Bloom where you’re planted. I get that advice a lot. I just moved again this weekend for the sixteenth time since I turned eighteen years old almost eleven years ago. As you read this, let’s just hope I remembered to unpack the coffee maker and put sheets on the bed before I passed out last night. Sometimes I get worried that the roots of my majestic cedar or the branches of my mustard plant haven’t been flourishing. All this change! I spent enough time trying to help in the yard as a kid to know that unless I’m a hosta, all this transplanting is not going to be great for my prospects of blooming. But God, He’s a miracle worker. I’m not too different from that tiny cedar sapling. He trimmed me from the mighty tree. (Ezekiel 17:22) He found a place for me. Sometimes it feels like I am a little sapling that got trimmed off and then thrown in the back of a truck without a good root ball, and maybe that’s true. But the Gardener hasn’t forgotten me. The journey to the place I’ll grow best might be long, but there is a place appointed for me. Sure, the air is a little thin on the mountain top, and the soil is a bit rocky, but that is the place He has chosen. All of my instability? It hasn’t been chance. I’ve discerned and listened and followed the Spirit to the ground most fertile for me. I can rest knowing that the rains will come and help my roots grow deep and my boughs grow strong. This sapling that is rattling around in the back of the nursery truck right now will be planted. The lowly, withered tree will bloom. [bctt tweet="There is a place appointed for me. // @br1gid"] If you're feeling unearthed and unrooted, take a second today to reflect on God's infinite love for you and trust He's going to work with where you are today, too. Brigid Hogan is a high school English and ESL teacher who lives in northeast DC. She is passionate about Catholic social teaching and tries to live it out daily in her relationships and community. Most of her pleasures are guilty ones like television, burritos, and Twitter. Find out more about her here. She is the author of our Blessed Conversations Mystery: Beloved found here.

I didn't realize how much time I wasted during the day deliberating over choices until I paid closer attention to my decision-making process. Make my chai tea now or wait until after breakfast? And what should I have—that oatmeal my husband made a good hour ago that's cold or eggs—but then I'd have to clean another pan. Maybe I should respond to emails, no, no, get the morning clean up done first, then work. You could find me still in the kitchen, arguing with myself, a good ten minutes into this blessedly short summer morning. In today's Gospel, Christ is instructing His disciples on being honest and not needing an oath to be people of their word. (Matthew 5:37) I hear that and feel it encouraging me also to make decisions and form healthy, holy habits so I don't waiver and waffle and flippity-flop all throughout the day. Say yes to a morning prayer routine that's feasible for this season of your life. For me, that's probably reading the Blessed is She devotions while I nurse the toddler in the early morning followed by a series of GOD HELP and I LOVE AND NEED YOU throughout my day. For you, that may be saying yes to a Rosary on your commute instead of morning talk shows. And maybe I say no to the third hunk of chocolate I dug out of the freezer because I don't even really want it anyway and my body deserves to be nourished. Saying no to a third episode of The Office so I can read a little Scripture instead. Maybe you're saying no to the lackluster boyfriend who doesn't treat you with respect. Maybe you're saying no to the lie that God isn't interested in your mundane life. Forming habits of saying yes and no takes the guesswork out of it for me. The threshold question is: does this bring me closer to God? When I know that answer, I know what I should do. I bet you have these answers inside, too. [bctt tweet="The threshold question is: does this bring me closer to God? // @wholeparenting"] Simplify your decision-making process today: does it bring me deeper in my relationship with God? That's the only question that really counts. Nell O'Leary is a recovering lawyer turned blogger, speaker, and sewer of baby goods while tending to her husband and four kiddos in the great city of Saint Paul, Minnesota. She serves as Managing Editor for Blessed is She and can down a iced chai tea latte in no time flat. Find out more about her here. She is the editor of our Blessed Conversations Series.

