My fingers tapped the steering wheel distractedly as the traffic slowed and I struggled to focus in on prayer: The second Joyful Mystery is the Visitation . . . Our Father, Who art in heaven . . . I should've left earlier, I thought as my car waded through the rush hour traffic that was the bane of my existence. Under these circumstances, you just couldn't have imagined the pure joy I felt as my little grey Mazda pulled up slowly next to a blue Subaru, a dear friend and her little boy inside. I gave a friendly "honk honk" on my horn, but she was too caught up in her morning praise and worship and the delight of her son in the backseat to notice me. We played this game together for a mile or so: me waving through the window and watching her worship-while-driving, while she was totally unaware of my presence. And then, by some beautiful miracle that only the Lord could orchestrate, we both came to a full stop, side-by-side, with scores of other drivers surrounding us. Our gazes met, and we laughed out loud, waving with the exuberance of teenagers on a school bus. Our Lord tells us in today's Gospel to "ask,"seek," and "knock" (Matthew 7: 7-12). But the truth is that I don't often know what it is that should fill the bucket of my heart's intentions. I had truly needed a friend that morning. I needed someone who could remind me that I wasn't alone in my journey. Those had been the prayers of my heart even though I hadn't thought to offer them up. But the Lord knew. He knew that a fellow sister's face would do me good and that seeing her deeply rooted in prayer would encourage me to do the same. "It felt like a hug!" my friend said later. Yes, indeed. [bctt tweet="Our Lord tells us in today's Gospel to ask, seek, and knock. // Karen Schultz" username="blessedisshe__"] Sister, it's okay to not know how to ask, seek, and knock. Let's pray together, "Lord, please give me exactly what I need today. All of that and nothing else." Karen Schultz hails from the Land of 10,000 lakes, where she is often found in or near one of them. As a doula, lactation educator, and FertilityCare Practitioner, she finds joy in helping women to embrace the gift of their bodies. Downtime is found in quiet adoration chapels, farmers markets and gardens, listening to bluegrass music, and embracing the diversity of Minnesota’s seasons. She is a contributing author to our Works of Mercy Study: Misericordia. You can find out more about her here.

In the first couple of years after my reception into the Catholic Church, I struggled with trusting in the mercy of God, particularly in the Sacrament of Penance. I would go to Confession, come out, feel good for about five minutes, and then start to doubt. Were my sins really forgiven? Even the “really bad” ones? What if the priest misunderstood what I was talking about? What if I forgot to mention one of the numerous sins I must have committed in my twenty-three years before I become Catholic? My mind would spiral out of control. Is God really merciful? Does He really love me? After talking with my priest and spiritual director, I learned there was a name for the turmoil I was experiencing: religious scrupulosity. This is where a person over-scrutinizes her sins and fears she is constantly in a state of mortal sin. Overcoming scrupulosity has taken a lot of work with my priest, a licensed Catholic therapist, and lots of time in prayer with the Lord. At one of my spiritual direction appointments the Lord provided healing in the form of a simple question. “Are you sorry for your sins?” My priest asked me. I answered, "Yes." “You may never make a perfect confession, but He knows that is your desire. Trust in Him.” At the end of the appointment, I made my confession, and my priest asked me again, “Are you sorry for your sins?” Again, I answered yes. Then he spoke the words of absolution, and I knew that my sins were truly forgiven. "A heart contrite and humbled, O God, You will not spurn” (Psalm 51:17). When scrupulosity creeps back into my life, these words are a great reminder to me that the Lord desires to show us His mercy. There may be sins we are ashamed of, wounds we are holding on to, and our minds may be plagued by doubt, but none of these are too great for the Lord's mercy. We need only turn our hearts to Him in contrition in order to receive the mercy He wants to give us. [bctt tweet="You may never make a perfect confession, but He knows that is your desire. Trust in Him. // Anna Coyne" username="blessedisshe__"] Scroll through this insight on the Sacrament of Penance and Reconciliation. Anna Coyne is a wife, mother, and convert to the Catholic Faith. She is a classically trained pianist who, after teaching for ten years now stays home with her three young children. but still manages to flex her creative muscles through writing, knitting, and gardening. She is proud to call Saint Paul home and loves everything about living in Minnesota, except for winter. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book called Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.

