Oh, those ungrateful Israelites. Shame on them! Almighty God sent incredible plagues to thwart the Egyptians and split the Red Sea in two. He provided a way so His chosen people could leave the chains of slavery behind and enter the Promised Land. And still they grumbled and murmured against Him. I can practically hear them whining now: “We’re tiiiiiiired. We’re huuuuungryyyyy. This is awwwwwful. Are we theeeerrrre yet??” Their lack of faith was not without consequence; the Lord sent deadly serpents to attack them. When they turned back to God and prayed for relief, He provided a way out. Only those who looked upon the bronze saraph mounted on a pole by Moses survived the serpents’ deadly attacks. Yes. It’s easy for me to shake my head in disbelief at the immature and clueless Israelites. They grew weary and impatient and frustrated and doubted that God was making a way for them not only to survive, but to thrive. Yet, if I’m honest with myself, am I any better than the grumbliest of grumblers in the desert? Here I am, living in a time when the coming of the long-awaited Messiah is not just a far-off promise, but a present reality. I can encounter my Heavenly Father in the Sacraments, Scripture, prayer, and community. He provides everything I need for salvation. And still, I doubt. When things get ugly or the path ahead is unclear, I wonder if God can really lead me through my own messy wilderness into His own marvelous light. Fear, doubt, anxiety—these are the chains that weigh me down and keep me from fixing my eyes on Jesus and the ultimate Good News of that old, rugged Cross. My sin and weakness prevent me from living the truth that communion with Him is everything I want and need—that He truly is I AM. Anytime we see a crucifix or pray the Stations of the Cross is another opportunity to remember God’s unrelenting faithfulness to us and His abiding compassion and merciful love. In His death at Calvary, we remember that The Great “I AM” took on human flesh to break the chains of fear, doubt, worry, sin, and death so that you and I may live through Him, with Him, and in Him forever. [bctt tweet="Remember God’s unrelenting faithfulness to us. // @realcatholicmom"] Today, let us gaze upon the Cross as we pray: Lord Jesus, I believe You love me unconditionally. I believe You are everything I need and desire. Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief. Amen. Heather Renshaw is a writer, speaker, and uplifter on a mission to love and serve God with her husband and five children in the Pacific NW. You can learn more about her here.

My blood was boiling. Tears streamed down my face onto my freshly-pressed white dress shirt. The anger inside me grew exponentially. I was seething at the unbelievable injustice of my current situation. I had been wrongly accused and punished severely for something trivial—and something I didn’t even do! Have you ever been wrongly accused or treated unjustly? It is painful. I only wish I had reacted with the grace and faith of the beautiful, God-fearing Susanna. I know today’s First Reading is a long one, but wow, is it ever worth reading in full. If you pull out your Bible, it’s essentially chapter thirteen of the book of Daniel. We read the story of Susanna, whose very name means “a white lily”—most fitting for this pure-hearted, grace-filled woman of God. And what an example she sets for us. When Susanna finds herself caught in a dire situation with two Jewish elders, she cries out: “It is better for me to fall into your power without guilt than to sin before the Lord.” Her mind, her priorities are set not on the things of this world, but on God. When she is wrongly accused and condemned to death, she does not get angry with the Lord or doubt His love for her. She faithfully proclaims, “O eternal God, you know what is hidden and are aware of all things before they come to be.” What trust—yes, as the Scripture says, “She trusted in the Lord wholeheartedly.” And what happened to innocent Susanna? “The Lord heard her prayer.” We are called to trust, sisters. We are called to perfect love, which casts out fear (1 John 4:18). We are called to deep, lasting faith. May we, like Susanna, trust in the Lord with our whole hearts, knowing that our God “saves those who hope in Him.” [bctt tweet="We are called to trust, sisters. "] Remember that Jesus, too, understands all too well what it is like to be a victim of injustice. His faithful response to our Father is what gained us the chance for salvation. Holy Week is fast-approaching, sisters. Let us prepare our hearts and sing with the Psalmist, “Even though I walk in the dark valley I fear no evil; for you are at my side.” Elise Howe is a devoted wife, momma, and musician currently living in NYC, though she will always be a midwestern gal at heart. You can find out more about her here.