Have you seen The Quiet Place? That movie got to me! If you haven’t seen it, spoiler alert! (You’ve been warned.) I mean, seriously ladies, who can give birth without making a sound, especially after stepping on a nail that caused viewers more anxiety than the Stranger Things monster? And, am I the only person who was thinking about Revelations 12 during the bathtub scene when the “dragon”-like monster was waiting to devour momma and her infant baby? Oh, I am? That's awkward. Forgive my rant, but the point of bringing up The Quiet Place has to do with the First Reading today. I have always loved 1 Kings 19, and as an adult, I have grown to appreciate it even more. When I was young, I needed the thrill of retreats and youth conferences, Christian concerts with loud praise and worship music, speakers who entertained me, and big emotions to trigger a sensation of being close to God. But now I need simplicity and silence. I crave daily Mass without music and a heartfelt five-minute homily. I want time to journal and read Scripture or an inspiring book. I desire Adoration in a quiet chapel. I find comfort not in large groups, but instead in a small community of believers who pray and care for one another intentionally. There are days I demand the noise to silence so I can hear God. God is frequently speaking to us. We can hear Him in the “tiny whisper sound” after the destructive fire. But we have become so accustomed to persistent noise that sometimes we cannot hear Him. God wants to hold us close to His words, so close we feel His Sacred Heart beating. God is in the praise and worship as much as He is in the silence. You can feel Him when the Earth quakes and on the secure soil. God is in the fire as much as He is in the tranquility of the ocean. [bctt tweet="God is in the fire as much as He is in the tranquility of the ocean."] Take time today to shut off the noise and listen to God whisper your name and ask you the same question He asked Elijah, “Why are you here?” Tricia Tembreull is a California girl with a Texas-sized heart for hospitality. She serves as a Parish Coach for Life Teen, International, and joyfully travels around the globe training, empowering, and praying with youth ministers. When not on a plane, she is either in church, spending time with family or friends, in the kitchen cooking up something delightful, or on the beach for an evening walk. You can find out more about her here.

Jesus: “Whoever is angry . . . will be liable to judgment. . . . and whoever says, 'You fool,' will be liable to fiery Gehenna.” (Matthew 5:22) Me: Okay, Jesus, sure, but you don’t have to hang out with the knuckleheads in my house all day. Seriously, this Gospel is a tough one to read. I don’t want to spoil anyone’s illusions of me or anything, but I get angry, and it’s almost exclusively at my family members. I think I manage to not call any of them names—out loud—but I can recall plenty of things they might have against me on any given day. And isn’t that how it always goes? The people we love the most are usually the ones who can drive us the most crazy. The ones who can make us forget all those lovely resolutions from our morning prayers. But THAT is all part of the big plan for our sanctification. Because after Jesus gets our attention with the fiery Gehenna part, He gives us the solution: “Leave your gift there at the altar, go first and be reconciled with your brother, and then come and offer your gift.” (Matthew 5:24) He doesn’t say we can’t GET angry at our loved ones. It’s that we can’t STAY angry with them. We can’t remain in that place, stewing in it, feeding it. We must humble ourselves. We must seek reconciliation. For the big things, that’s going to be a face-to-face talk where I apologize. I think it’s important, especially for moms, that our kids get to hear us say out loud that we’re sorry. For the little things, where I know I’m just holding on to that bit of frustration or resentment, we have a system conveniently built right into the Mass. We recite the Lord’s Prayer, and ask God to “forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who trespass against us.” Then we exchange the sign of peace. There I am in the pew, surrounded by all my near occasions of sin whom I love so much, and I can look them each in the eye and kiss them peace. I can forgive them and be forgiven, and be reconciled to them, and then approach the altar to receive the Eucharist. And I can do it all over again the next week (or the next day) as needed. I just love it when a plan comes together. [bctt tweet="We must humble ourselves. We must seek reconciliation. // @kendra_tierney"] Whom do you need to forgive? Write that text or email, pick up the phone or pen. Do it today. Kendra Tierney is a forty-one year old mother of nine 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 counting down the days until her oldest turns sixteen and can take over some of the driving! Her new book about living the liturgical year in the home is in the editing process. You can find her first book, A Little Book About Confession, here, her blog here, and her word art here.