My insides cringed when he said it, but I didn't let my face betray my emotions. Sucking in a short, sharp breath, I realized that I would never grow accustomed to hearing Jesus’ name used while swearing. My head bowed slightly as my heart prayed, “Jesus is Lord.” We know that God’s name is holy. The commandments given to Moses reveal that. If that wasn’t enough, Jesus Himself tells us that God’s name is holy in today’s Gospel (see Matthew 6:9). In fact, it’s the first thing we state in the prayer He taught us, second only to professing sheer belief in God’s existence and presence. Do we treat His name with the required reverence? After becoming deeply convicted about the sacredness of God’s name, I adopted the practice of bowing my head when I hear someone take the Lord’s name in vain. Sometimes I witness God’s name used to express frustration or to cut down another person. Sometimes I hear it in TV shows or in music. Sometimes the irreverence is more subtle, and His name is used flippantly. Knowing how this hurts Jesus’ heart, bowing my head in an act of reparation is a small and simple way I can console Him. This week, let’s love the Lord intimately by honoring His name more profoundly. Be intentional about bowing your head and saying a short prayer of adoration if you hear God’s name taken in vain. At Mass, try to bow your head when you hear the name of Jesus as an act of love and reparation for all the times His name is abused. Together, we can be an army of women who “glorify the Lord” (Psalm 34:4) by declaring, “hallowed be thy name” (Matthew 6:9). [bctt tweet="Do we treat His name with the required reverence? // @to_the_heights" username="blessedisshe__"] Bowing of the head at Jesus' name was established by Pope Gregory X in this council in the 13th century. Olivia Spears lives in Kentucky where the sweet tea and bourbon flow like milk and honey. She is the Blog Manager for Blessed is She and works from home as an editor and social media manager. She likes to binge novels and Netflix while raising her children and laughing with her husband. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book called Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.

I am rich, but there was a time when I was poor and had no faith. I am full, but there was a time when I was starving for truth. I am clothed, but there was a time where I was stripped of dignity. I am welcomed, but there was a time when I was so painfully alone. I am free, but there was a time when I was a slave to sin. Thank God for His mercy, and for those who love Him. Those people extended His mercy to me. Thank God for people who cared enough to share the truth about a God Who gave Himself for my sake. They set me on the course, and I am indebted to them. They saw Christ in me, and they were His hands and His heart to me. I am grateful for people who were patient enough to wait for my eyes to focus in on truth and have forgiven me when I failed time and time again. God’s mercy is meant to be spent, and as Christ calls us in today’s Gospel (Matthew 25:45), we should be extending that mercy we have received to others. Who in your life is hungry, thirsty, unwelcomed, naked, sick and imprisoned? These unfortunate conditions aren’t always obvious, but we definitely have people in our lives who we can serve with Christ's hands. Perhaps there is a co-worker, a sibling, a friend in whom you struggle to see Christ. He is there, waiting to be served. "Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me’"(Matthew 25:40). [bctt tweet="Thank God for His mercy, and for those who love Him. Those people extended His mercy to me. // @jacquiskemp" username="blessedisshe__"] Serving others is a beautiful practice during Lent. Where can you volunteer to do this during this season? Jacqueline Skemp is a daughter, sister, wife, and mother who endures living in Minnesota after leaving California for her one true love. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book called Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.

