I have long appreciated intercessory prayer in my own prayer life. I love praying for other's intentions; I find it brings my own prayer life closer to God, helping me to remember to pray more often over the course of my day or offer up difficulties for someone's special intention. I believe wholeheartedly in the power of prayer, that it truly effects and changes our lives and that there is so much power in praying for each other as the Body of Christ on Earth. But I do struggle with bringing my own difficulties before Jesus. For some reason, I still have a hard time taking my small difficulties and problems to the Lord in prayer. I often forget to offer big issues in my life that I am confused about or genuinely anguishing over at Mass. I don't often seek out prayer support from others even though I feel so blessed and honoured by praying for others and their needs. In today's Gospel as the centurion boldly asks Christ to heal his servant, what struck me was his use of the word "subject." (Luke 7:8) To become a subject of someone else implies a submission to that person. A giving up of our own will and control. Submitting myself before Jesus, being unaware of how He will answer my prayer is so difficult. I truly struggle with this humble act of prayer because in the asking of Christ to change something in my life, I am giving up my control over it. I'm asking Christ for something, but at the same time, opening my heart to the possibility that His answer to my prayer may not be the answer I want. But this is fundamental in what prayer is and the role it plays in our relationship with God. Jesus emphasizes this fact today, saying that the centurion has faith He has not even seen in Israel. Honest prayer, humbly seeking Christ's power to change situations in our lives requires great faith, and I'll only get there by praying more. What can you offer Christ in prayer today that you haven't already? Is there an area in your life where you don't want to relinquish control? Holy Spirit, help us grow in faith as you help us pray. [bctt tweet="Honest prayer requires great faith."] 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.

We live in a nice, quiet Mayberry-type town. People are friendly, there are plenty of parades, everyone knows your name, and my neighbor’s dog won’t stop pooping on our lawn. Seriously. This ties in with the reading from the Book of Sirach today. Stay with me. This has been going on for over a year now, and it’s been messy and unrelenting. On top of all of that, the dog chases my small children. And I don’t want you to get the wrong idea; I do not want you to think ill of my neighbor. This is about me and wrath and forgiveness. One night it came to a head. Our neighbor came to the door angry that we had called the police after eighteen months of this behavior, and well, I lost my mind. I yelled. I swore. I belittled. And once I realized what I was doing to a brother-in-Christ, I cried. I am sure postpartum hormones did not help the situation one single bit, but my behavior was inexcusable. By the grace of the Holy Spirit, I was able to stop myself and apologize. Then came the aftermath. I had to learn forgiveness. And not just forgiveness towards my neighbor, which Christ asks us to do 77 times (Matthew 18:22), but I also had to forgive myself. In my mind, I was above that sort of behavior. I didn’t think that I was capable of that kind of sin, and I couldn’t forgive myself. And that’s when I realized that I was sinning again. This time it was pride. Who am I to think I am above sinfulness? Am I so right with the Lord that I should be ashamed that I am prone to sin? Not in the least. Instead, I had to humble myself and forgive myself for my lack of forgiveness of my neighbor. This is why Jesus died: to atone my sins. He does not expect me to be spotless while others sin around me. In fact, He says that He will only forgive me if I forgive others. He wants me to constantly seek Him so that I may avoid sin as well as seek Him so that I may obtain forgiveness when I do. Don’t be so hard on yourself, sister. We all have ugly moments. Thank God that you are worthy of forgiveness and be generous when you have the chance to forgive. [bctt tweet="This is why Jesus died: to atone my sins. // @callherhappy"] Jenna Hines has a teeny army of children: Ellen, Samuel, Theodore, and Maryn and is married to a bearded fellow named Mike. She is happiest when it is sunny outside and she has an embroidery needle in her hand. You can find out more about her here.