In the past three years, I’ve become well acquainted with death. My husband’s father, brother, and mother have died. My son’s best friend died. My friends Elizabeth and Mike died. That previous sentence looks so odd to me. Though I’m talking about two entirely different people, my name is Elizabeth and my husband’s is Mike. In a way, the people we were before the death march have died as well. There were more. Ten funerals in three years. So many chances for our Lazarus moment. So many times God could take it back, make him or her live again. My friend Mike lay suspended between life and death for a week, plenty of time for God to work a miracle, even if God were bound by time. Still, each one of them died and was buried. So much loss. The morning my father-in-law died, I was far from home with our boys. My husband kept the news to himself, but urged me to get home without delay. My daughter, who was home with younger siblings and utterly in the dark, had a sense something was gravely wrong, and called me frequently. “If he’s gone, God,” I prayed over miles, “You can do something. Please, please, let this be Lazarus . . . .” When I got home, I learned that he was dead. With Mike, we had time as a community to pray for a miracle. What could be better, God, during the week before Easter, than to bring our holy friend back to his life? Surely, if ever there was a stage for a Lazarus moment it was this one. Mike was pronounced dead on Holy Saturday, at the time of our parish’s vigil Mass. Scripture reads, “Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. So . . . he stayed two days longer . . . where he was.” What is that about? He loves us, so He delays in rescuing? Where is He on the long drive home, in the hospital vigil? Not there, because He loves us? But He is there, pouring out grace for a spiritual healing, if not a physical one. He allows the delay so that we can see both His grief and His glory. Indeed, Lazarus dies so we can know Jesus, the fully human friend, who weeps with us. Then, He is fully God, raising His friend to new life. The resurrection of Lazarus could not have happened had Lazarus lived. And his resurrection after four days in the tomb is there to give us hope in the final resurrection, one that cannot happen without death. Our family didn’t get our Lazarus moment, where our loved ones were restored to us in this life. Instead we faced the reality of death caused by sin, Jesus wept in our midst, then gave us hope in the Resurrection. [bctt tweet="He allows the delay so that we can see both His grief and His glory."] Are you struggling to find peace in the death of your loved ones? Are you clinging to your Lazarus hopes? Today, trust in the resurrection on the last day. Elizabeth Foss is a wife, the mother of nine, and a grandmother. She finds the cacophony of big family imperfection to be the perfect place to learn to walk in the unforced rhythms of grace. You can learn more about her here.

We’re now four weeks through Lent. Do your daily crosses feel heavy as mine do? Are you leaning on Jesus, handing over your burdens to Him and journeying with Him? Do you trust that Jesus knows the crosses you bear, because He already bore them in His life? In today’s Gospel, we hear the end of a story. Leading up to what we read, the Jews had been celebrating the feast of Tabernacles. Midway through the feast, Jesus entered the temple area to teach. I imagine Him pouring out His heart and soul. The people listening couldn’t agree when they considered Jesus and His words. Imagine the chatter, the sideways glances . . . the division among the people, some who want to arrest Jesus. Can you imagine the ache of rejection? I’m starting to understand how Jesus knew real pain and rejection even before the Crucifixion. He knew what it felt to be misunderstood and outcast. He knew. He knows everything. He also probably overheard the whispers, the grumbles, the arguments. And like the words of the Prophet Jeremiah, words which foreshadowed Jesus’ suffering, He “knew their plot” against Him. Perhaps Jesus prayed the words of today’s Psalm when He felt the sting of the Pharisees plotting His arrest. We know Jesus often sought solitude to pray. Did He have these words of the Psalm—“O Lord, my God, in you I take refuge”—constantly on His lips and in His heart? Surely Jesus took refuge in His Father, and entrusted His daily crosses to the Father who set the path before Him. He bore the same crosses—rejection, loneliness, pain, sorrow—that we also bear. Trust in Him to help you carry your burden, sister. Lean on Him. Entrust your heart and soul to the Lord, and take refuge in Him. [bctt tweet="Trust in Him to help you carry your burden, sister. "] In You, O Lord, I take refuge. Gina Fensterer is a wife, daughter, mother, friend, homeschooling mama, and Colorado native. You can find out more about her here.

