“Georgia?” I questioned God with clenched fists and gritted teeth. But it’s humid there and the bugs are barbaric and the thunderstorms wreak destruction upon the earth. Still, I felt His nudge on my heart. Georgia, there was no denying it, was where He wanted my husband and me to be. But it didn’t make sense, you see. Because I reveled in the warm California sunshine I had grown up with. I had family and friends and work and hobbies all right underneath that westerly open sky, and I didn’t understand why it had to change. I didn’t understand why God would ask such a thing from us. But He did, and we sent our compass south and east with a call on our hearts that we couldn’t quite figure out. Why? We would ask Him when we couldn’t stave off the homesickness. It became our daily chant when things got hard—when my husband succumbed to a deep depression or the loneliness of a new place got the best of us. Why? Why? Why? A whole year went by with that question in our hearts, and then it followed us all the way back to California where we found home once again. It didn’t make sense to us. Our little jaunt out to the other side of the country wrecked us. It didn’t make sense until I got pregnant with a child we had been waiting ten years for. And then it became clear. Because our move to Georgia changed my husband’s job, which changed our insurance, which made it possible for me to get the surgery I needed in California in order for our family to grow. The blind man in today’s reading was told to “go wash in the pool of Siloam” (John 9:7) after clay was placed over his eyes. And how strange that must have been for him. Because how could he have seen the way to this pool, and why did Jesus put clay over his eyes anyway? Still, he followed Jesus' instructions, and that is when the miracle happened. Sometimes God’s call is cloaked in darkness. It doesn’t always make sense immediately. But if we follow His promptings on our heart, there is always light at the end. Always. [bctt tweet="There was no denying it, was where He wanted my husband and me to be. // @iambritcal" username="blessedisshe__"] Listen to this story on spiritual darkness and be inspired. 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 stepped into the chapel of Sainte Chapelle in Paris and had to catch my breath. It's magnificent, I said to myself as the Gothic arches raised my eyes up to the ceiling. I eagerly took in the intricate and colorful detail of the walls of stained glass windows. The chapel seemed to be preaching me a sermon through the beauty of its art and architecture. "Come, let us return to the LORD" (Hosea 6:1) the panels seemed to say to me as I examined the stories of salvation history depicted by the illuminated colored glass. The intentional architecture silently called to me to live my life as a work of art, a living temple fashioned and formed by the hands of my Creator. This chapel, built to house holy relics of the instruments of Christ's torture during His Passion and Crucifixion, reoriented my focus and additionally invited me to turn back to God. "Have mercy on me, O God, in your goodness; in the greatness of your compassion wipe out my offense" (Psalm 51:3). It was time to let go of my own attachment to self-righteousness and judgment of others. It was time to recognize both my own dignity, created by God and more marvelous and exquisite than any man-made masterpiece, as well as to acknowledge my own fallibility and my human capacity for evil and mistakes. "O God, be merciful to me a sinner" (Luke 18:13). May we walk in humility and experience the radiance of God's truth. [bctt tweet="It was time to let go of my own attachment to self-righteousness and judgment of others. // Mary Catherine Craige" username="blessedisshe__"] Have you have an experience or encountered a place that served as a physical reminder for you to return to the Lord and His mercy? Pray with that memory now. Mary Catherine Craige enjoys spending her time dancing, writing, playing the Irish harp and surfing the waves of northeast Florida. As a transformational life coach, she supports strong women to create beauty out of challenging situations and to live a life of abundance, freedom and joy as the person God has created them to be. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book, Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.

