Express Your Deepest Calling." You can find out more about her here. She is the author of the Blessed Conversations Mystery: Behold study found here.

“Whom are you looking for?” Jesus asks Mary Magdalene in today’s Gospel, John 20:15. This is a powerful question that we can also ask ourselves today. Perhaps you are looking for your future spouse, a community of friends, a child to return to the Church, your parent to finally offer you support and acceptance, deeper connection with your husband, or a deeper sense of who you truly are. And perhaps the absence of what you seek has brought you sadness, grief, loneliness, or frustration in the search of experiencing what it is that you want and need. But are you also looking for Jesus? Mary weeps outside of the empty tomb and Jesus asks her this question: “Whom are you looking for?” She knows the answer. She’s looking for her Lord. What a tender moment that must have been when Mary recognized it was Jesus Who was speaking to her. I wonder what she felt as she experienced Jesus encountering her in the midst of her sorrow and realized that Who she was looking for had come to her and was present right before her eyes. Jesus does the same for us. He encounters us in our pain, and He reveals to us that it is He that we are seeking. But we also need to be looking for Him in order to be able to see Him. We need to be seeking Him first, and then all these other things will be given to us as well. (See Matthew 6:33.) He's calling your name. How will you respond? Like Mary Magdalene, have you seen the Lord? [bctt tweet="He reveals to us that it is He that we are seeking." username="blessedisshe__"] Do you follow this Catholic artist who focuses on gardens, flowers, and the significance of it all? Mary Catherine Craige enjoys spending her time dancing, writing, playing the Irish harp and learning about life from her experiences surfing. As a transformational life coach, she supports women especially in times of transition, to discover who they truly are and to better their lives to live fully alive as the person God has created them to be. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book, Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.

Recently, everyone has been asking about my college semester study abroad and I have struggled to find the right answer. After giving many variations of the same generic answer, I will be honest with you, sisters—I struggled. Spiritually, I felt this unprecedented pressure to come to the table having created something worthwhile. Perhaps it is the culture of social media I am so regularly immersed in, or the schoolwork I am always focused on, but this season did not feel productive. It should have been a semester of Instagram-worthy European adventures and abundant consolation, but I felt stretched most days. Every time I came to prayer, I confronted the fear that my life was not producing good fruit. Anxious that I was not doing or saying enough for the Kingdom, I was exhausted by all my attempts of striving to serve well. “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and worried about many things. There is need of only one thing” (Luke 10:41-42). Yet amidst all of my chaos, I feel peace rush over me when I read those words. Abroad I felt consumed by the many things instead of the one. Called back to the feet of Jesus, my posture shifts and my frantic heart is brought to stillness by the tone of His voice. I am grounded in confidence that He is the Messiah of reassurance and enduring peace, unconcerned with my notions of productivity. Comforted by my Savior in our shared stillness, I become aware that He is the only One to bring me rest and consistency. I know the tendency to begin “doing,” but I am drawn to choose the better part today: that of simply “being.” Father, I ask that You would gift us with the spirit of Mary, and that we would rest at Your feet in confidence of Who You are. [bctt tweet="He is the only One to bring me rest and consistency." username="blessedisshe__"] Regard Our Lord's face in this painting of this moment from Scripture. Find rest and peace in Him, sisters. Sarah Elizabeth is a politics pre-law major at the Catholic University of America in Washington, DC. Born and raised in Arizona, she finds great joy in mountains, lattes, American history, and the piano. She is constantly discovering Christ's wild love in the little things.

One of my favorite old movies to watch as a little girl was the Charlton Heston classic, The Ten Commandments. The scenery, costumes, acting, even the narrator's voice had me spellbound. The vibrant, exciting exodus story of the children of Israel and God's intervention in the lives of His people was thrilling and exciting to me, even as a nine-year-old girl. There is something powerful about that story that still deeply resonates with me, even as an adult. Something catches my eye in the first reading, I haven't really noticed before: the time the children of Israel had stayed in Egypt was four hundred and thirty years. Four hundred and thirty years the Israelites were enslaved by the Egyptians. I cannot imagine growing up with no end in sight, no sense of how the story would change, and perhaps not much hope. But it did change. God sent Moses to be His advocate, a leader for Israel. And we know how that turned out! Even though the Israelites were enslaved for hundreds of years, they were not made for slavery. Sisters, just like them, we are not made for slavery. We are not created to be held captive or enslaved to our passions, sins, desires, our past, our pain or suffering. We are created for freedom and wholeness. God wants His daughters to be free, not slaves. If there is any area in your life that still feels enslaved, give it up to the Lord. Go to Confession. Share your heart with close friends, because God made you to be free. And He wants that wholeness for you more than you can even imagine. [bctt tweet="We are created for freedom and wholeness." username="amoderngrace"] This healing ministry is focused on the heart of the Father and the freedom He desires for you. Have you heard of it? 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.