Have you ever imagined walking a mile in Elijah’s shoes? The story of Elijah in today’s first reading (1 Kings 18:20-39) illustrates so clearly this prophet’s complete faith and trust in the one true God. It got me thinking about how Elijah got to that place. He must have had an intimate, deeply personal relationship with God. I imagine he must have spent countless hours in prayer with the Lord to be able to hear His voice so clearly. Elijah must have had many opportunities to grow in faith throughout his life to get to the level of trust he demonstrated in today’s reading. Ah, to be a prophet like Elijah! How wonderfully wild that would be! Then the Holy Spirit reminds me: Each of us who has received the Sacrament of Baptism is a prophet. Just as Jesus came to fulfill what the prophets foretold, and as He was anointed priest, prophet and king by the Holy Spirit, we are all anointed priest, prophet and king when we receive the sacrament of Baptism (Catechism of the Catholic Church §§ 783-86). Elise, prophet. [Insert your name here], prophet. To be honest, I don’t know if I have ever stopped to consider myself as such. All of a sudden I have so many questions for consideration: How do I prophesy to the world who God is? Is my life—the way I spend my time, the way I love—set apart? Does it bring glory to the Father? Are my desires pure, striving to glorify God through my witness? Living as prophet will look different for each of us, but at the heart of it for all of us is a relationship with God. The Psalmist sings, “I set the Lord ever before me; with him at my right hand I shall not be disturbed.” (Psalm 16:8) This is how our lives will be transformed for His glory, sisters. This is the way to a life that bears witness to God’s goodness, to the fulfillment of all His promises in Christ. [bctt tweet="This is how our lives will be transformed for His glory, sisters. // @inendlesssong"] Spend some time in prayer today. Ask the Lord what it would like for you to enter more fully into your anointing as prophet. Ask Him to give you every grace you need to be a bold witness for the Kingdom. To God be all the glory. Elise Howe is a devoted wife, momma, vocal artist and teacher. She currently resides in New York City, though she will always be a Midwestern gal at heart. Elise has a heart for ministry, dark chocolate (but not too dark) and coffee with a generous amount of cream + sugar. Find out more about her here.

"Please, Mom, help me untie this knot." She looked earnestly and helplessly at me with her big brown eyes. I wanted to do anything but that. I had spent my whole morning teaching home school lessons and preparing food. The toddler was napping, and she and her sisters were finally having quiet time. I was trying to settle down to an hour or so of restorative writing, and was a little stressed about some deadlines I had to meet. The oil and flour of my energy for my children was about out. Dear Lord, I have nothing left for her right now. Do I really have to do this? I pleaded to Heaven. It was just one knot, and the Lord nudged me to do the right thing. Do not be afraid . . . . The jar of flour shall not go empty, nor the jug of oil run dry. (1 Kings 17:13-14) I knew in that moment that if I just gave a little more of myself for my child that He would supply the grace, and that those pesky writing deadlines would be met. This has always been the way of the Lord in my life; He always asks of me a little bit more than what I think I can give. He pushes me beyond my limits, and I think He does this to show me how much I need Him. He does this to show me that none of the good I do is actually my own work at all, but Him working through me. He just asks me to trust in Him, choose His will, and accept His grace always. Only when I live my life in complete dependence on Him, seeking to do His will in both big and little things, will the salt of my life keep its flavor and the light not burn out. [bctt tweet="He just asks me to trust in Him, choose His will, and accept His grace always."] Dear sisters, ask God for the grace today to be open to His little nudges to give more than you think you can. You will be amazed at what He helps you do when you are open to Him. Susanna Spencer is the Theological Editor for Blessed is She who studied theology and philosophy in her earlier life. She happily cares for her three adorable little girls, toddler boy, and her dear husband in Saint Paul when not writing and editing. She loves beautiful liturgies, cooking delicious meals, baking amazing sweets, reading good books, raising her children, casually following baseball, and talking to her philosopher husband. You can find out more about her here.

