While a cradle Catholic, there have been times in my life I have taken my faith for granted. It wasn't until college that my faith was not just the faith of my parents but it became personal for me. I remember the first time I truly heard the Gospel message preached with fire and conviction that left me rattled to my bones in a way I had never known. Father Brendan, an Irish Pallottine, was the campus minister at a local community college I stumbled across. He talked about living in the power of the Holy Spirit in a way that was as normal as cream in your morning coffee. Conversations about experience of physical and emotional healings were not seen as crazy. Fr. Brendan spoke of spiritual gifts, charisms, and things like praying in tongues or praying over the sick as regular parts of the Christian life. The funny thing is, at the time, much of that was all very new to me. Saint Mark's Gospel ends on an important note on what Jesus wanted His followers to do after He was gone, what Jesus describes is His call to everyday Christians. Saint Mark underlines the importance of proclaiming the good news to unbelievers with expectant faith and asking the Lord to accompany the preaching of the word with signs and wonders that confirm its truth and demonstrate its power. Physical and spiritual healings, laying hands on the sick, speaking in tongues or words of prophecy, and living in the power of the Holy Spirit were signs of God's presence working in the world back then and they can still be today. (Mark 16:15-20) As women living in 2018, it is a reminder that those same things can still be part of how we live out our everyday faith, according to the gifts He gives us. [bctt tweet="Saint Mark underlines the importance of proclaiming the good news to unbelievers. // @moderngrace"] Where is the Holy Spirit calling you to go outside your comfort zone? Where are you being called to go deeper? Patty Breen is a runner, full-time lay minister, and thinks old movies are the greatest thing since sliced bread. When not fundraising for World Youth Day, she is learning to find grace in all things. You can find out more about her here.

The other day I managed to lose my phone. I managed to lose my phone in the brief moment I had stopped at home between getting off work and picking up the kids. That moment when I run around throwing laundry into the washing machine and getting things out of the fridge for one last defrost on the counter before cooking dinner. It was suddenly time to get in the car again and I couldn't find my phone. I shuffled papers on the kitchen table. No phone. I dug through the dirty laundry. No phone. I checked the garbage can. No phone. I was on my way down to the basement to search couch cushions when I checked the time. I checked the time on my phone, which was in my pocket. I wonder if the Jews of the Temple didn't feel a little bit like a modern mother desperately trying to find her smartphone. They were ready. They were in a hurry. They knew what they needed and what they were looking for. They walked up to Jesus, God's proof of the fulfillment of His prophecies, and demanded He show them what they were looking for. (John 10:24) They were checking the time on the lost phone in their pocket. How often do we still do this to God? How often do we feel we've lost God and can't remember where we've seen Him last? How often do we insist God was right here a second ago? Today is a good day to slow down, take a deep breath and remember that wise advice our parents always called out as we tore through the house. Let's not ask God to magically appear in front of us, rather let's take a moment and ask ourselves, "Where did I last see God?" Because He's probably right there, right where we left Him. We just need to take a moment and realize what is right in front of us all along. [bctt tweet="How often do we insist God was right here a second ago?"] Close your eyes and picture where God is. Is He right next to you? Have you invited Him into your heart lately? Molly Walter is a Catholic convert, wife and mother to two children on Earth and four babies called home to Jesus. She has a deep love of her faith, her family, literature, handcrafts, gardening, and Star Wars. When not working full time outside the home or wrangling her next family adventure, she blogs about all the good things in life. You can find out more about her here.

