Today marks the feast of Pope Saint Leo the Great. As his title indicates, he has been much beloved by Catholics for centuries, and for good reason. A simple Google search of this successor to Saint Peter reveals his outstanding contributions to the kingdom of God during his lifetime. He diligently fought against several widespread heresies, sought to uphold the dignity of all Christians in a socially vehement environment, and developed and explained theology regarding who Christ Himself is, who Mary is in relation to Christ, and the legitimacy of the papacy (no big deal). He is particularly well-known for his interactions with those who radically opposed him or Christianity in general. In seeking to be a worthy disciple and to promote peace within conflicting realities, Pope Saint Leo the Great was relentless in his benevolent outreach to those who hated him or what he represented. There are numerous stories detailing his success in diffusing tense political and religious situations simply by being willing to meet and dialogue with those who were viewed as a threat. In 2017, we would be wise to adopt Leo's attitude from the 400's. His outreach is just as relevant and necessary in our world today. As Catholics, we are required to stand firm on the foundation of Truth while extending our hands in invitation to everyone else, yes, even those who detest or misunderstand that Truth. The greatest remedy for our divided culture is that which Saint Paul explains to the Romans in the First Reading. Saint Paul is convicted by the Lord that His salvation is intended for every single person, not just a limited, "superior" group of people. Saint Paul is adamant about reaching out to the Gentiles, even though they may be hesitant to hear his words and especially though they may be rejected or looked down on by the Jews. (Romans 15:16) But it can be intimating to do this, right? Reaching out in love and understanding while being clear about and unwavering in our beliefs is a delicate balance, and one that is hopeless without the Lord's grace. So let's be in it together. Let's make this a goal. [bctt tweet="Stand firm on the foundation of Truth. // @to_the_heights"] Today, let's think of a concrete way we can reach out to someone who may oppose us or what we stand for in the Faith, and then do it, so that "[t]hose who have never been told of him shall see, and those who have never heard of him shall understand." (Romans 15:21) Olivia Spears is a middle school religion teacher turned SAHM who is married to her high school best friend. You can find out more about her here.

There are times when the Scriptures are just so intriguing to me, where I just want to crawl inside them and know them from the inside. Today’s Second Reading from Corinthians is one of those times. Here is this effusively firm imagery: you are God's foundation! You are God's building! (1 Corinthians 3:9) This tapestry of believers woven together by their firm commitment to Christ as the Messiah lays the footings for His Church. They desire Him so dearly to be at the center of their very lives! To connect in so rich and interdependent a way is holy. Here we are, thousands of years later, sharing a similar longing as members of the Christian community—to feel part of this great endeavor, to be known, to contribute, to feel embraced by the Body of Christ and strengthened by our collective strength. Where do we go in our fast-paced, over-connected yet distant world to find that kind of intimate faith community? Where do we find the other unknown disciples in our midst to work alongside, to lay brick by brick alongside? What is the formula for undoing the aching loneliness many of us feel in the Church today? Here’s what I know: there is no intimacy without vulnerability and no vulnerability without surrender. Our surrender and trust must first be to the only perfectly trustworthy relationship we have, Jesus Christ. We surrender to Him first. Then we offer ourselves in service to His Bride. We risk something—our pride, our safety, our comfort zone—to reach out and ask. To be the one to help lay each brick, to ask how to jump in and where we are most needed, to live out our body as the Spirit's temple, to embrace the Church in our midst. If we can take that risk, perhaps one day we can reach across our great big world in a collective appreciation for one another, imitating the earliest believers' dedication for working with one another, ultimately an imitation of Christ’s love for each of us and His Bride the Church. [bctt tweet="There is no intimacy without vulnerability and no vulnerability without surrender. // @colleencmitch"] How are you living the call to build His Church and honor your part in it as a Temple of the Holy Spirit? Pray on this today. Colleen Mitchell is wife to Greg and mother to five amazing sons here on earth. They serve in Costa Rica where they run the St. Francis Emmaus Center, a ministry that welcomes indigenous mothers into their home to care for them pre and postpartum. She is the author of Who Does He Say You Are. Find out more about her here.