Every year I give the same thing up for Lent: soda. It's my weakness. An ice-cold Coke, preferably from McDonald’s, is usually the quick fix to a migraine. When I travel, sometimes the only thing I want while sitting in an airport is a Sprite—the carbonated lime drink that gives me a brief reprieve from the guilt I feel from being gone from home. And every year, two or three weeks into the Lenten season, I fall to the temptation and drink a soda . . . and once I’ve broken that fast, it’s easy to just give up the whole thing. I give into the temptation to drink them so easily. I justify it every time. “It’s just one measly little Coke. It won’t kill me.” Or I’ll tell myself that I deserve the Sprite—Jesus would want me to have it. And while Jesus probably doesn’t not want me to have a soda from time to time, there are two points of giving the soda up: make a sacrifice for Him and keep my mind more attuned to what He offers me, rather than fixate on a syrupy, carbonated beverage. Temptations are easy for me to fall into. I’m good at convincing myself that the sin isn’t really so bad, or I feed myself the lie that because it was far easier for Jesus to fight off temptation, I should get a free pass. He did it, but I can’t. But Jesus did have to fight. He faced temptation in the most profound and challenging way: standing face to face with the devil who tempted Him to eat bread (while He was starving), tempted Him to prove His power (to someone who doesn’t believe in Him), and tempted Him to take the easy way out of His ministry (and avoid the Cross). We see clearly just how challenging it was for Jesus to face the temptations of the devil, and, in that, we’re reminded that we don’t face temptation alone. He stands with us—beside us—and proclaims for us, “Get away, Satan!” [bctt tweet="Jesus did have to fight. // @KatiePrejean" username="blessedisshe__"] This litany of the Holy Name of Jesus is a great prayer to call upon the Lord. Katie Prejean McGrady is an international Catholic speaker and author of four books with Ave Maria Press. After working as a theology teacher and parish youth minister for six years, Katie now travels full time around the world, speaking about faith, culture, family, evangelization, discipleship, and the best way to order a flat white. She is the project manager of Ave Explores, an initiative of Ave Maria Press, and the host of the Ave Explores podcast. She and her husband Tommy host a podcast (The Electric Waffle), have a dog (Barney), and a two year old (Rose). They live in Lake Charles, Louisiana. Find out more about her here.

We return home after Sunday Mass. It’s time for lunch. As I stir a pot of macaroni and cheese, my mental to-do list races through my brain: there are meals to plan, groceries to purchase, laundry to wash (and fold), papers to sort, and a couple other errands I’d like to squeeze in if possible. My stress level rises as I strategize the best way to accomplish everything. “If you hold back your foot on the sabbath,” or as another translation of Isaiah 58:13 reads, “If you refrain from trampling the sabbath . . .”—the phrase stops me in my tracks. Instantly I know I am guilty of this. If I’m honest, more sabbaths than not I do not merely trample, but stampede through the day the Lord has given for rest. My heart is already convicted when I notice a handwritten note expressing similar sentiment next to these verses in my Bible. If this is not the first time I have been struck by these verses, why hasn’t anything changed? Why, when the Lord promises abundant blessings when we “call the sabbath a delight,” have I failed to take him up on His offer (Isaiah 58:13-14)? I take these verses to prayer in adoration. In His presence I quiet myself enough to hear Him say to my heart, You do not understand how important this is to Me, or you would do better. His tone is not at all shaming, not accusatory, but mercifully gentle. Honest. He tells me this out of His deep, abiding love for me. Out of His desire for my good. On this extra day of the year the Lord has given us, what can we do to ready ourselves to receive the sabbath gift He will offer tomorrow? Join me in making a leap in the right direction, sisters. Let’s ask the Lord for help this Lent. Ask Him what changes He desires you to make. For honoring Him will be a delight, and, as we rest with Him, we will find everything we truly need. [bctt tweet="In His presence I quiet myself enough to hear Him. // @inendlesssong" username="blessedisshe__"] Follow this deep-dive into how to rest on the Lord's Day. Elise Howe is a wife, mother, vocal artist, teacher, and writer. A lover of authentic beauty, Elise is most joyful when creating with the inspiration of the Divine Artist. A born-and-raised Midwestern gal, she happily resides in Michigan after several years "living the dream" in New York City. Elise has a heart for ministry, dark chocolate (but not too dark) and coffee with a generous amount of cream + sugar. She is a contributing author to our Works of Mercy Study: Misericordia. Find out more about her here.

