Are you troubled, sister? The demons who stalk the Earth can take advantage of our weaknesses. They may make themselves known in our lives by encouraging us to feel out of control, worthless, and distant from God. Maybe you’re like me, and you struggle with an anxiety disorder. You pray fervently for relief, but you still haven’t seen the miracle you’re looking for. Other women may have spouses with a gambling or pornography addiction. Some women might struggle with motivation and procrastination. You may have a tendency to lie or be quick to anger. Maybe you yell at your kids too often or you judge your coworkers in your own head or aloud with gossip. We know where we are weak, and that is where the demons strike. But Jesus knows too. He knows our weaknesses and understands them better than we do. He pondered the very weakness that is on your mind while he hung on the cross. Think about that: He thought of you while He was on the Cross. You. In 2017. He also thought about the woman in today’s Gospel—her along with her daughter. So great was her faith that even when Jesus tested her, she persisted. And He heard her request and healed her daughter (so powerful are the prayers of a mother). (Matthew 15:28) And in this circumstance, Jesus chose to heal. He took away the demons that were tormenting the daughter all because of faith. This type of passage leaves me wondering, “I have faith. Where is my miracle?” Jesus may not heal me today, but if I look at how He has acted in my life, I can see how He has helped me through my weaknesses. He may be using my temptations to bolster my faith or the faith of another. We don’t know His ways, but we do know He can use evil and the hardships in our life for good. So ask for that miracle. Ask God to take away your demon and believe He will. Go to Him in the Sacraments, receive your healing through the avenues of grace Jesus gave to us. Know that “The world offers you comfort. But you were not made for comfort. You were made for greatness,” (Pope Benedict XVI) and our healing will come in God’s time be it all at once or little by little over the course of a lifetime. Visit Our Lord in the Adoration or at Mass today, this week. Talk to Him. [bctt tweet="He thought of you while He was on the Cross. // @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.

"See this drawing?" my husband asked our daughter, holding up a two-dimensional rendering of an imaginary animal she'd drawn. He was trying to explain to her God's omniscience in light of our limited human understanding. "Even if you tried to describe our three-dimensional world, it wouldn't translate because it's stuck in two dimensions," he said. "That's how it is with God and us. We'll never totally understand everything about God's kingdom from Earth, even if we think we have a good explanation, because we have yet to experience it." She nodded blankly, but I found myself both laughing and cringing internally at the analogy. My lack of understanding has always been a stumbling block for me. It's not that I feel the need to know it all; it's that, in my limited understanding, I assume God's infinite ways should conform to my finite human ideas. Like Miriam and Aaron, like Peter sinking in the waves, like the Pharisees clinging to their rules, I expect God's workings to fit nicely in the tiny box of what I consider "normal." Never mind that—literally throughout all of salvation history—God has continually shown that He thinks outside the box. Still, I let my opinions of what is "right" or "should be" crowd out the love that could soften my heart enough to hear God's actual word of direction on any given matter. Often, I remain closed to a possibility if it doesn't look like my prescriptive, preconceived notion of what acceptable looks like. I let my lack of faith, my fear of trusting, limit His ability to work wonders in me and through me. Today He gently reminds us that there's so much more to the bigger picture than any one of us can see or understand. He's not calling us to try and figure it out anyway. He's calling us to humbly acknowledge our lack of understanding, and courageously say yes to Him anyway. Yes to His always unconventional ways of teaching, of healing, of leading us along the path of human suffering to Sainthood. Yes to trusting that no matter how crazy His methods may seem, no matter how far outside the comfort zone of our own small limits, He's adding to the beauty of the big picture. We need only give Him the pencil, surrender the two-dimensional paper of our life, and allow Him to transform us in the hands of His limitless creativity. What's holding you back from saying YES to Him today? [bctt tweet="Allow Him to transform us in the hands of His limitless creativity. // @PosImperfect"] Megan Hjelmstad is a wife, mom, writer and sometimes soldier whose real passion is equal parts faith and chocolate. You can find out more about her here.

