I sat on the hard, dark-stained pew and lowered the kneeler until it softly thudded on the carpeted floor. A soft spotlight shone on the Tabernacle, and sunlight brightened stained glass windows, the only lights in the still, dark chapel. It was just Jesus and me. Into the quiet of the chapel I exhaled a deep sigh, and then another. And when the sighs could no longer hold back the tears, I sobbed. A full-on ugly cry poured out of me, complete with gasps, snot, and shaking. Occasionally I would lift my head to look at Him. Sometimes I shook my fists at Him or banged them on the pew. There were no words, but I was praying. I have been Hannah, pouring out my heart to our Lord. I bet you have been, too. It is a grace and a gift to be able to cry like that to God, to hold nothing back. Whether the tears are from anger, exhaustion, or sorrow, the Lord is ready to listen. He wants nothing more for us than to be close to Him, to have a relationship with honest conversations, so that we will be ready to join Him in Heaven. Rote prayers are helpful, important, beautiful—but we have to talk to God, too. When I walked out of the chapel that day I felt so much better. I had raged and begged for forgiveness and finally found rest in His presence. It was as if Eli’s blessing to Hannah was for me, too. "Go in peace, and may the God of Israel grant you what you have asked of him" (1 Sam 1:17). [bctt tweet="It was just Jesus and me. // @BonnieEngstrom" username="blessedisshe__"] If you're looking to learn more about what the Catechism teaches prayer, take a look at our study called "Ways to Pray" from Rooted. Bonnie Engstrom is a writer, baker, speaker, and homemaker. She lives with her husband and eight children in Illinois. Bonnie is the author of "61 Minutes to a Miracle" which tells the story of her son's miracle that was approved by Pope Francis for the beatification of Venerable Fulton Sheen. She likes to bake, putz about the yard, and tell her kids to tidy the house. She is the author of the Blessed Conversations Mystery: Believe study found here. You can find out more about her here.

I come from a long line of yellers. I remember my mother saying to my father, “You don’t have to yell at them” and hearing the response, “They don’t listen unless I yell.” As a parent, I found myself naturally falling into that same pattern I have politely named the "Escalation of Instruction." Now my teenagers call me out on the raised voice, “Mom, I am right here. You don’t have to yell.” And they are right. When we yell our words fall flat. When we become overly emotional, when the emotional part of our brain is activated, the executive functioning in our brain is less efficient. Becoming emotionally heightened actually hinders our ability to think and process information. We all have people in our lives we want to influence, be it friends, co-workers, or family members. Whether we are speaking truth or offering correction to someone, shouting and crying out is not effective. Being calm and collected, listening, loving, and spreading peace are what reach both the heart and the head. It is not fear but rather love that brings about conversion of hearts. Conversion comes from a place of love and peace, when we can shed a rational light on the situation rather than rant about our frustrations. Conversion comes when others chose to emulate us because we carry with us a peace and joy that only comes from Christ. In the First Reading today, Isaiah prophesied the coming of our merciful Christ Jesus, and Isaiah says He will come without shouting or crying out (see Isaiah 42:1). Next time you are frustrated or angry, take a deep breath and invite the Holy Spirit to guide you. Our God is a God of peace. Don’t let others steal that peace from you, but rather choose to spread peace even, and maybe especially, in times of frustration. Sometimes the loudest message is sent from the quietest of actions. [bctt tweet="Conversion comes when others chose to emulate us because we carry with us a peace and joy that only comes from Christ. // Dr. MaryRuth Hackett" username="blessedisshe__"] Pray this act of consecration to the Holy Spirit today and ask Him to flood you with His peace. Dr. MaryRuth Hackett is the host of the podcast Parenting Smarts. 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. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book called Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.