"For from the fullness of the heart, the mouth speaks." (Luke 6:45) Jesus tells us what it looks like when we listen to His words and follow His law in today's Gospel. He tells us what it looks like to be living out a life of love. It wasn't even two weeks after my third child was born that I found myself, soft belly high in the bathtub circa midnight, lapping in the waves of my salt tears and the salt soaked water. This child had rocked my world and my recovery was worse than anything I'd experienced. After a good hard sob, the kind where your echo is inside and out of your throat, I toweled dry, shuffled back to bed, and stabbed at my husband's calf with my toes. "I'm sorry," I mumbled. Nothing like postpartum hormones and a bad infection to wring a heartful of unhappiness out of your mouth. My heart was dark and heavy and mean. And the words that lashed out of it said so. He forgave and forgot faster than he could pass back out, and it was me who stayed awake, mulling over how hurts heal slower for the hurting person who inflicts them. Most of my days, my heart is full of love or decisions to love, and most of my days my tone and words speak that truth. But on days when I don't want to do the extra work of loading up love briquettes into my heart, it's ugly. It's me, plain and sour, and speaking the ugly out from in my heart. If you have a coworker who makes you want to load up on love briquettes instead of the sour ones, spend an extra minute or two with them. If you have a friend whose texts make you load up on the sour ones, set ye ole phone away from you for a while throughout the day. If your classwork is piling so high already and the semester just started, steal away for a moment with Our Lord to get the good love flowing again. I want to share love. I want to share His love today. I know Our Lord wants to help me turn that sour dour into love. Ask Him to help you, too, today. Jesus meek and humble of heart, make my heart like unto Thine. [bctt tweet="He tells us what it looks like to be living out a life of love. // @WholeParenting"] 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.

Wait, what? My pulse quickens. My skin flushes. I feel like I am under water. Have I taken a breath? He tells me the news. I am looking at him, but it's like I'm seeing through him. I hear him, but I can't understand him. I'm so sorry. It won't happen again. He says. He pleads. He keeps talking. I nod. Still numb. It would be a few days before it catches up to me. (Bad news tends to do that.) The anesthesia of the initial hit all slowly wears off and I feel it. I feel it all at once. Anger. Hurt. Betrayal. Incredulity. Confusion. And sorrow. Utter sorrow. Haven't we all experienced sorrow at some point? It is the nature of human relationships and of true and deep love. When we love and allow others into our hearts, we open up the possibility to be hurt, to experience loss, to feel sorrow. Whether you have lost a loved one, felt betrayed, been sick, or watched someone suffer, that sorrow can be overwhelming and completely isolating. No one can possibly understand how I feel! This is completely unique to me! And how terrible if that were true. But . . . We are not alone. You are not alone. Our Lady, our Blessed Mother, our Lady of Sorrows has experienced the greatest of all sorrows, her heart has been pierced, and that loss has attempted to claw at her feet and pull her under to that place that tells her God isn't there for her. But like our Lady had always done, she kept the faith and accepted the will of God so completely and so perfectly. Who else would be a better companion, a better comforter, a better Mother than our own mother? "Behold, your mother." (John 19:27) In times of my own sorrow, I cling to our Mother and allow her to suffer with me. And I pray she lets me, unworthy me, bear her grief as well. Let's pray a decade of the Rosary together today. Clinging to our heavenly Mother Mary, and asking for her intercession in our sorrows. [bctt tweet="In times of my own sorrow, I cling to our Mother and allow her to suffer with me. // @Substance_Soul"] 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.

