But they did not understand the saying, and they were afraid to question him. // Mark 9:32  What does that mean, Lord? my bewildered heart implored as I wrestled with the words that had blossomed from my customary time of silent prayer after Holy Communion. Was my Eucharistic Spouse really telling me it was time to uproot myself from the parish I called home and allow Him to nurture my charisms and gifts elsewhere?  I echoed this possibility in my daily conversations with the Lord and in subsequent meetings with my spiritual director, who gently bid me not to be troubled as I awaited clarity. And so, I kept asking for it, pondering the words I had received and questioning what Christ wanted me to know.   The answers I sought did come in time, but they were different than what I expected and, honestly, a tad harder to swallow.   In today’s Gospel, the disciples, too, find it difficult to digest the information our Lord reveals to them when speaking about the brutality and future glory that awaits Him (see Mark 9:30-32). They are afraid to ask Jesus what it all means, not because they fear Jesus Himself, but because they are afraid of the answers He might give in response, answers that could radically upend everything.   How often do we do the same? We hold back from asking the very questions that weigh heavy on our minds and hearts, afraid that the answers will take shape in the form of rejection, disappointment, or a call to deeper conversion. But, friend, when we hide behind masks of silence and fear, we create obstacles to experiencing the Lord’s divine plan in our lives and in the depths of our hearts. As today’s Second Reading reminds us, we cannot possess if we do not ask (see James 4:2).      Whenever you pray, let the questions flow. And don’t be afraid of what Jesus wants to tell you. The answers He holds in His Heart are just for you, dear sister, conceived from His perfect plan to lead you into deeper trust and surrender. So, ask Him anything, and then be still as He lifts every cloud of confusion with His loving truth.  

Seek always the face of the Lord. // Psalm 105:4b “You’re really pretty—stunning, actually.”  The statement surprised me as much as the person making it. But as I exited the checkout line, it occurred to me that something similar had happened before, and I smiled to myself. Lord, it’s Your beauty they see and long for, my heart whispered.   Earlier that Saturday morning, I had prayed a Holy Hour in my parish’s adoration chapel. It was one of those rare days that Jesus and I were alone for the majority of our time together, and I experienced the joy and intimacy of that encounter in a particularly striking way.      In the preceding weeks, I had started to notice that whenever I was the only adorer in Christ’s Sacramental presence and received the gift of His loving embrace in prayer, people made it a point to comment on my beauty afterwards.      “It’s Jesus telling you how beautiful you are after encountering Him,” a friend observed when I shared my experience. “Him pursuing you. Plus,” she continued, “He lives so presently in you, it’s also just Him.”    In the book A Flame of God Himself, Joshua Elzner writes this: “By the beauty that the Bridegroom has bestowed upon [the bride] she attracts others to him who is all beautiful, and whose beauty is so radiantly manifested in and through her” (source). He means that in Christ’s beauty, we shine, by His pure gift, with our own unique and unrepeatable beauty, pointing others to its source.  It's amazing, isn’t it? When we are in constant intimate contact with Beauty Himself, we naturally become more beautiful, interiorly and exteriorly. The pure light of His gaze penetrates every fiber of our being and causes us to glow with an attractive radiance that captivates those around us. We become lovely by receiving His look of love. We become beautiful by immersing our souls in His beauty. We become transformed by a daily face-to-face encounter with the One Who is the “fairest of the sons of men” (Psalm 45:2).  This day, dear sister, seek the face of the Lord, and shine with the beauty of holiness.

