Oh, doubting Thomas. We know him well, don’t we? Have you ever found yourself in his shoes? Feeling doubtful about the Lord’s promises. Asking for a sign, for proof that He is Who He says He is. I have been there, and my heart goes out to Thomas. How his heart must have ached! How it must have disappointed him to hear that the Risen Lord had come, and he had missed it. I wonder, how often does the Risen Lord come into my life and I miss it? The good news is this, sisters: as we celebrate in a special way on this Second Sunday of Easter, we are the beloved disciples of a merciful Lord. Jesus Christ, our Messiah, is Divine Mercy incarnate. Jesus’s mercy knows no bounds. He is patient; He is kind. He comes back for Thomas, just as He comes back to us. He reveals His hands and His side, as He will reveal Himself to us again and again, each time offering us a chance to receive His merciful love, if only we have the faith. If only we believe. Our belief is the key: “The victory that conquers the world is our faith. Who indeed is victor over the world but the one who believes that Jesus is the Son of God?” (1 John 5:4b-5) When we believe, we open ourselves to receive God’s Divine Mercy—everlasting Love poured out for us. In faith, we have the opportunity to enter into relationship with Jesus. As we grow in vulnerability with the Lord, we can show Him our own wounds and allow Him to touch them. And then, Jesus, who is Mercy, can heal us. Our Resurrected Lord will make all things new. [bctt tweet="Jesus, who is Mercy, can heal us. // @inendlesssong"] As we celebrate Divine Mercy Sunday, let us pray, “Jesus, I trust in You.” How great is your belief as you pray this seemingly simple prayer? 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.

My full-time job centers around prayer. When I recently took an assessment of my personal prayer life and of the particular things I've been speaking to our Lord about, I realized time and time again that something pretty major was missing: thanksgiving. Instead of thanking God for ways He is continuously and constantly showing up, I'm often asking and grasping for more. If it's not one thing, it's another, and I find myself, daily, asking God for good things: to to be with me, to give me strength and healing, to give me peace and joy, or to guide me. The problem, however, is when I forget to thank God and to look for Him, even when I feel like my prayers aren't being answered. Thanksgiving reminds us to discover God in our midst. It asks us to pay attention and to take note of God's goodness, even when things don't seem to be going so well for us. In today's Gospel, Mark writes that Jesus rebuked the eleven apostles, "for their unbelief and hardness of heart." (Mark 16:14) They didn't believe those who had already seen the resurrected Jesus. The apostles were probably sitting together in deep grief. I can't imagine that Jesus' death was an answer to their prayers, but it was God's will and it was, in many ways, an answer—very singularly—for each of those eleven men; for their salvation, and for ours. But when Jesus appeared in front of them, their hearts were hardened from their loss and their heartache. They probably didn't feel like they had something they could thank God for at the time, or maybe they had stopped looking for Jesus (at least in the form the way that they used to know Him). As I look at the losses I've suffered and the heartache I carry, I realize how they have had the power to also make me hardhearted, and how I've given into that at times. I have stopped looking for Jesus in those moments because of my grief. This makes me realize that I too could be at the table, consumed with unbelief that Jesus was alive, because of my hard heart and because I wasn't prepared to see Him in whatever shape and form He comes in. Today, I will look for Jesus with thanksgiving, be prepared for however He chooses to show up, and trust that He will. [bctt tweet="Today, I will look for Jesus with thanksgiving."] Let us pray together, Soften my heart, Lord! I desire so much to see You. 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.

