As a child, I loved to read a book we had about the story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, which we hear in today's First Reading. (Daniel 3:14-20, 91-92, 95) Perhaps it was all the names that I found interesting, but it was also the story itself that left a powerful impression on me. The three boys refuse to worship an idol despite the king's command, and they are bound up and thrown into a hot furnace. However, when the king looks in, he sees not only the three boys he thew into the furnace, but also a fourth. An angel of God is present with them and they walk about freely and unbound without the flames harming them. The king then offers praise to their God because of this miracle. As I reflect on today's First Reading today, I find it interesting that God does not rescue the young boys before they are thrown into the heat. Instead God shows up there with them in the furnace and they are free and remain unharmed. The prayer of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego is very powerful. They pray for God to save them from being thrown into the fire, but even if their God will not save them in this way, they still refuse to serve any false gods. Their faith in His ability to save is so great, but so is their faithfulness to stay true to God even if He doesn’t deliver them. I want my prayer to be like that too—believing that God can save me. But even if He does not rescue me in the way or timing that I want, I still will remain faithful to Him because He is ever faithful to me. Perhaps that kind of prayer invites God to work in powerful ways and perform miracles that would not otherwise be possible. Jesus says in today's Gospel, "If you remain in my word, you will truly be my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free." (John 8:31) The boys of the First Reading are a powerful witness to courageously remaining in the truth and being a true disciple of Christ. Their faithfulness in truth is what leads them to freedom. [bctt tweet="Faithfulness in truth is what leads to freedom."] Even if in your life circumstances you may sometimes feel that you too are being thrown into the fiery heat, stay true and faithful. God is with you. He is faithful. He will not allow you to be harmed. 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.

Am I the only one counting the days left in Lent? It’s a little embarrassing how weary I’ve become with fasting and the liturgical season meant to make me rely more upon Christ. And yet here I am, so eager to reach the promise (Easter) but losing sight of the need to seek and listen to God on the journey. Yes, I am weary, worn out, prone to impatience and complaining to God about my life, whining about when are you going to answer me! Come on, Lord, hurry up and fix all the things going wrong! Whether or not the Psalmist whined as I too often do, I haven’t a clue. But his words are my words: "Let my cry come to you. Hide not your face from me in the day of my distress . . . answer me speedily." (Psalm 102:2-3) Speedily, Lord! I’m tired of waiting and wandering in this wretched (spiritual) desert. My journey is not over. God isn’t going to whisk me away from the daily crosses I have yet to carry between now and the end—whether I mean the end of Lent or the end of my earthly life. He didn’t instantly solve the Israelite’s problems, either. (Numbers 21:4-9) Yes, He heard their prayer just as loud and clear as He hears mine. But there is a lesson in their pleading, that while I wait, I must listen and trust. In the day of their distress—the people were dying!—Moses cried out to God for the Israelites. He pleaded for relief in their urgent need. God replied, and Moses was listening. How often am I listening? How often do I even pause for a breath so that God can answer me? When the Lord responded to Moses, He gave a command that the people must look upon a serpent to be saved. Certainly God could have saved the people in an instant, yet He asked something of them. And I think it wasn’t so much the serpent Moses fashioned for them that saved them, as it was their obedience and turning back to God with full trust. [bctt tweet="While I wait, I must listen and trust."] What are you pleading for? Today, quiet your own voice for a few minutes, and listen to the Lord who hears you, and has an answer for you. Wait for Him, and trust. 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.

