I drove down the freeway at a steady speed with a heavy heart, relaying to the Lord how my spiritual life felt so much like the land that surrounded me: a dry, deserted wilderness. The first few months of my post-graduate life in a brand new city, amidst a global pandemic, were filled with a deep loneliness and a constant doubt in my ability to persevere this transition. I questioned my discernment and wondered why I’d come to this desert in the first place. Was my confidence in the Lord misplaced? Am I in over my head? Does He see me in this suffering? If you can relate to this questioning, dear sister, I want you to know that you’re not alone. I also want to affirm you that you and I are not the first or the last children of God to experience spiritual desolation and doubt. The wisdom of the Saints, including the one we celebrate today, affirms us that our spiritual dryness will not last and the love of the Lord will always endure. Saint Ignatius' rules for discernment have been a trusted guide in my wonderings and wailings. As I drove down the Arizona freeway that day, I found consolation in the fifth rule of my trusted companion: in times of desolation, don’t make a change. The wisdom of Saint Ignatius permitted me to once again put my faith in the Lord and trust that He was working, in His time, to fulfill every promise He made to my heart. He not only saw me in my suffering, but He saw the excitement of everything He was calling me to on the other side of transition. He didn’t ask me to work it out or fake a smile—only to trust Him fully and rest in the freedom that I found in total surrender. Sister, are you in a season that tempts you to doubt the extravagant love of our good Father? I invite you to be guided by the wisdom of Saint Ignatius and rest in the steadiness of the Lord. He will not abandon you. Stay the course. [bctt tweet="Rest in the steadiness of the Lord. // Kelsey Dassance " username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion  

“Isn’t it so crazy that every single person in this coffee shop right now is fully known and loved by God the Father?” The holy priest who sat across from me that Sunday afternoon posed the question as I savored the last few sips of my iced mocha. I looked around at the crowd of people who had made their way into the coffee shop on that particular day and let that truth sink in. Every single person is willed by God the Father. Therefore, every single person (including ourselves!) absolutely needs the Gospel. Jesus couldn’t be more clear in today’s Gospel when He commissions the disciples: “Go into the whole world and proclaim the gospel to every creature” (Mark 16:15). He sent His disciples to proclaim the truth to every single person because the Gospel is applicable to every single person. It’s not only a necessity to our salvation, but it grants us the opportunity to live in the freedom that Christ won for us. Because each one of us is known and loved by God the Father, we have not only the ability, but the responsibility, to share that same love and the freedom His love provides with the world. He has commissioned us, dear sister, to share the good news with the world. Wherever you find yourself today—in a coffee shop, in an office, your home, on a walk—ask the Lord how you can share His love with the world. It desperately needs it. [bctt tweet="Share the good news. // Kelsey Dassance" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion God my Father, send me forth with Your good news today.  

Very few people have inspired me more on my faith journey than Pope Saint John Paul II. He has been a trusted companion, powerful intercessor, and source of encouragement for many years and will be for years to come. On the other hand, there are very few people that I relate to less than the beloved Saint. He experienced the sorrow of losing both of his parents before the age I’ve reached. He enrolled in an underground seminary during the height of World War II and left behind a promising acting career. He impacted the Church in a profound way through his time as pontiff and continues to do so through his legacy and intercession. When I look at my life, I don’t see many similarities. I most definitely will not be the pope, I don’t have a promising acting career to leave behind, and my parents are just fine. Regardless of our lack of shared experience, though, I have cultivated a heavenly friendship with Saint John Paul II because our lives have one stunning similarity: belief in the promises of Jesus Christ. In today’s Gospel, the crowd asks Jesus, “What can we do to accomplish the works of God?” to which He responds, “This is the work of God, that you believe in the one he sent” (John 6:28-29). My dear friend, our lives are a work of God. Our holiness is not measured by the degree to which we relate to the holy people we know, but the degree to which we allow our belief in Jesus to illuminate and transform our lives. My life may not look like the lives of the Saints I admire, but I hope and I pray that it looks like the dream Jesus has for me. He is writing a story with each one of our lives; one that cannot be repeated or replicated, but one that uniquely gives Him glory. For you and I, sister, let us let our lives be a testament to His goodness, now and forever. Won't you join me to work to accomplish the work of God? listen to today’s devotion [bctt tweet="He is writing a story. // Kelsey Dassance " username="blessedisshe__"] Lord Jesus, illuminate my life.  