The disciples remember. Their hearts burn within them. They recognize Him in the breaking of the bread. He appears. He stands in their midst. Again. Peace. Why are you terrified? Why do you have so many questions? Look. Do you recognize these hands and feet? It is me. Touch. This is my body. This is my blood. They look. They touch. They believe. He is risen. He is here. Alleluia. His body does not belong to the dead. His body belongs to the living. They were “incredulous for joy and were amazed.” (Luke 24:41) Have you anything to eat? Fish. Sharing another meal. He took it. He ate it. New life. Come share. Anticipate this new life. Encounter this living person. Listen. Everything is fulfilled. Open your mind. Understand the Scriptures. Christ was crucified. He died. He was buried. He rose again on the third day. Alleluia. Go forth. Preach in His name. Repentance. Forgiveness of sins. To Jerusalem. To all the nations. To your heart. You have seen. You have heard. You are witnesses. Be bold. Be original. Draw life from the Resurrection. Gentle knocking At the door of your heart. Open wide to the freedom that awaits. Freedom. Freedom to give. Freedom to receive. Trust Him. Follow Him. Rest in His peace. He is alive. He is risen. Alleluia. [bctt tweet="He is alive. He is risen. He is alive. He is risen. Alleluia."] How can you share your encounter with our Risen Lord? 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. You can find out more about her here.

I have always described myself as a realist-optimist. I tend to look on the bright side of things, but always within the confines of delicately and determined logical boundaries, of course. My heart and passions are often veiled behind a shroud of caution. I will tell someone “everything” about myself while never revealing the deepest parts of my soul and my being. I tread carefully. I observe. And I guard myself. Does this sound like you, sister? But what if I started to peel away those layers? If I removed my armor, would the world come crashing down around me or would I, in fact, grow stronger because of this trust? When my heart is guarded, my eyes are prevented from seeing. They say that seeing is believing. But so often, believing allows us to see. If I believe in the majesty of the Risen Lord, that fantastic and awe-inspiring miracle of His sacrifice, I will be gifted with new eyes and sight in the truth of His promise. Today's Gospel shows us the disciples whose eyes were opened to behold Our Risen Lord! (Luke 24:31) Let me see Him, too, and experience the incredible gift He is. So today, instead of caution, I will rejoice with unashamed and unbounded freedom. I will throw up my arms in praise, I will dance, I will sing, I will jump in praise of our Risen Lord. I will seek Him in every moment. I will not guard my heart to His presence. And I invite you to do the same with me today, sister. [bctt tweet="Let me see Him, too, and experience the incredible gift He is. // @Substance_Soul"] Stop what you are doing in this moment. Lift your heart and hands to praise Him. Whether you are in the grocery store, your bedroom, your workplace, or at the park, just stop and rejoice and dance in His name. Rejoice! Samantha Aguinaldo-Wetterholm is a wife to Paul, mom to two little ones, and practices dentistry at a public health community center for low income families in the Bay Area, California. She (unashamedly) thinks ice cream is its own food group, loves anything Harry Potter, does not leave the house without wearing sparkly earrings, and is an enthusiastic proponent of the Oxford comma. Find out more about her here.

At dawn on Easter morning, Mary Magdalene and the other holy women went to Jesus’ tomb to anoint His body with spices. They found that the large stone over the entrance had been rolled away, and Jesus’ body was not there. An angel appeared to the women telling them, “He is not here; for he has risen, as he said.” (Matthew 28:6) The women rushed home in wonder to tell the eleven apostles, “but these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them.” (Luke 24:11) Seriously, how annoying would THAT have been? Finally, curiosity gets the better of Peter, and then John, and they run for the tomb. John gets there first, but can’t bring himself to go inside, so Peter is the first one in, then John, and they “saw and believed” (John 20:8) . . . in what Mary Magdalene said. In the Resurrection? Not quite yet, “for as yet they did not know the scripture, that he must rise from the dead.” (John 20:9) I just love this visual of the women, slowly approaching the tomb at dawn, concerned that the body of the Lord has been stolen, then rushing home in excitement after the angel's message. Mary Magdalene is called the “Apostle to the Apostles” because it was she who brought them the good news of the resurrection. Peter and John, who were probably the oldest and youngest disciples, end up in a footrace to the tomb, where they see, but hardly know what to think. Then Jesus appears to Mary Magdalene, but she thinks He’s the gardener, and when she does realize it’s really Him, she’s so excited that He has to ask her to unhand Him. (John 20:17) It sounds like it would be a slapstick comedy, if it weren’t “the crowning truth of our faith in Christ.” (Catechism of the Catholic Church § 638). But why, in the very next episode related by John, does Jesus invite Thomas to touch Him and believe, after He’s asked Mary Magdalene to stop holding on to Him? (John 20:7) Well, unlike Thomas, Mary Magdalene doesn't need to touch Jesus to believe that He has risen from the dead. All it takes is that first moment, when she hears Jesus say her name. All the distractions fall away, and she knows that He is Risen. He is Risen, indeed. [bctt tweet="“He is not here; for he has risen, as he said.”"] As we enter into this Easter season, let's live like Mary Magdalene, believing and hearing Him say our name. 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.