Let’s clear the air here a little. We start today’s readings with Saint Paul telling us that we owe nothing to others except to love each other. (Romans 13:8) Then we get to the Gospel, and Jesus hits us with: "If anyone comes to me without hating his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple.” (Luke 14:26) Now, here the word hate means total dedication (family taking second place) according to the footnotes in Scripture. But, boy, is it still like hitting a wall after all that talk about love. Perhaps sometimes love can look a little harsh. And more often than not, practicing our Christian love within our families can look, well, not a lot like love. Maybe you look like a jerk when you say “No, we can’t attend that event because we’re going to Mass” or “I love you enough to tell you the thing you don’t want to hear.” Sometimes, the loving thing to do is the most uncomfortable thing to do, and it can feel like the easier thing is just back down. I love my family, but I cannot love them more than Christ. Jesus isn’t calling us to do the easy thing. He is calling us to the Cross. The Cross is messy. The Cross is hard. Sometimes, the Cross is very, very heavy. But we have the great privilege of partaking in the mystery of redemption when we take up our own cross (as big or as little as it seems) and walk that road to Calvary with our Lord. At the end of that journey is the victory of life. [bctt tweet="Jesus isn’t calling us to do the easy thing. He is calling us to the Cross."] Has practicing Christian love in your family caused some hurt feelings? Are you struggling to know when to speak up on sensitive issues? Consult a trusted priest or faithful friend. Reach out for support. 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.

I am a master procrastinator. And it’s not only the stuff I don’t want to do or deal with that I leave until the last minute; I’m late for good things, too. The other night I left for a family party twenty minutes before I had to be there. Unfortunately, the house was thirty minutes away and I still had to pick up a bottle of wine. I would like to be outraged by the people in today’s Gospel according to Saint Luke, but more often than not I am one of them. So preoccupied with the cares of everyday life—stuff and money and relationships—that we miss the invitation to a richer life, an abundant life lived with Christ. There’s a reason Jesus uses a banquet to communicate His message. Yes there are crosses to be embraced and discipline to be learned from, but the Gospel is, above all, unimaginable JOY! It’s celebration and resurrection! It’s gathering around God’s table and enjoying intimate friendship with Him. We can learn so much about God’s heart from this parable. He sends out invitations in advance because He can’t wait to be with us. He makes preparations for our arrival because He wants to provide for our every need. He invites us to eat with Him because He knows that only He can feed our deepest hunger, satisfy our thirst. He wants us to come into His home because, like any good Father, God wants His kids under one roof. In His time on Earth, Jesus didn’t go around preaching a program for sin management. He’s not asking His listeners to make more sacrifices or take on more religious activities or devotions. He’s inviting them into relationship. And the invitation remains the same for us today: Come over for dinner. Come share in His presence and love. [bctt tweet="We are invited to come over for dinner. Come share in His presence and love. // @thebethdavis"] How's your relationship with Jesus today? Does He deserve a stopover at Adoration, a chat during prayer, a sharing of His sacrifice for us at Mass? Beth Davis is the Director of Ministry Advancement for Blessed is She. She served as a youth minister for eleven years. She has a heart for teaching women about developing an intimate relationship with Jesus and speaking hope to weary souls. You can find out more about her here.