Today we celebrate the feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross. We all are ever grateful for what was won for us on that Cross. And yet, sometimes I wonder if we become a little too familiar with the oddity of the Cross, with the great and terrible mystery of our salvation. Jesus, foreshadowing His Passion in conversation with Nicodemus, compares His being raised up on the Cross to the strange event of the people of God in the desert and the venomous serpents. (John 3:13-14) They had grown weary of obedience to God, these people whom He had rescued and saved from death through repeated miracles, and they grumbled and complained in disobedience. God sent serpents to attack them and then, when they were humbled into repentance, He instructed Moses to create a staff that carried the very visage of the creature that had brought them death to heal them and bring them life. (Numbers 21:5-9) It both strange and wonderful, the tale, and when we read it, we find it a bit strange and still marvel at it. Yet, the tale of the Cross is no less strange or wonderful, and far too often, we forget to stop and behold the wildness of the tale that won our salvation. We forget the real story of a God who became one of us, took on our visage, and bled and died the death we deserved to heal us from the poison of sin and the price it had exacted, our very lives. And the Cross is no temporary victory, no foreshadowing of salvation, but the very real action, the final grotesque and beautiful mystery that puts the venom of sin to death once and for all. Today as we ponder this Holy Feast, let us ask for the scales of familiarity to fall from our eyes, to truly behold the wonder and strange beauty of the Cross—of the scarred and beaten body of our God uplifted as a banner of triumph, of blood and death as the vision of ultimate love. We have a faith that cannot be taken in easily, swallowed down sweetly. We have a faith that forms a lump in our throats even as we wave our banners high in victory. The Cross deserves at least that much. Let us look to it today in triumph but in earnest awe of its fierce and holy wonder. [bctt tweet="Behold the wildness of the tale that won our salvation. // @colleencmitch"] 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.

I like comfortable. I love comfortable. Sometimes, I’ve made comfortable an idol. Have you? And, boy, is it hard to realize that I’ve slipped so far down that slope that all I can see is mud and mess and me, me, me. But He calls us to greater things. In the First Reading today Saint Paul encourages us to look up and seek what is above. Because all this stuff down here? All this comfort can become chains, and we can become slaves to our passions, be it money, food, gossipy chit chat. Our comfort might even take the form of not wanting to admit that we are a Christian because of the discomfort it might cause others and ourselves. But Saint Paul doesn’t just say “Hey, just cut it back a bit; don’t do it as much.” No. He tells us to put it to death. (Colossians 3:5) Many years ago I heard the phrase “dying to self” and thought, well that’s not any fun. But in my Christian journey I have grown, and I’ve learned to love that saying. I can now say that I will let this little (or big) comfort die. I will give this imperfection, this bad habit, this addiction to Jesus. It means I will be uncomfortable, and I might even experience some pain. But He said, blessed are you. Blessed are you who are poor, hungry, weeping, hated, because your reward is in Heaven. (Luke 6:20-26) The paradox of the the Resurrection is that His death means life. And when we die with Him, we live. Pray with me today: Lord, show me how to die so that I might live. [bctt tweet="The paradox of the the Resurrection is that His death means life."] 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.

The first sentence in today's Letter to the Colossians can be broken down into three words as it relates to our call as women following Jesus Christ: encounter, grow, and witness. These words have a lot of meaning in my local community, the Archdiocese of Detroit. As a local church we're working to "unleash the Gospel" in mighty new ways in Southeastern Michigan. Encounter: "As you received Christ Jesus the Lord . . ." (Colossians 2:6) How did you initially encounter Jesus in a personal way? We cannot love Him Whom we have not yet personally encountered. Jesus Christ can never truly be Lord over all in our lives if we have not met Him. When we receive the Lord, we can be changed by Him. But all of that begins with an encounter. Grow: "walk in him . . ." (Colossians 2:6) The word disciple translates to 'learner.' Being a disciple of Jesus means we are always learning to walk more in step with the King of Kings. It means we are trying to live the teachings of the Church and words of Jesus in Sacred Scripture. When we walk with Him in our daily lives, we are growing into who He created each of us to be. Witness: "rooted in him and built upon him . . ." (Colossians 2:7) When our lives are rooted in the truth of the Gospel, we can be His witness in the world. We need strong roots in the Sacraments, Saints, Community, and Scripture. When our roots are strong, we can be His band of joyful, missionary disciples. Each of us needs a fresh outpouring. We all need to be made anew through encountering Jesus, growing as His disciples, and witnessing to Him in the world. For each of us it will look different, but none of us are exempt from this call on our lives. It is not a one-time deal. Rather, it is a continual, radical way of giving Jesus permission with our entire life. The more I give Jesus permission, the more He changes me from the inside out. How have you personally encountered Jesus Christ? And where is that encounter leading you to witness to Him in your daily life? [bctt tweet="The more I give Jesus permission, the more He changes me from the inside out. // @amoderngrace"] 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.