Nine years ago last month, my second niece was born. It was a flurry of a birth that ended in an emergency c-section, a four month long hospital stay, and a small, beautiful funeral. In those heavy days of grief, this Psalm echoed in my mind. The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; and those who are crushed in spirit he saves. It was a terribly painful, lonely time. Like any grieving person, I vacillated between anger and depression, and more anger and deeper sadness. No one could say the right thing. No one could possibly understand. I was certain no one had ever loved a niece like I loved this baby girl. And yet . . . the words of the Psalmist are true: The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; and those who are crushed in spirit he saves. When we are in the midst of suffering, our feelings (and the enemy) tell us that He has abandoned us, that He doesn’t love us, that there is no hope. But feelings aren’t fact and the devil is a liar. Jesus didn’t sidestep suffering. He didn’t skip over the painful stuff—in relationships or on the cross. He bent low and gave Himself over to it. And in doing so, He gives Himself more fully to us. He understands. I know this to be true. I have experienced this paradoxical reality of our faith, that Jesus is especially close to us in our suffering. The intimacy I knew with Him during those dark days was not warm and fuzzy. It didn’t bring my niece back. I didn’t stop hurting. But I wasn’t alone in my grief anymore, and that was the beginning of the healing. Whatever your suffering—whether it be the grief of losing a child to miscarriage or a grandparent at the end of a long life, living with chronic pain or mental illness, or mourning the death of a relationship or a dream—Jesus is close to you. And just as God redeemed the suffering of Jesus for us, He is able to redeem our suffering here and now. [bctt tweet="Take comfort; He is with you. // @thebethdavis"] Take time in quiet prayer today and pour out your heart before the Lord. Tell Him all that pains you and invite Him into your suffering. Take comfort; He is with you. Beth Davis is a lover of Jesus, an aunt to five beautiful humans, and a full time youth minister in Flagstaff, Arizona. She is passionate about winning the hearts of young people for Jesus through discipleship. You can find out more about her here.

Every morning I wake up and everything in my being tells me not to get out of bed. DO NOT leave this stillness, this warmth, this comfort—my body tells me. I can even rationalize it, if I try hard enough. "I mean, I don't really need to get up right now (I do)" "The kids can all get ready for school without me just this once (they can't)." Most days it takes a serious act of the will to get myself up and running. Even though I know it's right, even though I know it's what I must do. It makes me think of how deep the trend of stubborn runs in everybody. I read the readings for today and it's like I'm reading the story of my own life—she hears, but she doesn't listen, she knows, but she doesn't move. My inherited temptation to sin is no surprise to me, but what does surprise me is how casually I can treat my defects. I grow numb to their monotony and my manner becomes casual and apathetic towards my sin. I begin to treat them like they are tendencies I can easily master . . . someday, when I get around to it. In reality, these sinful tendencies are deeply imbedded in me. Today, Scripture is telling me "Look! Look here at all the stubborn people since the beginning of time!" In the presence of the prophets, and in the presence of the Lord Himself, even. Not hearing, not doing, not moving. Goodness, how much more I need to know myself . . . my faults, my patterns. I need to see them, so I can fight them. Honestly and tirelessly. [bctt tweet="Lord, help me to conquer myself today. // @blythefike"] Lord, help me to conquer myself today, and to conquer the complacency that so often accompanies my sin. Because it doesn't have to be the same ole'. It can be better, brighter, new. 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.