I took a pregnancy test last week. It was negative. It was negative like all of the other negative tests I’ve taken. And all of those tests over all of those years are probably now sitting in a landfill somewhere, each with its own prayer attached to it. Because right before my eyes meet that lonely pink line waiting for me on the result window, I whisper out a prayer from the quiet longing of my heart. And I sometimes wonder if He hears me at all. Is my voice too weak? Is my prayer too shallow? Is my heart too cold? Because over and over my heart pleads for life to flood my empty belly, and over and over I am met with that solitary line. And it all feels so familiar. Because just four years ago, I sat with that very same prayer on my lips. The negatives kept corroding my faith and my heart kept beckoning for help. And then one day, I looked down at the test and saw life. We named that life Judah, which means “praise.” Because for ten years we prayed for him, for ten years we swallowed the vitamins and took the hormones and pleaded for God to intervene. And He did. He heard the cry of our hearts, and so now we praise. But those pesky negatives have somehow made their way into our lives again, and the prayers we whisper out into the stillness still seem to echo out into a void. Yet there is hope in this darkness. Because when your prayers ache with the longings of your heart, it is often easy to forget about all of the ways God has heard your cries. It’s easy to push past the answers you’ve received and see only the silence that billows out before you. He hears you, sister. Sometimes you need only look back at your own life to see that truth. And when the waves of doubt meet you in the silence, rest in the testimony of your past. [bctt tweet="He heard the cry of our hearts, and so now we praise. // @iambritcal" username="blessedisshe__"] These powerful prayers when struggling with fertility are beautiful. 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.

A few years ago my beloved aunt was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. While our family earnestly hoped and prayed for a miracle, my aunt came to peacefully accept whatever God's will would be for her. This past summer, we said our goodbyes as we watched her leave this life to go on to the next. In the end, healing looked different than what my family imagined or wanted.

Christ used a parish priest from Uganda to show me what it looks like to love my brothers and sisters. I met Father B. shortly after I experienced a deeper conversion in my faith. During that beautiful process, the verse in today’s reading became far more evident in my life.

As someone who is engaged in a likely lifelong battle with perfectionism, 1 John 4:18 tends to shake me up a bit. “Perfect love drives out fear.†Seems simple enough. If I want to live fearlessly, I just need to love God perfectly.

My turn was coming and I didn’t have an answer—at least not one that I felt comfortable sharing with the group. “What are you hoping to get from this weekend?†the sister running our women’s retreat had prompted.

On a recent retreat I led, a woman approached me at the break looking for a little support. She slowly and sheepishly shared with me that her dreams were overrun with demons, terrible, graphic visions of malevolent spirits overtaking people and possessing them. Sometimes she knew those under attack, more often she didn’t. She would awake filled with terror and dread, completely unrested. This affliction had been with her some time.

"Rise up in splendour, Jerusalem. Your light has come, the glory of the Lord shines upon you" (Isaiah 60:1). I don't have much Scripture memorized, but I do have a good chunk of Isaiah chapter 60 memorized. The Lord spoke very personally to me through this chapter of Scripture over fifteen years ago, and since that time these verses have been imprinted on my heart. Not only do these beautiful verses speak to what I was experiencing back then, but they have continued to be a source of grace and encouragement whenever I've read or heard them since. I love that this proclamation calls us to rise and see the glory of what God has given us. There is something about this call to action being at the same time an action that isn't difficult but also a significant act of recognition. A recognition in Who God is, and who we are in His glorious light shining personally on us. The light of salvation and redemption, a light that changes us and makes us radiant. A radiance that transforms us for all who see us, a radiance that marks us as belonging to the Lord. These verses from Isaiah come to fulfillment today in the feast of Epiphany, as not only the people of Israel have been given the Light of the World, but the Baby born in a manger is given to all. Christ's light is for everyone, from every nation, in every time. Our world needs His light as much as Isaiah's world did, as much as the kingdom of Herod did. [bctt tweet="Rise and see the glory of what God has given us. // @christyisinger" username="blessedisshe__"] Let the light of Christ shine in our world today through the radiance He gives you. 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.

"What are you looking for?" he asked me. We were sitting outside of the coffee shop on a breezy Sunday afternoon. "What are you looking for in a relationship?" he asked again. It's an important question. But also one that can sometimes can seem like a "dating interview" if it feels like your date might actually be looking for you to give a specific answer, which will be the determining factor for whether or not he will ask you on another date. And yet at the same time, it's so important to have clarity and know what we are looking for, isn't it? When we know what we are looking for, it is so much easier to find it. When we know what we are seeking, we can more easily see and recognize what we want and more easily follow after it when it shows up in our lives. It is a question that also can sometimes be difficult to precisely articulate the answer. What are we really looking for? Jesus asks the Apostles in today's Gospel, "What are you looking for?" (John 1:38) and they do not even answer the question. Instead, they ask Him another question to know where He is staying. Perhaps the encounter with Jesus is too powerful for them to express with words an answer to His question. Perhaps the desire to want to know where He is staying and to want to spend more time in His Presence is the answer to what they have been seeking. Today we honor the feast of Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton who was a wife, mother, educator and foundress. Along her journey of seeking, she converted to the Catholic Faith when she found Jesus in the Eucharistic. She is a perfect patron and friend to accompany us along our journey of seeking and finding what we are looking for. What are you looking for in your relationship with God? What do you want from Jesus? And if you don't know how to fully articulate the answer yet, perhaps you too can go where Jesus is staying to spend time with Him and experience His Presence. Pop in to Mass or stop by the Adoration chapel to be close to Him. [bctt tweet="What are we really looking for? // Mary Catherine Craige" username="blessedisshe__"] Learn more about Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton and her astounding faith today. Mary Catherine Craige enjoys spending her time swing dancing, playing the Irish harp and surfing the ocean waves of northeast Florida. As a transformational life coach, she supports courageous women to create beauty out of challenging circumstances and to live a life of abundance, freedom and joy as the person God has created them to be. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book, Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.