The white flakes fell around us as we walked our way through the valley under the steep mountains. We stopped under the tall pines that lined the road, and he turned to face me. The words came from his lips, words I had waited to hear, longed to cling to for months. His uncertainty about us had driven me to tears and so many prayers. In the depths of my aching soul, God had shown me that he and I were meant to be together, but he was slower to see the truth. Gazing into his sensitive brown eyes, the stifled emotion came up; it was time. I could love him freely. Walking back to campus, hand in hand, everyone could see what they had inferred for weeks. We were in love. Months and years passed, and the love continued to flow freely. It deepened. It continues to deepen. It is a joy to see him grow more into the man he is meant to be, a husband to me and the father of my children. And I know I would never have succeeded in my calling as a wife and mother, had he not been loving me so fully. His love for me, my love for him, show me the meaning of the Lord’s words in Hosea. "I will heal their defection, says the LORD, I will love them freely; for my wrath is turned away from them. I will be like the dew for Israel: he shall blossom like the lily" (Hosea 14:4-5). Faithful, freely given love is a healing love. It is like the dew each morning, watering the earth. It waters the soul. It causes the beloved to blossom, to show forth who they are and the grandeur of God. Our Lord is a patient lover. He waits for us to come to Him. He just wants us to turn our gaze upon Him and let Him love us freely. When we do this, we will blossom and become just who He intended us to be. [bctt tweet="His love for me, my love for him, show me the meaning of the Lord’s words in Hosea. // Susanna Spencer" username="blessedisshe__"] Re-read today's Gospel to hear Jesus' words on love. 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. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book called Rise Up and Theological Editor of the Catechism Studies, the Mystery Studies, and the Works of Mercy study. You can find out more about her here.

My mom has a devotion to Saint Joseph. Over the years when I was frustrated about dating, my vocation or my desire to find a better job, she would always point me toward a Saint Joseph novena. Having a terrible track record of completing novenas, I prayed this one last winter. Not every situation immediately resolved itself, but it deepened a friendship for me with this simple man who was tasked with the role of raising the Son of God. Scripture does not tell us anything about his past before his engagement to Mary, only that he was a just man. We know his profession was carpentry. We also know he wrestled with the news of Mary's unique pregnancy because an angel appeared to him in a dream affirming the path of marriage and life to Our Lady. We don't know what was Joseph like as an individual, his likes or dislikes or his personality. What was he like as a father, husband, and friend? But one thing we know for sure: Joseph was called to radical trust just as Mary was. Both were told life-altering news that shifted more than their personal lives. Neither of them were given a detailed blue print of the story of their lives. Both were called to trust God in that specific moment. Isn't that how God works in our lives sometimes? We do not always know where the journey will take us; the twists and turns along the way, but we are invited into radical trust just like Our Lady and Saint Joseph. Sometimes that feels easy and light, other times it feels difficult and confusing. The Church offers us today to honor the life of Saint Joseph. Let us ask him to intercede for us, our intentions, and help us model radical trust just as he did. [bctt tweet="Joseph was called to radical trust just as Mary was. // @amoderngrace" username="blessedisshe__"] Saint Joseph, Terror of Demons, pray for us! Start this novena my mom loved today. Patty Breen is a full-time lay minister who finds joy in running, strong cups of coffee, and all things Ignatian spirituality. A Midwestern gal from the mitten state, she is constantly learning to find grace in all things. She is passionate about ministry, writing, a great lipstick color, and smiling is her favorite. Find out more about her here.

During a drought in 1936, as the United States slowly crawled out of the Great Depression, my great grandfather’s berry crop failed. His father pointed out that their small town was filled with old Germans who liked to drink, and with that my great grandpa purchased three cases of beer and turned his small farmer’s market into a tavern. He vowed that anyone’s wife or mother would be comfortable dining at his tavern, and for over sixty years my family served men, women, and families throughout central Illinois. The story of the tavern’s beginning has been passed down, and my children are the fourth generation to hear the tale. I have heard the tale numerous times from my grandfather, a skilled storyteller. Since I was a girl, I have delighted in his stories of life when he was young in our small hometown. My own sense of identity has always been strengthened by his stories. It seems the better I know the people and place I am from, the better I know myself. So I get why the Israelites are told in the First Reading, Deuteronomy 4:9, to remember everything they have seen and read. They are to tell their children and grandchildren so everyone will know his or her story and place in God’s plan. Each family has a story. Mine includes a drought and beer and the best corn fritters in the world. And all of our stories are part of God’s story. We cannot forget who we are, where we come from, or what God has done for us. We must remember how God saved us, how He has stood with us in the suffering and the triumphs. This is our story. [bctt tweet="It seems the better I know the people and place I am from, the better I know myself. // @BonnieEngstrom" username="blessedisshe__"] Would you like to hear our stories? Subscribe to our blog today. Bonnie Engstrom is a writer, baker, speaker, and homemaker. She lives with her husband and eight children in Illinois. Bonnie is the author of "61 Minutes to a Miracle" which tells the story of her son's miracle that was approved by Pope Francis for the beatification of Venerable Fulton Sheen. She likes to bake, putz about the yard, and tell her kids to tidy the house. She is the author of the Blessed Conversations Mystery: Believe study found here. You can find out more about her here.