Suffering. It happens everyday—the lingering virus, the teething baby, forgoing the purchase of those desired shoes, the irritating bug bite, the migraine that won’t go away, abstaining from meat on Friday, the drudgery of the long to-do list, the voluntary giving of our things, the long night with the sick child, fasting between meals, the pain at losing a baby too soon, the sorrowful widow, the man dying of cancer, the families suffering and divided because of war, children starving where there is not enough food, the mass sorrow caused by an unthinkable terrorist attack. All because of the first sin. Suffering. Our whole salvation is based on the voluntary suffering of one Man—a suffering made present at every single Sacrifice of the Mass. But His suffering and our suffering are not meant to be endured alone. I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ on behalf of his Body, which is the Church. (Colossians 1:24) Because of His suffering, our suffering can have meaning. In fact, suffering well is a central part of our Christian lives. We are meant to become like Christ, and we become like Him through suffering. He did not promise to take away our pain in this life—in fact He said that we would suffer and be persecuted. He modeled suffering for us, so that we could suffer with Him by taking every little suffering, every little sorrow, and the bigger sorrows and offering them with His Blessed Mother at the Foot of His Cross. That is where He wants us to go with our sufferings, so that we too can rejoice in our sufferings with Saint Paul. And there is more. Our suffering in union with Christ redeems us. Every offering we make is a means to our sanctification and that of the Church. And that is a reason to rejoice. How are you suffering today? How can you embrace your suffering? Who can you pray for amidst your own suffering? Let us build up the Body of Christ. [bctt tweet="Because of His suffering, our suffering can have meaning."] 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 turned 28 a few days ago. I’m single. I’m not in a serious relationship. I have been in serious relationships. I’ve thought that I’ve been on the path to marriage. So far, I’ve been wrong. If you are reading this on the Blessed Is She website, your eyes might dart over to a photo on the right-hand sidebar. I’m in it. I’m standing next to a large stone chimney, holding a baby while I wear a huge and cozy cardigan. It was taken last September, shortly after I’d turned 27. You might have seen that picture and thought I was a young mother, comforting my own child. But really, I was standing there, holding this sweet seven-week-old boy, and praying that by this time next year, I would know I was on the path to holding my own child. Maybe the crush I had at the time would have been kindled into a relationship. Maybe I would have met someone new and started dating them. Maybe a million things. Right now, that path doesn’t seem much clearer to me. Nothing very significant has changed in my love life. If anything, it’s a more bare landscape than it was last year. A lot of times, I feel adrift in my vocation. Each of the last several years, I’ve thought, this is it! This is the year I meet my spouse! Maybe I’ve been wrong. Maybe I’ve been right, but I just don’t know it yet. In the Gospel, Jesus says: "Again, amen, I say to you, if two of you agree on earth about anything for which they are to pray, it shall be granted to them by my heavenly Father.” (Matthew 18:19-20) And I believe Him. I don’t think that every human prayer I utter will be granted in human time in a way my limited human mind can understand. God’s plan for my life, my vocation, my holiness is so much greater than I can perceive at this moment. Only through discernment and prayer can I even begin to understand how He is granting this prayer. I am drawn ever back into community to pray in this way—as two of us agree to pray together, with and for each other. Pray for me today and I'm praying for you. [bctt tweet="God’s plan for my life + holiness is much greater than I can perceive at this moment. // @br1gid"] Brigid Hogan is a midwestern graduate student who finds peace in lakes, the Mass, and fiction when she isn’t ensconced in schoolwork. Find out more about her here.