I’m trying to put myself into today’s Gospel scene with Mary Magdalene and the other Mary. But to be honest, I often battle discouragement. After the crushing blow of the crucifixion, under the weight of grief and disappointment, would I even go to Jesus’ tomb? Would I dare to believe that perhaps this wasn’t the end of the story, that Jesus’ promises would still prevail? Today, as I stand at the empty tomb with the two Marys, in this beautiful Easter season of new hope and promise, I am filled with joy. But I also fight their same fears—to believe that Jesus is truly alive. And just as Jesus spoke to them that morning, this is what He says to me today: I want to meet you as the Risen Lord. Even in those places where I don’t experience His presence; when my hopes have been dashed by disappointment—when I am angry, sad, or lonely—I need to keep showing up and trusting, and be faithful to what I know is true. Because He is in those tomb-like places, not dead but alive, and waiting to reveal Himself to me and bring my heart back to life. Worship me as the Risen Lord. It is so beautiful how the Marys, upon meeting Jesus, fall to the ground and worship Him. Their first response isn’t to fire questions at Jesus, but to prostrate themselves in adoration, and to humble themselves at His feet. (Matthew 28:9) I want to move from a posture of questioning, complaining, and analysis, to one of awe, humility, and worship. Go and tell others I have risen. This is a call to action. Mary Magdalene who, like me, is a woman with a sinful past, is asked to be the bearer of a message that will change the world. The qualifications for this important task aren’t multiple theology degrees, spectacular speaking skills, or a successful ministry. I am sent because I too have met the Lord—I have seen and touched Him, I have heard His voice, and I know that He has risen from the dead. [bctt tweet="I am sent because I too have met the Lord."] Like these two Marys, may we cast aside our fears and embrace the Risen Lord with great joy. May we worship Him from the depths of our hearts, and boldly go out as faithful messengers of His Good News. 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.

Each year, I feel that I'm just really bad at Easter. I easily become frustrated as I confront the tension of desiring to embrace the Resurrection, as it is the pulsing heart of our Christian faith, yet never understanding how to live it freely. I often wonder what this morning must have been like for Mary Magdalene, as she set out before dawn to see the tomb of the beloved Man with Whom she walked, worshipped, and ate. Scripture conveys that once she is faced with the empty tomb of Jesus, she runs to Peter, flooded with confusion, doubt, and fear. She rushes in with panicked accusations, understandably, and is hindered from knowing the fullness of what the Father had promised by the Cross. (John 20:1-9) I can see myself at the empty tomb. Time and time again, I allow missing parts of the whole picture to taint my ability to rejoice in the fullness of the Heavenly promise. I am called to new risen life with the Father, freed from the grips of captivity, yet I am too comfortable with my doubtful, fractured vision. Complacency in my mistrust robs me of glimpses of the Spirit breathing life back into me, just as He said He would. When did I become so accustomed to the grave that I forgot to truly see the light of the Resurrection? The entirety of the Gospel message points to this morning—where we are immersed in the truth that all victimhood, doubt, and disappointment were shattered and left to the grave by the reality of His rising. We are invited into the light, untouched by our repeated denial and misunderstanding. Today beholds an uncompromising victory, a call for our hearts to reclaim their roots in liberty, where doubt dissipates at the presence of hope. He gives us permission to not know the entire picture in this moment, because its fullness is manifested in Heaven. We are an Easter people because doubt and fear did not get the last word, but the light of Hope did. [bctt tweet="Doubt and fear did not get the last word, but the light of Hope did."] May today be a bold proclamation of victory, in the face of the grave. He is risen; hallelujah, hallelujah. Sarah Elizabeth is a politics pre-law major at the Catholic University of America in Washington, DC. Born and raised in Arizona, she finds great joy in mountains, lattes, American history, and the piano. She is constantly discovering Christ's wild love in the little things.

