I lined up the stainless steel plates next to the stove. The lasagna had baked and rested, and now my restless young children were hovering, watching me with hungry eyes, sneaking tastes of melty cheese off the peeled-back tin foil. I picked up the serving knife and, just before slicing, I experienced a shift in my heart. I was used to allocating edge pieces to my children, saving the best, center pieces for my husband and (more honestly) myself. In fact, no matter what I created in the kitchen, with my mind, or with my hands, I always saved the best for me. They don’t know the difference, it doesn’t matter, was the subconscious mantra of my service. But over that lasagna, the Holy Spirit pushed my vision beyond selfishness. I ache to give my children the very best of the entire world, and He showed me that it encompasses even the smallest details, like lasagna pieces. While I continue to battle selfishness in my motherhood, my heart now longs to sacrifice my own preferences in consideration of theirs. In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells us that "[n]o one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends" (John 15:13). Of course, the greatest reality of this Truth is His sacrifice on the Cross for our salvation. As imitators of Christ, we are called to lay down our lives for Him and each other. While this self-denial sometimes calls us to enormous sacrifice, most often, we live this mission in the mundane movements of life. How is He asking you to lay down your life today? It might not feel consequential. No one may ever know or notice. Nevertheless, pursuing this greater love is worth offering every piece of our hearts (and our lasagna). [bctt tweet="The Holy Spirit pushed my vision beyond selfishness. // @to_the_heights" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion In your prayer time today, ask the Lord to show what you can offer to Him, little or big. 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 shares weekly tips for prayer and Catholic living. 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 called Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.

Any time I read this Gospel (John 15:9-17), I hear the voice of the priest at my wedding. This was the Gospel my husband and I chose for a day that ended up being one of the most exhilarating and exciting days of our lives. We were on a high of love, celebration, and discovery. It’s a reality, of course, that nothing can stay at a fever pitch of excitement. Not every day of our marriage is as heady as our wedding, even though I’m always grateful for it. That’s the reality of life; it’s the reality of faith, too. I’ve had days in my adult faith that felt exhilarating, as if my connection to the Divine could move mountains. But those days are rare. At other times—right now, in fact—I’ve had dry periods, where I believe in God but I struggle to feel the old excitement. They are disconcerting, these desert times. I long to find the old wonder again. But Jesus says, "It was not you who chose me, but I who chose you" (John 15:16). These words touch a place inside me that makes me cry. My bond with God is not jeopardized just because I’m feeling flat. I may think it all depends on me, on my excitement or lack thereof, but it doesn’t. God is invested in me. God gave me life, gave me gifts to use. God engaged with me long before I decided to engage with Him. So my lesson from these dry periods is this: even when I’m not "feeling" that bond, it's okay, because God always is. I know God loves to be with me, Love itself, each and every day. I am sustained by the knowledge that He chose me first and He keeps on choosing me, every day of my life. [bctt tweet="I long to find the old wonder again. // Ginny Kubitz Moyer" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Go deeper into your understanding of what the Church teaches in our Catechism study. 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. You can find out more about her here.

I eased my car into the last-available slot of the small parking lot. I wanted to get some errands done before I headed home after work. It was then that I saw them—a group of old friends that I hadn’t talked to in a while. There was a mix of conflicting emotions. That part of my life was over, and I didn’t regret it. But my heart went out to them, and I prayed that one day they’d be open to God’s mercy as well. Ever since I had given my life back to God in my twenties, He was working diligently on my heart. Like the Vine Grower in today’s Gospel (John 15), the Lord was pruning the things in my life that were drawing me away from God. I was moving away from old friends, old habits, and old attitudes, but it wasn’t always easy. Thankfully, God did not leave me empty-handed. He brought into my life new friends who encouraged me to love Jesus. He replaced old attitudes with a mission and purpose. Slowly old bad habits and sins were being replaced with a life striving for virtue. And the grace of the Sacraments strengthened me when I often failed and had to get back up again. In those days it was easy to see what needed to be pruned from my life—mortal sins and the things that temped me most. As the years have passed and I’ve grown closer to God, however, the pruning is sometimes more subtle. On the outside things may seems fine, but inside we can feel an uneasiness about a situation or a tug that something needs to be changed in our lives. There’s no way to avoid pruning. It’s simply a part of growing and bearing fruit. Thankfully, Our Father is patient with us, knowing when to be gentle and when to give us a little tough love. Let’s open ourselves to the Holy Spirit and ask Him to show us how God desires to prune our hearts and trust that we will bloom more beautifully for it. [bctt tweet="God did not leave me empty-handed. // @bobbi_rol" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Find the strength to let the Lord prune you, your habits, your friendships today. Ask Mother Mary for her help. 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 called Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.