Forgiveness is fire. I’d rather avoid it. I hate to go near it. The closer you get, the hotter you feel—and the more you fear the burn. But Jesus said this is the Way. The longer I live, the more I’m convinced that forgiveness may be the hardest part of the Christian life. Service, sacrifice, surrender—no part of this Way is easy. But forgiveness is fire. I want to run far away. Yet here is Azariah in today’s First Reading, standing up in the furnace fire where King Nebuchadnezzar is trying to kill him and his friends. Surrounded by scorching flames, he’s singing praise and forgiveness. Here is Jesus, answering Peter’s hard question with an even harder parable. His words burn with truth: all the ways I want God to forgive me, even when I resist sharing the same with others. Forgiveness is fire. It sears away my selfishness and self-righteousness. It burns away my longing to lick my wounds and nurse a grudge. But without forgiveness, I smolder. I need to walk through those flames like a purification. I’ve seen what the opposite of forgiveness does to families and friendships—how hard-heartedness freezes like ice, slow as glaciers to melt, immovable over generations. My only choice, if I am to walk in Christ’s Way, is to choose the fire of forgiveness. To stand up, even in the midst of flames, and sing of God’s goodness. To spread the mercy God has shown me to all who wrong me. To humble myself back into the purifying fire whenever I fail to live up to the love I’m called to live. We started Lent with ashes. We will journey to Pentecost’s flames. How will the fire of forgiveness grow in us, all the way to Easter and beyond? [bctt tweet="Jesus said this is the Way. // @laurakfanucci" username="blessedisshe__"] We hope you will journey through Easter with this book to keep the fire growing. Laura Kelly Fanucci is a mother, writer, and director of a theological project on vocation. She and her husband are raising four sons and wrote a book together on grieving the loss of children, Grieving Together: A Couple’s Journey through Miscarriage. She is the author of seven books including Everyday Sacrament: The Messy Grace of Parenting and Living Your Discipleship: 7 Ways to Express Your Deepest Calling. You can find out more about her here. She is the author of the Blessed Conversations Mystery: Behold study found here.

A few short years ago, I held the title of Army Commander, just like my friend Naaman (2 Kings 5). He was plagued with leprosy; I've struggled for years with a chronic illness. Disease seems contrary to the able-bodied demands of the military, and like Naaman I’ve pleaded often for healing. Yet also like Naaman, my physical suffering has been just a superficial nod to the much deeper sickness lurking within: that of pride and vanity. It's more comfortable to hide weaknesses and ignorance behind a guise of egoism and self-importance. It's easier to pretend we’re capable than admit we’re not. It’s more convenient to ignore those we deem inferior than embrace the humility of listening to wisdom that can save us. I had to learn quickly as a commander that the best way doesn't necessarily equate to "my way," and that our strength as a unit was built on the collective talents and combined efforts of the whole team. When I humbled myself enough to listen to others instead of relying on my own narrow perspective and limited power, I benefitted in huge ways and the outcome was far better. I'm learning that the same applies when I make demands of God for provision or healing or wholeness in the way I want and on the timeline I want. Seldom do I want to humble myself to listen His wisdom that might not perfectly align with my desired terms. Yet when I can muster enough humility to ask for help accepting His way instead of mine—when I invite His power into my limitations and weaknesses—when I ask for the grace to surrender to His timing—the outcome is far better, and His healing and wholeness always greater. [bctt tweet="It's easier to pretend we’re capable than admit we’re not. // @PosImperfect" username="blessedisshe__"] Pray the Suscipe today. Megan Hjelmstad is a wife and mom 24/7 and an Army Reservist in her “spare” time. She is the Stories Manager for the Blessed is She Instagram account. She’s a bibliophile, tea drinker, sleep lover, and avid admirer of Colorado’s great outdoors. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book called Rise Up. When the writing bug hits, you can find out more about her here.