Man, those Pharisees just didn’t get it. They were so busy prioritizing law over love and ‘measuring up’ over mercy that they couldn’t recognize salvation—even when it was right under their noses. As much as I’d like to believe I have nothing in common with the legalistic persecutors of Jesus’s time, I fall into the trap of missing the forest for the trees on occasion. As a revert to Catholicism, I began my journey back to Mother Church carrying many misconceptions about what being a faithful disciple looked like. I observed individuals who were, in my estimation, “good” Catholics, and believed that, to be holy, I had to pray exactly as they did, attend a particular Mass, and do specific things at precise times. Eventually, I learned that there are many different ways to legitimately and beautifully practice our Catholic faith. I realized that just because I didn't share the exact spirituality of someone I admired didn’t mean I was a horrible Christian. Even today, I can get sidetracked by a false “how to be holy” checklist. Somehow I hope that, if I can complete each task on my list, I will be made, as Saint Paul writes in today’s First Reading, “pure, holy, unblemished and irreproachable” to God. (Colossians 1:22) Thinking I can achieve salvation through my actions—even the good ones—flies in the face of Christ’s words in today’s Psalm, where He proclaims: “I am the way, the truth, and the life . . . no one comes to the Father except through me.” (John 14:2) Jesus Himself is the only way to eternal life. I am not the Messiah. There is no magical checklist that will warrant my salvation, and I can’t get to Heaven by trying to be someone I’m not. Jesus Christ alone is The Way. Each of us is called to our own personal encounter and relationship with the living God. This relationship will look quite different from individual to individual, even within the incredible graces of the Sacraments and Magisterial teaching. What a relief to be able to uniquely become who God is calling us to be! Consider your walk with the Lord. Do you struggle to feel as though you measure up to your own—or someone else’s—standards for holiness? Ask Jesus to speak truth to your heart about His saving love for you. [bctt tweet="Jesus Himself is the only way to eternal life. // @realcatholicmom"] Heather Renshaw is a speaker, writer, and uplifter on a mission to love and serve God with her husband and five children in the unchurched Pacific NW. She loves a good iced coconut milk latte and the silence of the Adoration chapel. You can learn more about her here.

Years and years ago, my Grandma Alice took an interest in family genealogy. Back then, there was no Ancestry.com, or DNA tests, or any other easy way to connect with those in her family tree. Instead, she meticulously researched municipal records, visited cemeteries, and wrote letters to those she thought could be her relatives. When her memory started to fail, her eldest son, my dad, took up the torch and continued the research. And when Dad's memory also started to fail, his younger brother, my Uncle Jim, continued on, this time with the help of countless online resources that weren't available when Grandma Alice started her quest. Today, the published works of my paternal family's history total more than three volumes and 700 pages—far longer than today's reading from the Gospel according to Saint Matthew. Because Grandma Alice died when I was very young, I never got the opportunity to ask her why she took such an interest in her family history. I would imagine, though, that for her, as well as for her boys, it mattered where she came from. Who were the people who went before her? Why did they marry who they married, and work where they worked? Did they love the Lord? Did they struggle? It gives me great comfort to know that I came from that history, from those sacrifices, from those seekers of beauty, truth, and goodness. Our friends in today's Gospel are also part of our history. It might seem like a boring list of oh-so-hard-to-pronounce names, but they are the story of our Jewish family, and the story of the Holy Family. Within Jesus Christ's genealogy are sinners, just like us, who had to learn a thing or two of the mercy and goodness of God, just like us. We all come from a history that is at times painful. Take heart, Sisters, that the most beautiful gift in the world emerged from a family history that had its own hard times, and that we, too, are invited to share in its redemption. [bctt tweet="Our friends in today's Gospel are also part of our history."] Karen Schultz is a Birth Doula who hails from the Land of 10,000 Lakes, where she is often found in or near one of them. You can find out more about her here.