In the quiet pre-dawn while my family slept, I took out the peanut butter. The jar felt light in my hand, and I made a mental note to add it to the grocery list so we wouldn’t run out. Unscrewing the lid, I anticipated the creamy, salty goodness I would spread on my cinnamon raisin toast. There was nothing in the jar. Someone had eaten all the peanut butter and put the empty jar back in the refrigerator. My eyes narrowed as I fought the urge to yell at Someone, whoever it was, for messing up my morning, for denying me what I felt I was entitled to have. I wanted to punish Someone by waking Someone up, so Someone could feel as irritated as I did. Sometimes our humanity trips us up (especially when food is involved). The Church was born of ordinary people, right in the middle of their humanity. Following Jesus’ death and Resurrection, they had to figure out what it meant to be the Church. How would they navigate their relationships? Who was in charge? How would they worship? How would they deal with civil authorities who were willing to kill them to extinguish their message? It makes me wonder what Jesus was thinking, leaving His Church in the hands of regular people just like us. The thing is, though, that’s not all Jesus left. He also left His peace, a peace unlike anything the world can give. He also left instructions—don’t be afraid. He also sent the Holy Spirit. Jesus never said it would be easy. His Church was too important to fail. But Jesus knew it wouldn’t fail. It became manifest in His followers, in their daily interactions with each other. Our humanity as the Church is what allows us to relate to the world. But the way we as the Church are in the world has to be different, because that’s what draws people to us. What Jesus gives us makes us different from the world . . . and that's exactly how we need to be to share Him with them. [bctt tweet="Sometimes our humanity trips us up. // @dere_abbey" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Come, Holy Spirit. 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 is a graduate student in liturgical theology at Saint John's University. 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 called Rise Up and author of our Blessed Conversations: The Virtues study found here.

I have recently been reading about the idea of creating a home where the love of God is reflected so all who live there can know and be reminded of God's love on a daily basis. The idea itself is important. Shouldn't the place we spend the most time, the place we feel safest, the place we seek comfort and repose from the demands and distractions of the outside world be a place where we know and experience God's love? The words of Christ today in the Gospel are a fantastic reminder that not only can we create atmospheres that reflect the reality of our belief in God's love in our lives, but that God Himself dwells with us. Pondering God dwelling with us can change how we approach a lot of things in our lives differently. It imbues all of our work, creation, rest, relationships, and homes with the importance of God incarnating the world through us. The idea of creating an intentional home that reflects the love of God makes me pause. I think that a home that reflects God's love as one that welcomes and values each person who lives there or visits as an irreplaceable person created with dignity. A reflection of God's love would be creating a space where beauty is valued because God gave us beauty as an expression of His creating power and our ability to collaborate with it using our own gifts. A home that provides a place of safety, comfort, and peace for those who live within those four walls mirrors God's love where our ultimate safety, comfort, and lasting peace can be found. Our earthly homes made up of laminate floors, old comfy chairs, and windows that may not be in perfect proportion to the scale of our rooms can be the physical place that nurtures the longing for a heavenly home that our souls long for. [bctt tweet="A home that reflects God's love is one that welcomes and values each person who lives there or visits. // @christyisinger" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Lord, increase my longing for You. Deepen my appreciation for You in my daily life and home. 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.