Bloody noses. Arguments over who gets the preferred book. A boxing match stalled. Sensory meltdowns. You’ve arrived to the front row circus . . . ahem, pew in my parish where I sit with my husband and four boys, Sunday after Sunday. You might think with shenanigans such as these I might want to duck for cover and stay at home for a few weeks or months. And you might be right. Even before having kids, there were Sundays I would truthfully rather roll over and get an extra hour of sleep or leisurely enjoy my cup of coffee. However, over the years, in spite of, or perhaps because of the added sacrifice of bringing occasionally unruly children along, I have come to appreciate the love God has for us in the Mass and His desire for me to be there. The Church in her wisdom does require us to attend weekly Sunday Mass and Holy Days of obligation. But it is purely out of love, out of knowing what is best for our souls, like the true Mother that she is. In keeping that constant in our life, we have the beautiful gift of re-centering our busy lives every week to what truly matters. God’s not a scorekeeper—He doesn’t sit in Heaven keeping tally on how many Catholic rules we break; instead, His desire FOR us is reconciliation. The Sabbath was created for us, not the other way around. We can choose to look with joy to reuniting with Jesus in the Eucharist the way His heart does over us. May we receive the Sabbath as a gift and not as a burden, living our lives to honor Jesus, the Lord of the Sabbath. [bctt tweet="I have come to appreciate the love God has for us in the Mass and His desire for me to be there." username="blessedisshe__"] Remember what the Catechism says about the Sabbath? Brush up on it here. 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. You can find out more about her here.

Do you know what a yoke is? When I saw it referenced in today's Gospel from Matthew, I looked it up again just to be sure. A yoke is a wooden beam that is placed across two animals like oxen or cattle, in effect to hook them together so that they can share a load of work. It allows them to work together, shoulder to shoulder, to move together, to carry or move the weight of their load in an even fashion. It looks horribly uncomfortable, but it is effective in keeping two creatures working together and helping to divide the weight of the burden. In the Gospel, the Lord is telling His followers to come to Him, take His yoke, learn from Him. He doesn’t say He is going to pick up OUR yoke. He tells us to take up HIS yoke. Sometimes taking up His yoke means that we ask the Lord to share the weight of our load, and other times it may mean a complete release, where we give it all to Him. We can attach our burdens, our load of grief or concern to His yoke, and we move through it with Him. Or in other instances, we can lay our problems at the foot of His Cross and surrender our load, rather than continuing to carry it. Sometimes we need to dump the weight that is keeping us from moving forward. We need to turn it all over, leave it behind, and move beyond the pain and the suffocating weight of grief or anger. In any case, Jesus tells us that when we take up His yoke we will learn from Him. The Lord is asking us to handle our stresses, our problems, our life frustrations, and our disappointments His way. When we bind ourselves to Him, then we move with Him. We walk with Him, work with Him, and learn from Him. And it is there we will find rest from our struggle. [bctt tweet="Jesus tells us that when we take up His yoke we will learn from Him." username="blessedisshe__"] This priest from Minnesota speaks on God's mercy, He Who shoulders our yoke. Have you thought about mercy in this way? Dr. MaryRuth Hackett is the host of the podcast Parenting Smarts. She loves historical fiction, dark chocolate, watching her children play soccer, a good cup of coffee (decaf please) and the quiet of the early morning. She holds a PhD in Educational Psychology and has a passion for helping parents understand the way their children grow and develop. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book, Rise Up and the author of our Blessed Conversations: Leader Guide found here. You can find out more about her here.