I used to love cooking dinner. No one in my family was ever much of a chef, let alone a "foodie," and it wasn't until I was out on my own in and after college that I really started to learn to cook. I had so much fun learning new techniques and devoting a good amount of time each night to making a full meal, and then I had children. There are some nights when I wonder if I don't know a little bit of how those poor disciples felt when the crowds of thousands didn't make their own dinner reservations somewhere else as I look down at my children in the witching hour that is dinner time and exasperated at the thought of making one more picked over dinner and wonder out loud, "Didn't I just feed you yesterday?" Moses, stuck wandering in a desert with his hungry people, actually pleads with God to "take me now" rather than deal with the stress of feeding people in the wilderness. (Numbers 11:15) If Moses, the man chosen by God to deliver His people from bondage, was ready to throw in the towel over dinner then, suddenly, I don't feel too bad about the other night when I scrapped the healthy, wonderful dinner I had planned in place of frozen fish sticks and veggies dragged from the back of the freezer. God provides, whether it's manna from Heaven or fish and loaves (Matthew 14:19) or frozen fish sticks. When the people asked for food, He provided—not fancy, elegant meals, but simple, satisfying food. While I could apply today's reading solely to my lackluster and unimaginative meal planning, I also feel the need to remember that sometimes God provides me just what I need and no more. How often do I act like the Israelites causing Moses to pull out his hair and demand more, better, richer fare than I need? How often do I assume that what's been given to me can never, ever be enough? God provides exactly what we need when we need it—sometimes we need to stop and listen to Him as He says, Yes, you can wait a little longer or Trust me, you'll like it if you'll just try it. He knows what will sustain us, and we only need to trust that it will be enough. Are you able to listen to God's assurances that He has given you what is needed to sustain you? Re-read the First Reading and the Gospel and take courage. [bctt tweet="How often do I assume that what's been given to me can never, ever be enough?"] Molly Walter is the Blog Manager for Blessed is She, 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.

A seasoned retreat preacher once told me times of intense encounter with God like retreat or our daily times of prayer train us to live in the presence of the Lord. I have learned that the clearer, more intentional spaces for prayer separate the superfluous from the actual so we can learn how to notice the Lord’s voice. God takes us up the mountain to teach us how to recognize Him when He acts and speaks in ordinary life. I entered my religious community with a deep desire to let the Lord mold and transform my heart in every way He desired. There is so much to learn, and the meaning of most of the lessons continues to unfold. Three years after I entered I was a novice on my annual eight-day silent retreat when I had a surprising mountaintop experience. It was a delicate answer to a yearning I felt for years. Although I felt profoundly connected to the spirituality of the community, I felt distant from Saint Paul. This was a problem because my community is named the Daughters of Saint Paul. The Great Apostle remedied my interior struggle in a funny way. This novice figured all valid spiritual experiences should happen in the chapel, but Saint Paul spoke to me while I was walking up one of the stairwells. I felt him say, I have been your father from your very beginning. My heart sprang into life at the thought and I was enveloped by a joy and gratitude that welled from within. I felt a clear and peaceful understanding of his spiritual fatherhood. For all its vividness, this was a little insight that has quietly colored and formed my life. Something sprang into life in my heart and has not stopped living and growing since that day. I believe we all have moments like this, and I also believe we would all have more moments like these if we could only be courageous enough to enter into silence. In today's Gospel according to Saint Matthew, Our Lord Jesus took His closest disciple up a mountain, and He was transfigured. (Matthew 17:1-2) What does it mean? They got to briefly see Him as He is. He is the Living God whose purity and refulgence is more brilliant than the sun. It also reveals our identity. We are beloved sons and daughters of the Most High. I pray we will pull life and clarity from our mountaintop experiences to live lives grounded in the truth of God's abiding presence in our day to day lives. Can you go to a silent retreat or even make your own time for silence at home? [bctt tweet="We are beloved sons and daughters of the Most High. // @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.