I knew my first son’s name before he was born. I knew his name before his father sat beside me on the steps of the cathedral and presented to me a ring and a promise. I knew his name when I knelt before the bones of his patron in a gilded church in Rome and prayed a prayer of longing. And when we first heard his cry my husband looked at me and proudly cried his name and we looked at the face of a promise come to fruition from a prayer whispered in hope. In those early weeks and months, I would sing-song his name, waiting for him to turn his face to me. My heart brimming with love, and spilling over when that sweet gummy smile lit up his face. And in moments when he was upset and crying, it was my voice that brought him back down to a place of peace. We’ve since added two more sons, and two more names. My voice is but one, but there are three names I say. There is an intimacy in knowing and calling a name. It is not anywhere truer than when our Lord calls us. In today’s Gospel, Jesus speaks of the shepherd that calls his sheep by name. The sheep know his voice, and they follow him wherever he leads because they trust that he will provide them food and safety. They know his voice so well, that they would never follow a stranger, and in fact, they would run in the opposite direction. (John 10:5) He knows your name. He knew it before you were hidden in your mother’s womb. He whispers it in hopes that you might turn your face to Him. It is not a general calling to all of creation. It is an intimate whispering of your name. Do you recognize His distinct voice, or does it get lost in the noise of the many of other voices and opinions that are thrown at us on a daily basis? It takes practice to fine-tune our hearing to pick up on the true voice of our Lord. [bctt tweet="He knows your name. He knew it before you were hidden in your mother’s womb. // @jacquiskemp"] Let’s commit to taking a few moments today to silence our world and listen for our name, because He knows it and He is waiting for us to turn our faces to Him. Jacqueline Skemp is a daughter, sister, wife, and mother who endures living in Minnesota after leaving California for her one true love. You can find out more about her here.

It’s a crucial point in nearly every romantic comedy. Our heroine is distraught. Something, or someone, has hurt her. In her pain, she recoils. She insists she wants to be left alone. She insists she is fine. She insists that she just needs some space. And we all know she’s lying. As women, we know that, deep down, what she really desires is for someone to run after her. She wants someone to offer her a shoulder to cry on, a listening ear, an empathetic heart. Not because she is helpless, but because someone finds her worthy of help. Whoever does this, then, is the hero. Whether it’s the handsome stranger, the lifelong friend-turned-love, or her best girlfriends, whomever comes after her is the one who saves the day. This person is the hero because they prove that they know her. They are able to read between the smile-lines and see the breaking heart. They know that what our heroine really needs is not to be left alone, but to be carried home. Today is Good Shepherd Sunday. Often, we quickly tune out of this Gospel because it’s so familiar. “I know how this ends,” we think, “Jesus leaves the 99 good ones to go after the sinner and He never gives up on us, yada yada…” But what if we pause today and really listen? Yes, the Gospel absolutely affirms the fact that Jesus will search for us when we become lost in our sin. Praise Him for that. Jesus also comes after us when, in our sadness, we choose to walk away. “I’m fine, Lord,” we insist. “I don’t want to bring the others down. Please just leave me alone,” we say. And Jesus knows we’re lying. In our relationship with Christ, we don’t have to worry about Him hurting us and we don’t have to wonder if He will come after us. Because He will. Because, as He reiterates in the Gospel, He knows us. (John 10:14) He always saves the day, sisters. He always carries us home. [bctt tweet="He always saves the day, sisters. He always carries us home. // @to_the_heights"] What is hurting you today? What are you pretending you can handle on your own, with just a little space? Will you bring that to your Good Shepherd today? Will you allow Him to run after you, to carry you home? Olivia Spears lives in Kentucky where sweet tea and bourbon flow like milk and honey. She is the Blog Manager for Blessed is She and works from home as an editor and social media manager. She likes to binge novels and Netflix while raising her children and laughing with her husband. You can find out more about her here.