Calling home was heartbreaking during a particular season in my family’s life. Something had happened to a family member. The situation was stark in the foreground of our minds and hearts, and it was palpable even as we tried to carry on with life and speak about ordinary things. During this season, the Lord taught me something that has enriched my whole life. I went on an extended mission trip and stayed with an older couple whose goodness was effusive. In those days, the peace they exuded was even more attractive because it was clear they had lived through several iterations of what my family was presently navigating. I spoke with the wife one night, we called her “Aunt Janis,” and I asked her what she thought I could do to support my family through the situation. Aunt Janis listened tenderly, and I felt her receptivity was healing me. After a while, she gently told me about some things that would likely eventually happen in our family as a result of the situation, and she told me to keep on particularly loving my family member who was at the core of the situation. In a way, it was like Aunt Janis gave alms to the poor that night. She and her husband had a wealth of experience lived with grace, and she poured into my struggling heart. She gave me hope, bolstered my faith, and offered the light of her hard-earned wisdom. Her generosity spread through me to my family and prepared us for the rough road ahead. It was one of the most beautiful experiences of my life. As we embark on another Lenten season, we come precisely as we are. Perhaps some of us are carrying beautiful hopes, and maybe others are bringing pleading-prayers to the Lord. The First Reading this morning offers a beautiful description of God’s Heart. It is worth reading the whole passage for Lent: “This, rather, is the fasting that I wish: releasing those bound unjustly, untying the thongs of the yoke; Setting free the oppressed” (Isaiah 58:6). Sisters, His heart is our home, and He wants us to remain in Him during Lent. So let’s take a moment to ask God what kind of fasting, almsgiving, and prayer the Lord desires from us this year. [bctt tweet="As we embark on another Lenten season, we come precisely as we are. // @srmariakim" username="blessedisshe__"] Did you already get your Blessed is She Lent reflection book? You can get the Lent + Easter bundle here and share it with a friend. 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 eighteen years in religious life in the northeast, some time in Texas, and now was recently asked to serve as the director of marketing and sales at the Sisters' publishing house in Boston. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book called Rise Up and the author of our Blessed Conversations Mystery: Belong found here. Find out more about her here.

I cannot remember the last time I denied myself something. That doesn't sound very good, does it? Well, I did fast yesterday because of Ash Wednesday, so there’s that. But what I’m talking about is really denying myself something I wanted at the moment. If there’s an outfit I like and if it fits, I buy it. If there is a movie I want to see, I see it. If my nails need some pampering, I’m off for a pedicure with a friend. I'm going to count this as one blessing of being single. I take care of the ones I love and myself but don’t have anyone financially dependent on me, so I can afford little luxuries. Although I sound indulgent, I don’t think I’m alone in this lifestyle. I believe numerous women invest in memories to fill our time rather than rest in silence to hear God’s voice. I’m not the only girl who shops to fill a void instead of allowing God to satisfy the longing for love. I know these examples are why the word “deny” stood out in bold letters to me when I read Luke’s Gospel today. The world tells us to consume, not deny. On the flip side, the Church encourages us to deny ourselves (and not just during Lent). But will that denial lead to greater intimacy with Christ or just another spiritual checkmark to say we’re “good Catholics”? I don’t know about you, but I want Lent to be a season of self-denial that leads me to rely on Christ alone to satisfy me! “If anyone wishes to come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me” (Luke 9:23). Christ is asking for far more than denying ourselves chocolate or pampering. Christ is asking us to deny ourselves, embrace His Cross with Him, so that we can be purified and ready to experience His Resurrection. [bctt tweet="Embrace His Cross with Him. // @SoCalTriciaT" username="blessedisshe__"] Peruse these questions and answers about Lent. Tricia Tembreull is a California girl with a boundless passion for life. After two decades of ministering to teens and youth ministers as a trainer, ministry mentor, and speaker in Catholic youth ministry, Tricia now serves as Campus Minister at USC Caruso Catholic Center. She loves adventure and seeks it everywhere she goes. As an avid foodie, she enjoys testing new recipes out on friends and family, gathering them around the table to encounter Christ in one another and be drawn to the satisfying unity we crave in the Eucharist. You can find out more about her here.