When I was in high school, I attended a weekly meeting of my parish’s youth group. At the end of every meeting, our pastor, an older Irish priest, would make a visit to our youth room to close out the evening in prayer with us. He would end our time of prayer with a blessing: May the Lord bless you and keep you, May His face shine upon you and be gracious to you, And may He hold you in the palm of His hand. His words, drawn from today’s Psalm, always gave great comfort and peace to my soul. Whatever struggles I was facing at the time seemed to fade in the light of his powerful, uncomplicated words of blessing. Recently, the deacon at our parish suggested to our family that we incorporate a regular practice of offering a prayer of blessing over each other. This suggestion drew to mind the influence of our pastor’s regular prayers of blessing in my youth. The memory of its vivifying power washed over me, making me realize how significant the gesture can be. We now do this regularly in our family, particularly as we finish out our day. His graces flow, sometimes palpably felt, as we close our eyes for the night. The phrase “God bless you!” that often escapes the lips of we Christians is more than just a mere platitude. It, too, is present in today's Psalm when the psalmist cries out, "May God bless us." (Psalm 67:7) It is a powerful prayer that certainly has dynamism behind it. It is not just a happy thought, but the calling down of Almighty God’s graces upon another. And it is something that we should make a regular practice of. May God bless you today and always, sister! Who could use your prayer of blessing? Notice the people in your life today who could use a blessing and offer one for them, even if it is in the silence of your heart. [bctt tweet="May the Lord bless you and keep you. // @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.

When I was a first-year high school teacher, I was very busy. Most mornings I would leave the house at 6am with my housemate (a fellow teacher) and drive the thirty minutes to school in the dark, breakfasts in our laps as we prayed the Rosary together. It was a full day. We'd usually hit a wall about 5pm, drive home for dinner, and then sit across from one another prepping for the next day at our dining room table until 10pm (or later). It was tough work and a huge lesson for me in how to not let a profession take over one's life. Thanks be to God, early on in my teaching I found the wisdom to tell my students and their parents: "You are always welcome to email me whenever you like, but please know that I don't check or respond to email on Sundays. I encourage you to follow a similar practice." I don't know how I did it (well I do, by God's grace) but every Sunday I would do my best to tune out the many responsibilities of teaching and turn to the Mass, to reconnecting with family, and finding leisure with friends or by myself. What strikes me about today's reading from the Book of Leviticus is that at least four times our Jewish brothers and sisters were exhorted to honor the Sabbath and to do no work, not only to honor the Lord for the gifts of the harvest, but also, I'd imagine, because it was good for them. Today, too, it does us immense good to rest, find intimacy and solace with Him in silence, and to reconnect with those whom we love. The Sabbath is made for us. What a terrible waste when it is squandered. Sisters, I implore you to look ahead to this upcoming Sabbath (just two days away!). What changes can you make to honor the Lord and offer yourself the rest and intimacy with Him that you desire? Can you put an auto-reply on your email that says you'll reply on Monday? Turn off the alert notifications on your phone? Do your grocery shopping and other errands on Saturday so that your Sunday is free and unencumbered by to-do lists? Then, look forward to the Sabbath as a time to reconnect with your loving Father. Perhaps you could spend a few extra minutes in prayer after Mass or seek out Adoration. Maybe try a new or forgotten form of recreation—like painting or trying out a new recipe. Not because it is on your to-do list, but because it gives your heart joy and because it allows you to remember the immense gift of the Sabbath. There is nothing—nothing—like a truly lived Sabbath, Sisters. Pass it on. [bctt tweet="It does us immense good to rest, find intimacy, and to reconnect with those whom we love."] 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.