My hometown cathedral houses a beautiful statue of the Holy Family. The statue depicts the Child Jesus standing in front of Mary and Joseph. Mary's hands are folded in prayer as she looks lovingly at her Son, and Joseph's right arm and hand are hanging loosely but intentionally over Jesus' chest, close to His heart. In turn, the Child Jesus is reaching up and holding tightly to His earthly dad's arm. This image always strikes me because it is such a natural father-child position. I watch my husband do the same thing, mindlessly, when our son stands in front of him. Arms reaching low, hands covering the heart of his child. This protective stance speaks volumes of a father's ordained role, and I will never cease to be amazed that our God entrusted Himself to the care of an imperfect man. Today, we celebrate the feast of Saint Joseph, foster father of Jesus and patron saint of the universal Church. Just as God placed Himself in the protective care of Joseph, He places us, His beloved Church, under that same unwavering care. As our guardian, Saint Joseph places his hand over our hearts, he shares the wisdom of his fidelity to God (even in the midst of uncertainty), he worries about us when we get lost, and he turns back to find us. If our Lord found Joseph worthy to protect and provide for Him, why shouldn't we do the same? Sisters, what would you like to entrust to Saint Joseph today? He's standing beside you, and his hand is placed protectively over your heart. Cling to him tightly in return. He's waiting to bear your cares and bring your concerns to the Father. Put him in charge of something. Let him show you how to respond to God's plan in faith. Let him find you if you're lost. Let him provide for you. Let him protect you. [bctt tweet="If our Lord found Joseph worthy to protect and provide for Him, why shouldn't we do the same?"] Saint Joseph, patron of the universal Church and terror of demons, pray for us. 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.

[devotion based upon the readings for Year B] We’re almost there, sisters. It’s the final Sunday before Palm Sunday and Holy Week—can you believe it? How are you holding up? I have to make a confession, sisters: At this point in the Lenten season, I have often found myself over it. I am so ready for Easter—the joy of the Risen Lord! The hope of the Resurrection! The sweet new life of springtime! But, not yet. Our Lord says it clearly in today's Gospel. "Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there also will my servant be." (John 12:26) There is more for us to journey through with our precious Lord. What a gift it is to know the promise that awaits us if we stay with Him on the road. If we are faithful servants, we will also know the empty tomb, and best of all, abide with Him forever in eternal life. I invite you to step away from your everyday activity to walk with the Lord for a few minutes today. Quiet your heart. Holy Spirit, bless my Christian imagination in this moment. Give me a soft, open heart to hear from You. “A clean heart create for me, O God and a steadfast spirit renew within me.” (Psalm 51:12) Holy Spirit, what does a clean heart look like? What does my heart look like? Has the Lord written anything upon your heart, sister? (Jeremiah 31:33b) “Give me back the joy of your salvation.” (Psalm 51:14) Take a moment to imagine what the joy of salvation actually feels like. Ask the Spirit to fill you with it. Tell the Holy Spirit: “I would like to see Jesus,” just as the Greeks did in today’s Gospel. (cf John 12:21). What do you see when you look into His eyes? [bctt tweet="Holy Spirit, bless my imagination. Give me an open heart to hear from You. // @inendlesssong"] Lord, grant us the grace to journey faithfully with You. Give us open hearts, that we might hear and receive what You so generously wish to share with us along the way. 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.

"Nicodemus, one of their members who had come to him earlier, said to them, 'Does our law condemn a person before it first hears him and finds out what he is doing?'" (John 7:50-51) Sometimes the deepest condemnation comes from ourselves. I turned my phone over and rolled with my back to it on my nightstand. The bride would be annoyed, maybe even disappointed that our RSVP changed from yes to no. We were now officially those people with kids who flaked on catering numbers and chair counts for out-of-town wedding. My sighs turned into sobs as my husband awkwardly patted my back, six months after the birth of our third. They will understand. You can't drive for eight hours with your health issues. Go easy on yourself. He had heard my sobs yesterday about unexplained pains, doctors re-visited. And the day before that. Have you found yourself in a position of needing to cancel? To say no to your commitments? To ask someone to help on a project you thought you could bang out quickly? And maybe it's because you're suffering from a mental health breakdown or your body has flared up with issues, leaving you to feel like a total loser and helpless. Maybe it's someone else's story that's impacting your ability to follow through, a sibling suffering from addiction who bottomed out, a beloved who lost their job and you're stepping in to manage things at their household. You might not be able to even be heard, if the world even cared to listen. Jesus was about as misunderstood as any human ever. I'm going to safely say the most misunderstood. Yes, we can see the Pharisees in today's Gospel are rotten listeners and holding hearts of stone. But do I hear Him? Do I live the Gospel? Am I so consumed by my own woes and troubles, fussing over how I look to those around me? Bewailing my limitations like they're the end of the world. Before I drown in self-pity, maybe I can use this as an opportunity to give others in my life the benefit of the doubt when they cancel, quit, disappear. Jesus would want me to hear them out, and if they can't speak on it, love them anyway. He died for those Pharisees, too, you know. [bctt tweet="Jesus died for those Pharisees, too. // @WholeParenting"] Are you condemning those around you without hearing them out, or loving them anyway? Healthy expectations and boundaries are important, but maybe issuing forgiveness can live alongside them, too. Nell O'Leary is a recovering lawyer who blogs, sews, and speaks 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.