I began last year with hopeful anticipation of what was to come: graduations, weddings, exciting career opportunities, etc. It was going to be the best year yet. A few months in, as the cancellations and postponements and restrictions piled up, it became clear that my expectations needed to be thrown out the window. I sat with the disappointment that accompanied last year and mustered up a half-hearted prayer: Lord, set me free from my own plan. He did not disappoint. In today’s Second Reading, Saint Paul writes, “As proof that you are sons, God sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying out, “Abba, Father!” So you are no longer a slave but a son” (Galatians 4:6-7). Last year may not have given me the celebrations or social gatherings I was expecting, but, by the grace of God, it woke me up to the spirit of adoption met by the Father's fidelity. Last year allowed me to be set free from my curated plans in place of the Lord’s love story. It freed me from the enslavement of expectation and allowed me to cry out “Abba, Father!” in the knowledge that my Father will not fail me. My unmet expectations for last year enlightened my confidence that the Lord can and will always ransom us, even as a response to a half-hearted prayer. Sister, as we step into this new year, let’s do so with the confidence given to us by the Lord Who says we are no longer slaves. Let’s live this year in freedom. [bctt tweet="As we step into this new year, let’s do so with the confidence given to us by the Lord Who says we are no longer slaves. Let’s live this year in freedom. // Kelsey Dassance" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Pray a decade of the Rosary today, offering your joyful trust like Our Lady for today's solemnity.

I was several states away on the day my nephew was to be born, and I don’t think I put my phone down all day. I eagerly anticipated the ring announcing his birth, but every update seemed to indicate one thing: more waiting. After a day of staring at my phone, I decided to go to an evening Mass at a local parish. As I sat down in a pew, I got the long-awaited text. My very first nephew had entered the world, and mother and baby were both perfectly healthy. Immediately, I wanted to celebrate and call everyone I knew, but Mass was about to start, so I reluctantly silenced my phone and reached for the kneeler. I had spent the whole day anticipating the miracle of a new life, and my anticipation led me to a quiet Mass where I had no choice but to simply thank God for His generosity. It wasn’t possible for me to be with my family for this incredible occasion, so the Lord invited me to His house. I wept through the Mass and thanked God for all the waiting and for allowing me to pour out my gratitude in His presence. The sixty minutes I spent in Mass that night is incomparable to the witness of Zechariah and Elizabeth in today’s Gospel (Luke 1:5-25), but God’s faithfulness is the same. The Gospel testifies that His faithfulness is not confined to our own measures and more often than not, it will exceed our expectations. I can imagine there were instances where Zechariah and Elizabeth grew impatient while waiting on the Lord, but that didn’t prevent Him from fulfilling His promise. He was working in their waiting. And He is working in ours, too. [bctt tweet="God’s faithfulness is the same. // Kelsey Dassance" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion If you're waiting for something in life, take a moment to re-read today's Reading and remember He is faithful.

I intended to simply pass through the piazza in Rome after a nice cup of gelato when I noticed a small little church tucked away on the corner. I knew I must have passed this church countless times, but that day, it caught my eye. It was nothing special on the outside, and I was rather tired, but I decided to peek inside. When I opened the door, there He was. I reverenced the Blessed Sacrament exposed on the altar and knelt in one of the few pews in the tiny church. I’d wandered in and out of plenty of churches that day, but I took refuge in this quiet, intimate moment with our Lord that He seemed to carve out just for me. Today’s Gospel reminds me of this moment and the Lord’s steadfast, personal love for each one of us. When I read Luke 19, I wonder how tired Zacchaeus must have been. He’d spent his whole life gathering riches and honor that didn’t satisfy him. He was searching for fulfillment with no avail, wandering through life in search of something. Yet when he hears of a man named Jesus passing through the town, he runs ahead of the crowd. He climbs in a tree. And there He was. To Jesus, Zacchaeus wasn’t just a bystander or a member of a crowd. He was the destination. His home was where Jesus wanted to be. Jesus meets Zacchaeus with the same invitation He extends to you and me. No matter how tired we are or how long we’ve spent searching for something to hang on to, something that will fulfill our longing, something to finally ease our pain, He is right there. He’s not just passing through; He is here to receive you with joy. Open the door. Climb the tree. [bctt tweet="He’s not just passing through; He is here to receive you with joy. // Kelsey Dassance" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Enjoy sharing a moment with Jesus right on your phone, tablet, or computer.