If you and I were chatting about life over brunch, I'd tell you—with a laugh—that "I just wish I knew how the story unfolds and how God makes sense of everything going on in my life!" Chances are, my "in real life" friends are nodding their heads and smiling at this; they've heard me say this ad nauseam. If only I could flip ahead to the last chapter or read the "spoilers" to see the glory of God pull it all together! I tend to feel frustrated because I cannot see how God is working in all the complicated parts of my life. I've even shaken my fist at Heaven, grumbling like the Israelites who "tested the Lord, saying 'Is the Lord in our midst or not?'" (Exodus 17:7). And yet He works and moves when I can't see it or feel Him. The challenge, I'm learning, is to seek Him constantly, to be open to unexpected moments of grace, to keep my heart open for Him at all times. The challenge is trusting in His plan. I’d love to chat with the Samaritan woman about this. She had a broken past, filled with heartbreak and shame. Yet she held onto hope and belief in the Savior to come (see John 4:25). I want to learn how to recognize Christ in my life, to speak openly with Him, to invite Him into my heart. Like the woman who didn't turn away from God or give up hope because of her brokenness, I want to persevere in hope. Like the woman who gradually recognized Christ before her, I pray to recognize the Lord in my midst—daily messes and all. Yes, I’m working on less grumbling and greater trust. Work and practice with me, sister? [bctt tweet="He works and moves when I can't see it or feel Him. // Gina Fensterer" username="blessedisshe__"] Lord, open my eyes and my heart to see You in my life, even and especially the complicated parts. Jesus, I trust in You. Work in my daily life for Your glory. Amen. Gina Fensterer finds daily life to be perfect for practicing virtue and sometimes blogs about raising up saints (she has six children). She loves the Jesus prayer, long runs, and coffee at any time of day. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book called Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.

A few years ago, I helped with a “busy student retreat” at a Newman Center. Over the course of a long weekend, several young women from the university signed up for daily spiritual direction appointments with me. I vividly remember the eagerness of these beautiful women who deeply desired to grow in prayer. During this short retreat, I assigned Scripture passages for the women to bring to their Holy Hours. I sincerely desired that the women would know Our Father’s gaze of love and relax into His delight. The women met with me individually to share about their experiences in prayer. It was an incredible grace to have a front row seat to the Father’s mercy. In one appointment, I encountered a young woman whose eyes sparkled with joy as she described the New Life she recently found in Jesus Christ. When I suggested that she pray with the Parable of the Prodigal Son from Luke 15, I noticed a puzzled look on her face. She inquired with curiosity, “Who is the Prodigal Son?” At that moment, I immediately recognized the enormous contrast in our lives. My childhood included Mass, family prayer, Bible and Saint stories, Catholic School, Vacation Bible School, Scripture memory songs, and charismatic prayer meetings. The parable of the Prodigal Son is such a familiar story to me. Sometimes I unintentionally tune out when I hear it being proclaimed at Mass. But on this retreat, I proclaimed this parable to a woman who had never heard the story of the Prodigal Son. She was on the edge of her seat as I summarized the journey of the younger son and the jealousy of the older son. And her eyes were filled with tears as she heard about the love of Our Good Father. Sisters, today, I encourage you to crack open your Bible to Luke 15. As you hold the Sacred Scriptures in your hand, remember that Our Father is waiting there for you. Let the Father run to you, embrace you, and kiss you as you come home. Our Father rejoices that you dwell in His home. [bctt tweet="As you hold the Sacred Scriptures in your hand, remember that Our Father is waiting there for you. // Rose Coleman" username="blessedisshe__"] Read this deep-dive into things you may have not known about the Prodigal Son. Rose Coleman is a contemplative in action who delights in all things beautiful. Her adventurous heart has traveled many places—from circumnavigating the globe on a ship during college to some years in the convent as a religious sister. Exuberant from her childhood, she is an elementary school teacher who learns so much from her students. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book called Rise Up and the author of our Blessed Conversations: Ways to Pray study found here. You can find out more about her here.