My dad died before he could walk me down the aisle. This was the first thought that came to my heart when I heard the words, “Daddy died,” from my mother's lips. There would be no father-daughter dance at my reception, no proclamation of, “Her mother and I do,” when the priest asks, “Who gives this woman away?” He was gone, and my heart went numb in a single breath. The days that followed were filled with picking out a plot, digging through photos for a slideshow, and selecting songs and readings for his funeral Mass. The days sped by like a pointless music montage in a movie and then paused to a frame-by-frame, slow motion the day of his funeral. In my entire life, I have never felt closer to the Lord than that day. Standing next to my mom, walking behind my father’s casket, I fully comprehended that my dad was, in fact, walking me down the aisle, not to my earthly husband, but to my heavenly bridegroom, Christ. As his body approached the altar, I reflected on how he laid down his life for my family so we would know Christ’s eternal love. Standing beneath the cross, I recalled all the sacrifices he made for us, always unspoken, frequently unnoticed. Looking at the community assembled, I saw the village my father and mother surrounded us with as we grew up. “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted.” (Psalm 34:18) The Lord was so close to me that day I celebrated my father’s life of holiness and prayed for his soul to be received into eternal rest. Just when we least expect the Lord to hear our cry, He listens. No childish tantrum or hysterics are necessary; no tear even needs to fall down our cheek. He provides refuge in the storm while the storm rages. In moments when we least expect to feel Him near, He remains close, close enough to hear His heartbeat when ours feels like it will never beat again. [bctt tweet="He provides refuge in the storm while the storm rages. // @LT_TriciaT"] Are you suffering a broken heart? Take a moment to stop by the Adoration chapel. Trust in Our Lord's love for you and His passionate heartbeat for yours. 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 slid into the pew before the Blessed Sacrament, woeful and heavy-hearted. I needed to go to Confession but hadn’t yet had the chance. I’d come to pray, but sat enveloped in shame, imagining God’s eyes boring straight through to my inner ugliness. How could I deign to worship Him, knowing what I’d done? But slowly, I understood it was my own eyes condemning me. God? He gazed down gently and lovingly, prodding me to lift my gaze to Him in return. Tears welled up as I sensed Him saying, Even this can’t stop My love for you. All I could do was sit there feeling wholly unworthy and undeserving as Unconditional Love wrapped His arms around me. This was the first of two recent revelations that drove home the depth and realness of God’s personal love. The other came during Mass one day when I was aching over the evil in our world. Suddenly, God revealed to me a deeper understanding of the Passion: it was not just for my sins that He willingly suffered His crushing, agonizing sacrifice—it was for every known and unknown evil, every horrific war and atrocity and soul wound, past, present, and future—all at the same instant in time. And He took it all on, experienced every last bit, for love of us. The readings today express this Divine Love in some beautiful language. Yet sometimes the scriptural examples of maternal love and healing still feel distant. We believe these truths for others while exempting ourselves, thinking we’re unlovable “as is.” We extol God’s love for others only to limit and qualify our lovability with, “but me . . . I’ve done this—and I don’t do that.” To accept such Love we need to become confident in it. In these two revelations, God held out “proof,” pouring out the assurances He longs for all of us to accept. And when we’re injured by sin, He picks us up—literally bleeding with Love—so we won’t have to walk that dark valley alone. Because in His passion, He’s already walked every last dark valley of bullying, betrayal, disgrace, slander, abuse, persecution, and death—to support us through it and redeem us from it. All because we're so eternally loveable. [bctt tweet="When we’re injured by sin, He picks us up—literally bleeding with Love—so we won’t have to walk that dark valley alone."] Mediate for 5 minutes today on all the ways God pursues you in Love. 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.