The Mother of all Vigils (a title attributed to Saint Augustine), is upon us. Tonight, I will sit in a darkened church, illumined by the flicker of candles, and listen to ancient words crafted in the heart of Love. My Lenten journey out of the shadows of sin and slavery is almost complete. One last task awaits me tonight: to be fully attentive to God’s Word and to meditate on His wonderful works. As we listen to these deeds, recounted in seven readings from the Old Testament and two from the New, the Lord "beginning with Moses and all the prophets," desires to meet us on our journey to the empty tomb, and open our eyes to meet Him in the Scriptures. Here are a few threads from this tapestry of redemption that the Church weaves for us tonight. May it foster in us abiding gratitude for how God has acted to save us. Genesis 1:1-2:2—God is good! His goodness is revealed in the creation of order out of chaos, culminating in the crown of His creation, whom He declared “very good.” Tonight, as you reflect on the goodness of God, expressed in His creation, recognize that He has proclaimed that you are “very good” and thank Him for His wonderful masterpiece. Genesis 22:1-18—God is faithful! He will provide. His faithfulness is revealed in His provision for Abraham’s sacrifice. Tonight, as you reflect on the faithfulness of God who did not withhold His only beloved Son as a sacrifice for you, ask Him to for the grace to respond to His fidelity with ongoing obedience. Exodus 14:15-15:1—God is mighty! He delivers His people from the power of their enemies with great signs and wonders. He is a warrior who fights for us. Tonight, as you reflect on the saving power of the Lord, ask Him to vanquish the Enemy of your soul and then, like the Israelites, rejoice in His saving power. Isaiah 54:5-14—God is merciful! Although we have sinned and wandered far from Him, He calls us back and offers us redemption. God’s love endures forever. Tonight, as you reflect on His merciful love, recall the ways He has redeemed and restored you. If you feel forsaken, know that He is calling you back. Isaiah 55:1-11—God is near! He knows us and invites us in our hunger, thirst, and poverty, to seek Him. As a Father, He promises to care for and satisfy us. Tonight, as you reflect on His nearness, call upon Him and say yes to His invitation; then ask for the courage to extend His invitation to the world. Baruch 3:9-15, 32-4:4—God is wisdom! His wisdom brings strength, understanding and peace. Tonight, ask God to open to you the treasury of His wisdom and to lead you in the way of understanding. Ezekiel 36:16-28—God is holy! His Holy Spirit purifies and renews us so that with a new heart we can live in love according to His ways. Tonight, as you reflect on His holiness, ask Him to make your heart new again and to give you a fresh outpouring of His Holy Spirit. As the lights go up around us, we move in the last two readings (Romans 6:3-11 and Mark 16:1-8) from promise to fulfillment, and death to life. The tomb is empty. He has been raised and His love has triumphed! [bctt tweet="He has been raised and His love has triumphed!"] Tonight, rejoice in His resurrection and live in the light of freedom and hope. 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.