When I was younger, I had a bad habit of comparing how my parents raised my younger sister to how they raised me. I was often quick to point out when punishments did not match those I had received. And when I would mention these discrepancies to my mom, she would typically respond with a rhetorical question like, “Well, Sarah, I can’t think of any daughter whose bed is not perfectly made every morning, can you?” or “Do you know any daughter around here that would ever lose her temper?” Her skillful message was clear: I was far from perfect and she loved me anyway and so too, loved my sister. I couldn’t help but think of these sibling squabbles as I read the First Reading today. And just like my mom, I imagine Saint Paul to be a little sassy in the part of his letter where he asks the rhetorical questions. “For who has known the mind of the Lord or who has been his counselor? Or who has given him anything that he may be repaid?” (Romans 11:33-35) In a perfect world, the answers to these questions would be “no one.” But sisters, how many times have I impatiently asked God to remember something I’ve asked for, and in a way attempted to “be his counselor”? And certainly there have been moments where my prayer has looked like a transaction. “Lord, I promise to ‘fill-in the-blank’ if you could please ‘fill-in-the-blank.’” You know, as if there was some key to unlock the mystery of our Creator and fulfill our every wish . . . . Even the Responsorial Psalm today demonstrates our human desire for knowledge and habit of demanding a response from God, “Lord, in your great love, answer me.” (Psalm 69) Saint Paul was aware of these human tendencies and also of the animosity felt by the Israelites towards the Gentiles. Just a few verses earlier in his letter, he explained the salvation of the Gentiles to the Israelites who struggle to accept that they, the chosen people, were not the only ones to be shown God’s mercy. And just as my mother skillfully pointed out that her love was beyond my understanding, Saint Paul did the same for the Israelites as they tried to understand the ineffable power and reach of God’s mercy and love which was generously shared with all of humanity, not just in Biblical times, but also today. [bctt tweet="His love is beyond our understanding."] God is big enough for all of us. If there's someone in your life you're feeling mildly or widely competitive with, remember that God's love covers both of you and say a prayer for him or her in your 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.

When I imagine meeting Jesus after my death I know that I will be in the presence of His perfect love. I imagine Him cupping my face in His hand, embracing me, holding me. But simultaneously I think of today's Gospel passage telling us not to live our faith hypocritically. (Matthew 23:3-7) Jesus condemns the burdening of others while we skate through life believing we know what's right at all times. I think Christ takes these words and this warning to us very seriously; when we meet Christ after death this will play a vital role in how He judges our lives. It's easy to imagine the conversation because I know that every day I fail in the area of hypocrisy. Just in speaking to my children, trying to teach them to respect and love others through their words and actions, I fail repeatedly. I fail in my own home and loving those I love the most, but also I fail those outside my home, the poor and needy in my life whom I begrudge my time. Or even worse, the many people who I may scandalize by less-than-Christian words, social media postings, and how I treat others. Our calling in living the Christian life is to continue to repent and humble ourselves when we recognize our own hypocrisy. We are not the scribes and the Pharisees because we know Christ. We have the Church which Jesus has given to us to help us turn again and again to His forgiveness and mercy. Christ is calling us to keep sharp eyes on our interior life, to know our intentions as well as take responsibility for our actions. We have all been hypocrites at times, but we are all also called to Heaven. We are all longing to see Christ in Heaven. I want to search my heart to examine the times when I've let hypocrisy hurt my soul because I want to see Christ and hear His words of love after my death. [bctt tweet="Living the Christian life is to humble ourselves when we recognize our own hypocrisy."] Today let's imagine meeting Christ after our death. What would He see in our lives that speaks to hypocrisy in our hearts and faith? Holy Spirit, show us the truth of our lives and give us the grace to humbly ask forgiveness. 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.

Today in the Gospel, Jesus talks to us about humility. He tells us, "For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted." (Luke 14:11) Often when I am falling into pride rather than a spirit of humility, I think it is because I am also giving into a fear or anxiety that I will not be taken care of or receive what I need. I think my pride comes from a distorted belief that I am not seen and that I will not be recognized unless I take control. I should assert myself, proving to others and myself that I am good and I am okay. The readings today remind us otherwise. Today's Responsorial Psalm says, "The Lord will not abandon His people." The First Reading also says, "God has not rejected His people." (Romans 11:2) God is reassuring us that He is with us. We are good. God sees us. He has not rejected us, and He will not abandon us. We are okay. And it is okay for us to be exactly how we are in this moment, with all our weaknesses and also our strengths. I think that humility is mostly about being real, being who we are, and holding firm in the belief and conviction that we are seen and deeply loved by God. It is not necessary for us to puff ourselves, or try to convince others that we are capable and competent. We can know that we are competent, we are enough, and that God sees us for truly who we are: beloved daughters of God. In this way, like the parable today's Gospel recommends, we can remain humble. We can remain in the truth - the truth of Jesus Christ, and the truth of who we are in Jesus Christ. By remaining who we are in true humility, the Lord will exalt us and bless us with even far greater graces and abundance. [bctt tweet="The Lord has not rejected us, and He will not abandon us."] Let us pray: Jesus, send your Holy Spirit upon me to inflame in me a spirit of humility and truth in the joy of who I am. May I find my identity and true worth in you, Lord. Amen. 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 for business leaders, 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.