“Do you want to be well?” he asked. (John: 5:6) Six words. A simple question. But what do I answer? Yes, Lord. Of course I want to be well. To be healed. To be who You made me to be. But how? It has been so long. And I feel so alone. How can I be well in the midst of this brokenness? How can I heal when I feel such pain? How do I move forward, into Your arms, when the harsh gaze of others reminds me of my wounds and holds me back? How do I make it to You? “Rise, take up your mat and walk.” (John 5:8) Seven words this time. A simpler statement. But how can it be so? Can’t You see that I am weak? How can I possibly rise, let alone carry this load? I am scared. Yet I feel a warmth in Your presence. My heart is stirring at the sound of Your voice. If You say I can do it, it must be so. Jesus, I trust in You. And so, I rise, pick up my mat, and walk. I walk past the faces of disbelief. I walk past those who stare and whisper doubt about the worth of this miracle. I walk past their judgement, as well as my own, past my vices and my fears, the things I idolize and the things I cling to. I keep walking forward, feeling stronger with each step, pushing through the stumbles, until I am there, in Your embrace, safe, loved, and free. [bctt tweet="In Your embrace I am safe, loved, and free."] What's holding you back from walking toward Jesus' loving embrace? Make a good Confession, get to Mass, pray with a wide-open heart. Sarah Stanley is a small town Ohio girl who is mildly obsessed with all things Ignatian and is very passionate about faith, social justice, and the intersection of the two. She recently earned her Master of Divinity and now serves as the Director of Christian Service at a high school in New England. When she’s not working, she enjoys contagious laughter, travel, clever puns, and finding the good in all things. You can find out more about her here.

One restless night, while on a silent retreat a few years ago, my heart was experiencing a lot of pain. I tend to pray when I can’t sleep, and that night was such a raw, authentic experience of my poverty. I was clumsily navigating a strange combination of disappointment, fear, depression, and grief. Tears dampened my pillow because I felt very stuck. My spirit felt paralyzed with weakness, and I did not understand what the Father was doing. It felt very dark, but there was a deep grace in prayer when I felt the presence of Jesus’ nearness and heard Him quietly whisper to my heart, We have to wait for the dawn. So, we waited together, with my rather dim light of hope. This experience seemed to echo David’s prayer today in Psalm 30, “At nightfall, weeping enters in, but with the dawn, rejoicing.” However, I wasn’t rejoicing and dancing that next morning. The healing Jesus is doing in my heart has taken time. A lot of time. But Jesus is faithful, and He has given me joy. Did you notice the thread in today’s readings of sorrow being transformed into joy? They are connected realities. And no matter where you find yourself today, know that in His perfect time, hearts that have been wounded with sorrow will be healed with joy. [bctt tweet="Know that in His perfect time, hearts that have been wounded with sorrow will be healed with joy."] Re-read the Psalm. Memorize it. Take it to heart. Believe the healing is possible. 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.