During a pilgrimage I was on last summer, I found myself staring at an image of the second Station of the Cross, when Jesus carries His cross. What was different about this particular depiction I was looking at, though, was that this was the moment right before Jesus began to carry His cross. In the icon, Jesus' hands were open and extended towards the cross in an inviting way—in a way that accepted what was to come, and that was intentionally willing what was going to happen next. Jesus was pursuing God's will for Him; He was accepting the cross as it was about to be handed to him. Standing before this image, I felt slightly breathless, because before me stood our Lord Jesus showing me how to live and how to die. The Crucifix typically does this for me, but this icon cemented in my mind Jesus' obedience and His will, His very own decision and volition to follow the Father's will for Him. Perhaps it's because I will most likely not die a martyr's death on a cross that the crucifix can sometimes be hard to relate to. But that moment before Jesus picks up His cross? The moment when Jesus has an opportunity to respond to the situation? This is a moment I see happen in my everyday life, multiple times a day. This is a moment I can relate to more easily on a daily basis. One opportunity for my husband and I to respond arose when we faced multiple health trials; we didn't know what would happen, so we turned to Jesus. As I look for guidance on how to respond to these moments that present themselves. . . .these moments where our Father's will is playing out in my life, then I see that I'm asked to choose God's will, too; not begrudgingly, not with hesitation, but with confidence and great trust—the same kind of trust that Jesus exhibited when He said, "'Shall I not drink the cup that the Father gave me?'" (John 18:11) And so my prayer today is that we all are able to trust that the Lord our God has a plan, and that our Savior Jesus Christ has already walked this road ahead of us—and even better, continues to walk it beside us. He sees us, He knows us, and He saves us. [bctt tweet="He sees us, He knows us, and He saves us."] Let's pray for one another, sisters, to embrace our crosses with joy today. 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.

There are few things in life I love as much as getting a good pedicure. The hot bubble bath for my toes delights me. And that foot massage with lotion? It is like a birthday party for my feet! While I love someone giving me a pedicure, I do not like other people's feet. Let's just say I could never ever be a podiatrist. I always chuckle thinking about this whenever I hear this Gospel passage for the Mass of the Lord's Supper. Saint Peter was so stubborn in refusing Jesus' action of love because he knew this was the job of a servant. Only a servant washes the grime and grossness off feet tromping in sandals all day long. Certainly not the Messiah. Wrong again, Peter. Jesus knows the disciples will only come to understand His actions later on as time passes. One of His final teachings to His closest friends was this: If you want to be great in the Kingdom, you need to be willing to serve. You need to be willing to get messy. You need to be willing to genuinely love and care for people you do not like or who don't agree with you. You may not literally wash someone's feet (thank goodness!) but who is that person -- at school, work, your parish, your family -- where you need to serve them with the exact love with which Jesus washed His disciples' feet? Who is that person you struggle with most? That's the person you need to serve in love. When Jesus gives us this as a model to follow, we cannot slide out of it. The day before our God pours out His life for us, He shows us how to serve each other in love, with the depth of His love for us. [bctt tweet="If you want to be great in the Kingdom, you need to be willing to serve. // @amoderngrace"] If you are able to visit the Altar of Repose tonight, spend some time with Jesus asking this question and waiting on His response: Who are the people most unlike me that I need to go wash their feet? Then be willing to get messy and go do it. Patty Breen is a runner, youth minister ordinaire, 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.

"What are you willing to give me if I hand him over to you?" (Matthew 26:15) For the times I handed You over, Lord, for popularity and acceptance, have mercy on me. For the times I handed You over, Lord, for comfort and ease, have mercy on me. For the times I handed You over, Lord, for my own desires over yours, have mercy on me. For the times I handed You over, Lord, for time to idly waste, have mercy on me. For the times I handed You over, Lord, for not rocking the boat and looking the other way when wrong was done, have mercy on me. For the times I handed You over, Lord, for saying what I thought even when my words cut other's hearts, have mercy on me. For the times I handed You over, Lord, for a hard heart when I refused to forgive, have mercy on me. For the times I handed You over, Lord, for doing nothing in times when love was demanded, have mercy on me. For the times I handed You over, Lord, for the convenience of using people, have mercy on me. For the times I handed You over, Lord, for so much less than thirty pieces of silver, have mercy on me. [bctt tweet="For the times I handed You over, Lord, have mercy on me."] As we journey through this most Holy Week of the year, let's do the difficult work of looking at ourselves and what our sin contributes to Christ's suffering. We are part of the story, we are part of His pain just as we are part of His Resurrection. 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.