I love today's First Reading because it shows two different examples of living out the faith. First, you have Tabitha. She went about her days completely occupied with good deeds. The widows were filled with grief but still had to show Saint Peter the tunics Tabitha made them. (Acts 9:39) I’m moved by the affection everyone had for her. I get a picture of a soul that served others without any fanfare or desire to be praised. She quietly toiled and loved. As a result, she had a lasting effect on the people around her. On the other side of the spectrum sits Saint Peter. He also toiled and loved but in a more dramatic and public way. This man who once denied Jesus and hid in a room after His death was walking through the streets proclaiming the Gospel, curing the sick and even miraculously raising the dead. It is absolutely amazing to see the power of the Holy Spirit at work! When I read these stories I tend to think, wow, these followers of Christ are incredible! They must have been born like that . . . as if that explains why I'm nothing like them. I forget that these Apostles and the Saints we read about weren't automatically born saintly. They were flesh and blood humans with the same struggles, doubts, and faults that we experience. We have a pretty good glimpse at just what Saint Peter was like before the love of Christ transformed him. We are called to embrace this transformative love of Christ. It will not only change our life but the lives of those around us. Whether our call is the quiet service of Tabitha or the missionary work of Saint Peter, it takes work, diligence, humility, and a charitable heart to truly be a disciple of God. That is a daunting prospect, but thankfully, God's grace abounds, particularly when it is most needed. When I am fed up at home or frustrated with someone I'm working with or dragging my feet instead of stepping outside my comfort zone for God, I must remember that it's okay to feel upset or reluctant but Love changes hearts. God's grace helps me offer up the little crosses and be brave in my actions because I, too, am a disciple of Christ. [bctt tweet="God's grace abounds, particularly when it is most needed. // @bobbi_rol"] Is there an area where you struggle to follow Christ? Kneel before Our Lord and ask His transformative Love to heal and strengthen you. 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.

“What?!” I imagine myself exclaiming in disbelief and increased excitement while watching the great drama unfold. “What?!” I shout again, as my jaw hangs open with every new twist in the story. Each time I re-read these stories, this is my soul’s reaction: What?! Are you kidding me right now, God? You chose the guy breathing murderous threats to join Your disciples and proclaim Your Word? Of course He did. Jesus, who died for Saul just as much as He died for me, wanted Saul and called him by name. Saul (whom we know now as Saint Paul) heard that great invitation that came with blinding light and booming voice: “Now get up and go. . .” (Acts 9:6) And without hesitation, Saul got up! He followed directions, shared a meal with Ananias who restored his sight and baptized him, and recovered his strength. How I long for that kind of direction, that kind of blinding light to shock my system into realizing how far off-course I’ve strayed. I long to hear the voice guiding me to truth and life, inviting me to participate in the only Love and Life that can satisfy my soul’s longings. The Lord invites you and me into this same divine drama. Jesus Christ, the Man who spoke to the Jews about the Eucharist and the promise of everlasting Life to anyone who eats that bread (John 6:58), invites you and me every Mass. It is there that we are called, there that we are nourished, there that we recover our strength. When we participate in the Mass and allow Jesus to abide in us, we're drawn more into the drama that unfolds as God shapes us in His love. I’m ashamed of how often I don’t let the reality of what I consume sink into my body and soul and take shape. Today, I’m committing to more time in Adoration, and a heart that is more ready and open to receive our Lord in the Eucharist. I long for Him to abide in me and strengthen me. [bctt tweet="I long for Him to abide in me and strengthen me."] Will you join me to commit to more frequent Adoration? Even a quick visit in front of the Tabernacle allows time and space for Christ to move in us and shape us. 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. You can find out more about her here.