In today's Gospel according to Saint Luke, Jesus dines in the home of one of the leading Pharisees. You and I both know this is going to end with an epic lesson. He cures a man on the Sabbath, the day of rest, and confounds the guests with His question as to whether or not it's against the law to do so, and drives this idea home of not being wrongfully bound by the law with the remarks on saving your son, or your ox, who had fallen into a well on the Sabbath. (Luke 14:1-6) I'm not so rigid, am I? Would I stick to my rhythm, my known, my letter of the lawedness to that extent? Would I refuse to care for and love those around me under the guise of "just following the rules here, people?" Do I live a blurred rinse-repeat of caring for small kids, eking out meager conversation with my husband, vegging on social media, and operating in the fog of poor sleep, meaning I rarely exercise prudential judgment like Jesus did here? I stick to what I know and am too afraid and exhausted to examine these kinds of situations closely. It's not just necessary when parenting and partnering, this prudential judgment. We need God's love and our readiness to adapt to the situation at hand after a long day of classes, during a heated discussion with loved ones, while managing a medical crisis in the family. The gifts of intellect and free will coupled with a healthy pumping empathic heart should be put to good use! If you struggle with being rigid or are fearful to listen with your heart or pray your way through a sticky situation, you're not alone. But now we can pray for each other. [bctt tweet="We need God's love. // @WholeParenting"] Prudential judgment: it's a thing! Think about how you could better utilize it in your day-to-day, sprinkling in some good old fashioned God's love on top. Nell O'Leary is a recovering lawyer who blogs and sews 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.

In all her wisdom, the Catholic Church teaches that our soul can end up in one of three places when we die. The first is Heaven. Yay, backflip! Can I get an Amen?! Secondly, Hell. Yikes, no thanks. Lastly, we could go to Purgatory, a place where we are freed of our earthly attachments so we can be completely happy with God in Heaven. Well, I guess if I have to wait, it’s better than damnation. Am I right? (Catechism of the Catholic Church §1022) Today, on this holy day, we honor and pray for the dead. Yesterday, we celebrated all the Saints up in Heaven and today we, the faithful not-yet-departed (that’s you and me) pray for all the souls needing cleansing before joining our Heavenly Father. We have a job to do. Not only must we strive to die in a state of perfect grace through our earthly choices, but we also pray for those souls who have died in God’s grace but are still imperfect and need purification before entering in the joy of Heaven. PRESSURE. If only we had a prayer to help the souls in Purgatory! Enter Saint Gertrude the Great! I like to call her Gertie. A 13th century Benedictine nun, theologian extraordinaire, devotee to the Sacred Heart, and bride of Christ was given visions by Jesus and had a deep solidarity with those still being purified in Purgatory. This is a great prayer that Jesus revealed to Saint Gertrude to help us know how to pray for the souls in Purgatory. Let’s pray well for them that they will soon be ready to enter the fullness of joy in Heaven! Eternal Father, I offer You the most precious blood of thy Divine Son, in union with the Masses said throughout the world today, for all the Holy Souls in Purgatory, for sinners everywhere, for sinners in the universal church, for those in my own home and in my family. Amen. (Source) [bctt tweet="Today, on this holy day, we honor and pray for the dead. // @Substance_Soul"] Join me in saying Saint Gertrude’s prayer for all the souls in Purgatory. 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.