Be a good, quiet girl because nobody likes a loud girl, I was told. Wow, you sure are eating that bowl of cereal pretty fast! Slow down there, I heard in passing. I just wanted to send you a message. I met someone and we decided to pursue a relationship. You seem like a cool gal, but I just thought it was only fair to let you know instead of just ending the conversation, he messaged me. Each of these situations led me to hide and feel an inward sense of shame. Shame leads to hiding because we believe the lies about who we are and who God is. Shame. The oldest trick in the book and the one Satan uses to use to throw us off. God is walking in the garden, looking and calling to Adam. Only then does Adam realize what he has done in disobeying God. This realization leads him to hide from God, and we see shame first enter the heart of mankind. (Genesis 3:8) But through our Baptism, we have authority in Jesus' name. We have the power to speak truth to lies we have believed. In the name of Jesus, we can renounce a spirit of shame. The name of Jesus always carries His presence. And His name can break the power of lies and shame. Are you carrying shame that leads you to hide from God? My sister, Jesus Christ did not die on the Cross for you to drag that around behind you. He wants you to be free from it! [bctt tweet="Are you carrying shame that leads you to hide from God? // @amoderngrace"] Take time to recall instances where shame has led you to hide from Jesus. Ask Jesus to speak His truth into these situations or memories. Jesus, what is Your truth for me in ____________ ? Patty Breen is a full-time lay minister who finds joy in running, strong cups of coffee, and all things Ignatian spirituality. A Midwest gal from the mitten state, she is constantly learning to find grace in all things. She is passionate about ministry to divorced Catholic and women whose relationships have been impacted by sexual addiction. Find out more about her here.

With each passing year, I am more acutely aware of the brevity of life. I do not want to fear death, nor do I want to ignore the inevitability of its coming. So while I prepare myself to some day meet the Lord, I also sense a deepening desire to convey to others--especially those closest to me--the Truth that will set them free. Saint Paul, imprisoned in Rome for his second and final time, knew that his life was nearing its end. His letter to Timothy was deeply personal, and with an urgency and keen sense of what was at stake, he prepared to pass the torch to his spiritual son. He charged and exhorted Timothy to continue his work. His words are a strong call to action, and to do it persistently and patiently. (2 Timothy 4:1-8) But what speaks louder than Saint Paul's words, is the witness of his life. Facing imminent martyrdom, he said: “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” (2 Timothy 4:7) He lived single-mindedly for an unseen reward that he knew awaited him, and he urged Timothy on toward that upward goal. In his words I hear the clear, strong voice of one who has run the race and known his identity and purpose. He poured himself out entirely to make His Master known and loved. How I long to run the race like Saint Paul! I can spend so much time and energy looking for someone or some thing to tell me who I am, to affirm my life’s purpose. At times, it can all feel so complicated and difficult to comprehend. But it’s not. The same Jesus who called out, “Saul, Saul” near Damascus, who healed Saul's blindness, and gave him new name and a zeal for souls, is the same Jesus who calls us by name. He wants to meet us each day, and heal and empower us to bring His love to others. Lord, pour into me the same spirit that you gave to Saint Paul. Give me an unshakable confidence in my identity and purpose as Your beloved daughter. Give me a zeal for souls, a heart for the lost, and a passion to proclaim Your truth. And when I near my end, may I say confidently with all the holy ones who have gone before me: “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” [bctt tweet="Lord, pour into me the same spirit that you gave to Saint Paul."] Lord, as you bestowed on Saint Paul the gift of Timothy, also give me others to love, lead, encourage, train and teach, that together we can build Your Kingdom. Debra Herbeck, a Jewish convert to the Church, has worked extensively in youth and women’s ministry. She has directed Pine Hills Girls Camp for the past 32 years, is the founder and Director of the Be Love Revolution, and also helps lead a ministry called i.d.916. She has written a number of books that can be found here. Debra and her husband Peter live in Ann Arbor, Michigan and are the parents of four children and five adorable grandchildren.