It can happen in an instant. We see a faith-filled post nearly identical to something profound we’ve shared, or wanted to share, and now it’s getting all the attention. A spiritual mentor gives advice we’ve heard a thousand times, and we quickly work in a few comments to demonstrate our own spiritual intellect. We witness another’s God-given gifts in action and immediately begin to bristle as we compare them to ours. Spiritual pride is a real buzzkill. It’s the enemy’s attempt to weasel into the holiest places and spaces and convince us to shift our focus away from God to—you guessed it—focus on ourselves. Humility, on the other hand, keeps the focus where it belongs. In today's First Reading from Exodus, Moses is a stunning example as he tries to grasp what is happening: a shrub in the distance, aflame but uncharred, a Voice calling him by name. He has every opportunity to inflate with self-importance when God manifests Himself in such a remarkable way. Yet Moses responds with utter humility, accepting that he is nothing without God, but made gloriously capable and worthy by God. Likewise, Christ places the example of a humble child in our midst in today’s Gospel, far superior to the egoism of the “wise and learned” in spiritual understanding. Humility responds, open-hearted, to our God Who calls us by name and invites us to build a relationship with Him. Humility teaches that others’ gifts cannot detract from who we are and what God asks us to do. Humility is the child so intent upon her Father’s teaching that her eyes never wander to concern themselves with the others in the room, all learning alongside her. God is longing to teach us that humility is neither self-deprecation nor self-inflation. It’s accepting our true identity by keeping our eyes on Him. Yet we can only keep our eyes on Him and discover the truth of who we are when we make intentional time with the One Who made us for Himself. So He waits, in all humility, inviting us to shift our eyes from ourselves, and instead move to meet His loving gaze. [bctt tweet="Humility responds, open-hearted, to our God Who calls us by name and invites us to build a relationship with Him. " username="PosImperfect"] Let's pray the Litany of Humility today. 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.

"[I]f the mighty deeds done in your midst had been done in Tyre and Sidon, they would long ago have repented . . ." (Matthew 11:21). I have scoffed at the people Jesus reproached in this Gospel. How could they not change? I wondered. These people witnessed miracles, yet remained indifferent and unrepentant. In the past, I read this and felt so righteous, as though I could never be so stubborn and unchanging as those people! Of course I would follow Jesus! But now, I feel pity for them. I'm one of them. How many days go by in which I slog along, complaining and grumbling, asking God for more signs, more wonders, more proofs? I'm blinded by my selfishness and pride, unchanged by the wonders God is already revealing to me. Yet not all hope is lost! Even the people to whom Jesus spoke were not without hope. I see a firm but merciful warning in Jesus' words: why would He have spoken to them of repentance if not to extend an invitation to turn to Him? I see myself in those who saw the mighty deeds and didn't fully turn to the Lord. I'm a bit stubborn and slow to change, but the Lord is good and merciful. With this Gospel, He's calling me to Him today, nudging me to recognize His work in my life. I see His mighty deeds in reconciled relationships, the births of my children, the sisterhood of prayer warriors around me. The Lord's works are infinite and beautiful. They are an invitation to turn to Him, to change my heart, to be His disciple. I'm not about to throw on sackcloth and ashes, but I am committing, once again, to turn back to Him. Jesus is in my midst and I don't want to miss Him working in my life. [bctt tweet="The Lord's works are infinite and beautiful." username="blessedisshe__"] Visit the Sacrament of Reconciliation this week. Check your parish or nearby churches for times. Just pencil into your calendar and make the time to turn your heart back fully to Him. Gina Fensterer is a Colorado native at heart, but the West Coast beach life suits her just fine. She currently lives in small coastal area of California with her husband and six children. She loves the Jesus prayer, coffee at any time of day, homemade salsa, photography, and sleepy toddler snuggles. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book, Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.

My legs came swinging over my head as my mind readied my arms for the fall. I knew it was coming. I felt the ground grow closer and my heart pump faster. And then it happened. Crash! My body hit the stage floor with a punishing amount of force right in front of a crowd full of spectators. I watched as their concerned eyes fell to inspect damage, to see if all was well. And all was well. My bones were intact, my limbs were unscathed. But my heart. Oh, my heart. It was crushed. I thought about it all on my drive home, the memory replayed with varying degrees of shame. I thought about how unprofessional it was for a professional dancer to fall . . . on stage . . . right in front of everyone. I thought about how I didn’t deserve the check I received in exchange for my performance. I thought about how I’d probably never be asked back. And then, deep in the dark of night on a lonely highway, something whispered to my heart, “Who are you seeking approval from?” For a moment, I let my idea of perfection become an idol that could tell me who I was, instead of listening to who He says I am. I think we all do this to some degree. Because it’s easy to let the idols in our lives take hold of our hearts. It’s easy to find identity in a thing or a person or a passion, to base our happiness on the approval or acceptance of others. Today’s Gospel is a beautiful reminder of that. “Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me” (Matthew 10:37). What idols are you placing at the forefront of your hearts? Because, let me tell you, those things will always let you down. But Christ, He offers us freedom. So, take up your cross and follow Him, for it is only in Him that your reward can be found. [bctt tweet="Who are you seeking approval from?" username="iambritcal"] Do you know much about Saint Bonaventure, the Saint for today whose work restructured and saved the Franciscans? He always had Jesus at the heart of everything. Brittany Calavitta is an enthusiastic advocate for a good book, strong coffee, and a hopeful heart. After battling years of infertility, she and her husband welcomed their first child on September 11, 2016. You can find out more about her here.