Imagine you are the palms. Waved aloft in triumph and praise last year, the symbol of Palm Sunday. Now dried and brittle, gathered to be broken and burned in holy fire. It takes mere seconds to sear the palms. To transform them as unrecognizable from what they were. Smoldered to soot, their dirty grey now a far cry from the strong, slender green they were at their prime. What sears us like that? What turns us from palms to ashes? Life brings a thousand ways we are burned. But we do not disappear. The ashes of what we were can become a powerful sign—as outward and obvious as the smear of soot we will wear on our foreheads today. The truth at the heart of our faith is that suffering is not meaningless. It is terrible, but can still be transformative. We bear this proof on our skin today. We will live it out over the next forty days. We will become what we receive. Imagine you are the palms. Imagine whatever was smooth or straight about your life becoming bent and broken. Imagine whatever was young and green—strong and beautiful, jubilant and triumphant—now burning in hottest flames. But now imagine that what looks like death is not the end. Imagine being cooled with care, gathered with reverence, blessed with love, sprinkled with holiness. Imagine being spread and shared—with hundreds more than the single hand that once held you. Imagine being pressed on young skin, old skin, soft skin, wrinkled skin, dirty skin, over and over with words of prophetic power. Imagine being turned into the cross, dark and startling for all to see. Imagine being carried out into the world as a sign of the Savior. We are the palms. We are the ashes. Today we are transformed. [bctt tweet="Life brings a thousand ways we are burned. But we do not disappear. // @laurakfanucci" username="blessedisshe__"] Read the Ash Wednesday sermon from the pontiff twenty years ago. Laura Kelly Fanucci is a mother, writer, and director of a theological project on vocation. She and her husband are raising four sons and wrote a book together on grieving the loss of children, Grieving Together: A Couple’s Journey through Miscarriage. She is the author of seven books including Everyday Sacrament: The Messy Grace of Parenting and Living Your Discipleship: 7 Ways to Express Your Deepest Calling. You can find out more about her here. She is the author of the Blessed Conversations Mystery: Behold study found here.

I’ve been sitting in the silence lately and letting it wash over me. I’ve been letting it mold and shape and grow me. And it’s been good. Because here in this silence, life unfolds in quiet splendor. It makes itself known in the gentle whisper of the rising sun and the giant sky at nightfall. And sometimes I think we can only really see it when we’re paying attention, when our phones are quelled and our hearts are still. It takes intention, really. Because though life’s beauty gently unfolds itself to us with each new day, our calloused eyes can easily miss its cues. So much beauty fits within the quiet creases of our lives, those modest minutes that make our days. But in this culture where sunsets are advertised for followers and hearts are bled out for likes, it’s easy to get caught in the loud clamor of competition. I am struck by the dichotomy between Jesus and His disciples in today’s reading. On various accounts throughout the Bible, Jesus asks for many of His miracles to be kept private, and as He walked through Galilee, He did so with a desire to be unseen. Meanwhile, the disciples were “discussing among themselves on the way who was the greatest” (Mark 9:34). And I think we can all relate to that, right? Because we all have a desire to be seen, we all have a desire to be liked. We all want to be at the top, or be the best at whatever it is we’re doing. But the beautiful thing about it is that we don’t have to fight for attention the way our culture seems to portray. We don’t need perfect selfies or eloquent words or an abundance of followers to be noticed. We need only our hearts—tattered, bruised, and broken—to rest in the quiet stillness of God. Because He sees us. He knows us. We are safe with Him. [bctt tweet="Life’s beauty gently unfolds itself to us with each new day. // @IamBritCal" username="blessedisshe__"] Sit with stillness today. Pray a Divine Mercy Chaplet and turn away from your phone for a little bit. 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.

If you were to ask my dad what my most common pre-teen phrase was, he would clear his throat, roll his eyes, and groan an exasperated, “I knooOooow.” I was a know-it-all; at least I thought I knew it all. But my wisdom was prideful and its only benefit was to make me look smarter than everyone else. I have matured in virtue since then, but every once and awhile, I still catch myself hovering ever so slightly between humble and vain wisdom, especially when disagreeing on spiritual and social truths. It’s not that my words are not wise but sometimes my intentions are not pure. There’s an arrogance that can arise in pseudo “us versus them” scenarios that makes it easy for me to forget that I am speaking to a brother or sister in Christ. Instead of loving someone and desiring their good, it’s difficult to admit that I would rather disregard and dismiss them, not out of jealousy, but out of selfish ambition to be right. But Saint James makes it very clear, “Wisdom of this kind does not come from above but is earthly, unspiritual, demonic” (James 3:15). Excusez-moi? How can I, an intentional lover of the Lord, a disciple, and evangelist say or do anything considered demonic when I’m talking about God? James 3:9 offers insight: “With [our tongues] we bless the Lord and Father, and with it we curse human beings who are made in the likeness of God.” There is no confusing James’ words: we must see each other as another Christ so that while speaking with wisdom we are walking in humility with peace and sincerity as its fruit. In a world full of pundits “owning,” “destroying,” and “obliterating” their opponents, we are called to humbly use the gift of wisdom to speak truth and bring others to Jesus. This doesn’t mean an acceptance of wrongdoings or only using flowery words; rather, James invites us to examine our heart’s intentions, so that when we speak, it will bear “good fruits.” Let’s do that hard work, sisters, and make sure we are drawing others to Him. [bctt tweet="We must see each other as another Christ. // @ChikasWorld" username="blessedisshe__"] As we examine our intentions, here's an examination of conscience for women from the blog. Chika Anyanwu is a Catholic evangelist based in Southern California and is also the author of My Encounter: How I Met Jesus In Prayer. She has a deep love for Jesus, loves her beautiful Nigerian family, and is a firm believer that if coffee is good, there’s no need for cream or sugar. Find out more here.