Sometimes when I underline something I also unintentionally cross words out. Those pretty, hand-lettered bullet journals and Bibles on Instagram and Pinterest? They intimidate me to the point that when my new copy of the Catholic Journaling Bible arrived, I let it sit for weeks, afraid I would ruin it if I dared to write in it. I eventually did, though, and have left sloppy notes and wobbly underlinings throughout it. Each day that I pick up my Bible I am building a habit so that eventually sitting with Scripture will be part of the natural rhythm of each day. Eventually Scripture will be as familiar to me as an old friend. This desire to be in the Word is what draws me to the Ethiopian man and Saint Philip in the Book of Acts. When we meet the Ethiopian man he is deep in study of Sacred Scripture. He doesn’t understand what he is reading but he is present with it nonetheless. His time in prayerful contemplation has prepared his heart for an encounter with the Gospel. Once he hears the Good News of Jesus Christ, he recognizes the Truth and asks to enter the Church and a life with the Sacraments. (Acts 8:27-38) And Saint Philip’s knowledge of Scripture is even more amazing. Not only does he know the writings of the Old Testament but he lived the Gospels! Philip intimately knew the Word of God as his dear friend, Jesus. And surely his time with the Word—both the written and the Living—disposed him to be open to the promptings of the Spirit and enabled him to evangelize. In the Gospel Jesus quotes Isaiah, “They shall all be taught by God” (John 6:45) and so it is when we study the Bible. Sisters, when I read my Bible each day it is not like reading any other book. I read, I pray on it, I think about it, I reread, I underline, I study the footnotes and look up the cross references. Exclamation points and hearts are drawn in the margins near passages that amaze me or move my heart. I jot down words the Lord places in my heart as I study His Word. My Bible is not picture perfect but that’s okay. I have come to realize that the messier my Bible the more rightly ordered my life. [bctt tweet="I have come to realize that the messier my Bible the more rightly ordered my life."] Do you have a Bible you're comfortable picking up and engaging with? Find one today. Bonnie Engstrom is a writer, baker, speaker, and homemaker. She, her husband, and seven children live in central Illinois, and her son’s alleged miraculous healing through the intercession of Venerable Fulton Sheen was submitted to the Vatican for Sheen’s beatification. Bonnie pretends she has a green thumb, bakes a fantastic chocolate chip cookie, loves naps and chai tea, and blogs. You can find out more about her here.

Can you imagine being a disciple of Christ at the time of Saint Stephen’s martyrdom? I have a hard time holding it together with life’s daily frustrations . . . but to be alive in the time of the very early Church? They were dealing with life and death. Acts 8 tells us that a severe persecution broke out after the death of Stephen and the Apostles scattered. I can just see my family looking at one another and deciding it was time to flee. Persecution isn’t something you generally stick around for. I would like to say I would have the courage to wear my cross proudly, but I am not sure I would. The Apostles not only continued to preach the word, they proclaimed the Messiah. Proclaimed. Have I EVER proclaimed the Messiah? I will admit the secular world loves to take pot-shots at us crazy Catholics and there are legal battles being fought over religious liberties. But in the United States our very lives are not being threatened. And yet many of us keep our crosses hidden as if peril was around ever corner. We choose to remain silent when others criticize our faith, lest we make someone uncomfortable by our response. A few weeks ago, I was that silent one. At our neighborhood book club, two of the members got on a rant about the Church—I just let them vent. I was so concerned about not appearing defensive and complacent about past problems in our church that I remained silent. And I left feeling miserable. Really miserable. At the end of the First Reading is the conclusion “there was a great joy in that city” after the Apostles had come to proclaim the Messiah and great miracles were preformed. (Acts 8:8) What joy could we spread if we proclaimed the Messiah and let the Lord work His miracles today in our everyday lives? If I had spoken up, could I have worked alongside God's grace to soften hearts that night? If I had trusted a little more in God’s love and protection would I have heard inspiration from the Holy Spirit? Would I have walked home that night filled with joy instead of misery? [bctt tweet="What joy could we spread if we proclaimed the Messiah?"] We are His present-day Apostles. How can you proclaim the Messiah today in what you say or what you do? 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.

"What can you do?" the crowd asks Jesus in a way that seems as if perhaps they'd like to review His resume and examine His skill set before they choose to believe or accept Him. (John 6:30) In demanding a sign of what He can do, they seem to want proof of His past experience and qualifications before they are willing to “hire” Jesus as their Lord and Savior. I am reminded of experiences attending parties or social gatherings, in which every new person I met would ask me, “What do you do?” Although it is a valid question in getting to know someone, it can sometimes feel as if you are being judged solely on the kind of job you have or what you are "doing" in your life. Jesus brings us back to the heart of things. Jesus points us to the Father, the source of each miracle and every good gift. "It was not Moses who gave the bread from heaven; my Father gives you the true bread from heaven," He says. (John 6:32) Jesus does not stop there, however. The greatest miracle and gift from the Father is the gift of His Son, Jesus Himself. He brings us even deeper and says, "I am the bread of life[.]" (John 6:35) Jesus is our food, our nourishment, our life. It is less about what Jesus can do and more about Who He is. Perhaps we could ask, “Who are you, Lord? Who is this Jesus? Who is this Bread of Life?” And in that way, perhaps we may encounter the life and love for which we truly hunger and thirst. [bctt tweet="Jesus brings us back to the heart of things."] How can we shift the way we look at other people so that we are seeing who they really are, rather than making assumptions based on what they "do"—work, accomplishments, or Instagram feeds? 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 their full potential. You can find out more about her here.