Recently the world has been getting me down. Maybe you've been feeling the same—a little battle weary and stretched thin. There's so much going on in the world today and there are days when I feel it all like a weight on my shoulders. Worries about our country, about my family, about my children, about my job, about people half-a-world away I feel powerless to help. I want to fix it all. I want there to be answer and a solution and I want it all to get better before it gets worse, not the other way around. There's so much noise in our lives—with connectivity also comes awareness. While things like the internet and even this ministry are great blessings, they also open up windows into lives we would be ignorant of otherwise. While it's wonderful to share the joys, we also can't hide away from the worries and sorrow. These are the days when I need God. In fact, these are the days we all need God and these are the days we need to remember we can't carry the weight of the world without Him. Even Jesus, while on earth, says that He cannot do everything on His own and if Jesus needs to rely on God His Father to carry Him through then so do we. The First Reading from Jeremiah gives us words of encouragement: Can a mother forget her infant, be without tenderness for the child of her womb? Even should she forget, I will never forget you. Amidst all my worries, I am not forgotten. I am always on His mind. [bctt tweet="Remember to turn to God when things feel heavy."] Take a moment today to remember that you do not have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders alone. Remember to turn to God when things feel heavy and the outlook is dim. He has the strength to carry us through it all and only He is the answer to making it all better. Molly Walter is a Catholic convert, wife and mother to one crazy five year old, a new baby girl, and four saints in heaven. She uses her degree in Theatre more as mother than she did while in the business. She enjoys reading, knitting, and rescuing third class relics from Goodwill. Find out more about her here.

"Do you want to be well?" This is the question that Jesus asks the sick man in today's Gospel. It almost seems like a silly question with an obvious answer. The man is sick. He's been sick for 38 years in fact. Of course he wants to be well. But does he really? So, Jesus asks. Jesus is personally asking each of us this same question. Do we want to be well? Maybe some of you are struggling with illness, perhaps a chronic health challenge that has been affecting you for years. Maybe some of you struggle with anxiety or depression, or fears or worries that never seems to lift. Perhaps there is a kind of sinfulness from which you would like to be delivered and freed. Or maybe you don't really know the area of your life that needs healing. Maybe you feel like everything is fine, and you'd like to just say that all is well and you don't really need Jesus coming into your life and asking questions about it, because perhaps in actuality, it hurts too much just to think about. To you, Jesus asks, "Do you want to be well?" What might happen if we are fully healed? Sometimes we become so familiar with our struggles that we identify with those challenges and weakness. Perhaps if we were to be fully well, we might not know what to do with ourselves. If healed we might lose a part of ourselves, or become a different person, or we might have to change and live in a new way. And change can feel frightening especially when it's uncertain what new kind of life might look like. The sick man in the Gospel never actually answers Jesus' question. Wrapped up in the practical details of being unable to get down to the healing water, the man tells Jesus the obstacles rather than clearly answering the question. Jesus doesn't bother with those details nor the man's avoidance of what was asked. "Rise, take up your mat and walk," He says. Jesus knows what he needs and offers him the healing and new life he desires. He offers the same to you as well. [bctt tweet=""Look, you are well; do not sin any more.""] Today may we present ourselves and all we carry to the Lord, asking for patience and courage in all we endure. May we have confidence and trust in His presence and His power for healing and restoration in our lives. Heal us, O Lord. We want to be well! Mary Catherine Craige is a lover of creativity and learning new things. You can often find her behind her harp, taking an art class, or writing in her journal. You can find out more about her here.