How many times have I passed by on the other side when I see my brothers and sisters laying beaten and bruised with their wounds open before me? I’d like to think of myself as a Good Samaritan, but my track record shows me to be more like the Priest and the Levite. I see the lonely person at church, the employee at the checkout counter, the name of a chatty acquaintance display on my caller ID, and even though I know what isolation and the desire for human contact feel like, I pass by on the other side. I tell myself I don’t have the time, there’s too much to do to spare the few minutes it would take to give a friendly smile or lend a listening ear. I see one friend who is grieving a loss, another who is facing a health crisis, and I pass by on the other side. What if I say the wrong thing? What if this triggers my own heartache? I am uncomfortable with the vulnerability and intimacy that entering into another’s pain would require. I have seen the panhandler on the side of the road, the confused immigrant at the doctor’s office, and the dirty housing project less than a mile from my own home, and I pass by on the other side. Honestly, sometimes I’m just annoyed, and I convince myself they’re not my problem. “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” (Luke 10:25) I spend so much energy agonizing over what it is the Lord wants me to do, as though it were something “too mysterious and remote” (Deuteronomy 30:11). When really the answer is so simple: “it is something very near you, already in your mouths and in your hearts; you have only to carry it out” (Deuteronomy 30:14). Love Jesus and everyone else. The rest is just details. [bctt tweet="I’d like to think of myself as a Good Samaritan, but my track record shows me to be more like the Priest and the Levite." username="blessedisshe__"] Already familiar with the Corporal Works of Mercy? See our new study on them examining how lay women Saints lived them out, and inspiring reflections on how we can, too. 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.

This year, Jesus invited me to sail with Him. Last year, we always met on the beach. But now, it’s time to get in the boat. So when I go to Him in prayer using my Christian imagination, we’re sailing on the sea. The wooden boat we’re in is masterfully crafted—smooth, with just enough creak to be homey. The water surrounding us is deep but bright, salty but fresh. We witness artistic sunrises and fish silhouettes against the blazing sunsets. And I absolutely hate it. I can’t enjoy the miraculous beauty around me because I’m frozen in discomfort and worry. What about the sharks?! Why aren’t there any supplies in this boat? How will we eat? What about the towering waves? I haven’t seen land in months, and I’m desperate for solid ground. Then, the answer to my fretful questions becomes as clear as the water beneath me. He is my solid ground. Jesus remains present and steady amidst the swirling waters and my swirling heart. The shallowness of my trust is evident in these deep waters. I trust God willingly with certain matters, but not the most important ones. I’m afraid that if I trust Him more completely, things won’t work out as I plan. I’m afraid that if I let go of control, no one will take the reins. I’m afraid of being abandoned. I’m simply afraid. Today’s Gospel addresses such fear. As rhythmic as the crashing waves, Jesus repeats to His Apostles, “Do not be afraid.” But how? Blessedly, the First Reading gives an example of the faith that combats this fear. Joseph, addressing the future, offers us this anchor: “When God thus takes care of you . . . .” Not if, when. Joseph places his full confidence in the fulfillment of God’s plans and promises. He doesn’t question God’s provision. He knows he will be cared for in every moment. Joseph would be loving my boat ride. If you’re afraid of entrusting your life to the Lord, you’re not alone. But thankfully, there is nothing to fear. God will thus take care of us. So let’s go sailing. [bctt tweet="He is my solid ground." username="to_the_heights"] For an in-depth biography of Saint Ignatius of Loyola whose writing on spiritual exercises has had a profound impact on the Jesuit order and many others, read here. Olivia Spears lives in Kentucky where the 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.