“Unbelievable.” That word circled my mind as I tightly clutched the positive pregnancy test in my hand. I hadn’t ever seen anything like it. In the nearly ten years of marriage, my body tried and failed at every attempt at growing our family tree. We had watered that tree with tears and longing and hope for years, but it resisted growth. And then it happened—that tiny sprouting bud found its way to our stunted tree, and life began to bloom. “Can you believe it?” I’d say to my husband as my body began to stretch to accommodate life. “No,” he’d say, bewildered in the face of the miracle inside. Because the truth is that we had started to doubt. It seemed as though miracles were happening all around us. And as we watched the other trees expand with new life, we wilted in doubt under our barren shrub. But hope was always there. Deep down in the midst of our doubt, hope kept nudging us along. It beckoned us to trust and pray and look beyond our barren tree to dream of the seemingly impossible. I see that same sort of hope in Saint Peter in today’s Gospel. After “[working] hard all night and [catching] nothing,” Jesus asks him to "put out into deep water and lower your nets for a catch." And it’s there—caught between the doubt of what he logically believes will be unfruitful and the hope in what Jesus is instructing him to do—that I see it. Because even amid great doubt, he pursues the path of faith and is astonished when they “[catch] a great number of fish” to the point that “their nets were tearing.” (Luke 5:4-6) Stories of miracles abound throughout the Bible, but it is sometimes difficult to believe that such things could happen to us. May we constantly choose the path of hope, to look beyond our doubt and see the beautiful nature of a God who knows no bounds. And when the impossible attempts to cast doubt in our faith, may we seek The One who makes all things possible . . . even when it seems unbelievable. Take your doubt and examine it today. Do you have faith it can blossom? [bctt tweet="May we constantly choose the path of hope. // @IamBritCal"] 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.

Seasons of life. That’s what it so often comes down to. I can’t do this thing now, even though I know how good it would be for me, because . . . reasons. My own experience of it is mostly as a stay-at-home mom to many, but I’m sure it’s equally applicable to folks in all walks of life. Maybe it’s daily Mass, or saying a family Rosary each night, or exercising regularly, or making time to meet a friend for coffee every week. Whatever it is, I’ve taken a look and decided I can’t manage it right now. And let’s assume, for argument’s sake, that I really can’t. Not right at that moment. But how often am I reassessing? How often do I look interiorly with right priorities? When Jesus arrived at the home of Simon Peter’s mother-in-law, she was “afflicted with a severe fever.” (Luke 4:38) Clearly, she wasn’t up to making dinner for everyone. But once she was healed, she “got up immediately and waited on them.” (Luke 4:39) Immediately! Not once things settled down a bit. Not after she’d had a chance to relax a bit and catch up on some things around the house. Immediately. Because Jesus and family are her priorities. I’m often guilty of realizing I have some extra time to pursue projects or hobbies or leisure before I realize that I have time to invest in things that are really important. Maybe now the baby’s nap schedule means I can’t get to Adoration. But what about in a few months? The First Reading reminds us that we bear fruit and grow as we come to know God's graces. (Colossians 1:6) Being open to priorities set correctly and God's grace in our lives means we can get back to doing the important things as soon as possible, even if it’s just for a little while before schedules change again, or somebody lets a bunch of crazy loose in the house. What are you not able to get to that you know you should or want to? And how often do you reassess if you can actually do it . . . now? [bctt tweet="Take time to reassess."] Kendra Tierney is a forty year old mother of nine and wife of one living in and working on a big old fixer-upper house in Los Angeles. She's a homeschooler and a regular schooler and is counting down the days until her oldest turns sixteen and can take over some of the driving! Her new book about living the liturgical year in the home is in the editing process. You can find her first book, A Little Book About Confession, here, her blog here, and her word art here.