I ran up the stairs and looked in each of the rooms as fast as I could, trying to be keep up with my older brother. "This is my room!" I yelled, trying to claim the best one as quickly as possible. My mom had brought us with her to look at countless new houses. One of them would be our new home. As Mom carefully assessed every aspect of each house, I, as an eleven-year-old girl, was only concerned with one thing: which would be my room? "In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If there were not, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back again and take you to myself, so that where I am you also may be" (John 14:2-3). What tender words Jesus speaks to us today. He knows how important it is to have a place and to have a space that is all our own. He makes room for us, knowing we need a place with Him, a place where we belong. It is a basic human need to belong. We need a safe space to be, to rest, and to connect. The world seems to continually threaten our sense of belonging, safety, and connection. We may not even feel like it’s okay for us to take up space, to speak our voice, or to shine our light. How beautiful that Jesus goes to prepare a place for us. Like my childlike excitement about which would be my new room, Jesus cares to prepare a place for us—both here on earth and eternally in Heaven. "Do not let your hearts be troubled. You have faith in God; have faith also in me" (John 13:1). He wants to be with us. We belong to Him. There is room for us. How can you be brave to take up space and allow God to show you how you belong? Have faith that He is preparing a beautiful place for you. [bctt tweet="It is a basic human need to belong. We need a safe space to be, to rest, and to connect. // Mary Catherine Craige" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Journal a bit about these questions today and allow God to show you how you belong to Him. Mary Catherine Craige enjoys spending her time creating art, writing, and playing her Irish harp. She uses her experience as a Montessori teacher and catechist to serve young children through the Catechesis of the Good Shepherd. As a life coach for business leaders, she encourages and challenges women in all walks of life to more deeply discover their purpose and live their full potential. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book called Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.

"If you ask anything of me in my name, I will do it" (John 14:14). I don’t understand those words. I never have. Because how can they possibly be true? I’ve prayed for loved ones to be healed of disease and addiction, only to lose them just the same. I’ve prayed for my womb to be opened, for a baby to live and grow inside of me, but it remains as barren as any desert waste. I’ve prayed for work to do, guys to date, and blessings to come, always in Jesus’ name, and His answer was still no. But then I look at the life I live now—the work I do, the man I married, the baby I adopted—and all I can say is, “Thank you.” I have this life because of unanswered prayers. If God had said yes to my prayer to marry my college crush, I wouldn’t be married to my husband who loves me better than anyone ever has. If God had said yes to my prayers to conceive, I wouldn’t be holding a black-haired baby with eyes the color of a stormy sea. And I can’t even begin to imagine not being his mama. God has always seen what I couldn’t. He has always known what I didn’t. From all eternity, He heard every prayer I would utter, and said yes to some and no to others, knowing the perfect answers—the answers I would ultimately desire—for me and for every person who has ever or will ever live. Some answers I understand now. Some I don’t. But the ones I do understand help me trust in the wisdom and goodness of all God’s answers. They also help me trust that someday, I will understand more—that at the end of days, when I see God, I also will see that He said yes to every prayer I would have prayed had I known what He knows. You're not alone if you still don’t fully understand Jesus’ promise, “If you ask anything of me in my name, I will do it.” But we can trust He means it. [bctt tweet="God has always seen what I couldn’t. // Emily Stimpson Chapman" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion We trust in God's plan and turn to Our Mother Mary to rejoice at God's presence among us this Easter season with this ancient hymn. Emily Stimpson Chapman is the author of more than a dozen books and studies for women, including The Catholic Table: Finding Joy Where Food and Faith Meet and These Beautiful Bones: An Everyday Theology of the Body. She also served as the general editor for the Formed In Christ High School Textbook series (jointly published by the St. Paul Center and the Sophia Institute). Emily likes her coffee hot, her martinis dirty, and wine dry. She lives in Pittsburgh, PA, with her husband and son in their 1890 Victorian money pit.