There is a difference between being filled and being satisfied. The people seeking Christ after the miracle of the loaves and fish were filled yet still not satisfied. And you know what? We are the same. We are starving for anything that will linger longer than a moment, provide more than an Instagram memory, or provide a balm for the scars we conceal, yet seemingly content being filled and bandaged with pleasures of this world. “Do not work for food that perishes but for food that endures for eternal life.” (John 6:27) Oh, how these words Christ spoken thousands of years ago resonate today! I don’t know about you, but I’m done filling my body, mind, and soul with lies that this world is selling me. Years ago, I allowed comparison, one of the subtlest lies, to consume me. Comparison is not food that endures; it increased my hunger for pride, jealousy, and entitlement. It brought up negative feelings about my worth and ability. I detested how I felt and how I couldn’t be happy for friends in their vocations or achievements. Most of all, I stopped listening to God’s voice and could only hear this negative voice on replay in my head and heart. It was drudgery to get out of that pessimism. I removed myself from relationships and friendships that were toxic, practiced redirecting my thoughts every time a negative thought came to my mind, sought the Sacraments, and journaled before the Blessed Sacrament as often as I could. And slowly, oh so tenderly, God’s voice returned. When I could sing worship songs and mean every word, and negative thoughts no longer plagued me, I stopped hearing the hunger rumble inside my soul. Jesus didn’t come just to fill us or show us miracles to help us believe. No, He entered humanity to satisfy us completely, so we no longer hunger for this world and instead fix our entire appetite on the wedding feast of Heaven. [bctt tweet="[Jesus] entered humanity to satisfy us completely."] What futile lies are you filling your life with that still leave you hungry for truth? 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.

I once read a book containing all the questions Jesus asked in the Gospels. Three hundred and seven, if you’re interested. So anytime Jesus asks a question in the Gospels, I’m intrigued. I pause and consider it, as though He was asking it of me. Like in today’s Gospel: "Why are you troubled? And why do questions arise in your hearts?” (Luke 24:38) There is both tenderness and surety in these questions. He is compassionate toward His disciples, just as He is toward you and me. He desires to hear from them, to listen to their hearts and story, their grief and joy. And He desires to hear yours, too. Imagine yourself in the room with the disciples. They argue and ask questions, some laugh despite themselves while others listen in wide-eyed disbelief. The room pulses with fear and confusion—and hope. Now, (ask the Holy Spirit to help you) imagine Jesus walks in. Let everything and everyone else melt away until it is only you and Him. Picture the look in His eyes, the tone of His voice as He asks you, Why are you troubled? Tell Him. All that concerns you, all that you fear, all that you’re holding onto. He is listening with great attentiveness. He’s not waiting to get a word in. He has nowhere to be—there is nowhere else He would rather be. When you finish speaking, He doesn’t scold or correct you. He doesn’t defend Himself or rush in with some generic platitude. Instead, like a masterful Physician pressing on a tender place, He asks another question. Why do questions arise in your heart? Ask Him. All the questions that have been keeping you up at night or spilling out over coffee with a friend. Every potential and possibility you’ve played out, the doubt that steadily chips away at your faith. Ask Him anything and everything. Still He listens. And when you’re spent from letting it all out, He leans in with such love it almost hurts. Jesus is with you now. He’s been there all along. Listen to Him. Let Him speak kindness over you. He promises never to leave you. Look at the scars on His hands and feet. Proof that He has overcome it all. Every doubt, every fear, every sin—yes, even that situation that feels impossible—He has overcome it. And with Him, so will you. [bctt tweet="He leans in with such love it almost hurts. // @thebethdavis"] Take a breath. Set aside time in your day to go through these exercises. Beth Davis is a lover of Jesus, a recently retired youth minister, and the Director of Ministry Advancement for Blessed is She. She is passionate about teaching women how to develop an intimate relationship with Jesus and speaking hope to weary hearts. Her favorite things include being an aunt to her five fantastic niece and nephews, the Saint Name Generator, and whatever book she's currently reading. You can find out more about her here.