The sunlight flickered through the windows as my four-year-old son wandered restlessly around the church foyer. I sat outside the glass of the adoration chapel, blocking out his little noises, trying to enter into prayer. The book lay open in my lap as I poured over a new way of praying from Désiré-Joseph Cardinal Mercier. He explained that the secret to holiness and happiness was to take five minutes a day to pray while shutting out all exterior and interior distractions. Then focus prayerfully on entering into the inner sanctuary of our baptized soul where the Holy Spirit dwells. And pray for guidance. “O Holy Spirit, beloved of my soul, I adore You. Enlighten me, guide me, strengthen me, console me. Tell me what I should do; give me Your orders. I promise to submit myself to all that You desire of me and to accept all that You permit to happen to me. Let me only know Your Will” (Prayer to the Holy Spirit by Cardinal Mercier, source). Because I am baptized, the Holy Spirit dwells within my soul. This makes me a temple of the Holy Spirit. This means that I don’t need to look outside myself to speak to God. He is already present within me. In my distracted life, I forget to stop, spend those five minutes with Him, or even just recall Him to my mind in the moments when the needs of my children and my duties feel like an overwhelming storm. Yet the strength and guidance I need to live out my vocation every day can be found in talking to Him within my soul. He is there, waiting for us to see Him. He is there, ready to guide our every move. He is there, with the grace we need. “Do you not know that you are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwells in you?” (see 1 Corinthians 3:16). You are His holy dwelling; meet Him there. [bctt tweet="Because I am baptized, the Holy Spirit dwells within my soul. This makes me a temple of the Holy Spirit. // Susanna Spencer" username="blessedisshe__"] This selection goes deeper into our relationship with the Holy Spirit. Susanna Spencer is the Theological Editor for Blessed is She who studied theology and philosophy in her earlier life. She happily cares for her three adorable little girls, toddler boy, and her dear husband in Saint Paul when not writing and editing. She loves beautiful liturgies, cooking delicious meals, baking amazing sweets, reading good books, raising her children, casually following baseball, and talking to her philosopher husband. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book called Rise Up and Theological Editor of the Catechism Studies, the Mystery Studies, and the Works of Mercy study. You can find out more about her here.

Imagining the reactions and thoughts of Saint Peter is something I never tire of as I read the Gospels. He has many strange encounters throughout the Gospels. Jesus asks him questions that bring out bewildered responses, yet, in his bewilderment, his faith is honest and genuine. Saint Peter always comes alive off the page as someone genuinely in love with Jesus. Peter was a follower not because Jesus was a cool trend at the time, not someone who was in on the ground floor and thought he could make it to the top, but he was a friend of Christ even when he didn't understand what exactly Christ's words meant, like in today's Gospel reading. Could Peter have known what Jesus words meant the day he heard them? That he would become the rock on which Jesus would build His Church? How could Peter be a rock? What Church can be built on fragile human foundations? Peter could not have understood that a Church would that would last over two thousand years would come from his simple faith and humble obedience, that a fisherman from Galilee would become the leader of a Faith that would spread over the globe. We, like Peter, do not understand the immensity of Christ's Words even today. It is very difficult at times to believe that the gates of hell will never prevail against the Church. Most of us have experienced doubts about the power of the Church to loose and bind on earth and in heaven. But this is a promise made by Christ. His words are what give us the ability to rest in the knowledge that His Church will always exist to guide us to Heaven. And, like Peter, even if we don't fully understand this great mystery, even if it tests our faith, we can simply follow Christ, believe His words about the future of the Church, and choose to not let the anxieties of the day rule our hearts. [bctt tweet="Saint Peter always comes alive off the page as someone genuinely in love with Jesus. // @ChristyIsinger" username="blessedisshe__"] Here's a look on the history and background of the Feast of the Chair of Peter. 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. She is the author of our Blessed Conversations: The Ten Commandments study found here. You can find out more about her here.

"Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me" (Mark 8:34). I read this verse from Mark and my heart does two things at once: it flutters in delight—YES, Lord—my deepest desire is to follow You! And simultaneously shudders at the thought of discipleship: denial of self. The letting go of pride and selfishness. Unclenching my fists and holding them towards Heaven—palms wide open. I will step forward with a heart full of trust, expectation, and eager desire to go where He leads to do the work He created me to do. It's a joy to be able to work for His greater glory and my greater good. But the shininess of the world around me catches my eye. Work harder to be seen. Seek affirmation, fame, and fortune in each moment of this earthly life. Do whatever and say whatever is popular. Go with the flow. Stay comfortable. It is constantly tempting to embrace the ways of the world. And yet, I am drawn back into the simple yet profound heart of Christ as He says, "What profit is there for one to gain the whole world and forfeit his life?" (Mark 8:36) The shine is here in this world. And yet the glory of God shines brighter. And to share His light is what you and I were created to do. Today I will take up my cross and follow. In the littlest ways, I will follow. In the ordinary ways, I will follow. I will recognize You, God, in the moments of this day. I will be Your light. I will work where You have planted me with open hands and heart. I will not be ashamed of Who You are or who You created me to be. Increase in me today, Jesus. Remind me that You have gone before me with the Cross. Teach me to carry it well. Walk steadily with me in this day. Here I am, Lord. I will follow You. [bctt tweet="The shine is here in this world. And yet the glory of God shines brighter. // Shalini Blubaugh" username="blessedisshe__"] Today, offer a simple morning offering as you begin your day. Shalini Blubaugh is a Minnesota transplant living in Denver, Colorado with her sweet husband, Matt, their brand new gal pal, Callan, and quite large GSD pup, Sully. She is a health coach and loves pizza, because #balance. Shalini graduated from the University of Minnesota – Twin Cities, served with NET Ministries, and went on to attend Law School. She graduated with her J.D. and happily leaves all things Law behind! Some of her favorites include travel, re-connecting with old friends and making new ones, the ways in which God so beautifully brings all things full circle in His time, and a good, loud thunderstorm. Find out more about her here.

"I'm sorry, my mouth is so bad," a young woman tells me with downcast eyes and a look of shame on her face. "I've been afraid to come because I know it's going to be bad news," a middle-aged man says through sighs. "I would really like to save my teeth but I can only do what insurance covers," an elderly women laments. Every day someone sits in my chair and tells me that they have not been to the dentist in years due to lack of insurance. My patients tell me that without adequate dental insurance, they cannot afford to have any dental treatment. They tell me that it is either paying rent or paying for dental treatment, it is feeding their children or it is dental treatment. It is a vicious cycle that we see in all areas of health care. Those uninsured or under-insured put off necessary preventative evaluations and treatment due to cost, the problem list grows, and only when it becomes an urgent issue is care sought. And it breaks my heart every time. But the Lord hears the cry of the poor and He has a place for them as heirs in the Kingdom of Heaven (see James 2:5). And what can I do? I can honor every person that walks through the doors of my clinic. I can invite these people to sit with me and share their stories, their pain, their situation. I can listen with compassion and provide the best care to my ability. The Lord give us each an opportunity to care for one another—to love our neighbor as oneself—every single day. And through this, to show them His love and bring them closer to Him. [bctt tweet="The Lord hears the cry of the poor and He has a place for them as heirs in the Kingdom of Heaven. // @Substance_Soul" username="blessedisshe__"] The Catechism is brief about this point but very direct. Dr. Samantha Aguinaldo-Wetterholm is a wife to Paul, mom to three little ones, and practices dentistry at a public health community center for low income families in the Bay Area, California. She (unashamedly) thinks ice cream is its own food group, does not leave the house without wearing sparkly earrings, and is an enthusiastic proponent of the Oxford comma. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book called Rise Up. Find out more about her here.