I have a friend who, I believe, lets the Spirit speak through her all the time. She's so good at responding to people in conversation—at listening to them, being with them, and responding to what they say or how they feel. When I'm with her and I'm speaking with her, I feel heard. I feel loved. And I think, That's the Spirit. I, on the other hand, find myself worrying about whether I'm saying the right thing in many situations. Am I being attentive to this person and showing them that I'm listening? Am I reflecting their dignity—sharing with them that they are valued? Am I comforting them? These thoughts can run through my head, and quickly. It's almost like a filter and what I want to let through is light and love. But there are times when words come easily, more easily than the worry, and I can respond more naturally. Without fear. With faith. Sometimes I think it's because of the Holy Spirit being in that present moment, and at other times, I think it's because He's repeatedly come to my aid in the past and prepared me for moments like these. Either way, I want my conversations with others to bear witness to Jesus, and I realize that my words matter to this end. So I ask the Holy Spirit to be with me. Every single day. Come, Holy Spirit, I say silently when I walk by a banner in our hallway with those same words. And I trust that Jesus is constantly sending Him to be with me, to give me the right words to share—ones that will bring life (that will bring Him) into my relationships and into the world. [bctt tweet="I ask the Holy Spirit to be with me. Every single day." username="praymorenovenas"] This quick prayer to the Holy Spirit is powerful and maybe one you don't know already. 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. You can find out more about her here.

I won’t attempt to put words in Our Lord’s mouth; His words are perfect as they are. Rather, let me take a moment to apply examples to His wisdom. Perhaps by doing so, the Spirit will inspire us to act within our own lives. He might say to us today: We don’t know the time or place when this earthly world will end, so we must prepare ourselves and others. Encourage those with mental health issues to seek help. Bring joy to those who are dead in spirit by sending a funny meme. Remember those who have incurable illnesses with a phone call. Call upon Saint Michael to help protect you from evil. Make note of the ways in which you were blessed today, and share whatever that is—share a lot of it. (Personally, I received major affirmation and support from my girlfriends, so I want to pass that along to all of you: You’re ok. You’re doing your best today. I see you.) Don’t horde clothing or money or food or anything. Take only what you need in this world. There are so many people in need of what we are saving just-in-case. And when you find yourself in need, allow someone to help you. Allowing someone to help you is allowing them to be Christ to the world too. Build strong Christian communities. Pray for your friends. And if someone argues with you on the Internet, let it roll off your back. While we might not qualify for apostolic succession (unless you’re the rare bishop reading today, in which case, “hello!”), we too have been called to “go and announce the Gospel of the Lord.” Serving our brothers and sisters in Christ certainly fits these instructions. [bctt tweet="Pray for your friends." username="callherhappy"] How can you reach out and practice the "new evangelization" with those in your life? Read an explanation of it here. Jenna Hines has a teeny army of four children and is married to a bearded fellow named Mike. They are a homeschooling family who just moved out to the country. Find her books and illustrations in her shop. You can find out more about her here.

An artist I know, an extraordinary young woman in her thirties, was happily tackled by the reality of Jesus and His Church after some serious chaos and confusion: addiction, abortion, abuse. Her heart is especially deep, her prayer life more fearless than most. Her artwork is especially brave. She never shies away from asking some of the most difficult questions about evil and the meaning of darkness. Not darkness for darkness’ sake or to glamorize it in any way, but darkness for the mysterious and merciful ways that the Father brings about good, even from evil. How is that Jesus can make all things work together for good? In today’s First Reading, we only get a few moments of Joseph’s story, feeding the starving brothers who betrayed him. How curious to note that this snippet should culminate in his tears. Overcome by his brothers’ betrayal, and "turning away from them, he wept" (Genesis 41:24). In the Gospel reading, we note one of the first mentions of Judas as betrayer, even as Jesus is sending him out with authority to heal and drive out demons. It’s almost as if the Church is inviting us to spend some time dwelling in this very tension my young artist friend longs to understand: in the midst of unspeakable evil, God brings about the most astonishing good. Indeed, tucked between these two readings the Psalmist reminds us that "the plan of the LORD stands forever; the design of his heart through all generations" (Psalm 33:10-11). I imagine for a moment the design of God’s heart—what an extraordinary idea—and my place in that design. I am written into that design—and so are you, sister—through the grace of the Sacraments and the love of the Father. God does not obliterate our past or our tears; He brings everything into His light. And through the forgiveness and healing of Jesus, we come to understand that the darkest moments of our lives, even the darkness of our sin, cannot diminish His love for us, but only become a part of the masterpiece that is His Sacred Heart. [bctt tweet="In the midst of unspeakable evil, God brings about the most astonishing good." username="blessedisshe__"] Consider a novena to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, beginning today. 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.