"They did not know that I was their healer," says the Lord in the First Reading. (Hosea 11:3) This got me thinking: What is God to me? Throughout my life, there have been many different answers. At times, God has felt like an efficient but impersonal administrator. This is the God who seems more interested in recording my sins than celebrating my joys. They did not know that I was their healer. At other times, God has seemed more like a killjoy. This was especially true in college, when my faith made me feel annoyingly guilty about things that everyone else seemed able to do without a second thought. They did not know that I was their healer. On a few occasions, God has felt like an adversary. When my second pregnancy ended in a second loss, I was devastated, and angry that God would not protect the life inside me. In those dark weeks, I wasn’t believing in a benevolent God; I just wasn’t. They did not know that I was their healer. Even now, sometimes, I find myself disappointed in God. I pray for a sick friend and he doesn’t survive. Come on, God, I feel like saying: aren’t You supposed to be the healer? And by that I meant healing his body, God . . . which You didn’t do. They did not know that I was their healer. Overall, though, I find that time—and the perspective that comes with it—has changed my understanding of how God works in my life. That’s not to say that I am not still disappointed, often powerfully so, in how some things turn out. But I see healing a little differently now. Now I can recognize evidence of God’s love even in the painful times. I see God in the people who comfort and support and cry with me. I see God in the beauty of nature, in the sun and clouds and hills and birds and roses that lift me out of the mire of my thoughts for a blessed moment or two. I encounter God in the mysterious power of the Eucharist, which feeds me and reaches me even on days when I’m hardly aware of how awesome it is. They did not know that I was their healer. For me, that’s still occasionally true. But on other days, I do know. And that makes all the difference. [bctt tweet="Now I can recognize evidence of God’s love even in the painful times."] Even in the hardest times, how has God’s healing goodness been there for you? 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’ve always hated having the phrase KISS tossed at me. Have you heard this acronym before? Meaning “Keep It Simple . . . "—we’ll go with sweetheart here, since I doubt Jesus would throw around stupid. I am not, by nature, a simple person. I feel big feels. I overthink things and use a lot of words to get a point across. I run myself in circles considering options, weighing what others might think, trying to discern God’s good and holy will for me. I think I do this sometimes with the Good News, too. I make what it means to profess Jesus and follow Him, what it means to be a Christian, a complicated endeavor -- way more complicated than it needs to be, or so it would seem, from today’s readings. First, Saint Paul, sitting in a jail cell in chains, distills the Gospel he is willing to give his life for into four short phrases which essentially say, 1) You have gained life in Christ, 2) persevere in it, 3) stay faithful, and 4) get to Heaven. (2 Timothy 2:11-13) And then Jesus, responding to the questioning scribe, gives us two essential instructions on what it means to follow God: love Him and love others. (Mark 12:30-31) Both seem to be reminding us to KISS the Good News; when we start to wrap the essentials of the Gospels in too many layers of shiny paper, seal it up with too much tape, or hand it over with a big, distracting bow on the top, we miss the opportunity to simply come forth with the seed of faith in our hands and trust that love will water it to full bloom. Far too often I trap the Gospel in semantics and petty arguments and selfish judgements. I chain the Word of God inside my heart by binding it in something other than love. Perhaps this is the one time in my life that makes it clear that I need to reevaluate my disdain for KISS-ing things, and listen intently to the voice of a Savior who makes life simple for me so I can simply follow Him into eternity. [bctt tweet="Listen intently to the voice of a Savior who makes life simple. // @colleencmitch"] Have you spent time with Scripture lately? Open our Catholic journaling Bible. Find your old one from high school. Read it online. Listen to the Word of God. Colleen Mitchell is a wife, bringer upper of boys, Gospel adventurer, wanna-be saint, author and speaker. She is the author of the award-winning Who Does He Say You Are: Women Transformed by Christ in the Gospels, and the soon to be released When We Were Eve: Uncovering the Woman God Created You to Be. Her latest adventure has taken her from the jungle of Costa Rica where she and her family have served as missionaries for the last six years, to the wilds of a sixth grade classroom in Fort Wayne, Indiana, where she is still living her mission to give everyone she meets just a little Jesus. You can find out more about her here.

Man, those Sadducees were tough. They really thought they could trip up the Lord our God with their legalistic questions. (Mark 12:18-23) Sure Jesus was truly man, but He also never ceased being pure God at the same time. You can’t out think God. Now the rest of us? Well, we get tripped up all the time. At least I do, so please tell me I am not alone! I think we have all had those moments when we walk away from a conversation and think “Ugh—I should have said this!” Or “Oops—I shouldn’t have said that. “ As we re-live difficult conversations we can frequently find things that we wish we would have said. After four decades of biting my tongue when I should speak and putting my foot in my mouth when I should have been silent, I still work on prudence in my speech. It isn’t easy. My words sometimes come faster than my thoughts. And so I am attempting to breathe rather than speak. Just a deep breath. I need to slow it down. I try to breathe in the Holy Spirit; asking Him for the words He wants me to speak gives me needed confidence in times of conflict on confusion. He gives me confidence when I doubt my ability and gives me guidance as I examine the necessity of speech. I hear Saint Paul’s words as he says we don’t have a spirit of cowardice. (2 Timothy 1:7) He doesn’t contrast the cowardice with courage, which is also wonderful by the way; Saint Paul contrasts cowardice with power, love, and self-control. These come from the Holy Spirit. God Himself equips us with the self-control, love, and power we need. Sometimes what we need to do is just slow it down, pray, process what we want to say, and make sure that what we say comes from a place of love. Ask the Holy Spirit to guide your thoughts and words. He will guard your tongue from imprudence and supply you with the wisdom you need. [bctt tweet="Ask the Holy Spirit to guide your thoughts and words."] Pray this "Come, Holy Spirit" prayer today. Invite Him in. Dr. MaryRuth Hackett is Director of Operations for Blessed is She. 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. You can find out more about her here. She is the author of our Blessed Conversations: Leader Guide found here.