When I was a teenager I went on several retreats and was involved in my youth group. In my early 20s I served with a Catholic ministry for almost an entire year. I attended a Catholic university and lived in Rome for four months during my time as a student. I’ve done many, many Catholic things. And yet, I have fallen away from the Lord many, many times. I’ve sinned willingly, out of weakness, and sometimes out of ignorance. But I’ve always sinned because of my pride. I have considered myself safe, above failure, and therefore not found it necessary to maintain and nurture my spiritual life. I have found myself drifting away at sea, no longer anchored in the safe harbor of His love. I think that’s why today’s Gospel always leaves me uneasy. I’m afraid I am Judas, but I am most definitely Peter, zealous and unaware of my weakness. I fall over and over again, denying my Lord. It’s easy to say, “I will lay down my life for you,” but it's so much harder to actually do it. My pride, it blinds me. It blurs my vision. It is the foundational sin, to think we can do anything without God’s grace, or that we are beyond His saving. When I’m entangled in my pride, I fail to see my true self and instead see a distorted version of reality. And what is that reality? That He offers His hand to me as I’m drowning in the sea. What He wants, despite your sins, is you. [bctt tweet="He offers His hand to me as I’m drowning in the sea. // @jacquiskemp"] Open yourself to contrition. Over and over again, accept His hand. This week especially, make the effort to bridge the gap. He will you meet you there. It’s the only thing I’m sure of. 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.

Growing up, I was always so thrilled to start Holy Week on Palm Sunday. The readings, the palms, the pomp, and the Hosannas! So exciting! But then, a lull. Monday. Mondays always get a bad rap, but Monday of Holy Week always feels extremely like a Monday. No one is venerating the cross or slamming the door at the end of Tenebrae. No dark candlelit services or Seven Last Words. No feet washing! Holy Monday was just . . . a Monday. As a single woman, liturgical life often looks very different from my friends who are forming children through observance of the year, but Holy Monday is a quiet day amidst a whirlwind of liturgical life for all of us. This year, I have learned in a new way to appreciate the quiet days. The lull provides an opportunity to stop and breathe in the silence. Even the readings today remind us that the work of God is not always loud or obvious. Salvation is often far more subtle. In Isaiah 42, today’s First Reading, the Messiah is characterized oh-so-quietly: "Upon whom I have put my Spirit; he shall bring forth justice to the nations, Not crying out, not shouting, not making his voice heard in the street." Today, have a Holy Monday. A quiet Monday. Don’t cry out or shout or make your voice heard in the street. Do Christ’s work quietly. Prepare your surroundings and heart for Holy Week. Find moments of peace and silence to begin to form yourself for the spiritual intensity of the week ahead. I have a few ideas to consider, regardless of your state in life: Go to Mass. Spend time in Adoration. Fold yesterday's palms and tuck them behind your crucifix. Cover your icons. Do a Corporal Work of Mercy. Or a Spiritual Work of Mercy. Clean your home for the week ahead. Schedule which liturgies and services you plan to attend for the rest of Holy Week. Invite someone to a liturgy or service with you later in Holy Week. Pray the Liturgy of the Hours. Go to Confession. Reflect on the Stations of the Cross. Do your grocery shopping for the week. Consider eating simply and penitentially. Find spiritual reading to accompany your Holy Week and spend some time with it. Sit silently with Jesus, listening. [bctt tweet="Do Christ’s work quietly. Prepare your surroundings and heart for Holy Week. // @br1gid"] Take one of these suggestions and run with it. You're almost there! Make the best of the remaining days of Lent. 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.