I am always bemused when I read the passages in the Gospels that casually mention Jesus not being welcomed in His hometown. It happens quite often if we're paying attention and yet it always makes me wonder, why did those living near Christ not marvel at His works? Why did they not accept Him? Why did they not want more of His love in their lives? Why reject Him? I can only imagine that they first judged Him. They knew His family, the small house where He grew up maybe. It was all so ordinary. How could anything extraordinary, let alone the Messiah, come from such ordinary beginnings? Then I think a measure of pride comes into their treatment of Christ. They grew up in the same village as Jesus, they would know if He was really something special, they couldn't admit now that He was becoming a popular phenomenon across the country that they lived alongside Him His entire life yet failed to realize who He really was. Faith cannot exist in these conditions. How can faith grow and blossom in an environment of judgement, prejudice, and conceit? Jesus could not make miracles happen where there was no faith. But then I realize too often I am just like those hometown scoffers I get frustrated with. Here I am, a baptized Catholic who has access to the fullness of Truth, the wonder that is the Sacraments, receiving Christ's Own Body every time I receive Communion. But at the same time I can be completely conceited and prideful in my daily relationship with Christ. I choose my way over His, my time over prayer, my attachments over having faith He can change my life. I want miracles yet stifle my own faith while living in Christ's very midst. This Lent I'm giving Christ my little faith and handing over my conceits so that I may recognize His power in my life today. I want to recognize His presence in my life, and to be in awe of it everyday. [bctt tweet="I want miracles yet stifle my own faith. "] We are living in Christ's midst. Let us make an act of humility today and hand over all the things in our life where we think we know what is right. Let it not be our way, but Christ's. Christy Isinger is the mom to five lovely, loud children living in the Canadian wilds. You can find out more about her here.

It’s so easy for me to imagine the scene of our First Reading. I have several sons, too, and they line up in order of age to present themselves—at weddings, and funerals, and in buffet lines. God has sent Samuel to the house of Jesse to anoint the next king. Jesse brings his sons for Samuel’s inspection, proudly lining them up in front of the prophet. He doesn’t even bother to call David in from the field because David is so unlikely a candidate. God has a way of doing great things with people who seem unimpressive to the rest of us. To Samuel, Eliab has all the makings of a future king, but Samuel listens closely to God in his discernment. One by one, God tells him that each of the likely sons is not the one. God wants David, a young shepherd boy who seems unequal to the task. Just a few verses before this one, we learned that David was "a man after God's own heart" (1 Samuel 13:14). In the years to come, David, despite his sinful imperfections, will grow to be a great king. God makes a covenant with David and lets him know that that one of his own offspring will sit upon the throne of a kingdom that will be established forever. “And your house and your kingdom shall be made sure for ever before me; your throne shall be established for ever” (2 Samuel 7:16). God sizes up an unlikely shepherd boy whom He knows will become a serious sinner and anoints him king in order to make him a strong and mighty link in the lineage of the Messiah. Perhaps He looks at us similarly. We see all the people lined up to do God’s work next to us or perhaps at some distance from us and we think we pale in comparison. But God is not impressed with what impresses us. God has other plans. He brings great work out of unlikely laborers. Look yourself in the mirror. Do you see the lowly servant standing there? At your baptism, you were anointed priest, prophet, and king. Go out today, with full knowledge that the spirit of the Lord is upon you, and do the work He calls you to do for the Kingdom. [bctt tweet="The Lord brings great work out of unlikely laborers. // @elizabethfoss"] Center yourself with a Rosary today, or pray the Divine Mercy Chaplet. Be open to the work God has in store for you. Elizabeth Foss is a wife, the mother of nine, and a grandmother. She finds the cacophony of big family imperfection to be the perfect place to learn to walk in the unforced rhythms of grace. You can learn more about her here.