Saint Bonaventure Capuchin Monastery is a simple community in the heart of Detroit that was the home of soon-to-be beatified Father Solanus Casey. For Metro-Detroiter's, it is known as a place of prayer, reflection, and local pilgrimage. It is one of my favorite places to pray and be with God. Upon walking in you are greeted by eight life-size bronze statues. Each statue is of a holy man or woman who was a living example of the Beatitudes: people like Dorothy Day, Archbishop Oscar Romero, and Saint Teresa of Calcutta. For a period in my life, I had the hardest time understanding the Beatitudes. To me it felt like a secret code or language that Jesus was talking to the disciples . . . and I just did not get it! Since then, I have come to understand the Beatitudes are not some spiritual version of Morse Code. Rather, they are a description of what we look like after personally encountering the Living Jesus. They are not another thing on our spiritual "to do" list, but a change in our attitude . . . a change in our heart, a change in how we see the world and other people. These words of Jesus represent a radical reversal of values, turning the world's standards for happiness and security upside down. We are called to be peacemakers. We are called to lavishly offer mercy, not revenge. We are called to grieve and mourn of the evil and injustices rampant in the world. We are called to hunger and thirst to do the will of God and not settle for mediocrity. We are called to have a pure heart and mind. We are called to endure persecution bravely, knowing even Our Lord suffered during His life on Earth. Sisters, when our lives resemble the Beatitudes, no matter the painful life circumstances, they bring a glimmer of the joy and hope of the Heavenly Kingdom into the affliction of the present world. As we celebrate the Solemnity of All Saints today, we honor and remember the lives of all the holy men and women who have gone before us. We ask their mighty prayers of intercession for each of our lives, that we would be a living example of the Beatitudes to an aching, broken world. [bctt tweet="When our lives resemble the Beatitudes, they bring a glimmer of hope. // @amoderngrace"] All Saints, Angels, Holy Men and Women of God, pray for us! 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.

Don’t you just love Saint Paul? I love his letters. They are filled with such passion and such excitement and such relevance. That something written 2000 years ago could have such applicability to our lives today is a miracle in itself. Today Saint Paul talks of suffering and hope. His letter to the Romans begins with the explanation that their suffering is nothing compared to that which awaits us in Heaven. I have only had a few times in my life when I can say I was truly suffering. And when I was really in anguish, the only thing that helped was to have hope. Hope that the pain would pass, hope that it would help me to grow, hope that it would make me stronger, hope that my suffering would be temporary, hope that I would be whole again. Saint Paul gives us hope for the eternal. He says that it is in hope we were saved, and with hope comes endurance. And isn’t that what we need when we are suffering? We need to endure the experience, not wish it away. My background is in psychology. In cognitive developmental theory there is a notion that growth comes from distress or dissonance. When we experience cognitive disconnect we are forced to reconcile our beliefs with reality and grow in our understanding. And so in a similar way, when our hearts experience dissonance, distress, suffering, we need to endure it, reconcile ourselves with the reality or the heartbreak, and endure the suffering with the confidence that “in hope we are saved.” (Romans 8:24) [bctt tweet="Saint Paul says it is in hope we are saved, and with hope comes endurance."] So have hope, sweet sister. You are not alone. Your suffering is not eternal. You will come out of any darkness as long as you keep moving towards to the light with hope in your heart. 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.