Today is Palm Sunday. It’s the day upon which we recall Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem, listen to the ( L O N G ) Gospel description of His passion and death, and, if you’re like me, try to keep your kids from stabbing each other with their palms. Jesus enters Jerusalem riding on a donkey. This is in fulfillment of the prophecy, "Fear no more, O daughter Zion; see, your king comes, seated upon an ass's colt." (John 12:15) It’s also meaningful; Jesus is not a conquering king, with a nationalistic earthly agenda, riding in on a war horse. Jesus is the King of Peace, riding in on a gentle donkey. We, the faithful, are given palm fronds (or some other type of branch in some places) in imitation of the crowds who lined the streets that day, waving palms as symbols of peace and victory. The palms are blessed, and, as sacramentals, are meant to help dispose us to better receive the graces of the Mass and the Eucharist. (Catechism of the Catholic Church §§ 1667, 1670) Because of this, they shouldn’t be thrown away. (Code of Canon Law, #1171) They can be folded into crosses or other decorative shapes (or not) and tucked into car sun visors or behind picture frames, or buried, or burned at home, or brought back to church to be burned to make ashes for Ash Wednesday next year. The Gospel reading for today spans the events of the upcoming Holy Week: From Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem on Sunday, to the unnamed woman who anoints Jesus with costly perfumed oil, and Judas’ dastardly deal with the chief priests on Spy Wednesday . . . . To the Last Supper, and the institution of the Eucharist and the sacramental priesthood, and the Agony in the Garden, and Judas’ betrayal with a kiss on Holy Thursday . . . . To Jesus’ trial before the high priest, and Peter’s betrayal, and Jesus’ trial before Pilate, where we, the crowd, who cheered Jesus with our palms a few days ago, now shout, “Crucify Him!” and demand the release of Barabbas instead, and the Crowning with Thorns, and the Scourging at the Pillar, and the Carrying of the Cross, and the Crucifixion and death of Our Lord, and the laying in the tomb, all on Good Friday. Palm Sunday is our day to rejoice in the majesty of the Lord, and also to prepare ourselves for the sorrowful journey of Holy Week, and the glorious day of the resurrection that is almost here. [bctt tweet="Jesus is the King of Peace, riding in on a gentle donkey. // @kendra_tierney"] Are you feeling prepared for Holy Week? Let the Gospel reading sink in so you can make way in your heart for Jesus Our Risen Lord on Easter! Kendra Tierney is a forty 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.

I was friends with Travis for almost two years. We were good friends, too—I even helped pick out the engagement ring he gave to his high-school sweetheart. A few months later he called off that engagement to attend seminary, but just like the wild plot of some Catholic rom-com, we realized shortly thereafter we were more than friends. We realized, in fact, that we were in love and after dating for two weeks we had a wedding date; six months later we were married. I married a hardworking man who loved God, His Church, and me. He was my best friend and everything should have been great. But, I could not believe that he was happy with his choice. Every day I lived in fear that he was still in love with his ex, that he regretted marrying me, and that he didn't love me. We fought about it often and my stubborn, hard heart held tightly to this dumb lie. And it was a lie, because the truth of the matter is that Travis has never loved anyone the way he loves me. Here God had done something so amazing, and because of the hardness of my heart I refused to rejoice in it. Needless to say, I can relate to those Jews in the Gospel who went to the Pharisees. They had been with Lazarus' sister Mary and had seen him rise from the dead! Talk about God doing something amazing! And yet, Saint John relays to us in his Gospel that instead of believing in and following Jesus they, "went to the Pharisees and told them what Jesus had done." (John 11:46) Because of the hardness of their hearts they were not open to the good news. They refused to rejoice in what God had done, and instead they lived in fear. I missed out on a great deal of good in the early years of my marriage because I refused to believe that I was lovable and that God would give me a man better than the man of my dreams. The Pharisees missed out on their God and Savior who was right before them because they refused to believe that God would work in such a way. In what way is your heart hard? What needs to be softened, or perhaps even broken, so that God may fill it with every good thing? What dumb lie are you clinging to that is robbing you of joy? Don't be like us stubborn fools—reject those lies and focus on the good that God has given you. [bctt tweet="Reject those lies and focus on the good that God has given you. // @BonnieEngstrom"] Be honest with yourself and take inventory of your self-hurting lies. List them out and cross them off! Take them to prayer, trusting in God's beautiful love for you. 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.