“Wherever he enters, say to the master of the house, ‘The Teacher says, “Where is my guest room where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?”’ Then he will show you a large upper room furnished and ready. Make the preparations for us there.”” // Mark 14:14-15 I patted my brother-in-law's shoulder gently as he struggled to hold back his tears. My own eyes welled up, too, as I watched my five nephews kneel reverently in a row before the sanctuary steps, waiting to receive the Blessed Sacrament for the first time.   Years of fervent prayer and preparation had finally brought us to this powerful moment, and as I pressed my nephews’ names to our Lord’s Eucharistic Heart, I realized that they were no longer boys, but brave and confident young men ready to give themselves wholly and freely to their Savior truly present in the Eucharist.   For varied reasons, my nephews did not receive their First Holy Communion at a typical young age. As time went on, I witnessed a growing hunger in their hearts to taste and see the Living Bread (see John 6:51). But now, seeing them newly confirmed just moments before, I was consoled by the fruits that had blossomed from the waiting: souls set ablaze, faith strengthened, upper rooms furnished and ready.   Today’s Gospel for the Solemnity of Corpus Christi stresses the importance of preparation. Jesus gives His disciples explicit instructions to find and set a specific space in Jerusalem for the Last Supper (see Mark 14:13-16). While they didn’t know this would be their final meal together, they carefully obeyed Christ’s command and were able to receive all that their master had in store.  So, I ask you, dear sister: Is your soul—your upper room—set for the sacrificial meal of the Eucharist? If your preparation before Holy Communion has been lacking, I invite you to thoroughly prepare your heart for a proper and worthy reception of the Sacrament. If your upper room could use some housecleaning, avail yourself of the cleansing gift of Confession. Anticipate the sacred mysteries by allowing your disposition and dress to convey the solemnity and joy of the moment when Christ comes to dwell in you. And don’t forget to fast! (source)   With a little preparation, your upper room will become a designated holy space that is ready and waiting to dine with the Lord.

“Do not let your hearts be troubled.” // John 14:1 I sucked in a breath and tried to remain as still as possible while the sunny-haired technician pressed the doppler firmly to my chest and captured the images she needed. The icy cold gel stung my bare skin, but I felt the tangible inner warmth of the Lord’s presence as I surrendered the findings of this latest test to His Cross.  Concerns from my doctor that I might have an undiagnosed heart condition prompted him to order a cardiac ultrasound to assess the structure and overall function of my heart. I didn’t yet have an explanation for the frequent flutters in my chest or the frightening episode of syncope (a fancy word for passing out) that had caused me to crash my car months prior. But what I did know was that Christ was using everything to draw me to Himself (see John 14:3).  As I shifted my body toward the wall so the tech could take more pictures, I offered a silent prayer to Jesus to unify my heart with His, whatever this procedure might show. Moments later, I heard the tech exclaim, “Your heart looks beautiful!”   I smiled to myself. Suffering love so often paves the way to beauty, doesn’t it? Just like the story of Saint Clare of Montefalco, also known as Saint Clare of the Cross. Clare was a thirteenth-century Augustinian nun who possessed a deep devotion to Our Lord’s Passion. During her life, which was marked by nearly constant suffering, she adamantly professed that she bore the Cross of Christ in her heart. When her heart was examined after she died, it was found to contain not only a perfect imprint of the Cross, but also other miniature instruments of Christ’s suffering and death (source).       Dear sister, take a moment to dissect your own heart before the Lord. Are you able to see signs of His Presence impressed there, even amid suffering and turmoil? Whatever your troubled heart holds, rest assured that He is within you, engraving His likeness into every fiber of your being.   And, believe me, friend, that is a beautiful thing.

Lent starts February 14, and so does the RESCUED Blessed is She Lent devotional. This year, you’ll be receiving an excerpt from the Lent devotional every day in your inbox (in lieu of our regular daily devo). We want to pray with one heart and one mind as the BIS sisterhood. If you prefer to have the book, purchase the 2024 Blessed is She Lent devotional RESCUED right here. Right upon purchase, you’ll receive a link to come into the free Blessed is She app to walk through the Lenten season with us in daily live prayer, small groups, and more. Together let’s look to the Lamb of God who came to rescue each one of us.   “Now, Master, you may let your servant go in peace, according to your word, for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the sight of all the peoples: a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and glory to your people Israel.” // Luke 2:29-32 At Sister’s prompting, I stood up, and applause exploded from the pews. It was equally exhilarating and terrifying being the center of attention, especially after having kept my vocation under the radar for so long. But now, after two years of prayerful waiting, I was finally being presented by my diocese as an official candidate for Consecrated Virginity.     Throughout my discernment period, the probing question on my heart was not whether I was called to live as Jesus’ chaste bride, but rather how I was called to live that precious invitation out. Did Christ want me to keep my sacrifice hidden, or did He desire a public declaration of the promise?    My propensity to lay low, to avoid stirring up notice, nearly caused me to overlook the gift being presented to me—the “light for revelation to the Gentiles” that the prophet Simeon zealously acknowledges in today’s Gospel (see Luke 2:22-32). Although my eyes had seen Jesus’ salvation in my life, I was hesitant to share this marvelous sight. I desired to stay in the temple forever, savoring the glory that had been revealed to me in my secret soul-space.    Dearest sister, while a life of hidden sacrifice has its own merits, Pope Francis put it beautifully when he said that we, “like Mary and Simeon,” are meant “to take Jesus into our arms, to bring him to his people” (source). At our Baptism, we become living temples of God and signposts of the light that dwells in us. As children of the light (see 1 Thessalonians 5:5) we are entrusted with the sacred commission to carry Christ to all those who dwell in darkness. To not only see the light but be the light.     Beloved Jesus, You are the King of Glory and the Desire of Nations. On this blessed Feast of the Presentation of Our Lord, beckon us toward the light as we acclaim You as our Savior. Help us to imitate Your devoted servant Simeon, so that, docile to the stirrings of the Spirit, we may boldly confess to the world that You are here, illuminating the very temples of our hearts.