Today is March 25th . . . the most important date in all history. Seriously. You know it’s the Solemnity of the Annunciation, because it says so right at the top of the email. But did you know that March 25th is also understood by Christians to be the date upon which God created man, the date upon which Adam and Eve fell, the date upon which Our Lord was crucified, AND the date upon which Frodo Baggins cast the one ring into the fiery depths of Mount Doom (in the novel The Lord of the Rings)? And did you know that they’re all connected? The 6th century Martyrologium Hieronymianum (the earliest surviving list of Christian martyrdoms and other important dates worth remembering) lists all of those events (and more: the parting of the Red Sea, the final test of Abraham, but not the Frodo one, of course) as being commemorated by the earliest Christians on March 25th. Obviously, these guys weren’t in possession of Moses’ datebook . . . or God’s. But they believed these important events must share a common date because of the way they complement and illuminate and fulfill each other. Each was a beginning or an ending that forever affected humankind. Jesus Christ died on 15 Nisan of the Jewish calendar, which is March 25 on the Roman calendar. Jewish tradition held that a great man would die on the same day as His conception, so the early Christians determined that His date of conception must have also been March 25th. The crucifixion of Jesus is necessary because of the fall of Adam. And Mary’s “yes” at the Annunciation is necessary because of Eve’s “no” in the Garden. They’re all wrapped up in one another. As second century Church Father Saint Irenaeus put it, “And thus also it was that the knot of Eve’s disobedience was loosed by the obedience of Mary. For what the virgin Eve had bound fast through unbelief, this did the virgin Mary set free through faith.” Likewise, Jesus’ submission to the will of the Father atones for Adam’s rejection of the will of the Father. Humanity was born AND reborn on March 25th. So when devout lifelong Catholic J. R. R. Tolkien was writing a story in which a humble hero triumphs over temptation and suffering and saves the world from the forces of evil . . . well, it HAD to happen on March 25th. [bctt tweet="And Mary’s “yes” at the Annunciation is necessary... // @kendra_tierney"] There’s a lot to celebrate today. Hopefully you’re going to have waffles, the traditional food of the Annunciation. Find a way to be festive! Kendra Tierney is wife to a good man and mother to eight pretty good kids. Together they are fixing up a tumbledown hundred year old house. She's a writer, and a blogger, and a graphic designer, and a homeschooler, and a regular schooler. Her word art is available here. Her book, A Little Book About Confession for Children, is available here. Find out more about her here.

“We shall say no more, ‘Our god,’ to the work of our hands.” These words of the prophet Hosea stop me in my tracks. In Psalm 81, “There shall be no strange god among you, nor shall you worship any alien god.” Finally we hear Jesus’s answer to that blessed question, “Which is the first of all the commandments?” “The Lord our God is Lord alone!” “Yes! Amen!” my heart cries out. But when I stop to take a look at my life—a painstakingly honest look—I wonder to myself, Can I really say that? Is the Lord my God alone, or are there any “strange gods” in my life? I hope your answer is a resounding, “Yes, the Lord alone is my God.” But if you’re like me, the desire is very much there, and yet I sometimes fail. My spirit is willing, but my flesh is weak. For me, the biggest “strange god,” or false idol in my life is my phone. I think it may be for many of us, though it’s probably not something we care to admit. Some days I pick it up first thing to check for new messages before I have given thanks to God for the gift of another day. I spend more time checking who has liked my latest filtered snapshot than I do checking in with Jesus. Time spent on my phone has become habitual, often much more so than my prayer life. There are many elements of life that, without care, we begin to idolize: Busyness. The desire for control. Comfort. The approval of others. Our physical appearance. Money. Relationships, even. Of course, all these things are not inherently bad. In fact, many of them can be good when in right order. The problem arises when these elements of our life become more important than our relationship with Christ—when we fail to love the Lord with all our heart, all our soul, all our mind, and all our strength. Let us lay our improperly ordered lives at the foot of the Cross this Lent, that we might experience the sweetness of Easter joy, which God so desires to give us. [bctt tweet="Let us lay our improperly ordered lives at the foot of the Cross."] Let’s spend some serious time in prayer on this one. Ask the Lord to soften your heart and open your eyes to what you have made a false idol of in your life. Then ask Him for the grace and strength to make a change. Elise Howe is a devoted wife, momma, and musician currently living in NYC, though she will always be a midwestern gal at heart. You can find out more about her here.