Our names tell a story from the moment they were written on a birth certificate. Some names have been passed down generation after generation. Others have been on the "when I have a baby" list for years. Names speak to a person's race, religion, ethnicity, and parental creativity. So when you hear the name "Jesus Christ," what comes to your mind? Scripture provides some help: "Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace" (Isaiah 9:6). Jesus is the Son of God, and through our Baptism, we become children of God. I don't know about you, but this identity has a certain level of expectation. Sure, my parents had expectations of me, but they were never higher than the expectations I placed on myself when I lived into my identity as a "child of God." For most of my life, I felt I had to be perfect. But being a child of God doesn't equal perfection; it means we are striving for holiness. (See Catechism of the Catholic Church 2013). We are not "adults of God," we are "children of God." The word "child" implies that we are learning. In the process of learning, I have visible scars all over my body from playing too rough. I have wounds few will ever know about but that I have confessed to the Lord. Some generational marks we don't even realize are there, and, like our family name, they are passed down without our knowledge or approval. But we continue to strive to be pure because Christ is pure. We strive to be sinless because Christ is sinless. We strive to be holy because "what we shall be has not yet been revealed" (1 John 2:31). As we start this new year, let's take the expectation of perfection off the list of resolutions. Instead, let's recognize how we are striving for holiness so we can receive and "[s]ee what love the Father has bestowed on us" (1 John 3:1). [bctt tweet="Being a child of God doesn't equal perfection. // @SoCalTriciaT" username="blessedisshe__"] Learn more about the name of Jesus Christ in the Catholic encyclopedia. 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.

“You know my least favorite days of the year?” I look up, bemused at my oldest son, ready for a proclamation. “The days after a holiday,” he declares with a frown. “January 2nd. February 15th. The day after Easter. July 5th. The day after my birthday. The day after Thanksgiving. December 26th.” I thank him for this litany of lament, trying not to crack a smile at his serious face. I offer some small protests: the day after Easter is still a feast; December 26th is part of the Christmas season. But I see exactly where he’s coming from. Today is the day after the Solemnity. The Christmas Octave is over, too. In our house, that means no more presents—after eight solid days of kids running downstairs each morning to discover a little surprise under the tree. We love to celebrate the Octave like crazy, counter-cultural Catholics. This tradition gives us a way to stretch out the delights of Christmas (and avoid the dazed gift-opening overload of the 25th), plus a reminder that the Christmas season lasts longer than one day. So I understand my son’s sentiment. Today we’re back to work and school. Parties and presents are now in past tense. The neighbors have shut off their Christmas lights. No more carols blare on the radio. Still we are called to keep rejoicing, carrying the joy of Christmas with us into the New Year. “Let what you heard from the beginning remain in you,” reminds today’s First Reading (1 John 2:24). Let the beauty and power of this season stay strong, even as the holiday sparkle fades. Let the Incarnation continue to delight us: the astounding truth of Emmanuel, God-with-us. Yes, we have to take down the Christmas tree eventually (before it becomes a true fire hazard). Yes, my groaning children are going back to school this morning. But what we heard from the beginning—all the way from Advent’s burning hope to Christmas’ shining celebration of the Christ Child—will remain with us. The day after is still a day to rejoice. [bctt tweet="We are called to keep rejoicing, carrying the joy of Christmas with us into the New Year. // @laurakfanucci" username="blessedisshe__"] This beloved pontiff addresses rejoicing in the ordinary and in our times of suffering, too. 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.