The deadline was that day, I still wasn’t feeling well, and after numerous paragraphs I’d written and then erased (including the entire rough draft that my computer had deleted when I had pushed the save button), I had nothing to turn in and didn’t know what I was going to say. Every word I put down, I judged for not being good enough, not making sense or not having an interesting enough story. Nothing was coming together. Overly concerned with being “good enough” or producing an ideal end result that others would like, I was blocked from creating anything sincere, genuine, or from the heart. I tried to pray through it and ask God to tell me what He wanted me to say, but the only answer I felt Him give me was, This belongs to Me. Despite my frustration with what I considered an unhelpful answer, it was true. My writing is the Lord’s. All my work belongs to the Lord. My entire life belongs to Him. Why was I making it all about me? "Repay to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God," Jesus tells us today. (Mark 12:17) It seems easier to understand justice in terms of fulfilling our civic duty, but perhaps it is more challenging to really consider what we owe to God and what ultimately belongs to Him. The denarius mentioned in today’s Gospel holds the image of Cesar, but I myself am created in God’s image. Furthermore, by the Sacraments I am signed and marked for Christ. I am His. I belong to Him and everything I have and do is His. In some way, I think it actually takes the pressure off. My life belongs to the Lord. I can surrender and allow Him to work in and through my responsibilities, my talents, and even my assignments and work deadlines. I belong to Him, and it is only right that I give my life to Him in all I do and everything I am. In this, we can experience so much freedom and true joy. [bctt tweet="I belong to Him, and it is only right that I give my life to Him in all I do and everything I am."] Do you truly know and believe that you belong to the Lord? Can you feel the freedom and peace that comes from surrendering to God the gifts He’s given you? How can you allow Him to work within you today? 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, she encourages and challenges women in all walks of life to more deeply discover their purpose and live fully alive. You can find out more about her here.

There was a time in my younger life when I considered leaving the Catholic faith and joining a different Christian denomination. It was shortly after my fall and return to God. When I re-dedicated my life to Christ, I wanted to live for Him completely, but I didn't have any Catholic friends who were actually practicing their faith. Instead, I made new Protestant friends who loved God and radiated that love in all they did. They strengthened my faith in a deep way, and ironically, it eventually led me back the Catholic Church where I met strong Catholics who did live out their faith on a daily basis. Unfortunately, like the Catholic friends of my youth, while I said that I had faith and went to Mass on Sunday, the rest of my life showed no witness to that faith. You could not tell me apart from the ones who never went to Mass in the first place. The experience taught me how important it is that our faith grows and develops into something deeper. Faith is not meant to remain stagnant. This is reflected in today's First Reading when Saint Peter wrote, "For this very reason, make every effort to supplement your faith with virtue, virtue with knowledge, knowledge with self-control, self-control with endurance, endurance with devotion, devotion with mutual affection, mutual affection with love." (2 Peter 1:5) From our faith flows virtue, which ultimately leads to the greatest virtue: LOVE—love of God and love of neighbor. There is no way to separate the two since faith and love go hand in hand. When I see faith, virtue, and love expressed in a person's life, it is like a magnet that draws me in and I want to be a part of it. I want to taste that joy and serenity I see before my eyes. I consider that draw as an invitation from the Holy Spirit to dig deeper and work at building my faith and virtue so that I, too, may grow in love. In turn, hopefully I can be a light to someone else which draws them closer to God and so forth. I can picture the Holy Spirit rejoicing because He has so many instruments willing to be a witness to God's love and He can set the world ablaze. [bctt tweet="Be a witness to God's love and He can set the world ablaze. // @bobbi_rol"] How is God calling you to grow in your faith today? Pray an Act of Faith and meditate on it. 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. You can find out more about her here.