I turn on the news. Another school has lost victims in another shooting. The political climate is more tumultuous and hostile than ever. An earthquake has crumbled an entire city to the ground. A victim of human trafficking has been discovered after five years in servitude. A child has fallen into the pool at her relative’s house and is in critical condition . . . . I stop by on the way home to visit my grandmother in the nursing home. She doesn’t recognize me. She can hardly speak a word. The energy of this once-globetrotter is flagging. The Alzheimers is taking her away, piece by piece . . . . A friend phone’s to let me know that the waters have finally reached her place. Her entire first floor is under water and they had minutes to evacuate. They have lost everything . . . . I trudge in the door of the church, not so eager to step into the darkness of the confessional. The authenticity of the symbolism there striking me square in the face. Here I go again—sharing the same failings week after week. Why is it so impossible for me to overcome these things? Although these things are all true, they are not the end of the story. Evil will not have the final word here. In today’s Gospel, we see the Pharisees questioning the power that Christ displays before them. But Christ reiterates for them that His power is not demonic, for it is more powerful than that of the demons. His power is above and beyond anything they have ever seen and ever will see. He can and will overcome evil in whatever form it may appear. Christ has told us: “In the world you have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33) It is easy to feel overwhelmed when we are witness to all the evil that makes an appearance in the world. But we must not lose hope, for Christ has overcome all. It is good to take time to think on our sins and seek forgiveness during this Lenten season, but let us not become despondent about those that are a continual struggle. And, similarly, let us not lose hope concerning the suffering and evil we come face to face with daily. [bctt tweet="The power of Christ is on our side. // @muffin_dome"] The power of Christ is on our side; He will be the ultimate victor. If hope seems far away today, reach out to Christ for a boost. 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.

How many times has my husband forgiven me in our ten years of marriage? Let's make a conservative estimate of seven times per day, which probably includes the many little things that annoy him and the big things that we fight about. It equals about 17, 885 times my husband has extended forgiveness to me in our marriage, which is a much greater number than seventy-seven! And that's probably a conservative estimate, as I'm prone to talking to much and thinking of myself before anyone else at an alarming rate. It really makes you wonder how many times in our lives we've been forgiven by those closest to us? Our parents have definitely forgiven us far more times than seventy times seven. Our children in their innocence and generosity are fountains of forgiveness for all the mistakes we make. Our friends and family who have been with us through thick and thin have forgiven and not counted the cost. In today's Gospel Christ is telling us not only that forgiveness is a way of growing in holiness but that forgiveness is the way to relationship. It is indeed what makes us like our heavenly Father, and what makes real relationship possible. Without the forgiveness we receive from God we would be incapable of having a relationship with Him and so too with all other relationships. Without forgiveness how can we grow closer to anyone? How can we develop an intimate relationship with another person? How could it be possible for marriage to have a sacramental, life-long bond between two different people? Only in forgiveness can we fully develop real, human relationship, and it will take forgiving someone many more than seventy-seven times. But when we consider the many instances when we have been forgiven by those who love us forgiveness should come quickly to our hearts. [bctt tweet="Help us to grow in love and forgiveness, Lord Jesus."] Let's make the conscious choice to forgive the small grievances in our day today. We know we have been forgiven much, not only by our Heavenly Father but by all those who love us. Help us to grow in love and forgiveness, Lord Jesus. Christy Isinger is the mom to five lovely, loud children living in the Canadian wilds. You can find out more about her here.

Today is the Solemnity of Saint Joseph. I love this solemnity! Joseph is a rock star in my home. He was a man of honor, integrity, and tremendous humility. While they were betrothed, he found out she was pregnant. Can you imagine how he felt when Mary came to him and told him about her encounter with the angel Gabriel? Did he believe her right away or did he doubt her word? Did he think she’d been unfaithful or did he know she was telling the truth? Did he trust her but, knowing his own shortcomings, feel unworthy of the task at hand? Did he wonder if it was better to divorce her quietly and walk away? The Church fathers have disagreed on the answers to these questions for centuries but one thing they do agree is that Joseph was a righteous and faith-filled man who trusted the Lord and was open to His plan for his life. As Joseph prayerfully contemplated what to do, an Angel appeared to him in a dream and filled him in on the whole story. God’s messenger encouraged him to have no fear and that God would be with him and Mary throughout this journey. What he does next though is what makes him a hero to me. Not only did he set aside his own fear and questions but acted on the Angel’s instruction with courage and fortitude. Joseph’s unwavering faith and implicit trust in God brings tears to my eyes. He gave his own “yes” to God as Mary had done earlier through the Archangel Gabriel. He agreed to be the helpmate to Mary’s New Eve as she gave birth to the new Adam, Jesus Christ. Sometimes we don’t know or fully understand how God is calling us to serve. And that’s okay. Like Joseph, we can question and doubt but when given direction from God we must act without fear, trusting He wants only the best for us. And like Joseph, we need to trust God even when the path is unclear and the outcome uncertain. My spiritual director once told me that faith is the courage to want what God wants for us. So have faith as Joseph did. God will give you every skill and every ounce of courage needed to complete whatever He asks of you, just like He did for Joseph. The only thing you can be sure of is that the task, whatever it may be or however hard and uncomfortable it is, has been designed with love to draw you into a deeper relationship. Isn’t that the best place to be? [bctt tweet="And like Joseph, we need to trust God. // @marylenaburg"] Saint Joseph, pray for us. Mary Lenaburg married her first (and only) blind date going on 27 years, is a full-time liturgist, and parents one adult son navigating his path on earth and a special needs daughter safely in Heaven. You can find out more about her here.