My family has lived in my hometown for generations. The road we took to Mass each Sunday was named after my great-grandparents who farmed the land around it. The church where I worshipped for the first twenty-five years of my life was the same one my great-great-grandparents worshipped in upon their arrival from Bavaria. My grandfathers would tell stories from their youth, helping me to understand how my hometown took shape and how my family was connected to different locations and events in both local and national history. All of this gave me a context, and with that context I had a pretty solid understanding of who I was and where I fit into the bigger picture. It was a little spot in the grand scheme of things, but it was surrounded by people who I loved and who loved me. It also prepared my heart to understand the Gospel, especially salvation history. God created us, and when Original Sin ruptured our relationship with Him, in His love and mercy He promised our ancestors that He would restore that relationship. And He did. As Saint Paul said, “[W]hat God promised our fathers he has brought to fulfillment for us, their children, by raising up Jesus” (Acts 13:32-33). He died for my sins and He died for yours. We are a part of salvation history, and this is the context of our lives. This is where we belong. [bctt tweet="God created us, and . . . in His love and mercy He promised our ancestors that He would restore that relationship. // @bonnieengstrom" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion This priest gives us insight into belonging to Jesus. 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.

There is a small town in southern Minnesota where a family opens their house on a plot of land to those seeking a respite from the world and the work that we were doing. We were several months into our mission work, leading retreat after retreat. Our team was ready to soak up the graces of the Lord. The family that took us in had perfected hospitality, taking everything into consideration. As someone who was deeply homesick, it was a true consolation to sit in a welcoming living room, eat home-cooked meals, and enjoy the time to rest, sing, pray, and laugh. During our last night there, at the end of dinner, they asked us to remove our shoes and socks. This older couple got on their knees, brought over a bowl of water and towels, and one by one, they served us. As they cradled our heels, and poured water over our feet, they looked into our eyes, one at a time, thanking us for the work we were doing. They reminded us that we were sharing the Gospel and leading others to Jesus, and our work would not go unnoticed. I choked back sobs. I was humbled, and almost embarrassed. I didn’t feel like I deserved this. And I didn’t. Yet, servants recognize the service of others. When someone can see, acknowledge, and illuminate the good work in us, it helps us see it. I think of those who had their feet washed by the Lord. Surely they were humbled, perhaps even a little embarrassed by how unworthy they were. More than anything, they must have been inspired to lay down their lives in similar service. How can we wash the feet of those in our lives? Can we be bold enough to acknowledge the goodness in others and serve them? Do we let others serve us and humbly receive their love? [bctt tweet="They served us. // @jacquiskemp" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Sit with these questions in prayer today, sister. 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 called Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.

His face lights up when I enter through the sliding doors. Pink walls and a pastel, flora sofa provide the only color in the otherwise sparse entryway of the Elderly Care Home where my grandfather resides, so different from the home I’ve associated him with these many years. The recognition is immediate, but he stumbles to form words, and I can see his eyes hesitate as he realizes he can’t remember my name. He reaches out his arms, and I fall into his familiar embrace, breathing in his scent that pulls me back through nearly three decades of a relationship where if I knew anything, it was that this man loved me. Alzheimer's disease stole a portion of his life, rendering him more and more helpless each time I saw him. But even in those moments where my name was beyond his memory, I could see that I was utterly loved and known. In Psalm 87:7, they all sing: "My home is within you." And then again in the Gospel, John 10:22-30, Jesus informs the Jews, "My sheep hear my voice; I know them, and they follow me." Each of us has the gift of being intimately known and loved by our Creator, and He is there with arms wide open for us to return that love by making our home in Him. As I prioritize my relationship with Jesus, valuing the time spent in Adoration, and making a point to connect with Him daily, I orient my life towards making my home in Him. And I can let my guard down and rest in knowing I am known and loved. My grandfather passed away over six years ago now, but I still can feel his hugs, a safe harbor against whatever life threw at me. My eyes still tear up when I think of him squeezing my arm and saying, "I love you, sugar." What a beautiful thing it is to be known and loved. [bctt tweet="Each of us has the gift of being intimately known and loved by our Creator, and He is there with arms wide open for us to return that love by making our home in Him. // Sarah Ortiz" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion If you're struggling with being known and loved, turn to Our Lady and pray a Rosary today (see our how-to guide) She is our heavenly mother and never fails to bring comfort to her children. 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.