From time to time, I get a case of the "I don't wanna" when I think about the adult responsibilities on my plate. I don't want to spend an hour paying all the bills, or calling about trash service, or scheduling doctors' appointments. I don't want to take my truck in for an oil change. I don't want to make time for Confession instead of staying all day at the beach. And while I’m being honest, there are also times when I don’t want to, because I don’t feel qualified, do the hard things God is asking of me. I don’t want to carry the cross. Neither did Moses, when the Lord first called him. Moses asked God if someone else could go, if someone else could do the talking. Nevertheless, he obeyed and followed the Lord. Now in today's First Reading, Moses actually did set up the dwelling space for the ark of the covenant. (Exodus 4:16) Even—and especially—when the odds may have seemed against him, when God's will seemed crazy, Moses obeyed and faithfully did the work. Even when the tasks may have seemed meaningless, or like someone else could have done them, Moses did as the Lord commanded. Moses' faithfulness to the task made him a more steadfast servant of the Lord. His steadfastness resulted in God's will being carried out, and his steadfastness set him apart. Faithfulness like this leads to righteousness, and as Jesus tells the people in the Gospel, the angels will separate the wicked from the righteous. (Matthew 13:39) On the last day (or any day), I want to be seen as one of the righteous, one of the faithful servants who carried out God's will in my life. So when I "don't wanna," I will do anyway. I will pray for a more willing heart, and put my best efforts forward. May God who was faithful to Moses increase my trust in Him, and may my life be lived so that when Jesus comes again, He counts me among the righteous, as a servant who lovingly followed His will. If you don't want to do the things you must, you're not alone. Be encouraged by your sisters here in our community. Be assured of our prayers. [bctt tweet="May God who was faithful to Moses increase my trust in Him."] Gina Fensterer is a Colorado native at heart, but the West Coast beach life suits her just fine. She currently lives in small coastal area of California with her husband and six children. She loves the Jesus prayer, coffee at any time of day, homemade salsa, photography, and sleepy toddler snuggles. You can find out more about her here.

In today’s First Reading, Moses refers to his fellow Israelites as “stiff-necked.” Picture someone with a stiff neck—chin up, stubborn, proud! This was the wickedness and sin that was rampant among them. I don’t have great posture, so I might not be stiff-necked, but that doesn’t mean I am free from a little postural wickedness myself. Instead I might get called bent-necked: craning toward my screen, looking away from situations that make me uncomfortable, losing myself in my phone or my laptop. I use my phone like a pacifier or a blanket. Rather than being open to encounter, face-to-face, I seek a mediated environment. On social media or in texts, I can take the time to curate what I want to say, how I want to be perceived, and with what or whom I interact. The real world is messier! But that’s the world for which we were created. I move through the world with the constant opportunity to build a wall and make a barrier between myself and those I encounter. Sometimes the one I encounter is a stranger, but sometimes I am bending away from people I love. It can be easier to slip away into my phone, habitual and second-nature. Am I choosing to love less because I am turning my face away from what is real and true in this world? Am I allowing the little device in my hand or purse or pocket to become an idol? The stiff-necked Israelites may have had a golden calf, but the little rose gold iPhone can be just as dangerous. Moses continues, "yet pardon our wickedness and sins, and receive us as your own." (Exodus 34:9) I want to be received as God's own and turn away from my habitual sins, as small or large as they may be. He offers complete pardon and love, we just have to choose it. Look up from your phone today at a moment when you might want to mindlessly scroll through social media or texts. Standing in the coffee line, riding the bus or train, waiting in the car at pick-up, choose not to be bent-necked. [bctt tweet="The Lord offers complete pardon and love, we just have to choose it. // @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.