A couple of months ago, I received word that someone I love dearly was in the hospital. It was midday when I got the news, and I was working. I couldn’t digest everything at that moment. I hung up the phone, wiped a few tears, and got back to work. I do that, don’t I? Get back to work. Because life doesn’t stop and schedules don’t stop and to-do lists don’t stop and kids are always hungry and there is always an email to answer and patient charts to finish and laundry to do and the list goes on and on. Tragedy strikes and I get back to work. Kids don’t sleep and I get back to work. Viruses hit and I get back to work. Working is what I’m good at. In the hive, I’d be top worker bee. But stopping? Nope, not gonna do it. That’s where silence is. That’s where thoughts creep in. That’s where hearts burst open and emotions are raked across the coals. And that’s where I can hear God’s voice. Later that evening, I was taking a shower. And that’s when the crying came. "He will come to us like the rain, like spring rain that waters the earth." (Hosea 6:3) It came and words spilled forth from the very bottom of me. “Please, please God, please save her, please, PLEASE.” Over and over I begged and cried and under the stream of the hot water I felt His mercy. When I finally had released all my defenses, I let Him in. He was waiting for me. He wants me. He loves me. And I finally realized it, after a good cry in the shower. [bctt tweet="Let Him in. He is waiting. // @Substance_Soul"] Are you clinging tightly in order to keep on going? Let your defenses down and God's love wash over you like rain. He is patiently waiting. 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.

When I read the daily devotions, if the First Reading is from the Old Testament, I admittedly tend to skim the reading—"iniquity . . . offer bullocks . . . Assyria"—and jump right to the Gospel. However, today these words caught my attention—". . . In you the orphan finds compassion . . . I will heal their defection, says the Lord, I will love them freely." (Hosea 14:4-5) That portrays a powerful image of compassion, healing, and Fatherly love. In a previous devotion I shared that it was easy for me to imagine God as the Master Creator or a just Judge, but I still had trouble picturing Him as a “dad.” I wanted to know in my heart, and not just my head, that God loved me as a precious daughter. I was thinking about this as I went to the chapel to pray and write. I prayed and an hour later, I closed my notebook. I felt at peace but wrote nothing. I drove home and the song “Call My Name” from the band Third Day came on and it moved me. I heard, “Call my name/ Say it now/ I want you to never doubt/ The love I have for you is so alive.” Whoa. Something inside me was breaking. I could feel the wall that kept God at arm’s length start to crumble. I rolled into my driveway, parked the car, and sat as I pictured God the Father standing there with open arms. He didn’t have a look of judgment or reproach on His face. He had a look of Fatherly love that said, I’ve been waiting for this. Come, my daughter. And I lost it. A flood gate of tears poured out that I didn’t even know I had. I share this because this is the essence of Lent. It goes beyond giving things up and denying yourself. As the Gospel says, there is more than just "burnt offerings and sacrifices." (Mark 12:33) Lent is a time for reflection, repentance, and reconciliation. It is a time to return to God Our Father and be healed from the things that stop us from loving Him with all our heart, all our mind, and all our strength. [bctt tweet="Lent is a time to return to God Our Father and be healed. // @bobbi_rol"] Sometimes God will use something completely unexpected to nudge us and call us back to Him. Be open and receptive to His call. There is healing waiting for 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.

Today's USCCB Readings "Pray about it," my husband would say in an almost robotic sort of tone. It was his go-to when he had no answer. And my go-to response was a flippant, "Okay!" as my eyes rolled in deep-seated cynicism. I didn’t want a skeptic’s heart, but I had one. Because when you’ve stared at negative pregnancy tests for nine years of your marriage, I guess you start to doubt. And that’s precisely what happened. I doubted my way through the "it’ll happen when it’s time" comments. I doubted my way through the "miracles occur" pleasantries. I even doubted my way through the Jeremiah 29:11 promise I often read to myself when the ache in my heart got to be too heavy. Because when it came right down to it, I didn’t believe that God was Who He says. I didn’t believe that He could, or would, perform miracles. Doubt seeped its way into even my most secure defenses. It’s alarming how easily doubt can undermine your trust, how it can take the rudimentary parts of your faith and turn it into something you no longer recognize. When I read today’s Gospel, I see that human inclination to doubt so prevalently. Upon the miracle performed, "Some of [the witnesses] said, 'By the power of Beelzebul, the prince of demons, he drives out demons.' Others, to test him, asked him for a sign from heaven." (Luke 11:15-16) And who can blame them? I mean, healing a deaf person does seem pretty impossible, but finally seeing a positive pregnancy test after nine years of negatives also seemed quite impossible. But our God, He is the God of the impossible, for it is written that “nothing will be impossible for God.” (Luke 1:37) [bctt tweet="Our God, He is the God of the impossible. // @IamBritCal"] Believe it, dear sisters, for He makes all things new. Brittany Calavitta is an enthusiastic advocate for a good book, strong coffee, and a hopeful heart. After battling years of infertility, she and her husband welcomed their first child on September 11, 2016. You can find out more about her here.