One afternoon, I dialed the numbers I've known for most of my life. I had a question for my mom. The spiritual life is meant to be shared, but there are also deeply personal aspects that words cannot express and that hearts safeguard and treasure with the Lord. I wondered if my mother’s relationship with Mary would be one of those things, but I wanted to know. “Can you tell me about Mary being a spiritual mother to you, since your mother isn’t with you anymore?” "It's comforting, but still hard," she told me. We chatted about how Our Lady knows loss and pain, how she can be everything we need in a mother if we only let her, and how there are many ways we can identify with her. I'm still thinking over what my mom shared with me in light of today’s Gospel. "Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart" (Luke 2:19). I don’t know what all the things were, but I can imagine because I also keep things in my heart. The joy (and trepidation!) felt with a positive pregnancy test. The coos of my babies, their first steps. I remember fear and worry when a child is lost, when my children suffer, when I can’t take away their pain. Mary knew this fear, too. I keep memories of dandelion bouquets, bedtime snuggles, and signs of a maturing faith in my older children. These are among the many things I treasure in my heart. I believe the Blessed Mother keeps all these things also in her heart. The joys and fears and wonders of motherhood. The joys of being our mother, too. As an adopted child of God (see Galatians 4:5), I have faith that Mary looks on me with love as the Mother of God as though I am one of her own. I'm still growing to know Mary as the Mother of God and of me. Having a relationship with Mary as my heavenly mother is, to quote my earthly mother, quite comforting. [bctt tweet="Our Lady knows. // Gina Fensterer" username="blessedisshe__"] Have you thought about doing a Marian consecration? Read more about it here. Gina Fensterer finds daily life to be perfect for practicing virtue and sometimes blogs about raising up saints (she has six children). She loves the Jesus prayer, long runs, and coffee at any time of day. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book called Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.

"And the Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us" (John 1:14). He was sick that day, it turns out. The day he hadn't come to classes, the day I figured he had rejected me because of what I'd shared about my dating history, the day I drove in the blinding rain to his house to come face-to-face with abandonment: he had just had a bad cold, that was all. But on that drive, my windshield wipers swiping, my hands busy tear-wiping, so much water everywhere, I asked the Lord. Begged the Lord. Come and be with me, Lord. I can't have You leave me, too. And when he peered out over the metal clanking part of the screen door, and when I pushed past his tissue-stuffed nostrils to try to defend myself against the paper tiger of disdain, he promptly tucked my heart next to his. And it has stayed there ever since. So, my sisters, God Himself has come to dwell among us not because we're perfect and never made a mistake. Not because we've performed well and dated all the right people. Not because we've impressed Him with our emotional maturity in our early 20s. He took on our human form because we so desperately need Him. And He will not reject us, abandon us, scorn us in our time, our lifetimes of need. He tucks us inside His Sacred Heart and calls us His very own. Open your heart to His, sister. He's longing for it. [bctt tweet="He tucks us inside His Sacred Heart and calls us His very own. // @WholeParenting" username="blessedisshe__"] This book by a French mystic plumbs the depths of God's abiding dwelling within us. 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.

NEW. I’d always seen it as a word demanding action, resolution, a shedding of my former self to chase a “better” self. “This New Year,” shouted the world, “will be the answer to what ails you!” This year, I wasn’t buying it. For too many years I’d made an idol of the arbitrary turning over of the clock, chasing the superficial lie that each new year should deliver more comfort and less suffering. If not? The lacking must be my own shortfall in adequate fitness, greater organization, and better habits—all supposed solutions for the deep, untouched longing inside. “For all that is in the world, sensual lust, enticement for the eyes, and a pretentious life, is not from the Father but is from the world.” (1 John 2:16-17). In the end, I’d only gained a quiet wisdom that enticements don’t fulfill and my willpower falls short. But in coming to the end of myself, I met the One Whose power is more than enough; He who is present in each new day, He Who single-handedly makes all things new. I’d known about the Lord, built my life around Him, for as long as I could remember. But my innermost heart was a holdout. And as I found myself craving a newness that the shiny and superficial could never touch, His answer whispered truth. Authentic newness is only born of real relationship with Him. It’s taken a slow and steady diet of time in the presence of His healing heart to break through to the depths of mine. He’s pursued me through Scripture and Adoration, through the Sacraments of regular Confession and the Eucharist. He’s led me on the journey (see 1 John 2:12-14) from the spiritual childhood of tasting His mercy to the spiritual adulthood of truly knowing Him. And the most beautiful gift in knowing Him is that He helps me to know myself. In the deepest truth of our identity, He teaches that newness is not about escaping ourselves or becoming like someone else, but becoming more and more the beautiful person He’s made us to be all along. [bctt tweet="Authentic newness is only born of real relationship with Him. // @PosImperfect" username="blessedisshe__"] The notes from this talk address the Blessed Sacrament as the greatest need in the Church. Megan Hjelmstad is a wife and mom 24/7 and an Army Reservist in her “spare” time. She is the Stories Manager for the Blessed is She Instagram account. She’s a bibliophile, tea drinker, sleep lover, and avid admirer of Colorado’s great outdoors. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book called Rise Up. When the writing bug hits, you can find out more about her here.