The gentle warmth of the May sun shines upon my face. I cannot help but smile. My heart knows a deep peace in this moment—that abiding peace which only Christ can give. God’s praises swell within my soul and I sing out in joy to Him with my pen on the paper of my journal. My voice does not ring out now—though it soon will. I have not spoken in six days. Well, to be completely honest, I have spoken a little—once each day to my spiritual director, and the responses in Mass. Amen. Alleluia. And with your spirit. But otherwise I have spoken only to God in the quiet depths of my heart. It is one of the most profound spiritual experiences of my life. This describes my journey through a seven day silent retreat based upon the Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius of Loyola, whose feast we celebrate today. The spirituality and prayer life of Saint Ignatius, founder of the Society of Jesus, have had a profound impact on the Church. To put it another way, the fruits born from his “mustard seed” of a life continue to be realized, centuries after his life on Earth ended. The parables we hear Jesus speak to us in the Gospel today are about everyday stuff. A mustard seed. Some yeast. Yet these seemingly ordinary things become extraordinary by God’s design and with His grace. Your life can be a mustard seed; your love can be yeast. We need only ask God to make it so. I was first introduced to Saint Ignatius of Loyola’s Suscipe prayer on my silent retreat. Would you pray it with me now, sister? “Take, Lord, and receive all my liberty, my memory, my understanding and my entire will, All I have and call my own. You have given all to me. To you, Lord, I return it. Everything is yours; do with it what you will. Give me only your love and your grace, That is enough for me.” May all we do be ad majorem Dei gloriam—for the greater glory of God. Saint Ignatius of Loyola, pray for us. [bctt tweet="Your love can be yeast. We need only ask God to make it so. // @inendlesssong"] Elise Howe is a devoted wife, momma, vocal artist and teacher. She currently resides in New York City, though she will always be a Midwestern gal at heart. Elise has a heart for ministry, dark chocolate (but not too dark) and coffee with a generous amount of cream + sugar. Find out more about her here.

The kitchen door bangs as my daughter appears in flip flops and a well-loved ballet tutu, cheeks flushed, a large bunch of dandelions gripped in her sweaty hand. “I brought you these beautiful flowers!” she chirps. “Will you come push me on the swing?” Head swirling, I silently add mow the lawn to my mental list when I see how many dandelions are still out there. Company is coming, the house is a mess, I have a cake to make and an article to finish, the dishwasher is only half unloaded and the dryer is buzzing to remind me that our clothes are about to wrinkle if I don’t rescue them immediately. “In a minute, sweetie? I have to finish some things . . . .” I see the disappointed slump of her shoulders. If asked which was more important—my daughter’s soft heart or the laundry?—I wouldn’t have to pause to reflect. Of course she matters more than a bunch of shirts! When it comes to taking action, though, I sometimes forget to put the people in my life above my to-do list. Today’s readings ask us to consider what we value most. King Solomon prized wisdom above all else in his desire to rule well, and God was pleased with his request. The merchant searching for fine pearls sold all he had to obtain the pearl he most desired. Their actions clearly show us their priorities. It’s not about what we say we value most, but about what we do. Our actions are what reveal what is most important to us. Saint Paul writes in Romans that “all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8:28) When we ask God to make our priorities match His, we align our will with His. We allow Him to work things out in the best possible way according to His plan. As we determine what is most important, we must ask God to reveal His priorities for us and pray to have our values reflect those priorities. When we surrender to His will, we can have confidence that our actions will reflect God’s values for our lives. Turning away from the sink, I follow my daughter out to the swing set. I’ll always have things to do, but she won’t always need a push . . . and right now, that matters more. Are you struggling to let God's priorities be yours? Make a list of ways to spiritually grow, not just a normal to-do list, for the summer. [bctt tweet="When we surrender to His will, our actions will reflect God’s values for our lives. -@dere_abbey"] Abbey Dupuy writes her life as a homeschooling mom to four frequently barefoot children. In her spare time, Abbey enjoys running, gardening, coffee, and cookbooks, not usually all at the same time. She muses about imperfect parenting, practicing gratitude and celebrating the liturgical year with her young family on her blog. You can find out more about her here.