I was ten years old. I slowly become aware that other families in our neighborhood had nicer things, newer cars, and more exciting vacations than my family. For the first time I voiced feelings of jealousy to my parents. They could have responded in a dozen different ways, but I will never forget what my dad did. He pulled out his Bible, opened it to Matthew chapter six and read to me beginning at verse twenty five, where Jesus tells us not to be anxious about the things we have, rather to "seek first the kingdom of God, and His righteousness." (Matthew 6:33) This is just one of many memories I have of my parents teaching me to follow the Lord. I also remember them encouraging me to tithe ten percent of the money I earned when I became old enough to babysit. They taught me how to be kind and include everyone by opening our home to people who were on the outer ring of our social circle. Most importantly, they taught me how to pray by their own daily example. Every morning my parents prayed together before my dad left for work, and then later in the day as a part of our homeschool, my mom would read to me and my siblings from the Bible and lead us in prayer. I am so grateful for the example my parents set in teaching me to follow the Lord. I know it is in large part due to that example that I have remained close to the Lord throughout my life. Today’s First Reading and Gospel speak to the importance not only of following the commands of the Lord, but teaching others to do the same. I confess that now that I have children of my own, I am daunted by this demand. More than anything I want my children to be close to Jesus, and though my children are still young, I can already see how the world around us seeks to pull them away from the truth of the Gospel. When I worry about how I will teach my children to follow the Lord, I reflect on all my parents did for me, and realize the greatest teaching tool I have is my own obedient example. When we live out our obedience to Christ, we become teachers to all who see us. [bctt tweet="When we live out our obedience to Christ, we become teachers to all who see us."] How is your example bringing others to the Gospel? Examine your daily habits and see if there's even one simple one that you could change to better live this out. 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.

Some wounds heal easily—skinned knees, cut fingers. A bandage and some ointment usually fix things. But what about those invisible hurts we carry in our hearts? That knife of betrayal between your shoulder blades. That crushing disappointment you still feel under your ribs. Some experiences cut so deeply, the memory makes your lungs stop expanding. Even when our minds long to forgive, as Jesus tells Saint Peter he must, sometimes our bodies won’t let us forget the pain. How can we forgive someone who has hurt us this deeply? Forgiveness takes practice. It’s hard, but we work at it because Jesus expects it of us . . . not just once, but over and over again, as long as it takes. The Catechism of the Catholic Church tells us, “this outpouring of mercy cannot penetrate our hearts as long as we have not forgiven those who have trespassed against us . . . . In refusing to forgive our brothers and sisters, our hearts are closed and their hardness makes them impervious to the Father’s merciful love; but in confessing our sins, our hearts are opened to his grace.” (Catechism of the Catholic Church § 1864) Only the Holy Spirit can open our hearts to forgive others as God forgives us. Today’s parable ends with Jesus’ words: "So also my heavenly Father will do to every one of you if you do not forgive your brother from your heart." (Matthew 21:35) As the Catechism teaches, "It is not in our power not to feel or to forget an offense; but the heart that offers itself to the Holy Spirit turns injury into compassion and purifies the memory in transforming the hurt into intercession.” (Catechism of the Catholic Church § 2843) God sees our hidden hurts, and He doesn't expect us to forget the pain. Memories that reopen old wounds present opportunities to pray for healing of our hearts. Some wounds are too great to forgive immediately. But when we are too broken to extend forgiveness, God’s infinite mercy can overcome our pain, helping us forgive so we can move on. Forgiveness brings healing—if not the first time or the seventh time, then the seventy-seventh time. [bctt tweet="God’s infinite mercy can overcome our pain. // @dere_abbey"] God, grant us the strength to ask for healing of our deepest hurts. Let us pray the Divine Mercy Chaplet for those who have hurt us: “Have mercy on ________ and on the whole world.” Asking for God’s mercy for someone who has hurt us is a way to remind ourselves that that person is also deserving of God’s love, no matter how badly they have scarred us. Abbey Dupuy is the Assistant Theological Editor for Blessed is She and writes her life as a homeschooling mama of four frequently barefoot children. She muses about imperfect parenting, practicing gratitude, and celebrating the liturgical year with her young family on her blog. In her spare time, she enjoys running, gardening, coffee, and cookbooks, not usually at at the same time. You can find out more about her here.