Today, on the Feast of the Holy Family, I am grateful. Particularly because I am reminded by our readings today that above all, my call is to put on love above and beyond all else. And the truth of it is this: that's not always easy—especially with family. And yet the Holy Family teaches us many things. The Blessed Mother shows us her fiat, her heartfelt 'yes' that blessed our world, making way for our redemption. Saint Joseph's demonstrates an unfailing trust in the mission God had for him: to lead his family with unceasing love, though so much was unknown. And sweet baby Jesus gives us everything, the Child born in a manger, the Child Who would save the world and our own worlds with His sacrificial love. These lessons in love and trust aren't always easy to live out. In our own lives and in our own families, sometimes loving people is far from easy. Perhaps we witnessed sharp elbows over the holidays this year. Perhaps we felt anxious or nervous about the unknown of what family time would bring. Perhaps we ourselves had to have hard conversations with those around us, trusting that what we had to say was for the good of the other. Love is difficult. Trust is difficult. Following His way is difficult. But we are strengthened always by His grace along the journey to which Love calls us. On this day, the Feast of the Holy Family, may we listen carefully to God's voice in our hearts. May we dig deep and truly reflect on the ways in which He calls us to love our family more purely and selflessly. May we call on the Holy Spirit to carry us through the difficult moments, the unknown, the challenges, the hurts, and the wounds within our family. And may we remember that the Holy Family has gone before us—trusting in love and acting with love for the sake of the Kingdom of Heaven. [bctt tweet="May we listen carefully to God's voice in our hearts. // Shalini Blubaugh" username="blessedisshe__"] We are not alone! Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, pray for us! Shalini Blubaugh is a Minnesota transplant living in Denver, Colorado with her sweet husband, Matt, their gal pal, Callan, and quite large GSD pup, Sully. She runs her own Activewear 'biz and is a soon to be Certified Personal Trainer. She also 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.

Hunting is not one of those hobbies I list in my repertoire, but I’ve watched and read enough period dramas to get the gist of how a snare works. It’s a sneaky process wherein the hunter calculatingly traps his prey. The animal’s habits and patterns are examined and a noose of cord laid on a path it’s bound to walk down. The loop tightens when stepped into, and no matter how much the creature struggles, it’s held fast by the trap. In today’s Psalm (124:2-8), we’re likened to a bird trapped in the fowler’s snare. Satan, like the hunter, lies in wait, knowing our paths and habits of weakness. He plans a trap of temptation. And we step in it. Growing up, I had ongoing tension in my relationship with my younger brother. He knew all the ways to get under my skin, and well into high school, I struggled with lashing back at him, arguing over the most inane things. I thought I possessed self-control, blaming those reactions on my annoying brother. Patience and kindness were certainly lacking in our interactions, and I was content to live stagnant in a place with no growth. It’s easy to get into this place in many areas, content to flap a few inches above the trap, convinced you’re not bound by sin. But if you haven’t noticed, the more you tug on that knot, the tighter it squeezes you. I’m happy to say the relationship between my brother and me has healed into a much stronger friendship over the years, but I still have those sins in my life I keep walking back into, sins holding me back from the freedom Christ offers. Our Savior enters those well-worn paths of our life, gently reaching down and breaking the snares, the holds that sin has on us. He is the Great Physician, eager to heal the deepest wounds of our hearts and our souls. Take time to bring those sins to Him in Confession, and make a resolution to forge new patterns by building virtue to combat the snares in your life. [bctt tweet="Our Savior enters those well-worn paths of our life. // Sarah Ortiz" username="blessedisshe__"] Pope Saint John Paul II placed a renewal of focus on the Sacrament of Reconciliation in this letter. Sarah Ortiz is a Catholic convert, wife, and mother to four boys while living in a 200 year old farmhouse. When not folding laundry, she can be found reading, experimenting in the kitchen, or snagging amazing antique furniture deals. You can find out more about her here.