My day is filled with countless opportunities for sacrifice, for prayer, and for love. It is also filled with opportunities for grumbling and pessimism, self-pity and regret. The funny thing is the same events of the day present me with all these options, all at once. The dishes are just the dishes, the laundry or the drive to work, or the crying kid are all just that. It's when they are mixed with me, when my experience meets these practical means of the day, that they take on a purpose. And that purpose is mine to initiate. It can all be prayer, it can all be love. Or it's all a burden, and it's all for nothing. It's up to me. I look at Saint Martha, and I love her. Her plight is my plight. Why does no one see the mounds of work that must be done? Why isn't anyone helping or picking up the slack? The temptation for self-pity is hovering along the surface of every duty of my life. But the Lord is showing me another way, just as he did to Saint Martha. I don't think Christ is asking Saint Martha to drop the work, or to be Saint Mary and forget the duties of her life. I think He is asking her to see Him in all of it, and to take it on with affection, as an opportunity to love and to serve God in all things. I think He is asking me for this, too. Turn it into love, my friend. Turn it into love. The Morning Offering is a more powerful prayer than we think. I want to renew my commitment to blanketing my whole day as a gift of love to the Lord through this beautiful prayer. Every red light, every crusted oatmeal bowl, every skinned knee—a prayer, an offering, a sacrifice. God isn't asking me to change my life, He is asking me to be changed. Let's pray the Morning Offering prayer together, today. [bctt tweet="God isn't asking me to change my life, He is asking me to be changed."] Blythe Fike is the wife of Kirby and mother of 7 smallish kids. She loves the quiet life in small town SoCal. You can find out more about her here.

More. It’s a dirty word for me. I suppose it came to be so from knowing so well the weighty burden of less. “Less is more,” they say. But I didn’t believe that when the soles of my shoes wore away to reveal my seven-year-old toes. I didn’t believe that when the food in our pantry quickly disappeared each month into seven hungry mouths. I didn’t believe that when my car sputtered and stalled at every red light I came to. “More” has haunted me all of my life. It has tormented me with the promise of freedom, the promise of happiness. And I feel it, that worldly pressure to measure up. It’s in the perfectly tailored social media posts, the outrageous numbers found on designer price tags, the insistent nudges from others to permanently bind my name to a plot of California soil. And so I run. I run to more and bigger and better. I run and run and run until my lungs heave with exhaustion and my soul screams with disgust. I am the seed sown among thorns. Because when Jesus says, “[D]o not worry about your life, what you will eat [or drink], or about your body, what you will wear” (Matthew 6:25), I hear it. His words reach my ears but are suffocated by worry by the time they get to my heart. Because the pressures of this life are bountiful. They enrapture the hollow parts of our lives with promises to fulfill. They scream at us, Be more! Have more! Do more! And that’s precisely when I find myself with a wounded heart and blistered feet. Because the chase for “more” is exhausting. But these things we chase—the money, the notoriety, the addictions—all of these things reflect our deep desire for fulfillment found only in Christ. And so we scurry around in search of something found in the one place we often forget to turn to—Him. [bctt tweet="We scurry around in search of something found only in Him. // @IamBritCal"] Less really is more. Run to Him. 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.

Gardening season is in full swing where I live. That means many hours spent outside ripping out weeds, amending soil, and furrowing rows to begin the many months process of bringing a seed to fruition whether that be a yummy vegetable or a lovely flower. Each tiny seed that goes into the ground is like a small gift waiting to be unravelled in due time, given that it is surrounded by the things that will make it flourish. Like those that go into the garden, the seeds of faith that drop into our hearts throughout the day, by the hand of God, are His little gifts to us which will only be revealed as such when the “soil” they fall upon is suitable and well-cultivated. He brings them into our lives when we witness the majesty of mountain, hear the words of a stirring sermon, survive a near-death experience, touch the face of a newborn child, find the right words in a difficult conversation, view the beauty of an intricately carved statue that reveals well the human form, or find a moment of quiet in an otherwise hectic day. All of these things and more are the seeds that have the potential to burst forth into a garden of thriving faith in our hearts when the place they fall is fertile. These instances are alike to the parables in today’s Gospel that Jesus says some "look but they do not see and hear but do not listen or understand." (Matthew 13:13) Their hearts are closed to the message; their hearts are closed to the gifts. They find themselves unreceptive and cannot be moved by that which would move them. Sisters, we must foster fertility in our hearts so that we will be receptive to God’s gifts of faith when they come. Some excellent ways: spending time in Eucharistic Adoration, meditating our way through the decades of the Rosary, availing ourselves of the Sacraments frequently, offering our days to His Sacred Heart, or simply finding a few moments for conversation with God. [bctt tweet="The Lord drops seeds of faith into our lives when we witness beauty around us. // @Muffin_Dome"] Do you have the eyes and ears of faith to hear and see what God is revealing to you every day? 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.