I left for my senior-year spring break only to return to a half-empty apartment, online classes for the rest of the semester, and a devastating break-up. As I packed up the on-campus life I had known for the last four years and began to grieve the things I took for granted, I couldn’t help but feel like my life had quickly become empty. During the following months, I was tempted to believe that COVID-19 had abruptly dismantled everything I had known and loved for the last four years, to be convinced that the investments of my heart were nothing but wasted time, that the Lord must have missed this part in His “good” plan. Thank goodness, Saint Paul had something to say about that. In today’s reading, he writes to the Ephesians, “[A]nd to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God” (Ephesians 3:19). Over these last few months, I’ve come to realize that the lack of certainty in my life, in all our lives, does not mean a lesser love from the Father. In fact, His providence wills a life better than I could imagine. His plan is not hindered by my comprehension; it’s motivated by a love that surpasses understanding. Knowledge of the Lord’s providence has never been what fills my life; His love does that. And it has always been enough. We live in an uncertain time, which can be devastating in more ways than one. But regardless of the circumstances, the fullness of God is available because of His love for us. It hasn’t been canceled or disrupted. It’s abundant and unchanging. So let’s be filled. [bctt tweet="Knowledge of the Lord’s providence has never been what fills my life; His love does that. // Kelsey Dassance" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Go deeper on this epistle in the Catholic encyclopedia.

Every once in a while, I think back to my high-school self and wonder what I would tell the sixteen year old with acne and bleached hair if I had the chance. Surely, I’d meet her in the school bathroom or her parked car where she often ate her lunch alone, or on the bleachers of some sports game she wasn’t talented enough to play, and I’d seek to offer her some sort of consolation. But when it comes down to it, I know in my heart that there’s not much about this part of my life I would change, but it would serve me well to be reminded of today’s reading. Saint Paul writes, "[t]he one who judges me is the Lord. Therefore, do not make any judgment before the appointed time, until the Lord comes, for he will bring to light what is hidden in darkness and will manifest the motives of our hearts, and then everyone will receive praise from God" (1 Corinthians 4:4-5). At any given moment, I could recite a litany of false beliefs that others have spoken about me—in high school and my adult life. These instances tempt me to ask, “Jesus, how could You love me?” But I know that God the Father is the one true judge of my heart, and His motives are pure. His justice is not motivated by false rumors or misconceptions, jealousy, or anger. He sees me for who I am and not how others perceive me. Sister, if you’ve ever felt the weight of being judged by false standards, I want to remind you, too, that the Father’s heart delights in you and sees you as you truly are: good, worthy, and beloved. So instead of considering the world’s perception and asking, “Jesus, how could You love me?” let’s start praying, “Jesus, I believe that You love me.” Because you are His, before and after anything else. listen to today’s devotion [bctt tweet="The Father’s heart delights in you. // Kelsey Dassance" username="blessedisshe__"] Read deeper about how God calls us to love in the Catechism.