Isn’t there something so wonderful about holding a hand-written letter from the mail? It becomes a little treasure which is often saved and read again and again. Can you imagine how excited the members of the Church of Thessalonica must have been to receive this letter from the Apostle Paul? He tells them to continue to encourage one another and build one another up. This is at the heart of evangelization. Saint Teresa of Calcutta, whose feast we celebrate today, is a magnificent example of evangelization. Jesus invited her to “Come, be my light” and this light radiates especially bright today, on this twentieth anniversary of her death and entrance into eternal life. Mother Teresa joyfully lived the Consecrated Life, following the Evangelical Counsels of chastity, poverty, and obedience. She encouraged others to join her as Missionaries of Charity, and their religious family today includes active sisters, contemplative sisters, religious brothers, priests, co-workers, and lay missionaries. Their mission is to satiate Jesus’ thirst from the cross, which is the reason why you will find His words, “I thirst,” written beside every crucifix in their chapels around the world. On March 25, 1993, Saint Teresa wrote a beautiful letter of encouragement to her community. As we invoke her intercession today, listen to her simple words: “Jesus wants me to tell you again . . . how much love He has for each one of you—beyond all you can imagine. I worry some of you still have not really met Jesus—one to one—you and Jesus alone. We may spend time in chapel—but have you seen with the eyes of your soul how He looks at you with love? Do you really know the living Jesus—not from books but from being with Him in your heart? Have you heard the loving words He speaks to you? Ask for the grace, He is longing to give it.” Sisters, have you experienced Jesus’ look of love? Have you set aside the time today to be with Him in your heart? What are the loving words He speaks to you now? When we receive Jesus’ love in the encounter of prayer, then we are strengthened to go out and love with His Heart. Every single person we will encounter this day needs encouragement. Who is He inviting you to love? Be attentive and generous; write a letter, make a phone call, stop in for a visit. Be Christ to the poorest of the poor. Let us pray daily with the Missionaries of Charity, “Let them look up and see no longer us, but only Jesus,” as taught by Blessed Cardinal John Henry Newman. (source) [bctt tweet="Sisters, have you experienced Jesus’ look of love?"] 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.

As a teen, when I thought of holiness I imagined priests and nuns kneeling in church praying quietly. It seemed completely removed from my daily life and so unlike me. It wasn’t until I was older that I had a better understanding of holiness. I realized that it wasn’t just priests and nuns who were called to prayer and holiness but everyone. Saint Josemaría Escrivá said it this way, “Your duty is to sanctify yourself. Yes, even you. Who thinks that this task is only for priests and religious? To everyone, without exception, our Lord said: 'Be ye perfect, as my heavenly Father is perfect.'” (The Way) This universal call to holiness is not dependent on our age, job, social status, or whether we are single, married, or religious. It doesn’t matter if we’re extroverts or introverts or what kind of personality we have. God made each of us unique with our own gifts and personality quirks. His call to holiness reaches out to every single one of us whether we’re walking to our next class, working in our cubicle, chasing toddlers, or taking care of grandchildren. God is reminding us this day that we are daughters of the King. We are loved and cherished and God wants us to spend eternity with Him in our heavenly home. As such, we are set apart and called to live our lives in a different manner from the rest of the world. Like the wise virgins, we know that the Bridegroom will come back one day. (Matthew 25:13) We are called to be prepared and ready. So how do we prepare? In the First Reading it says, “This is the will of God, your holiness.” (1 Thessalonians 4:3) Look around you. You are surrounded by opportunities to grow in holiness and to practice charity, patience, forgiveness, kindness and virtue. Your life is your battlefield. The people surrounding you in your home, your work, your neighborhood, these are the people that need your love and healing touch. This is your missionary field because no one else can complete your mission as well as you can. God calls you to be holy—a Saint—at this point in history and where you are at right now. Today, let us pray for the strength, courage, and fortitude to live out our holiness and trust that God will give us all the grace and mercy we need to fulfill our mission. [bctt tweet="No one else can complete your mission as well as you can. // @bobbi_rol"] 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.