There are times when I feel like a circus performer, tossing balls in the air and hoping I don’t drop any of the glass ones . . . or walking a tightrope while balancing a child on each hip, just hoping I don’t trip . . . or like a clown trying to achieve a seemingly impossible task which usually involves driving the clown car and being multiple places at once. I can hear the music in the background and it has become the soundtrack of my life. It is in those times when I realize that my soil is really, really, rocky. I have too many things going on, too many demands, too much junk in my head. And I realize that I haven’t nurtured any of the seeds from the Lord. Other times it is the thorns of sin that choke out His seeds. I have cleared the field of those rocks, but rather than a bunch of stuff getting in the way, I am the one who gets in the way. I choke out the seeds. Maybe my prayer life is lacking, maybe it’s been a while since I spent time in the confessional, maybe I am spending time with people who bring out my less desirable characteristics. And then there is that time when our soil is too shallow. We are going through the motions. We are going to Mass, being good, following the rules, and just going along with life. But we aren’t growing. We have shallow roots. So how do we keep our soil rich and deep? One thing that helps is having careful boundaries. I stink at this. I want to say yes to everything. We also need to be careful about what and whom we allow into our lives. If you have things or people in your life who are detrimental to your spiritual life, re-evaluate those relationships. Re-evaluate how you are spending your free time. Are you too busy for prayer but not too busy to binge watch the latest Netflix show? Feed your soil with Scripture, with great Catholic podcasts, with books on our faith or spiritual practices. Get to know some Saints and grow in friendship with them. Find a small group of women to grow with and be intentional. Do whatever helps you to better know Christ. [bctt tweet="It is time to grow."] If you are nourishing the soil of your life then the seeds that Christ plants will bloom and you will grow. So let go of the other stuff. It is time to grow. 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.

The last few days have been rough. Not for myself, but for those around me. So many of my friends are carrying heavy crosses, but do you know what’s the one thing they all have in common? They each have a strong faith in God and rely on Him to see them through. To someone outside the faith, this must look ridiculous. When they are put into situations that should cause them despair, they have hope. The First Reading speaks of this beautifully. “We are afflicted in every way, but not constrained; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying about in the body the dying of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our body.” (2 Corinthians 4:8-10) Of course, it is easy to say that these words are beautiful and poetic when things are going well in life, but when you are in the thick of a storm, the last thing you want to do is feel hopeful. However, this is where all our talk of faith, hope and trust are put to the test. When everything is falling apart, and we’re dealing with an array of mixed emotions—from anger to anguish—that’s when we need to throw ourselves into the Father’s arms and rely on His grace to pull us through. Thankfully, just as the early Christians weren’t traveling this journey to Heaven alone, we’re not alone. Whether it’s from family, friends, our parish or the BiS sisterhood, there are people willing to follow the example of servitude that Jesus lived. They are ready to pray for us or offer physical support. I have witnessed this time and time again, both in my own life and in the lives of friends. When we were going through family trials—big things like cancer and smaller things like a house full of sick kids—people were ready to step up and help. My social media feeds were filled with messages of prayer and hope. Those were balm to my soul. God used them to say to my heart: Stop worrying. I’ve got this. I’ll make sure you and your loved ones get through this. [bctt tweet="Just as the early Christians weren’t traveling this journey to Heaven alone, we’re not alone. // @bobbi_rol"] If you are going through a difficult time, lean on the Father and don’t be afraid to reach out to those around you to get support. If you know of someone carrying a heavy cross, be that balm and do something to lighten their load. 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.