I feel this First Reading in my bones. Naaman the leper was sent to Elisha the prophet. His problem was pretty obvious and Naaman had the reasonable, faith-filled expectation that he would be physically healed by the holy man. But instead of waving a magic wand, Elisha sends him to wash in the Jordan river—not once but seven times. Say what? So instead, in a move that sounds all too familiar, Naaman throws a hissy fit: "I thought that he would surely come out and stand there to invoke the LORD his God, and would move his hand over the spot, and thus cure the leprosy. Are not the rivers of Damascus, the Abana and the Pharpar, better than all the waters of Israel? Could I not wash in them and be cleansed?" (2 Kings 5:11-12) Naaman had already travelled some distance, already suffered so long, why didn’t God heal this “valiant” man on the spot? Why the ordeal? The repetition? I’ve thrown more than a few of my own tantrums with the Lord when He failed to give me what I wanted, when I wanted it, in the way I wanted it. But that’s just not the way it works. We have to cooperate with the Lord for our healing. Think about forgiveness. Have you ever been able to forgive someone once and for all who deeply—maybe even repeatedly—hurt you? Me neither. I have to go back to the river and wash again. And then again whenever it resurfaces and the wound is reopened. The asking, the journey, the repetition is all for a purpose. The Lord is after complete healing. Lasting change. He doesn’t do anything halfway, and it’s not usually a quick fix. But I’ll take the fullness over the fast any day. However long it takes, however the healing comes, it’s worth the wait, friend. It’s worth the effort. And you’re not on the journey alone. I’ll be right beside you walking my broken, believing body down to the river once more. [bctt tweet="The Lord is after complete healing. // @thebethdavis"] Sit with this notion of walking down to the river again. Journal through it. Pray on it. Ask Our Lord to guide you back and back. 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.