I feel for the woman at the well today as I read of her encounter with Christ. Hers is a lengthy one, with a seemingly relentless, useless back and forth with our Lord. Although, at first, I think to myself: is she not listening to Him? Does she not hear what He is offering to her? Then, I take a step back: Can I really blame her? Is her story not similar to mine? Do I not do the same? Do we all not behave like her at times? Christ extends His love; He extends His mercy. He beckons for us, hoping to draw us closer, hoping to give us a taste of that “living water.” Yet we reject; we question. We continue to act deaf to what He offers to us time and again. But the message here is not meant to be one of despair and hopelessness. The message here is one of hope. It is a story about Christ’s endless mercy. It is a story of Christ’s relentless pursuit. A pursuit He engages in just for her. A pursuit He engages in just for you. The woman at the well pushes back as Christ attempts to draw her in, but He never gives up on her. In the same way, He will not give up on you. He longs to reveal Himself to you, too. No matter how many times we question Him. No matter how many times we fall again into that little sin that we just can’t shake. No matter how many times we turn away from His teaching and decide to interpret it our own way. No matter how many times we turn away from His grace. No matter how many times we choose to wallow in our own pride, instead of choosing Him. He will always be waiting for you, waiting to draw you back in once more. Draw close, once again, to the source of living water. [bctt tweet="Draw close to the source of living water. // @muffin_dome"] Is there a place in your life where you are not listening well to the voice of Christ? Ask Him to reveal this to you. Ask the Lord for help in understanding and better following what He is asking of you. 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.

Proud, haughty, flashy, and an inflated ego. Words that I think fairly describe Joseph in his youth, but also words I would use to describe myself in my more ignorant youthful days. I was not terribly humble and certainly came across more harsh and judgmental than I would like to admit. Like our friend Joseph from today's reading, I had a lot to learn. Life happens. It humbles and teaches you when God knocks you off that high horse of self-righteousness. Sometimes life just isn't fair and it doesn't make any sense at all. How would a young teenager make sense of being sold into slavery by his older brothers? Or later on being accused of seducing a woman when he never did that? Sometimes the only way to learn and grow is though the hard, painful, messy stuff. And as this story of Joseph and his family unfolds, we see that. The messy, painful situations were what made Joseph humble, strong, and wise. Those things matured Joseph into a better man. Our youthful mistakes and sins do not define us, but should refine us. God refined Joseph through all that happened in his life. It made him a better leader and able to truly forgive his brothers for the suffering and pain they caused him. Just like Joseph, God wants to refine each us. He wants to use those messy, broken pieces of ourselves and our stories for His purpose, the glory of the Kingdom. The question is are we willing and open to let Him? [bctt tweet="Our youthful mistakes and sins do not define us..."] What three words would you use to describe yourself 10, 15, maybe 20 years ago? What three words would you use now? Thank God for the work He has already done in you, and ask Him to continue to grow and teach you. 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.