“Whoever is in Christ is a new creation: the old things have passed away; behold, new things have come.” (2 Corinthians 5:17) Today is the feast day of Saint Mary Magdalene, a Saint whose name is very familiar. Recent pop culture has produced some wildly untrue stories about her, such as in the book-made-movie, The Da Vinci Code. Many Christians think of her as a prostitute turned disciple of Jesus, but Scripture and tradition have made clear certain things about her Here’s what scripture does tell us about Mary Magdalene: Jesus had cast seven demons out of her. (Luke 8:2) She was part a group of women who helped care for Jesus and the Apostles. (Luke 8:3) She was at Jesus’ crucifixion (Matthew 27:56) and burial (Mark 15:47). And as we see in today’s Gospel passage, she met the newly risen Lord at the tomb on Easter morning. She was the first follower of Christ to see Him after He rose from the dead. (Mark 16:9) Tradition also tells us that she is Mary of Bethany, the sister of Martha, the one who sat at Jesus’ feet while her sister worked in the kitchen. (Luke 10:38-42, John 11) We see from this the great conversion she had from a sinner to a devout lover of Christ, her Lord. Her life was one of sin and spiritual captivity until Jesus healed her, and she spent the rest of her life following Him. It’s natural to want to know more about what her backstory might have been, but I like that Scripture doesn’t give that to us. Whatever her past sins were, they don’t matter anymore. The only thing that matters is that Jesus made her new. She once was stuck in sin, and Jesus came and lifted her out. In bondage, and Jesus freed her. Lost, and Jesus found her. Does that sound familiar? That could be any of us. Maybe you’re feeling the burden of guilt from past sins. That’s normal. After all, who doesn’t have some kind of a interesting backstory? But it’s not your past that matters to Jesus. You won’t ever hear Him call you by your sin. Instead, He makes you new and calls you by your new name: Forgiven. Redeemed. Beloved. When He calls us like that we can’t help but turn to Him, and then run to tell all our friends, “I have seen the Lord!” Sister, He is calling you by your new name! Repeat that. Believe that. [bctt tweet="You won’t ever hear Jesus call you by your sin."] Anna Coyne is a Minnesota native, wife, mother, and convert to the Catholic faith. When not chasing after her two young children, she is probably making pour-over coffee, knitting, gardening, playing the piano, or sipping on a glass of red wine. Find out more about her here.

My sheep hear my voice, says the Lord, I know them, and they follow me. (John 10:27) A painting hung in the school corridor of my first grade building. The Good Shepherd. The 1980's Jesus had a touch of a mullet and very blonde hair. He hung a lumpy gray sheep all casual like over his neck, while a little black sheep's neck was nestled in the crook of his staff. The flock behind Him fed happily on sparse weeds in a dirt patch. This Bible verse etched beneath his sandaled toes. I thought it was the most inspirational painting in the world. The sheep followed Him, with the notable exception of the one who was trying to get away. He knew them all, the fat and thin, the burley and scrawny, the white, gray, and black. He knew those super fly sheep and they were going to hang with Him. The readings for today are chockfull of richness, beauty, and big lessons, and yet I just can't move past the simplicity of the Gospel antiphon. He knows me; He knows you; He knows everything. What if I want to hide from Him like that little black sheep? What about the times of my life I don't want to be known? I'd like to sin in private, please. I'd like to shut the pantry door and be a glutton with the chocolate chips. I'd like to sit on the phone and complain about anything, everything, just because it feels good to pass out judgments and gossip. I'd like to ignore my kids and indulge myself. And yet, I want to follow Him. I do want to follow His teachings. I do want to choose the better path and be with Him in Heaven. But what do I want more? To hear Him and follow Him? Or to hide? Depends on the day, sisters. Depends on the hour. I'm going to remember that Jesus knows me even in my darkest places. He still wants me along with those retro-sleep sheep. In my ugliest, He wants me to follow Him. Before I fall asleep at night, I've added a new prayer: Lord, help me choose You in every little way. If you're struggling to hear God's voice and follow it, ask for the graces, hour by hour, day by day. Get to Mass and Adoration. Pray your Hail Marys. Ask and He'll help us both! Nell O’Leary is Managing Editor for Blessed is She as well as a recovering lawyer married to her law school love. They live with their four kiddos in the great city of Saint Paul, Minnesota. She can down a iced chai tea latte in no time flat. Blogging about natural parenting and sewing organic baby textiles are her sanity. Find out more about her here.