Joseph and his coat. Jealousy, envy, comparison, greed, and malice. The mind and heart can be dark places, can't they? The landowner and his vineyard. Jealousy, envy, comparison, greed, malice, and death. Both stories are ours. Both stories speak volumes about who we are and who He created us to be. Both illustrate the choices we have as His people to choose well, to love well, and to serve well . . . or not. Both stories point to the great gift that this life truly is, and how easy that can be to forget. It is far too easy for me to take each moment of each day for granted. I wake up, have my quiet time, and before long the baby is up and we're hustling and bustling trying to get it all done—whatever "it" is. It is easy for me to figuratively look over the fence into my neighbor's yard and long for what they have. More of this or less of that. It is easy for me to scroll mindlessly on social media—forgetting that my time is not my own but His and that the gifts and skills and abilities He created me with are enough. More than enough. I am enough just as I was made, but I have to strive to live out this God-given potential. In Matthew 21:43, Jesus tells us, "Therefore, I say to you, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that will produce its fruit." We are called to produce fruit, and He equips us to do that. I have incredible capacity to learn and love and serve. I can be His hands and feet today, in these gifted moments that He's given me. I don't want to live in a mind and heart space that place me at the center of the world—that's where I lose sight of the gift of Him. Today, I will live in the freedom of His love and light, knowing wholeheartedly this day is a gift, my life is a gift, and the opportunity to share His love is a gift, too. Let's make these choices together, sister. [bctt tweet="I am enough just as I was made, but I have to strive to live out this God-given potential. // Shalini Blubaugh" username="blessedisshe__"] The fact we have free will is an important part of our belief system. Explore it further here. Shalini Blubaugh is a Minnesota transplant living in Denver, Colorado with her sweet husband, Matt, their brand new gal pal, Callan, and quite large GSD pup, Sully. She is a health coach and loves pizza, because #balance. Shalini graduated from the University of Minnesota – Twin Cities, served with NET Ministries, and went on to attend Law School. She graduated with her J.D. and happily leaves all things Law behind! Some of her favorites include travel, re-connecting with old friends and making new ones, the ways in which God so beautifully brings all things full circle in His time, and a good, loud thunderstorm. Find out more about her here.

Although I wasn’t looking at him, I could feel his eyes upon me. I slowly turned towards him and smiled. When he returned the smile, my heart raced with satisfaction. The flirting game had begun. I derived a deep pleasure in the chase of a romantic conquest. I loved that feeling of liking someone and then setting out for him to like me back. It didn’t always work, but it was a thrill when it did. Looking back on those years, I see how I was woefully living the Scripture from today’s First Reading, "Cursed is the man who trusts in human beings, who seeks his strength in flesh, whose heart turns away from the Lord" (Jeremiah 17:5). I always had a crush or was pursuing someone because chasing guys was my way of affirming myself. It was how I measured my self-worth. When a guy reciprocated my feelings, then I felt valued. When he didn’t, I had to prove I was worthy of love by chasing the next love interest. It was a vicious cycle. After a period of falling away from God and returning to Him, the Lord began some serious work on my heart. He helped me to realize that the Man I needed to fall in love with was Jesus. I had to let go of all the lies telling me I was only valuable if a guy was interested in me. I had to let go of all the immature infatuations and give my heart to the Sacred Heart. For the first time in my life, I could stand alone, yet not feel alone, because I was beloved. Reaching that point helped me to enter a new level of spiritual maturity. I saw my value and I knew Who would be there no matter what else was happening around me. Now that I was reliant on God and His grace, I could live the Scripture, "Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD, whose hope is the LORD" (Jeremiah 17:7). [bctt tweet="For the first time in my life, I could stand alone, yet not feel alone, because I was beloved. // @bobbi_rol" username="blessedisshe__"] This woman's ministry for young women includes a beautiful focus on our real self-worth: based in our identity as God's daughters. Bobbi Rol is a wife, mama and blogger living on the Monterey Bay in CA with her husband, teen daughter, and three rambunctious boys. When she is not dodging light sabers or stepping on Legos, she can be found outside with her family, catching a late night movie, or decorating her planner. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book called Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.