“It will take patience and work, and it’ll hurt at times; but we’re going to get you taken care of.” I absorbed the doctor’s words during what was my seventh different medical appointment in two weeks. The Lord is doing a lot of healing in my life, and it’s mostly through the work of others. Today’s Gospel tells us that people “brought to (Jesus) a blind man and begged Jesus to touch him” (see Mark 8:22). Why didn’t the man himself ask Jesus? Was he physically incapable? Or was it something deeper? Had he given up hope for healing? Was his suffering so overwhelming that he couldn’t find the motive to seek help? I’ve been there. I proclaim faith in the promises of restoration Jesus makes in Scripture, but I’ve lacked the confidence to trust Him with my most vulnerable needs. I’ve been a hearer who forgets (see James 1:22-24). During those moments, my friends imitated the townspeople and brought me before Jesus. Jesus meets the blind man with compassion, taking him by the hand and leading him away from the noise, the pressure, the despair. Although the Lord knows He is about to heal the man, He does not dismiss the pain he has experienced up to this point. He deals tenderly with him. Jesus then wipes His spit on the man’s eyes. Kind of gross. But God often heals through the uncomfortable. The man isn’t instantly healed. Jesus laid hands on him a second time before he saw clearly. Our own healing often takes time. The words of the doctor refreshed my soul that day. The Father enlightened the eyes of my heart so that I would know hope (see the Alleluia). Maybe your own healing is slow. Maybe it’s painful, gross, or confusing. Maybe you’re relying on others to ask for healing on your behalf. If you’re suffering today, let Jesus take you by the hand and lead you away for a while. It might take patience and work, but He will get you taken care of. [bctt tweet="The Lord is doing a lot of healing in my life, and it’s mostly through the work of others. // @to_the_heights" username="blessedisshe__"] Slow down today and begin this novena to the Sacred Heart. Ask and allow for His healing. Olivia Spears lives in Kentucky where the sweet tea and bourbon flow like milk and honey. She is the Blog Manager for Blessed is She and works from home as an editor and social media manager. She likes to binge novels and Netflix while raising her children and laughing with her husband. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book called Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.

“Do you still not understand?” (Mark 8:21) They had dumped the paltry remains of my favorite granola, half into the sink, half into the garbage. They came, they fought, they dumped. My face felt hot and tired. My pregnant belly tight and nauseous. I snapped. DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND that that was the only thing Mama could eat this morning? THIS IS MINE. Haven’t I told you so many times that I will get breakfast for you? I will make food that is FOR you. I won’t leave you hungry. You have to trust me and stop wrecking my food!! The six year old was facing the wall, wailing, the four year old nodding vigorously as fat tears rolled off her cheeks, and the two year old simply kept sliding granola off the sink’s lip into the trash. It didn’t matter that I had both shown and told, modeled and reminded. Food rules and priority of sick pregnant mama’s food simply hadn’t made a dent. Because they were small children. Our Lord certainly explained His case better than mine. These grousing disciples had forgotten their bread, didn’t understand what Jesus meant by guarding against the “leaven” of others! They, like my kids, simply couldn’t piece it all together. And for us, we often simply don’t “understand or comprehend” (Mark 8:17). I’m just not paying attention with a trustful heart. Maybe you’re reaching for the extra cluster granola equivalent in your life, and not waiting for the Lord to provide. Maybe you're dating someone who you know isn’t the best for you, persisting in habitual sins that comfort you, staying in a job that drains you because it’s too scary to leap into the unknown, holding your heart back from the Lord in case He rejects you. Let’s open our eyes and see, our ears and hear, and try to understand His providence for us where we are right now, today. [bctt tweet="Try to understand His providence for us. // @WholeParenting" username="blessedisshe__"] Scroll down to the commentary on Mark 8 and read what the great Church Fathers have to say about this passage. Nell O'Leary is a recovering lawyer turned blogger, speaker, and sewer of baby goods 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 hot cocoa in no time flat. Find out more about her here. She is the editor of our Blessed Conversations Series and guide for the Gift of You course.