And one of them, realizing he had been healed, returned, glorifying God in a loud voice; and he fell at the feet of Jesus and thanked him. // Luke 17:15-16  “All right, everyone, let’s hear it. What are you thankful for?”   It was a surprising question, considering we had gotten out of the habit years ago—even more surprising given who was doing the asking.   Ever since I could remember, my parents never concluded a Thanksgiving meal without encouraging all who were gathered to share one thing they were grateful for in the past year. If I'm honest, this recurring holiday ritual was likely to incite a ripple of groans around the dinner table before we each gave in and gave thanks for the things that mattered most. Our blessings shared were typically the same: good health, family, the food on our plates, and the perfectly browned crust of the pumpkin pie (Uncle Buddy’s favorite). But every so often, someone would get creative, like the year my sister used the occasion to reveal she was pregnant with her second child. There was no topping that one! For some reason, be it the shift in family dynamics or the stress of my dad's worsening health conditions, we started to grow lax with this long-standing tradition. But now, here was my father casually asking the familiar question over a bowl of cranberry sauce. And when it was his turn to give a response, he simply said, “I’m just thankful to be here.”  Like the grateful leper in today’s Gospel (see Luke 17:11-19), my dad was, by all outward appearances, the least likely to verbalize that statement. Despite all that his physical and mental impairments had taken from him, he recognized the need to be thankful even when nothing is received. And so he “[glorified] God in a loud voice” (Luke 17:15) for the gift of his life. Sister, our very existence is a gift flowing from the generosity of God. When the crosses are burdensome and blessings seem scarce, let this truth sink deep into your soul as you fall at the feet of Jesus and pour out your gratefulness, praising Him with your heart and your life. Have you thanked the Lord today?

Jesus said to him, "Feed my lambs." // John 21:15  (Gospel from the Optional Memorial of Pope Saint John XXIII)  “The Body of—”  The priest stopped abruptly as I sank to my knees to receive Holy Communion in my usual posture. He repeated the preparatory words, and, after responding “Amen,” I tilted back my head and opened my mouth wide. With a grimace, Father retreated his hand back and then all but tossed the Sacred Host onto my extended tongue.    Surprised by his reaction, I tried to enter into prayer as I walked back to my pew.  Receiving on the tongue was a devotion I had begun one year before during Lent. In those forty days, my deepened prayer and intimacy with Jesus sparked an enduring desire and conviction to continue. I was grateful for the Lord’s invitation to encounter Him in this traditional way of receiving the Blessed Sacrament.   And so, in my love and desire for the Bread of Life, I kept coming back to the table where this priest served, asking to be fed. Yet the more I opened my mouth and my heart to this shepherd of the Church, the more I felt the grace of Christ working within the Sacrament to feed both of us with His love.   In the Gospel for today’s Memorial of Pope Saint John XXIII, Jesus asks Saint Peter to profess his love three times. Ultimately, Peter’s imperfect love is enough, and Jesus entrusts him with feeding and tending the flock (see John 21:15-17). Similarly, in my kneeling before Father at Mass, I was inviting Him to love and tend to Christ’s sheep by distributing the Eucharist in a way that would tend to my heart and possibly help him to grow in Christ’s own love for the Church.   The third time I knelt to receive, I was struck by a noticeable openness and comfort in Father’s attitude. And the fourth time? He smiled briefly at me after Mass.   Sister, where do you need to share the Good Shepherd’s love today? Or how can you invite someone to give their own declaration of love? In the words of Pope Saint John XXIII, “Sweet Heart of my Jesus, make [us] love You more and more” (source). 