“Oh yeah, I guess you can come, too.” Not an enthusiastic invite, but I breathed a sigh of relief all the same. The chatter of the girls turned again to the latest music, eyeshadow trends, and where your hair should be parted. I considered these girls my best friends, but honestly I clung quietly to the sidelines hoping for a spot of notice, for a moment of recognition. In the situations where I was uncomfortable with their gossip, their malicious words, and purposeful nasty behavior, I shut up knowing opening my mouth would eliminate my chances for the longed-for invite and my recognition as part of the group. Fast forward fifteen-plus years, and thankfully I’ve gained enough wisdom to know that the game is bigger, and the stakes higher. As a mom myself, I can appreciate the mother in today’s Gospel (Matthew 20:17:28) begging Jesus to ensure her sons a privileged spot. Her ambitions she’d chosen for her children were high, but Jesus reminded her the stakes were even higher. The attitude of “what’s in it for me?” is hard to shake. To be noticed for your talents, earn recognition in the ministry you pour yourself into, or have your opinion asked on the latest Church conundrum are not in and of themselves bad, but they're a temptation if they edge is as the focus. Our desire for authentic faith and temporal power just aren’t compatible. “Can you drink the chalice that I am going to drink?” Jesus asks the sons in Matthew 20:22. And He also asks us. The chalice represents for us the cup of suffering, the pouring out of Christ’s blood for the forgiveness of the world. It is an emptying of self, a sacrifice for the other. Will you hope for the attention here and now, the spot of recognition? Or will you strive to serve, asking God how you can be the servant? [bctt tweet="Our desire for authentic faith and temporal power just aren’t compatible. // Sarah Ortiz" username="blessedisshe__"] Let's pray for the graces to serve with happy hearts. Sarah Ortiz is a Catholic convert, wife, and mother to four boys while living in a 200 year old farmhouse. When not folding laundry, she can be found reading, experimenting in the kitchen, or snagging amazing antique furniture deals. You can find out more about her here.

According to Webster, redemption means the act of making something better or more acceptable, the act of exchanging something for money, the act of buying back or repurchasing, or in Christianity, the act of saving people from sin or evil. (source) All the definitions concern action. It is an active process. It is intentional. This definition has me thinking of my own redemption. Both you and I were created for relationship with God, but sin came into the world and ruptured that relationship. It is through the saving love and death of Jesus Christ that we are redeemed. He has bought us back, repurchased us, exchanged our sin for eternal salvation. He is making us better through His love. He has redeemed us according to all the definitions of the word. But where is our action in all of this? Where is my intentionality towards being saved? I have the opportunity to say "yes" to His redeeming love every day, every moment . . . and often I choose to say "yes" to something else. I say "yes" to impatience, anger, self-indulgence, entitlement (those are my favorites lately). Jesus is doing the true work of redeeming my soul constantly. It isn’t a one-time occurrence but rather something ongoing, as I fail and fail and fail again. Each time I fall into sin, turning away from living as a faithful daughter of God in favor of fleeting, earthly happiness, the Lord’s redeeming love is there, ready to forgive me once again. He promises that if I persist in following His way and turning away from my sins, I will see His Salvation (see Psalm 50:23, Isaiah 1:18-19). We are only a few weeks into Lent with so much time ahead for ongoing prayer, almsgiving, and fasting. As we go about our lives, let's give thanks that God’s redemption is not contingent on our success or failure. Today, join me in striving to do good and thanking God for His redeeming love when we fall short. [bctt tweet="Both you and I were created for relationship with God. // Dr. MaryRuth Hackett" username="blessedisshe__"] Join us on Saturdays live on Instagram for a small group discussion if you're doing the Lent book with us! Dr. MaryRuth Hackett is the host of the podcast Parenting Smarts. 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. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book called Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.