I immediately recognized his childlike handwriting on the envelope. Relief flooded my heart because we had not heard from him in months. This letter meant he was okay. The letter was from a prison inmate. We consider him part of our family and we love him dearly. My relief was quickly replaced with frustration. He had received more time behind bars due to his poor behavior. He had already spent the majority of his life incarcerated, and his childhood had been wrought with horrific trauma and abuse. I felt like our efforts to help him were failing. I prayed, Lord, I am tired. Then I felt the Lord say, I'm not. As I held the letter, one of my children handed me a drawing of Jesus surrounded by sheep. Some of the sheep were dirty, some were hurt, some were fluffy and smiling. In her own childlike handwriting, handwriting that at seven years old was not much different than our friend in prison who was nearly forty years old, she had written, “Jesus loves all the sheeps!” In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells us, “I am the good shepherd, and I know mine and mine know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father; and I will lay down my life for the sheep. I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. These also I must lead, and they will hear my voice, and there will be one flock, one shepherd” (John 10:14-16). I think of my daughter’s innocent drawing, and I am reminded to rejoice. I encourage you to rejoice, sister. Rejoice because Jesus lays down His life for all of us. We are His when we are suffering. We are His when we are struggling with sin. We are His when we are growing in relationship with Him. In times of consolation and desolation, we are His. We are loved by Him, and He does not grow tired. He does not run from our mess. We are His sheep, and He is a Good Shepherd. Listen to His voice. [bctt tweet="Rejoice because Jesus lays down His life for all of us. // Leana Bowler" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Find a pocket of two-five minutes to sit in silence. Invite the Lord into your thoughts and stay with Him in prayer. 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.

Peter: When he was insulted, he returned no insult. Me: But HE wasn’t on Facebook. As a Christian, I am tasked with being Christ-like at all times and in all circumstances. Yes, even on social media. Over many years and many interactions, I’ve come up with a three-step process for dealing with perceived insults online. Step 1: Try to make it not insulting. When I read a comment, and I get that little flash of indignation at what appears to be criticism, or insult, or unsolicited parenting advice, I try to figure out a way I can read it that would take the edge off of it. Could it be a joke? Or a misunderstanding? Or a typo? What if I imagine that there’s a smiley face emoji at the end? Then I reply to the comment in that light, assuming the best. I’m shocked at how often the person replies with a laugh or words of agreement, and it seems that the charitable interpretation of the comment was the right one! Step 2: Make excuses. Sometimes there’s no getting around a comment’s intent to be insulting, but, unfortunately, that doesn’t give me license to be insulting in return. So I remind myself that it’s pretty unlikely that this person is actually upset with me. In all likelihood, she is overwhelmed by the circumstances and situations in her own life that have little to do with something *I* posted on Facebook. Once I convince myself that it’s not really about me, or not ALL about me anyway, it’s easier to forgive. Step 3: Move on. I try to determine if the best course is to try to engage the person, or just delete or hide or keep on scrolling. I pray a quick prayer to the Holy Spirit before I make that call. Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of Your faithful and kindle in them the fire of Your love. Send forth Your Spirit and they shall be created. And You shall renew the face of the earth. In this month of Pentecost, it’s an especially good habit to cultivate! [bctt tweet="Once I convince myself that it’s not really about me, or not ALL about me anyway, it’s easier to forgive. // @kendra_tierney" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Let's repeat the prayer to the Holy Spirit many times today. Kendra Tierney is a forty-two-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.