I was eighteen years old when I decided that I was tired of living a wishy-washy faith. My faith had been fueled by one retreat after another only to fizz away after a few months. The more retreats I went on, the further I strayed after I had ridden out that “retreat high” taking the spirit of adoption I had been given to become a daughter of God, casting it aside, and choosing to live according to the flesh. I was actually on a retreat when I made the decision to be firm in my faith. I started a routine of daily Mass and prayer journaling, and became involved in the faith life of my college campus. I found that the more I opened myself up in prayer, the more God showed me His love. He opened up all of my old wounds so that my heart physically ached, and poured in His healing love and mercy. I would spend hours sobbing in my dorm chapel or praying with friends as I let myself be healed. It would seem that that would have been enough to keep me close to God, but that is not His way. He does not cure us to leave us to our own devices again, but He cures us so that He can penetrate even deeper. As Saint Paul says in the First Reading, “You did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you received a spirit of adoption.” (Romans 8:15) As I grew in love of Him, and turned more regularly to prayer, I found myself being healed of another crippling spirit. It was a habitual sin that I knew I needed to overcome, but could not shake. I had been fighting against it and losing to my desires for the gratification it gave me for years. It was not until after Christ healed me the first time that I was able to be freed from this sin. I repeatedly went to the Sacrament of Confession with this sin on my conscience, until, finally, one day I was freed. On that day I was like the woman who had been crippled for 18 years. It was as if Christ laid His hands on me through the person of His priest and said to me, "Woman, you are set free of your infirmity."(Luke 13:17) Has my life been perfect since then? No, it has not. Has the temptation to that sin come back to plague me? Yes, it has. But I know now that I have been given the spirit of adoption and am no longer in slavery to that sin. The wonderful thing about Christ is that He did not just stop with that sin, but has found more and more to free me from. He will not stop freeing me until I am completely His. [bctt tweet="Christ will not stop freeing me until I am completely His."] Sisters, in what ways are you like the crippled woman? Christ wants to free you from all slavery to sin. Place yourself in His presence and ask Him to begin to heal you with His great love. Susanna Spencer once studied theology and philosophy, but now happily cares for her three adorable little girls, toddler boy, and her dear husband in Saint Paul. 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.

I’ve been intentionally following Jesus for more than half of my life now, but I still haven’t managed to nail down one of His two most important commandments. "You shall love your neighbor as yourself." (Matthew 22:39) The aim and joy of my life is to honor the first commandment: to love God with all of my heart, soul, and mind. Do I love Him perfectly? Not by far, but the deepest desire of my heart is to love Him. So you would think that one would naturally flow from the other, right? That if I love God, I should love people. But I don’t. I continually (read, daily) fall short of loving His people. Where is the disconnect? I wonder if the answer is found in two little words tacked onto the end of that second commandment: as yourself. We can only love others as much as we love ourselves. Now before I lose you to excessive eye-rolling, hear me out. This isn’t some fluffly, middle school self-esteem message. These are the words of Jesus we’re talking about. “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” So the implications of self-rejection are massive. We will be unable to love our neighbors if we do not love and accept ourselves. Did you get that? We can only love others to extent that we love ourselves. No matter how fervently I love the Lord, if I do not receive His love for me, soak in it, believe it, and live into my identity as His Beloved daughter, I will never see the other with all of his or her God-given dignity and glory. It is imperative that we understand and claim our identity as beloved Daughters of God. This is central to the redemptive mission of Jesus Christ. He ransomed us from sin and death to establish us as adopted Daughters of God, heirs to the Kingdom no less. But most of us don’t live that way. I certainly don’t. We get through the day, seldom living into our giftedness or precious personhood. Listen to me now: You are a gift. Who you are is a masterpiece. You are more loved than you could ever conceive of, earn, or deserve. And all of this, the loving God and the loving people part, only flows from this pivotal truth: you are loved. [bctt tweet="Listen to me now: You are a gift. Who you are is a masterpiece. // @thebethdavis"] Look in the mirror. Repeat: I am loved. I am God's daughter. I am beloved. Beth Davis is the Director of Ministry Advancement for Blessed is She. She served as a youth minister for eleven years. She has a heart for teaching women about developing an intimate relationship with Jesus and speaking hope to weary souls. You can find out more about her here.