My family and I live in a very rural place and belong to a very tiny parish where there are no organized religious education programs, so when it comes to my children preparing for the Sacraments, I am it. Of course, I find this intimidating because it is such an important part of their faith lives to receive the Sacraments (especially the Eucharist) for the first time, and I want them to be well-prepared and experience Christ and His love as much as possible. And even though I feel confident in the great resources I use, I'm prone to freak out at the responsibility of this task. The Body and Blood of Christ is a profound facet of our faith, and I'm so thankful we get to pause and contemplate it for today's feast. To think that God planned from the beginning of time, worked through the people of Israel, formed covenants, all with the purpose of giving us the body and blood of His Son for our salvation is awe-inspiring. We become so accustomed to receiving the Eucharist that this transcendent and supernatural reality can go unnoticed. But I'm reminded at how amazing this miracle of receiving Christ's Body and Blood really is when I think about preparing my children to receive it for the first time. I want them to know the reality: receiving Communion is not simply symbolic; it truly is the flesh and blood of Christ under the appearance of bread and wine. I want them to know that this is Christ Himself uniting Himself to us in the most intimate and personal way possible. I want them to know that it will not only change their life here on Earth, but it is the thing that will give them eternal life. These realities of the Eucharist are mysterious. We will never understand here on Earth how and why Christ gives Himself to us in the Eucharist. We also cannot make someone believe and have faith in the Eucharist. We hold these beliefs in tension: miracles and mystery exist, this deep reality that is unseen by our human eyes. But I am grateful to live in this mystery and to be able to share it with my children. [bctt tweet="I am grateful to live in this mystery."] Lord, increase our faith and devotion to Your True Presence in the Eucharist today. Help us see the Eucharist as Your Body given for us, Your love given to us everyday, and Your life given to sustain our souls. 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. You can find out more about her here. She is the author of our Blessed Conversations: The Ten Commandments study found here.

I know this feeling well: it starts as a burning sensation in my stomach and within moments I can feel it spreading through my whole body, threatening to consume me. No, it’s not heartburn, or some other physical ailment. I’m talking about anger. Blinding anger that impairs my judgement. I know how I want to react, but before doing something rash, I reach for my phone and text a group of my closest girlfriends. I explain how I'm feeling and what’s set me off, and within a few minutes, they have talked me back into my right mind. I lose my temper easily. It’s a sin that I know I struggle with, one that I have brought up in the confessional many times, and will probably continue to do so. That’s because our struggle against sin is something we will deal with for as long as we walk this Earth. While that can feel disheartening at times, today’s First Reading provides encouragement as we strive to live out our faith: “Build yourselves up in your most holy faith; pray in the Holy Spirit. Keep yourselves in the love of God and wait for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ.” (Jude 1:20-21) How exactly do we do this? A lot of it happens in our own personal walk with the Lord; daily prayer, reading Scripture, and frequenting the Sacraments. But some of it is communal as well. The Christian life is hard; we are not expected to, nor should we try to, live it alone. We are called to extend God’s mercy to one another, to “save others by snatching them out of the fire.” (Jude 1:23) Sometimes we will do the snatching, and other times we will be the ones who need to be snatched out of our sins. The situation I described at the beginning of this devotional is just one of many times that my friends, my husband, or a relative have saved me from letting my short temper get the better of me. What a blessing that I don’t have to work on this all by myself! What a blessing that Jesus uses the arms of our brothers and sisters in Christ to catch us when we are falling down. [bctt tweet="What a blessing that Jesus uses the arms of our brothers and sisters in Christ to catch us."] Who in your life helps you navigate your struggles? Thank them today and try to be that person for someone else. Anna Coyne is a Saint Paul native, wife, mother, and convert to the Catholic faith. When not chasing after her two young children you can probably find her playing the piano, knitting, tripping over wooden train sets, or writing. Find out more about her here.