--- Gospel JN 2:13-25 Since the Passover of the Jews was near, Jesus went up to Jerusalem. He found in the temple area those who sold oxen, sheep, and doves, as well as the money changers seated there. He made a whip out of cords and drove them all out of the temple area, with the sheep and oxen, and spilled the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables, and to those who sold doves he said, "Take these out of here, and stop making my Father's house a marketplace." His disciples recalled the words of Scripture, Zeal for your house will consume me. At this the Jews answered and said to him, "What sign can you show us for doing this?" Jesus answered and said to them, "Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up." The Jews said, "This temple has been under construction for forty-six years, and you will raise it up in three days?" But he was speaking about the temple of his body. Therefore, when he was raised from the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this, and they came to believe the Scripture and the word Jesus had spoken.While he was in Jerusalem for the feast of Passover, many began to believe in his name when they saw the signs he was doing. But Jesus would not trust himself to them because he knew them all, and did not need anyone to testify about human nature. He himself understood it well. (Year B) --- In fourth grade, my class and I read this Gospel (John 2:13-25) in Catholic school. And I was honestly confused by Jesus’ behavior. So I raised my hand. “Jesus gets angry and throws the furniture around,” I asked earnestly. “Isn’t that . . . well . . . sort of a sinful thing to do?” My teacher widened her eyes. “Be careful,” she intoned, probably not knowing how to answer. Yet as a little girl I was instantly afraid of my own question. Was I sinning just by asking? Would a lightning bolt zap me out of my desk, leaving only a smoking pile of blue plaid? It’s taken me a while to get here, but I can now see the difference between the question I asked and, say, the people selling goods in the temple. My question was motivated by a sincere desire to understand; the people in the temple were motivated by a love of commerce over the sacred. As we see in the Gospel, the latter does call for righteous anger. Jesus probably welcomed my question as a part of my young effort to wrestle with and claim a life of faith. Since then, I’ve had to wrestle with other difficult questions. When I had a miscarriage right after an ectopic pregnancy, I couldn’t understand how God could let a second devastating loss happen to me. I was confused and angry. And I knew that it was useless to hide this anger because He would see it anyhow. So I expressed my feelings, this time without fear I’d be struck by lightning. And it turned out that being upfront about my anger was a necessary step in moving beyond it and in ultimately recovering my understanding of a God who loves me. So I think the last sentences of today’s Gospel are good to commit to memory. Jesus doesn’t need anyone to tell Him about human nature, about our confusion and anger and grief, because He already understands it well. And as we struggle with hard questions about God and about ourselves, it’s a relief to know that we can be totally up-front with Him. We have nothing to lose, and a lot of understanding to gain. [bctt tweet="We have nothing to lose, and a lot of understanding to gain."] What’s a part of your own human nature that you feel hesitant to share with God? Be up-front about it in prayer, resting in the confidence that God already knows all about it. Ginny Kubitz Moyer is a mother, high school English teacher, and BBC period drama junkie. She is the author of Taste and See: Experiencing the Goodness of God with Our Five Senses 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.

There are three main characters in this Gospel—the father, the faithful son, and the son who squanders it all. Most reflections I’ve heard focus on one of these men. Up until today, I have never thought to put myself in the shoes of the servants. There is one word that comes up in my heart when I reflect on their point of view—astonishment. They had no reason to be bitter about the father’s generosity. They likely weren’t upset or angry about it. But they watched the scene unfold, and I imagine they were purely flabbergasted, passing the news around with incredulous looks on their faces, saying, “You’ll never believe who’s home . . . and you’ll never guess what the Master has done . . . he is throwing a feast!” The mercy of the father was so unreserved, so unforeseen—and these servants had a front row seat to watch in astonishment as the father poured this love over his lost and broken son. When was the last time you were astonished by the mercy of God the Father? One summer night years ago, I attended a weekly evening of Reconciliation. The priest and I sat outside the door of the church in rickety white folding chairs as he heard my confession. All of a sudden, as I stated my sins, I was completely astonished by the mercy of God and began weeping—loudly! The priest kept kindly telling me to be quieter, but I couldn't! I was so overcome by the reality that Jesus would meet me in the middle of the mess of sin I’d made and receive me, His lost and broken daughter, with such tenderness and mercy. It is not often I find myself stunned in this way—it is so very easy to grow complacent to mercy. It can be easy to treat Reconciliation as another chore or a box to check. But on this day, as we read this Gospel once again, I pray our hearts may be moved by the utterly shocking nature of God's love—that we may allow it to take our breath away every time the priest holds his arm up to offer absolution in the Sacrament of Reconciliation. [bctt tweet="When was the last time you were astonished by the mercy of God the Father?"] Today, in a brand new way, may we be astonished by the unfathomable mercy of our God. And visit the confessional! Download an Examination of Conscience from us here. 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.