It's easy to take so much of our everyday lives for granted—particularly how our bodies work. It's hard to be grateful and intentional no matter how hard you might try to keep things in perspective. I think it's a part of human nature to sort of accept, and then expect, these things we take for granted—like our breathing, our sense of smell, or our eyesight. We use these things constantly, nearly every minute of every day that they've become commonplace for us—we sort of think it's the norm for these things to all work. But sometimes they fail us. When Jesus said, "It is the Spirit that gives life, while the flesh is of no avail," (John 6:63) I really paused there and felt it. Because while our bodies will perish, and our souls will live on, we live in our bodies right now. We want them to work, and we sometimes just expect that they will. Or at least, I do. But it's the Spirit Who gives life—and I imagine, life in full. Even when your body isn't working as well as you would have hoped. When we have our health, when things are working, we can be grateful. And we can try to see how we can use our bodies to glorify God and love His people—like through making dinner for a friend who just welcomed a baby or lost a baby. When things are more challenging as they may be for you now, when we realize we can't always control what's going on with our bodies, it's the Spirit we need, the entire Trinity Who will help us through and give us life—most importantly, life with Christ. He might also send over a friend with a meal. [bctt tweet="While our bodies will perish, and our souls will live on, we live in our bodies right now. // @praymorenovenas" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Keep your eyes open for opportunities that present themselves to send a food gift card via Amazon or drop off a casserole. Be God's hands and feet to help a friend in a time of transition or suffering. 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, too, have been Saul; not in breathing murderous threats (Acts 9:1) or raging anger towards Christ’s followers, but I have fallen prey to the “holier than thou” mindset before. I remember my mom sharing with me someone we mutually knew was preparing to receive the Sacrament of Confirmation. My knee jerk reaction was, “What? How? Mom, do they even go to church?” Then I began interrogating her further. I needed to know if this person and her sponsor understood the significance of receiving the Sacrament. In my righteous indignation, I spouted off, “Do they even know what the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit are?!” I could feel myself getting agitated with each question and wondering why my mom wasn’t reacting to any of it. She simply said, “It’s not my job.” I was completely dumbfounded. There I was standing in my mom’s kitchen beside myself with my church-lady attitude at a ten on the scale of ten. My mom wouldn’t indulge my need to question this person’s credentials to receive the Sacrament. She kept cooking away, and I knew that was a sign for me to let it go. On the way home from my mom’s house, I was overcome by one of those internal conversations that happens only when you are driving. I thought, Why are you judging so harshly? Does God not provide to those who have open hearts to receive Him? I sat with these questions and my church-lady rampage evaporated. I felt like a tiny child being disciplined by a loving Father, gently teaching me that judgment restricts love. While I didn't have to endure a conversion as intense as Saul, my own conversion resulted in awareness that although I wasn’t physically persecuting anyone, I could be equally harmful in my words. Sister, our conversions are ongoing. As we regain our sight, as the Lord helps guide our thoughts, He also gives us a chance to proclaim His tender love and pray to receive His mercy. [bctt tweet="I, too, have been Saul. // Mytae Carrasco Wallace" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Learn how to pray the Divine Mercy Chaplet right here. Mytae Carrasco Wallace is a wife, mother of three, and holds a Masters in Public Administration. She is Las Vegas born and raised, and went to grade school, high school, and college all on the same street. She and her husband lead pre-cana retreats, and she coordinates Blessed is She small groups all over the Valley. On the daily, she’s raising her kids, choreographing dance moves to entertain them, and enjoying street tacos with a side of chips and salsa. Find out more about her here.

I used to starve myself. For years, I went through life learning how to neglect the thunderous rumble of the emptiness inside. It began as a whisper, a modest groan to remind me when my stomach was sufficiently depleted of nutrients. But the whispers eventually became shouts, and the shouts often echoed out of the mouths of those who loved me most. “Eat more,” they’d say with concern dripping off the tips of their tongues. “You’re too skinny,” they’d comment when my ninety-eight pound frame came into view. But the thing about it is that I was eating. I was scarfing down mounds and mounds and mounds of what the world was feeding me. Because when I’d stare down at my slender legs to find no trace of the coveted “thigh gap,” my mind would think, “fat.” And I’d believe it. I ate up every ounce of what the world was dishing out, and it was killing me. Eventually, I learned how to refuse what was being offered. That’s when I began fueling my body with nourishment, when I started filling myself with life-giving foods. And though it has been years since this change has occurred in my life, the world’s temptation still tries to grapple for my appetite. But I know now. Because the bread that I am consuming is full of promise. It is full of life. Sometimes what the world offers us is junk. It is artificial and full of the lies our minds like to believe. But the bread that Christ offers is vital to our souls (see John 6:51). It sustains and enriches and nourishes. In these time when we cannot receive the Bread of Life in the Blessed Sacrament, make a spiritual communion. Because after you’ve binged on the cheap lies the world is asking you to swallow, His bread will bring you home again. His bread will bring you life. [bctt tweet="The bread that Christ offers is vital to our souls. It sustains and enriches and nourishes. // @IamBritCal" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Are you being nourished by our free Easter season gatherings? Watch the replays and catch them at 1pm eastern on Saturdays. 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.