I’ve always been the kind of person who doesn’t shy away from putting her heart on the line. Whether it’s a professional aspiration, a personal relationship, or a split-second decision, my ability to put my whole heart into action has guided my steps. In fact, I used to pride myself on the notion that I was never afraid to do the hard things, step out in uncertainty, or take a chance in the face of unpredictability. I took my lack of fear and figured it was close enough to surrender. It wasn’t until halfway through my junior year of college when my impassioned action was met with piercing indifference that I came to know what I was truly afraid of: rejection, failure, and irrelevancy. For a long time, I let myself rest in the idea that surrender promised reciprocation; that if I loved well enough, I would be loved in return. If I worked hard enough, I would clearly see the fruit of my work in my life. But in today’s Gospel, John 12:24-26, Jesus explains that surrender has nothing to do with reciprocation. Jesus says we are called to die to ourselves in order to produce lasting fruit in the Kingdom (see John 12:24). If we want to truly live, we have to lay down our lives. But Jesus does not meet our death with requite. Our Father, Who has conquered the grave, invites us to preserve in eternal life. He promises us more than reciprocation when we give Him our lives. He promises lasting fruit and total fulfillment. Jesus is in the business of resurrection, so let’s let Him do the same with our lives. listen to today’s devotion [bctt tweet="If we want to truly live, we have to lay down our lives. // Kelsey Dassance" username="blessedisshe__"] This priest gives us a sense of the strength of surrender.

I approached the Sacrament of Reconciliation with a heavy heart that I attributed to the sins that I would be confessing. Proceeding with my usual routine, I listed off the habitual sins that had kept me coming back to the confessional over and over again. As I reached the end of my litany of imperfections, I took a deep breath and anticipated the standard penance of three Hail Marys that would hold me over until next month’s confession. However, my expectation was met with silence and then a piercing question: “Do you believe that God loves you?” I fell silent. I didn’t have a confident answer. The priest then gently explained the root of every sin I repeatedly confessed: insecurity. This difficult explanation revealed the fact that I was not living my life from a place of confidence in the Father’s love for me. Instead, I was living in constant pursuit of affirmation that sustained a life of insecurity. I was attempting to endure the pressure to prove myself worthy of life that was never mine to begin with. So instead of my usual Hail Marys, I found myself repeatedly praying, “Jesus, I believe that You love me. I trust that You created me for goodness. Give me the grace to see it.” In today’s Gospel, Jesus explains the importance of aligning our hearts to the path of righteousness and not sowing those tendencies that lead us to sin and shame. He promises, “the righteous will shine like the sun in the Kingdom of their Father,” and that is a reason to rejoice (Matthew 13:43). Sister, I can’t tell you how often I come back to that prayer I received in the confessional. But with each act of surrender, I can see more clearly the life that we are all created for. And let me tell you, it is not a life of insecurity. We are called to shine. We are invited to live from the Father’s house. [bctt tweet="Jesus, I believe that You love me. // Kelsey Dassance" username="blessedisshe__"] Have you received good counsel in the confessional? Think back on and ask the Lord to remind you of how much He loves you.

One of the most treasured experiences in my life is watching the sunrise. The way the light captivates the horizon and illuminates the sky reminds me of the enduring promise of the Father to bring new life and restoration to our lives. It fills my heart with hope in His abundant mercy and grace that springs forth in every moment. This experience reminds me that no matter how dark the night, the light will always illuminate the morning. In today’s Gospel, we encounter the invitation to view ourselves and those around us in this same light. Jesus calls us not to judge one another by our own precepts and perceptions, but to rid ourselves of the sins that cloud our vision and damage our relationships. He calls us to look at others with His heart. He invites us to see more clearly the life He has laid before us—the kind of life that illuminates the world instead of shrouding it in shame and judgement. And this road to a fuller life begins in our own hearts. His vision for us rests in the freedom only He can bring. He invites us to rid ourselves of the planks in our eyes, the burdens in our hearts, and the darkness in our lives in exchange for the Light that illuminates every part of our story. His invitation on this journey is not a condemnation, but a liberation from our tendency to view ourselves and others separate from His eternal vision. When we begin to see our lives through His Heart, everything changes. I want to let the Light illuminate my darkness. As He does, the air gets clearer and the world becomes brighter. Join me in seeing more clearly, sister. [bctt tweet="No matter how dark the night, the light will always illuminate the morning. // Kelsey Dassance" username="blessedisshe__"] If you are able to go to Confession in your area, seek it out. If not, consider making an examination of conscience tonight.