So much happens in today's Gospel! The fig tree is cursed and withered, the money changers and dove sellers are driven out of the temple, and Jesus instructs His disciples that faith will dump mountains into the sea. Oh, yes, and at the end, He tells them to forgive their grievances before asking the Father for something in prayer. In essence, a typical day with Jesus? (Mark 11:11-26) I slammed the van door shut after buckling three kids in, reminding a fourth to immediately stop picking his nose and put his book down before he forgot to put his seat belt on, and clenched my keys into my fist. Deeply. I steadied myself against my winter-filthy car and sniffed and sniffed. It wasn't that winter had gone on and on for months upon months. It wasn't even that my early mornings were a cycling of small children in and out of our bed, reassuring them there were no monsters, pleading with them not to wake the fitful baby, bribing them with thin promises of hot cocoa if they just slept another hour or three. It wasn't that dinners blurred from one mac and cheese pot to another frozen peas and carrot mix, or that none of my post-postpartum pants fit, eighteen months later. Jesus knew human nature. It wasn't that. But days in and out, these children carry their grievances to me, their pointed injustices. Turns taken out of turn. Snacks snatched. Pillow forts smushed. They are children, after all, and I forget that sometimes. I think of how the worshippers in the temple may have complained to the left and the right—those clanging money changers, those pooping doves. I think of how I pray for this and that, complain of those to my left and my right to God the Father. Maybe Jesus wants us to face each other in our failings. Maybe we deal with one another with a firm, honest love, first. "Let your love for one another be intense." (1 Peter 4:8) Then we turn to Him and pray. [bctt tweet="Maybe we deal with one another with a firm, honest love, first. // @wholeparenting"] Who are you avoiding? With whom are you upset? Face it today. Be brave and honest. Take care of it and then turn to Our Father in prayer. Nell O'Leary is a recovering lawyer turned blogger, speaker, and sewer of baby goods while tending to her husband and four kiddos in the great city of Saint Paul, Minnesota. She serves as Managing Editor for Blessed is She and can down a iced chai tea latte in no time flat. Find out more about her here. She is the editor of the Blessed Conversations Series.

On Ash Wednesday / Valentine's Day I found myself en route to work, hot tears stinging my eyes as I mulled over the end of a fledgling relationship. I pulled into the parking lot behind our offices, rested my head on the steering wheel, and prayed: I need You to get me through this day. I had barely slumped into my desk chair when a colleague approached. Before I could utter a word she said, "Oh no! What's wrong?" Either I had done a poor job of sprucing up my tear-stained face or the Holy Spirit had readied her heart to be attentive to my need. Either way, in that moment of being truly noticed I let the tears flow (again) and said, "It's just been a hard day." Today's reading about the Visitation—when Mary greets Elizabeth and they marvel at God's work in their pregnancies—is one I come back to again and again. What a joyful/exciting/uncertain time it must have been for both of them: Elizabeth, a woman of old age once barren, preparing to birth John; Mary, a young woman, preparing to birth our Lord under the most unexpected of circumstances . . . . I have no doubt they trusted (and Mary in a particular way as the vessel of Jesus), but there must also have been uncertainty. I think a lot about the comfort that they must have been to each other in those months together. I think a lot about how I, too, crave those moments when we "rejoice with those who rejoice" and "weep with those who weep" as Saint Paul exhorts in today's reading (Romans 12:15). That moment with my colleague was one such "visitation moment." A few weeks later she and I reversed roles: I listened to her as she wept about something undeniably hard in her own life. In that moment I was reminded that whether we are the giver or the recipient, we are never alone in our journey. What a gift that is. My prayer for all of us today is that we might embrace the vulnerability of Mary and Elizabeth. That we might not fear sharing our anxiety or sorrow, alongside our joy, with a colleague, sister, mother, daughter, or friend. That we might have our own beautifully sweet visitation moment, and in doing so, that we might marvel that "the almighty has done great things, and holy is His name." [bctt tweet="Whether we are the giver or the recipient, we are never alone in our journey."] You aren't alone on this journey, sister. Join our regional facebook groups if you are struggling to meet like-minded women in your area. Or be part of a Blessed Brunch. Karen Schultz hails from the Land of 10,000 lakes, where she is often found in or near one of them. As a doula, lactation educator, and FertilityCare Practitioner, she finds joy in helping women to embrace the gift of their bodies. Downtime is found in quiet adoration chapels, farmers markets and gardens, listening to bluegrass music, and embracing the diversity of Minnesota’s seasons. You can find out more about her here.