Although it’s been many years since I moved out of my parents’ home, I remember it like it was yesterday. In one week’s time, I landed a promising job and found a cute apartment near the big city. All these changes were exhilarating, but anxiety and doubt crept in. For a long time, I wondered: Will I be okay? Will I fit in? Will I belong? Maybe you’ve been the new girl, too. You transferred to a new school, launched a business, or joined a new parish. Perhaps no one knew you, which was both refreshing and a bit terrifying. Everything you knew before that point was in your rearview mirror, and everything ahead of you was a big question mark. In today’s First Reading, Saint Paul reminds us that, as followers of Jesus Christ, we have nothing to fear. By virtue of our baptism, we are bona fide citizens of the Kingdom of God. (Ephesians 2:22) In other words, we already do belong to something greater than ourselves, regardless of our mailing address or our job title. And it gets even better: We aren’t just citizens; we are family members. You are a beloved daughter of our Heavenly Father and a sister of Christ Jesus. There are neither strangers nor interlopers in your Father’s house. You don’t have to “fake it ‘til you make it,” sister—you’re already in—you’re a unique and integral part of something bigger than you can be on your own. You belong. In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus calls twelve men to be His Apostles. He doesn’t select cookie-cutter followers, one indistinguishable from the next, either. (Luke 6:13) There’s the uneducated fisherman who becomes the head of the Church; the reformed tax collector who writes one of the four Gospels; a former zealot who preaches in Persia; and the future patron of impossible causes. Each brings his different experiences and personality to the mix. Our Lord doesn’t care about His Apostles’ socioeconomic backgrounds or their past; He is interested in them. As Pope Benedict the XVI spoke in his General Audience, October 2006, “…[W]hat bound [the Apostles] together was Jesus himself, in whom they all found themselves united with one another.” And so it is with you and me, sister. Jesus invites us to the table just as we are, offering what we have to give. With Jesus as the capstone, we aren’t strangers. We are citizens. We are family. We belong. [bctt tweet="With Jesus as the capstone, we aren’t strangers. We are family. We belong. // @RealCatholicMom"] Do you ever feel like you don't quite fit in? Ask the Holy Spirit to speak healing into any brokenness concerning your identity today. Ask Him to reveal the truth of your citizenship in God's Kingdom, your special place in God's family . . . right where you are. Heather Renshaw is a writer, speaker, and uplifter on a mission to love and serve God with her husband and five children in the Pacific NW. You can learn more about her here.

Most mornings I get up, stumble to the living room and my well-worn chair and say morning prayer before my kids wake up. Sometimes these mornings are already filled with kids chattering in their rooms or yelling through the door asking what's for breakfast. Sometimes the silence is deep enough to penetrate my heart and speak renewal. After I say morning prayer I'm usually filled with the feeling that today is going to be a great day! I'm not going to fall prey to the usual temptations that bring me down. The triggers that make me lose patience with my kids, giving into anger over the everyday difficulties of a house full of children, giving into eating junk food because I'm tired or annoyed, putting off the necessary work that needs to get done because I feel lazy. I'm going to beat all those temptations today because I've prayed and I'm completely on track! Nothing's going to stop me and my day of holiness ahead! But inevitably something or someone does. A child demands more of time, zapping me of the mental energy necessary to pay the bills. I discover a new mess, freshly made, and lose my temper on the children I'm supposed to be modeling love towards. I don't eat well and by the time my husband comes home I'm annoyed and speak rudely. The flesh is so weak. The flesh is so weak that very often just the regular, everyday, and ordinary things of life pull my soul down. It is our fallen humanity, our sinfulness inherited and brought upon ourselves that make even small acts of love tough. We are just like Saint Paul. He too felt the pull of sin when his heart and mind so much wanted to follow God's call to holiness. (Romans 7:19) I may not be able to live up to my own expectations each day, I may fall to my sinful nature, but at every failure I am reminded that Christ has saved me. Christ hears my prayers for forgiveness each and every time, each and every new day. [bctt tweet="At every failure I am reminded that Christ has saved me."] We are all part of fallen humanity and we all experience it everyday. Let's pray for each other and the difficulties we may be facing. Lord, help to return to You each day, to accept Your mercy, and to walk with You in holiness. 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.