Most days I sit down for a few minutes of quiet prayer after the craziness of our home school morning has passed by, the children are fed, and the quiet time has begun. Many of those days I feel like the King David in today’s Psalm: "The breakers of death surged round about me, the destroying floods overwhelmed me; The cords of the nether world enmeshed me, the snares of death overtook me." (Psalm 18:5-6) I have so much to do, so much I have not done. I have been dealing with four little people's stubborn wills all morning in addition to my own. And finally, finally there are a few minutes of quiet. In the quiet of the afternoon I try to find the interior quiet of being with God. My mind is still racing from the morning, and to clear it, I tell it all to the Lord. I thank Him for the day: the good things and the bad things. I talk to Him about what is distressing me, what is overwhelming me, and what I still need to do that day. I ask for guidance on what things I should do and how to do them well. Then I rest and listen for His voice. I read His Scripture. I meditate on His words for me. "In my distress I called upon the LORD and cried out to my God; From his temple he heard my voice, and my cry to him reached his ears." (Psalm 18:7) He hears my prayers when I talk to Him. He is not so far away as it would seem. And He helps me with His grace to find peace amidst the overwhelming floods of my day. This quiet recovery time to be with God has become crucial to my inner peace. But I cannot have that peace if I do not cry out to Him. [bctt tweet="I cannot have peace if I do not cry out to Him."] None of our problems are too big or too small for God. Cry out to Him in your need, sisters, and He will hear your voice and be your rock of refuge. He will bring you peace, even when there seems to be terror on every side. 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.

Each morning, as I say goodbye to my youngest children, they receive a blessing on their foreheads with the words, "Bring God glory through your actions." It is a little phrase, sometimes shouted as they turn to run through the school gates, but I pray that it sets on their hearts and that they learn to grow in faith and love in their daily actions. We read in our psalm today, "Look to the LORD in his strength; seek to serve him constantly." (Psalm 105:4-5) How do we actually serve Him constantly in this busy world where it seems we serve everyone except the Lord? It is in that precise question where we find the answer. We bring God glory through our everyday actions. By taking the hand of your child, by giving a co-worker a smile or word of encouragement, by devoting a little extra time to ask a fellow student how they are doing, or asking someone if they need help, by fasting throughout the day as a private devotion to our beloved, by moving the laundry over and asking the Lord to clothe with righteousness all those who wear, or touch, or see these fabrics. What we do and how we do it matters. Even the minor things. It isn’t enough to just say that we love God. Our actions, our behaviors, our words, must live out that love. Lent gives us a purposeful time to live out our love in specific action. Lent isn’t only about suffering through the witching hour without a glass of wine, or giving up our social media for a few weeks, or waking up early to pray in the quiet of the morning. If we only practice the big moments of devotion, we miss all the little moments which make up our lives. Do the big things too when you can, but as Lent draws to a close, let's try to also develop a habit of love in action with the little things, all the time. That is where we will find ourselves living the life of constant prayer. [bctt tweet="Let's try to develop a habit of love in action with the little things, all the time."] How are you doing with your Lenten commitments of Fasting, Prayer, and Almsgiving? Have you given up? Even if you have struggled in the tedium of the last few weeks, recommit yourself to what matters most today. 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.