I sat back up on the exam table, and began peppering my doctor with questions about potential treatment plans. I was suffering from an infection that had already killed two of my children in utero. This new reality had shaken me to the core. I never expected this kind of trial after my first three kids came so quickly. It was not until we lost two of the last three pregnancies that we realized something was wrong. Now I was waiting the long wait of those hoping for healing and babies, and it was hard to not feel so alone. “Sorry,” I told her, “I am just bad at waiting, but I guess this is a good chance to become more patient.” She laughed at my self-analysis, assuring me that we would know what to do next soon. I closed my eyes and reached out to God, asking Him for the strength to bear this trial longer. Like the Apostles in the Gospel today, I had waited for Him by the boat, only embarking when I was sure the time was right, but now it felt like "[i]t had already grown dark, and Jesus had not yet come." (John 6:17) I clung to my husband in the boat as we crossed the rough sea of this journey. I sought in the depths of my soul and reached to the heavens in prayer for some glimmer of hope. The next week I got a call from the doctor; the infection had responded to the treatment. Things were okay for now. "It is I. Do not be afraid." (John 6:20) There Jesus was, to my surprise, walking along the water. Following close beside the whole time. The sun came out as the storm cleared away. I called Him into the boat, but then it bumped against the shore. We were already there together. I do not know what will happen next, what God’s plan is for the future. There may be more storms to encounter, but for now there is a reprieve. The complications may return, but I will strive to hold onto the reality that Jesus is always close to those seeking to do His will. I will hope in Him in the storm. [bctt tweet="Jesus is always close to those seeking to do His will."] Dearest sisters, sometimes the hardest part of following God is faithfully doing what He has asked us to do while waiting for Him to reveal Himself to us. Do not be afraid in the long, lonely uncertainty of this life. He is with you. 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.

Today I'm struck by the fact that Christ commands the Apostles to gather the fragments leftover so that nothing will be wasted. (John 6:12) Now, we may just think Jesus is referring to keeping some leftovers for lunch tomorrow, but there are so many layers of meaning here. Firstly, this miracle was a precursor to Christ giving us the Eucharist. Christ is physically feeding people who are hungry with real, actual food. Christ gave us the Eucharist for the same reason: we need to be fed in a physical way to sustain our spiritual life in Him. Participating at the Mass and receiving the Eucharist is an even greater miracle than when Christ fed the five thousand, as the Mass is Christ feeding us with His own Body. Then I think of my own participation in the Mass. I offer up my own prayers, sacrifices, failures, petitions along with Christ's sacrifice. I know that all I offer is given to God the Father along with the Sacrifice of Christ's own life in the Mass. This is so profound, and should shake me to the core just to contemplate, that I have this ability to give to God all that I have through such a powerful and direct Sacrament. But I know there are parts of my life that I don't give over to Him, parts I cling to or hide or think are unworthy of being a part of the same sacrifice as Christ's. But what does Christ say in today's Gospel miracle? Jesus wants everything that's left over. He wants all the parts of my life that I don't know what to do with, that I don't feel worthy of offering to Him. I have lots of issues, burdens, wounds, and crosses that I feel don't fit into the ideal Christian life. He wants it all. Jesus wants nothing in our lives to be wasted. Jesus wants our hearts united to His through the Eucharist; He wants us to offer all we have with Him through the sacrifice of the Mass so that nothing is wasted. [bctt tweet="Jesus wants nothing in our lives to be wasted."] What can you bring to Jesus today that you've been holding back or that you feel doesn't fit neatly into the Christian life? Offer it to Christ today at Mass or in your own prayer. Remember that Jesus wants nothing in our life wasted; He wants it all. 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.