I am a chronic procrastinator. This is especially true when I am faced with a daunting task. Teach myself a new skill I’m itching to learn? I must find the right method! Begin a new exercise program after a long time away from the gym? Um, I’m just not feeling up to it today (or ever). Embark on a room renovation in my home? The weather will be better for that next week. I’ve got a whole pack of excuses I can cull from. I see the myriad of steps it takes to get from A to Z, and I’ve given up before I’ve even begun. Our pilgrimage to Heaven is another one of those formidable tasks that is ever so tempting to delay for another day. Developing an ever-deeper relationship with our loving God can just be put off until tomorrow . . . and tomorrow . . . and tomorrow. He will always be there, right? I’ll just go on living the life I desire. God and His laws will be on my radar when I’m ready for them further down the road. I need to live out the pleasures of my college years! When I’m settled down with a husband, should be good timing. Or, you know, I’ll just wait until I’ve raised these children and they’re out of my hair. While it is true that God will always be there waiting whenever I deign to find a moment to turn to Him, what He desires is to be a part of my life now. As Saint Paul reminded the Corinthians, NOW is the perfect moment—now is the acceptable time. (2 Corinthians 6:2) Make that time for Him today—and every day—to hear His voice, to follow His promptings, to live your life in Him. Do not gamble with your salvation as Saint Constantine did, putting off his baptism until the last possible moment, delaying the living out of a truly Christian life, in the hopes that there will always be tomorrow. Tomorrow may never come. To find true happiness and joy in this life and the next, allow Him to awaken your heart now and always with His love. Whatever else you may find yourself procrastinating with, don’t let the Lord find Himself on that list. Have you been putting the Lord off recently? Take a moment today to speak with Him, and resolve (even schedule!) to make a daily encounter with Him. [bctt tweet="He desires to be part of my life now. // @Muffin_Dome"] Laurel Muff is a creator and appreciator of beautiful things. She resides with her husband and daughters in Northern California. You can find more about her here.

The Gospel today provides us with some of the most compelling and even scary imagery to launch us into a more sincere relationship with God. I entered the convent thinking it would be easy to develop friendships with all my sisters on the basis of our common love for God and our common charism. I soon realized my definition of relationships and friendships, like everything else, had to be surrendered to the Lord. As I embarked on the adventure of surrender, I discovered the wildly beautiful way God acts. I have discovered this so often that I have grown to expect it: Our Lord always gives back one-hundredfold. It may not be exactly what I was expecting, but it has always been the abundant fulfillment of my heart’s most authentic desire. God not only purified and strengthened my understanding of friendships, but He also gave me strong friendships I would have never dreamed were possible. The key was I had to give Him the permission to mold and heal my heart. It is not easy, but He is so faithful. I try to give Him this permission to transform my heart every day and sometimes several times a day. And this is essential because I want to be living the things I speak about in mission. This consistency is the only way. Besides, inauthenticity is stinky. And I think that’s the point of the Gospel today. Our Lord Jesus makes a strong statement in the Gospel. He warns us to be very careful not to be spiritually dead and decaying interiorly while obsessing about being photo-ready. (Matthew 23:27) Photo-ready may be today’s equivalent of a whitewashed tomb. God knows we cannot stand being fake and we thrive on authenticity. He made us this way. This is why Christ Jesus expresses His desire for this total harmony for each of us in today’s Gospel. This is tough stuff, but it is freedom. The powerful truth is He not only teaches us, but He also gives us every grace we need to follow. Instead of worrying about being photo-ready today, can you instead think about how to be photo-authentic? Consider turning yourself over to God for all necessary improvements! [bctt tweet="The truth is Jesus not only teaches us but also gives us every grace we need. // @SrMariaKim"] Sister Maria Kim Bui is a Daughter of Saint Paul, women religious dedicated to evangelization in and through the media. She is originally from Tempe, AZ, spent most of her fourteen years in religious life in the northeast, and is part of a bilingual evangelization team of sisters serving in Texas. Find out more about her here.