I began my senior year of college this past fall filled with excitement and expectant hope. I anticipated the fulfillment of promises that were made and the fruition of my hard work. I rested in the thought that this would finally be the season in which my heart would be at peace. I looked forward to the fulfillment of being seen, known, and loved. But that's not what happened. In the first few months, I experienced heartbreak and rejection like I never had before. A sense of desertion permeated my relationships and and in turn, found its way into my heart. It brought forth insecurities and wounds that I fought so hard to keep off the table and hidden from the Father. Finally one day, I brought my restless and confused heart to Eucharistic Adoration and asked Him, Lord, show me how You see me. In my heart, I was deeply consoled by what I felt was His response, My little girl. In today’s Gospel, the Lord says “this is the will of the one who sent me, that I should not lose anything of what he gave me, but that I should raise it [on] the last day” (John 6:39). The things that break our hearts or leave us empty can tempt us to abandon the truth that we are daughters of a loving Father. They can convince us that the love which we are freely given is nothing more than a consolation prize or reckless comfort, and we must turn to our own merits to find fulfillment. But, sister, the Lord promises so much more than consolation; He promises resurrection into eternal life for those who come to Him. He invites us to enter into His promise through His unending mercy and grace. This promise sees us through our hardest and darkest times and brings us back into His light. It tells us this joyful resurrection will be our reality when we claim our identity as His daughters and live in the truth of His Word. Let's rest and rise in His invitation to grace. Let's live for eternal life. [bctt tweet="In my heart, I was deeply consoled by what I felt was His response, My little girl. // Kelsey Dassance" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Spend some time in prayer before the Blessed Sacrament live-streaming, sister. He's waiting for you. Kelsey Dassance is a Michigan native and a strong advocate for iced coffee all-year round. She is a student in Grand Rapids, Michigan and graduates in May with her Bachelors in Communication. She’s tried almost every sport at some point in her life, but prefers climbing mountains over anything else. She’s a big fan of sunshine, friendship and Saint John Paul II—who encourages her to pursue great things without fear. Find out more about her here.

Jesus desires that every single person would know His living promise: "I am the bread of life; Whoever comes to me will never hunger, And whoever believes in me will never thirst" (John 6:35). Saint Stephen received this Bread of Life. As he gazed into the heavens at the face of Jesus in the First Reading today, he beheld the glory of God. Although he was surrounded by an angry mob who stoned him to death, he did not hunger or thirst. Saint Louis de Montfort received this Bread of Life. He requested to serve in the foreign missions, but followed God’s will as a diocesan priest in France. He preached parish missions and recommended daily Communion, which was not the custom in the 1700s. The Eucharist was his life! Saint Peter Chanel received this Bread of Life. As a Marist missionary priest to the people on the Island of Futuna in the Pacific Ocean, the Eucharist was his strength. In 1841, the king’s son asked for Baptism. The king ordered that Saint Peter be clubbed to death. The whole island converted within five months of his death. He did not hunger or thirst. Saint Gianna Beretta Molla received this Bread of Life. She went to daily Mass with her family and her uncle and two of her brothers were priests. In 1962, she developed fibroma in her uterus during her fourth pregnancy and heroically refused to abort her fourth child. She insisted that the doctors save the child’s life over her own. Seven days after the birth of her daughter, Jesus was so close to her as she peacefully died with the words, “Jesus, I love you” on her lips. During these hard times, draw hope, be inspired, and see the joy that comes from Jesus Himself, the Bread of Life. [bctt tweet="Jesus desires that every single person would know His living promise. // Rose Coleman" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Make a spiritual communion today as we can still invite Our Lord into our hearts even if we cannot receive Him physically. 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 a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book called Rise Up and the author of our Blessed Conversations: Ways to Pray study found here. You can find out more about her here.