Staring at the packet the dermatologist handed me, I tried to process what had just happened. How did a routine skin cancer screening appointment end with me holding a pamphlet about birth control? I recalled the moment when she asked if I wanted to learn about an option to treat my acne. Not thinking twice since my wedding was a few months away, I agreed. “I think some form of birth control would clear up your skin and help you plan your family,” she said, winking. “Interesting . . . ” I replied unsure of what to say next. My then-fiancé and I were planning to follow the Church's teaching of being open to life in our marriage, but I had no idea how to tell her this without sounding awkward. I also didn’t want to seem ungrateful in declining her recommendation. “I don’t think it's for me,” I blurted. My response was vague but as honest as I could be in that moment. Her smile turned to a look of surprise. “Well, here’s some reading material. Let me know if you change your mind.” she said before leaving the exam room. Today’s First Reading (Acts 5:27-33) reminded me of this experience. Unlike my response where I tiptoed around the truth, the Apostles spoke boldly to the Sanhedrin. “We must obey God rather than men,” (Acts 5:29) they said when asked why they didn’t stop preaching about Jesus. Talk about having courage! I can think of several other instances where I’ve skirted around conversations to avoid sounding “too Catholic,” but the Apostles embraced every opportunity! Let that be our challenge today, sisters. How can we be more like the Apostles? How can we care less about what others think and more about what God thinks? May we ask the Holy Spirit for help in those difficult moments where we are unsure of what to say and trust that the truth be shared. [bctt tweet="How can we care less about what others think and more about what God thinks?"] Saint Peter and all the Apostles, pray for us that we may have the courage to share the good news. Joan Geiger is a North Dakota native and new mother, and in her spare time she can be found going on adventures with her husband, working as a Registered Dietitian, and drinking coffee. You can find out more about her here.

Today’s readings are bursting with spiritual goodness—but today is also the memorial of Saint Stanislaus, bishop and martyr, and this reflection focuses on him. Saint Stanislaus was born in Poland in the year 1030. After receiving his education in his early life, he was ordained a priest and then ordained as the bishop of Krakow years later. There was an inordinate amount of corruption happening in the government at the time—and Stanislaus took a bold and outspoken stand against it. When the king would not change his ways from his corruption, Stanislaus ultimately excommunicated him. Enraged by this decision, the king killed Stanislaus with his own hands. The cost for Stanislaus of speaking up and standing for God was his life. He is now the patron saint of Poland. In learning about Saint Stanislaus, I was convicted of how deeply our bishops need prayers for this level of boldness and strength in our world today—the same level of boldness exhibited by the Apostles in today's Reading. (Acts 5:25) With the amount of injustice being carried out in our communities, cities, and around the globe, our bishops need continual prayers for courage to rise up and live with the bravery of Saint Stanislaus. On this memorial of Saint Stanislaus, will you join me in taking a few moments to pray for your bishop today? If you don’t know who the bishop of your diocese is, you can find him online! They need our ceaseless prayers and support in living a life of holiness and valor like that of Saint Stanislaus. I pray that our bishops may live without fear of leading us, guiding us, and doing what is right in the sight of God. (An example prayer for bishops: God, eternal shepherd, You tend Your Church in many ways and rule us with love. You have chosen your servant, N., to be a shepherd of your flock. Give him a spirit of courage and right judgment, a spirit of knowledge and love. By governing with fidelity those entrusted to his care, may he build Your Church as a sign of salvation for the world.) [bctt tweet="I pray that our bishops may live without fear of leading us. // @emwilss"] May God bestow upon our bishops all the graces needed to carry out their beautiful and challenging role in our Church! Emily Wilson-Hussem planned her whole life to become a sports reporter but turned out to be a Catholic musician and speaker at the hand of God. She lives out of her suitcase and travels across the world speaking to people of all ages. The heart of her ministry is offering encouragement to teen girls in search of their true identity, and she loves every second of it. She is the author of I Choose the Sky. You can find out more about her here.