Those that sow in tears shall reap rejoicing. // Psalm 126:5  “Ricky’s gone,” were her first words when I walked into the office that Monday morning. My hand immediately went to my mouth in shock as my coworker erupted in sobs. Swallowing my questions, I moved closer to her and opened my arms slightly to receive her grief. She turned to face me and then quickly welcomed the comforting refuge of my embrace.   I had known for a while that my coworker’s beloved cat, Ricky, wasn’t doing well. He had been refusing food and was, overall, behaving unlike himself. Every morning, I would ask for an update on his condition. In the past few days, there had been some promising improvements, and it appeared that Ricky might be getting better. But over the weekend, he had taken a turn for the worse, resulting in an emergency vet visit and gut-wrenching news. Sadly, by the end of the afternoon, his owners were on their way home with empty arms and shattered hearts.    As a fairly new pet owner, I can’t imagine the pain of a dear furry friend’s death. But my tears have irrigated the field of losing a loved one many times, and it was only in the spiritual fruits I harvested from a nourished life of discipleship that my mourning turned into joy (see Psalm 30:11).    Looking back at that tender exchange with my coworker, I can say with certainty that I wasn’t just a shoulder to cry on. I had shown her my concern leading up to this moment, and she chose to sow her tears in the soil of my heart, where the seeds of compassion and Christ’s love were plentiful.   Sister, when we are planted firmly in the Lord and take time to receive His love, our lives become the pure fields that scatter the radiance of His presence to everyone we meet. As you sit with this image in prayer today, ask Jesus to beautify the soil of your heart, so that, ripe with His love, you may testify to His great power working in you and welcome others to reap with joy the copious fruits of the harvest. 

While Israel I would feed with the best of wheat, and with honey from the rock I would fill them. // Psalm 81:16  In my current season of life, I can’t help but chuckle whenever I read this verse. As I type these words, I’m trying to enjoy my newly purchased gluten-free bread that’s about the size of a tea sandwich and looks more like something I nabbed out of my nieces’ play food set. Hey, I said I was trying.   When my nutritionist suggested I temporarily avoid gluten in hopes that it might alleviate my nagging GI issues, I was less than thrilled. Like the Israelites in today’s First Reading (see Numbers 11), I lamented all the things I could no longer savor: the pasta, the crackers, the bakery-style rolls—basically, the “best of wheat” promised to me in Scripture. In my mind’s eye, I beheld a playful image of Jesus handing me a loaf of luxurious-looking bread and me asking with hesitancy, “But is it gluten free?”  In my ravenous grasping for what I couldn’t have, I failed to receive what God knew I needed: food that would do no harm. Food that would satisfy. Food given from the deepest expression of love in His Heart.   Dear one, the earthly things we hunger for pale in comparison to God’s hunger for us—hunger that manifests itself in a total gift of self. Isn’t it sweet to know that we are fed by the One Who doesn’t skimp on the very best He has to offer? Yes, sister, the fine wheat of Christ’s perfect love satisfies every human privation under the sun.   Even when the bread and pasta are gluten free. 

I swear by myself, declares the LORD, that because you acted as you did in not withholding from me your beloved son, I will bless you abundantly and make your descendants as countless as the stars of the sky and the sands of the seashore. // Genesis 22:16-17  I’m very generous with the Lord, as evidenced by my vocation of consecrated life. Joyfully and without hesitation, I have relinquished whatever is required for the Kingdom of Heaven’s sake, denying my Divine Spouse nothing. But when I received the news of my beloved spiritual director’s departure to a far-off parish, I balked at what I was being asked to sacrifice.  With tears as my bread day and night (see Psalm 42:4), I tried to detach my heart from the consolation of Father’s daily presence. Soon after, I found myself at a diocesan ministry event for the National Eucharistic Revival. Towards the end of the evening, we were given an opportunity to adore Our Lord truly present in the Blessed Sacrament. Father sat two pews in front of me, totally immersed in prayer. As I watched him gaze at Jesus, I pondered all the times his paternal love had led me here, to the mountain of Eucharistic encounter. In my Christian imagination, I saw myself standing before Jesus, arms outstretched, hands curled tightly into a fist. Tenderly, Jesus approached me, took my hands in His, and with my consent, coaxed my fingers to relax their grip. In my heart I heard Him say: I only ask for the things I love the most. Will you withhold from me My beloved son?   We do this a lot, don’t we? We cling desperately to the people or things that are dear to us, afraid of the floodgates of emotional pain or fear that their absence will release. But when we loosen our grip and allow Jesus’ hands to take hold of our own, His healing touch will fill the empty space created by our surrender.   Sister, there are no clenched fists in love. As Saint Thérèse of Lisieux said, “He does not want to accept anything from us unless we give it with a good heart” (source). And it is this very posture of radical disposal that dilates our hearts to receive the countless blessings God has in store for us, far more than we could ask or imagine (see Ephesians 3:20). What is the Lord inviting you to give Him today?