Her hands trembled as she nervously gathered her hair away from her sweat-soaked neck. She was nineteen years old and pregnant. We were in my van, driving to a crisis pregnancy center. I had just given birth to my fifth baby sleeping in her car seat. I listened to this young woman pour out her suffering as we drew closer to the center. “I can’t keep this baby. I’m so scared. Could I keep it?” She alternated between crying and staring in silence. In that moment I reflected to when I was her age . . . nineteen and expecting my first baby. The circumstances were quite different. I was not alone. However, my husband and I were not married yet, and we were desperately in need of the mercy of God. By the grace of God, we encountered people who lived out today’s Gospel. Jesus said to His disciples: “Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful. Stop judging and you will not be judged. Stop condemning and you will not be condemned. Forgive and you will be forgiven” (Luke 6:36-37). When we thought we would be ostracized and shamed, we were met with love and understanding. When we thought our past sinfulness couldn't be healed, we were shown the power of reconciliation. The compassion of Christ can penetrate the wounds of any soul and mend all that is broken. Christ does this with me. Christ does this with you. Then He gives us the gift of sharing His love with others by stepping into their suffering. The nineteen-year-old woman who poured out her suffering in the passenger seat of my van gave birth to a healthy baby girl. She found forgiveness and hope. Sister, I pray that we choose mercy and allow Christ to heal us and heal others through our own wounds and brokenness. [bctt tweet="The compassion of Christ can penetrate the wounds of any soul and mend all that is broken. // Leana Bowler" username="blessedisshe__"] In supporting women choosing life, consider praying for, volunteering at, and donating to women's care centers near you. Leana Bowler is a wife and mother of five little ones. She is a Holy Rosary enthusiast with deep devotions to the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Immaculate Heart of Mary. Her love for the message of Divine Mercy led her to become a Marian Missionary of Divine Mercy dedicated to spreading Marian Consecration and the beauty of Christ's abundant Mercy. She enjoys finding the miracles in the mess of family life, books, strong coffee, and encountering others wherever they're at in this blessed journey to sainthood. You can find out more about her here.

For years, Instagram has been a space where I deposit my musings in prayer, and I have loved sharing the Lord’s faithfulness through every season. However, about a year ago, I felt the Lord asking me to withdraw from sharing for a time and calling me into hidden life with Him. I initially resisted, believing that it was all in the name of evangelization. Yet, I came to realize how often I had seen my prayer through the lens of what made "good content." So, I was increasingly challenged by the way my prayer looked when nobody knew about it, and when I could not exploit it for “likes” and validation. When all I wanted was to post my hot takes and feel vindicated, or publicly rejoice in the glory of a moment in prayer, I had to instead press into that secret place. And because of it, He and I developed an intimacy I will treasure forever. I laughed about today’s Gospel. Jesus tells Peter, James, and John who witnessed His Transfiguration that they are not to tell anyone about it until after He has risen. I can only imagine how it must have felt coming down the mountain, hopeful to tell the world about Who Jesus was, only to realize that nobody could know right now. I would have wanted to scream from the rooftops that the Nazarene they mocked was actually the Son of God. I would want people to be in awe of what I had seen. I would want to be right. And I would want to post about it on Instagram. Yet that was not Jesus’ style. It still isn’t. Sisters, I am more convinced than ever that Jesus wants the hidden life with us. He wants us to abandon our agenda for His faithfulness and take Him at His word. He wants to unravel work in our hearts that nobody will ever see. He wants to be with us in the secret, slow, and steady. He wants enduring intimacy. [bctt tweet="He and I developed an intimacy I will treasure forever. // Sarah Elizabeth" username="blessedisshe__"] Jesus, I entrust You with my desire to be known and heard. 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.