Today is my thirty-fifth birthday. Today I am squarely in my mid-thirties, eyeing the later thirties, reminiscing over the early thirties. I can say things like, "I mean, over twenty-five years ago I babysat and made $5 an hour." I can scrutinize my scalp in the morning mirror and yelp as I find gray hair upon gray hair. But mostly what I've looked forward to on this birthday is being more spirited, more unleashed, more the woman God is calling me to be, in part because I share a birthday with my eldest girl (six today!). I feel she deserves to have a mama who's emboldened to go for it. "The wind blows where it wills, and you can hear the sound it makes, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes; so it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit." (John 3:8) This wildness, this renewal, this beautiful verse is the theme behind our retreats this year, the "Wild" Blessed is She Retreat. And if I'm lucky enough to see you at the Minnesota retreat in August, where I'm heading up the ground team, we can pray over this verse together. I've been stuck in a place of not being "enough" to those in my life, not enough for myself: not in shape enough, not talented enough, not rested enough, not patient enough. When I hear Jesus speaking to Nicodemus in today's Gospel, and Nicodemus not understanding Him despite being a teacher, part of me wants to give up. Lord, I don't get it all, either. I'm not smart enough, either. Maybe for my birthday I can ask Our Lord to just set aside my stack of all the reasons I'm held back from living out His beautiful plan for me, ups and downs, ins and outs, whatever it involves. Maybe I can be reborn of the Spirit, be a little wild, believe I'm enough. [bctt tweet="Maybe I can be reborn of the Spirit, be a little wild, believe I'm enough. // @WholeParenting"] Are you looking for renewal, rebirth? Start with the Sacrament of Reconciliation, then get on over to Mass and Adoration. Refresh your spirits with a talk with your priest or spiritual advisor. The Lord's waiting for you to come to Him for renewal. Share your heart with Him today. 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.

I awoke with a jolt, long before my alarm. Groaning, I willed sleep to return, but it was futile; my mind had sprung to life, teeming with countless worries surrounding a stressful situation. God had lavished so much hope and peace upon me in the months prior, but the consolation faded as reality loomed. The enemy had quietly planted a desire—no, a demand—for a guarantee. Just give me some word or sign that it’ll be okay, God. That’s all I need. But I realized all the encouragement in the world would be useless if I kept inviting the enemy in—allowing him to crowd out my hope and convince me that God owed me signs rather my owing Him trust. "Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign; the young woman, pregnant and about to bear a son, shall name him Emmanuel." (Isaiah 7:14) As quickly as the demand entered my mind, a whisper of truth countered it: I don’t need another sign I can easily ignore. I need Jesus. All-powerful, Sovereign God. Emmanuel. God with us. God with me personally. As soon as I acknowledged His holy presence in my heart, the instant the name of Jesus echoed through me, something shifted. Peace flooded the space fear had invaded. It occurred to me that this same acknowledgement of Christ’s indwelling, this same surrender to God’s power over fear, was the heart of our Blessed Mother’s fiat at the Annunciation. This is the root of every little fiat: consciously inviting Christ to dwell with us in the midst of fear—so that He may carry us forward despite it, into the confidence of God’s will. It’s an affirmation of the truth that all we really need—Christ indwelling—is right here in our hearts. Each brave “yes”—whether offered in joyful confidence or in the silent struggle of a dark night—unleashes God’s loving power to change the world for good. With every fiat, we not only silence the enemy and put fear to death, but imitate the most beautiful role model in the universe: conceiving Christ in our hearts and bearing Him to the world through our souls. [bctt tweet="I don’t need another sign I can easily ignore. I need Jesus. // @PosImperfect"] Acknowledge Christ dwelling in your heart, and ponder what fear He desires to help you overcome to embolden your own fiat, your "yes" to His will. Megan Hjelmstad is a wife and mom 24/7 and an Army Reservist in her “spare” time. She’s a bibliophile, tea drinker, sleep lover, and avid admirer of Colorado’s great outdoors. When the writing bug hits, you can find out more about her here.