Contained in every life advancement or achievement, there is both a "no" and a "yes" involved. If I want to compete in a triathlon, I must say "no" to lazy Saturday mornings and I must say "yes" to scheduled training. If I want to spend more time with my friends, I must say "no" to useless time sucks and "yes" to carving out intentional planning. If I want to keep an organized home, I must say "no" to clutter and "yes" to consistent cleaning and purging routines. Virtue works the same way. Virtue involves a "no" to sin. But it can't stop there. Because as frail humans, we can easily drift into the dangerous waters of sin through the coaxing currents of adaptation. If we refuse a particular sin, but don't work to cultivate its opposite virtue, then eventually our culture, our flesh, or even our friends and family may gradually contribute to temptation that can lead us to fall into the very sin we thought we were safe from committing. Virtue, then, must also involve a "yes" to something greater than sin. Virtue seeks not only to avoid the illness of sin but to also formulate a vaccine for its future prevention. If I want to eradicate lust in my life, I must say "no" to impure behavior and other triggers for my lust, and "yes" to prayers for purity, accountability, and inspiration from the Saints. If I want to leave anger behind, I must say "no" to faulty relationship or circumstantial boundaries and "yes" to prayers for my enemies and opportunities to grow in patience and humility. If I want to be rid of greed or jealousy, I must say "no" to that which causes me to seek the lavishes of this world and produces discontentment in my heart and "yes" to practicing gratitude throughout the day. Actively seeking virtue may sometimes lead to the division Christ references in today's Gospel. But it is also what will lead to the sanctification and happiness Saint Paul promises in the First Reading. Spending eternity with Christ is worth the sacrifice of sin and earthly comforts for the discipline and rewards of virtue. Gaining Him is everything. [bctt tweet="Gaining Him is everything. // @to_the_heights"] Sisters, how can we actively grow in virtue today? What will you say "no" to? What will you say "yes" to? Olivia Spears is a middle school religion teacher turned SAHM who is married to her high school best friend. You can find out more about her here.

When I was a child I had a number of chores that I was expected to do after school before my parents got home. The short list was laid out clearly for me on a little sheet stuck to the refrigerator. Feed the cats. Bring in the garbage. Do the dishes. Vacuum the rug. And like the good, dutiful child I was I also did my chores immediately upon returning home in a calm and detailed manner. And by "calm and detailed" I mean "rushed and half-hearted." And by "immediately" I mean "ten minutes before I heard the garage door opening." I wish I could say that those days are behind me and that as an organized, responsible, working mother in her thirties I never slack on what's expected of me. I really wish I could say that. I once had a coworker tell me she was glad she wasn't Catholic so she didn't have to do all that sacrificing during Lent because she did just fine avoiding sin without the extra work. I wish I could say that too, but the truth of the matter is that there's still a part of me that treats the world and my responsibilities the way I treated my chores when I was ten. I know what's expected of me and yet here I sit avoiding what I know I need to do, avoiding what's good for me, and avoiding what I know God expects of me. The Gospel today tells this same story, unexpected days and hours when the Master comes, but knowing what he'll expect when he arrives. (Luke 12:46, 48) A lot of us go about our lives like this, thinking we know when God's going to pull into the driveway, and thinking as long as we've caught up on our to-do list by then we'll be fine. But God calls us to so much more than the half-hearted attempts of last-minute Christians. Today take a moment to reflect on the responsibilities God has given you. Are you making a good attempt to do what's expected of you or are you hoping to put things off a little longer, certain you'll know when the time comes and be prepared? Are you putting off virtues and Confession and other Sacraments assuming you'll have plenty of time to catch up later? What can you do today, this very hour from being a last-minute Christian? [bctt tweet="God calls us to so much more than the half-hearted attempts of last-minute Christians."] Let's be 100% Christians, all the time. Make the decision today, sisters. Molly Walter is a Catholic convert, wife and mother to two children on Earth and four babies called home to Jesus. She has a deep love of her faith, her family, literature, handcrafts, gardening, and Star Wars. When not working full time outside the home or wrangling her next family adventure, she blogs about all the good things in life. You can find out more about her here.