Jesus said to him in reply, “What do you want Me to do for you?” // Mark 10:51 With my phone pressed up against my ear, I listened despondently as the doctor shared the results of my most recent procedure. Silently, I ticked off the litany of tests I had undergone since my car accident six months prior. Although I was praying for a shred of insight as to why I had blacked out at the wheel, I wasn’t surprised that this last-ditch effort to unblur the answers confirmed nothing.    By an outpouring of grace, I offered up the severe fatigue that continued to deplete my strength and disrupt my daily life. The constancy of the cross had clouded my view of Christ as Healer until these words from my spiritual director changed everything: “Cathy, Christ knows you will accept any cross He sends you. But will you accept healing? There’s nothing unsaintly about asking Him to make it better. Maybe this time, He’s guiding you to ask.”   Father’s insight echoes the story of the blind man in today’s Gospel. Jesus doesn’t just barge onto the scene and make everything better on the spot. Before working a miracle, Jesus asks Bartimaeus what he wants. And then—and I love this—Bartimaeus doesn’t water down what he wants. In courage and desperation, he casts off his cloak and reveals his deepest longing: “Master, I want to see” (Mark 10:51). And in that moment, daring love births immediate redemption.   Dear sister, what “cloaks” are shrouding the craters of your heart that need healing? What obstacles are hindering you from telling God what you want from Him? Perhaps it’s an addiction you can’t shake, a disbelief in your own worth, or a fear of being vulnerable. Whether you are burdened by physical illness or debilitating heartache, He wants to heal all. The One Who plumbs the depths and penetrates the heart (see Sirach 42:18) already knows our deepest desires, but intimacy flows when we name our unmet needs in His presence.   In prayer today, cry out His Name, and when He says, “What do you want Me to do for you?” be honest. And boldly believe that He will do it.

He received all who came to him, and with complete assurance and without hindrance he proclaimed the Kingdom of God and taught about the Lord Jesus. // Acts 28:31 Make it stop, Lord, I prayed. A pang of annoyance and guilt shot through me as I read yet another direct message on my phone screen. Would you be willing to chat with me sometime about your vocation?   I had started my Instagram account two years earlier in order to share my vocational story and raise awareness about consecrated virginity. As my following increased, so did the women who wanted to learn more about this ancient and little-known calling. Passionate about embracing my spiritual motherhood, it was a privilege to help unpack what the Lord was doing in their hearts and pray for them as they walked their own paths of discernment. But now, newly consecrated, I craved space to savor this sacred dance of espousal with Jesus. And yet the requests kept coming, and the overwhelm on my heart—not to mention the grating on my conscience—was real. Make it stop, Lord.    My cry for help quickly turned into kind correction as Christ gently revealed that although my heart was open and spacious to receive Him, it was chained off to those who were seeking Him. OOF.  The First Reading from Acts today is a convicting reminder that we are called to proclaim the Kingdom of God always, being careful not to become so shackled by our own circumstances that it causes us to turn others away. As Saint Paul’s example shows, the presence of God breaks through every time our hearts are poised to receive someone else in His Name, whether that’s an aggravating in-law or a stranger on the internet. While daily Zoom dates are impractical, I can offer each and every person a Pauline-esque reception by making them feel seen. A quicker response. An encouraging word. A promised prayer. Sister, it doesn’t take much to show the world that Love, the Hope of Israel, has found us. A few days after receiving that message, I opened it again, and with total sincerity in my heart, I wrote back, Hi, friend! I’m so glad you reached out . . . .   How can you receive someone well in love for Christ today?