As a teenager, I could not wrap my head around why my parents had (what felt like) a million rules. I was not allowed to ride in cars with other teenagers. I was not allowed to spend time at friends’ homes without parents around. I had to check in regularly. I tried to rebel in my way. I pushed the limits. There was this and that, endless rules, so much hovering. Or so I thought. Now that I am a parent myself, I hear myself saying those same things my own parents told me. “I love you too much to let you do that.” My children are small, but I have rules and safety measures for all aspects of their lives. I know I cannot shelter them from everything, but I hope that these things help my children stay safe and grow into capable and responsible adults. They fight bed time, but I know they need their rest. They want sweets for dinner, but I know that proper nutrition will help them grow. And I’m sure as they get older, our rules will change and shift, and I’ll get flashbacks to when my own parents taught me. God has made commandments for the same reason. Today's Reading and the Gospel really bring this home. He loves us and wants us to to be His own. When we push boundaries or falter, He tips our chins up to Him and tells us, “I love you too much to let you do that.” He is a loving and compassionate Father. He loves us beyond our wildest imaginations. He gives us His perfect law and His commandments so that we may continue to grow into who we are meant to be. [bctt tweet="He loves us and wants us to to be His own. // @substance_soul" username="blessedisshe__"] Let's pray together, "Good and loving God the Father, help me to let You guide me and love me. In Jesus' name, Amen." Dr. Samantha Aguinaldo-Wetterholm is a wife to Paul, mom to three 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, does not leave the house without wearing sparkly earrings, and is an enthusiastic proponent of the Oxford comma. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book called Rise Up. Find out more about her here.

When I was very young, my family took a vacation on a lake. It was not something we had done before, and I was delighted to spend every minute I could in the water. Even as a little girl, I was a strong swimmer. One day my older siblings decided to go water skiing when someone offered us their motorboat. As it pulled up toward the dock, curious, I jumped in—right behind it. With the motor running. When I emerged from the water, I was startled to see my father red-faced and screaming at me, “Get away from the boat!” He was gesturing wildly, and it about scared me to death. My father had never, ever screamed at me before. Nor has he since. I swam over to the ladder and quickly hoisted myself out of the water where he clutched me to him, saying, “Don’t you know you could have been injured?” Of course, I didn’t—not until I saw the look of concern on his face and the face of everyone else, not until I felt the fear in his embrace. Not until he explained to me about motors and blades running beneath the surface. When Scripture takes a turn toward the stern, I remember this moment with my father. He would have done anything to prevent my being injured. Would have rather given up his own limbs than watch mine being devoured by the sharp, whirring blades of that motor. How much more so my heavenly Father. If He “raises his voice” to me in His Holy Word, it’s only because He would do anything to keep me from the fires of Gehenna (see Mark 6:20-26). He would give anything to prevent my being injured through sin. When Scripture takes on this timbre of alarm, I want to pay attention. Neither the Father nor the Son ever wastes His anger or concern. Sometimes there’s real danger lurking, perhaps where I least expect it, maybe danger I cannot imagine or cannot see or am too ignorant to realize. Heaven will do what it must to get my attention. Love always does what it must. [bctt tweet="He would give anything to prevent my being injured through sin. // Liz Kelly" username="blessedisshe__"] Read what Pope Benedict has to say about the wrath of God in these short quotations. Liz Kelly is a jazz singer who fell in love with Jesus. She writes, teaches, offers spiritual direction and retreats with a special interest in helping women to flourish in their faith. She’s written six books, including the award-winning Jesus Approaches, the Jesus Approaches Take Home Retreat, and the Your Heart, His Home Prayer Companion. And she still sings jazz, but mainly in the tub and while washing dishes. Find out more about her here.