Why do you notice the splinter in your brother’s eye, but do not perceive the wooden beam in your own eye? // Matthew 7:3 I rushed through the living room, gathering miscellaneous items from the steadily growing piles around the house. Everything had to be cleaned today, for no particular reason, other than I had determined that we had gone long enough with a messy house. I ignored my achy body, feverish from a flu virus that had slowed me down for an entire week. “Just push through . . . ” I whispered as I scrubbed and swept with prideful indignation—determined to prove I was capable of productivity, even when I was sick. Surely, I could show how tough I was, and wasn’t that admirable? Therefore, as my husband and children looked on, offering to help, offering me rest, I pushed the dampened strands of hair from my face and said I was fine. With arrogance and shimmering resentment, I leaned into the hurried state of my heart. Then the Lord in His mercy revealed to me that this was not of Him. My oldest daughter came down with the same virus, and I saw her hunched over the dining room table, bleary-eyed and exhausted, working on homework. I told her she had to rest and she said, “But Mom, I can push through . . . just like you do.”  This is the witness I was giving her. This was the false Gospel that I was preaching without a single spoken word, and Jesus was calling me to repentance, to see how I had harmed myself and my daughter with my pride. In the Gospel for today, Jesus says, “Why do you notice the splinter in your brother’s eye, but do not perceive the wooden beam in your own eye?” (Matthew 7:3)  My dear sister, Jesus is meek and humble of heart. I lovingly encourage you to contemplate how you witness this truth to those around you. How do you witness this beautiful truth to your family? To your friends? To the stranger online who disagrees with you? Let us not be consumed by our pride, but rather let our pride be consumed by the flames of His most Sacred Heart. Let us be loved by our merciful Lover and find rest.

“I am the vine, you are the branches. Whoever remains in me and I in him will bear much fruit.” // John 15:1-8 Beneath the warmth of the sun, my daughter smiles as she pulls ripe lemons from the tree. She takes her time, slowly reaching up and pulling with all her strength only the “best” lemons. Her tiny bare feet sink into the damp grass, and she giggles as lemons roll out of her bucket. Her brown curls stick to her forehead, and she wipes away the sweat with her hand. As I watch her, I am reminded how quickly I do most tasks. Without much thought. Seemingly always in a hurry. But what fruit comes from my hurry? I see her joy and that is what I desire. I desire to work with joy. I desire to slow down. To allow the Lord to bear fruit in the everyday moments of my life, and to recognize it as beautiful. Sister, sometimes I find myself rushing from task to task. Maybe you find yourself falling into this same habit? I would like to encourage you to slow down and breathe in the presence of the Holy Spirit. Slow down and recognize where Jesus is bearing fruit in your day. Remain with Him throughout every moment of your day by slowing down and being present. Be present to those around you and present to the task at hand, even if it feels mundane or insignificant. These are holy places, dear sister. Holy places where the Lord is bearing much fruit.

“And this is the will of the one who sent me, that I should not lose anything of what he gave me.” // John 6:35-40 My Aunt Stella sat in her wheelchair, her face radiant with joy as she listened to the musician sing her favorite song in Spanish. His beautiful tenor voice flowed effortlessly as he strummed his guitar. She loved music, and she loved rain, so it was only right that on her last birthday here on earth, she would get both. As heavy rain fell and lightning blazed across the night sky, my dear Aunt Stella reached for my hand and smiled. In her lovely voice, quiet and sweet, she said, “I want you all to be like the Apostles and tell everyone about Jesus. Family is so beautiful. You see?” I nodded and hugged her. My Aunt Stella loved the Faith. She deeply desired for all to know the goodness of Christ and His Holy Church. Through times of deep suffering and times of joy, she kept her eyes fixed on Jesus. When her heart was overwhelmed, she rested in the tender and motherly embrace of Our Lady. She was deeply grateful for the gift of grace. Grateful for all the Lord had given her. Grateful for everything. Sister, I invite you to keep your eyes fixed on the goodness of Christ and His Holy Church. I encourage you to rejoice today in the beauty and richness of our Faith. The graces that Holy Mother Church pours into our lives through the Sacraments. The life of grace offered to us as a precious gift. Listen to Today's Devotion

From his fixed throne he beholds all who dwell on the earth, He who fashioned the heart of each, he who knows all their works. // Psalm 33:14-15 I slowly lift my head from the pillow and glance around the living room. Heaps of blankets are scattered across the floor. My children are sleeping, each with a damp washcloth on their foreheads. There are piles everywhere. Unwashed dishes. Empty tissue boxes. Floors that need to be swept and tables that need to be wiped. Amid my bleary-eyed exhaustion, I want to get up and start cleaning. I want to ignore my weakened body and prove to myself that I can power through anything. It is pride that is fueling these thoughts. Pride that sought to convince me that I was not worthy of rest. However, during this time Jesus spoke tenderly to my heart: “Rest . . . I am the Healer.” Out of obedience I knew that I had to surrender everything, but especially my pride. Stripped of all my abilities to perform, I had to simply rest, and be restored. Sister, remember that rest is holy. I invite you to contemplate how the Lord is calling you to rest more. Sometimes we can forget the sacredness of sabbath. The beauty of embracing a time to pause and recover. A time to allow Jesus to be our healer. Our Savior, the Lover of our soul knows everything that we need. May we lay down at His feet in restful gratitude and allow Him to restore us.

“At once they left their nets and followed him.” // Matthew 4:20 I tap my fingers along the steering wheel. A barrage of thoughts, plans, and to-do lists run incessantly through my mind. Spinning me out of the present moment. Enabling me to settle for avoidance, rather than contemplation. The Lord is here, but I am not. I am distracted and in a hurry. But then I hear the endearingly raspy and boisterous voice of my son. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I see him pointing out the window, gap-toothed smile on his face. “Mommy look! The sky is so blue!” This simple phrase halts everything. All the thoughts, plans, and lists evaporate from the forefront of my mind, and I look at the sky. I do not remember the last time I truly looked at God’s creation. The last time I reveled in the beauty that surrounds me. A vast blue miraculous sky. “It is so blue and beautiful.” My son nods enthusiastically, and, in his dazzling eyes, I see that his soul is light and free from the shadows of doubt and distraction. My little boy is present. He is a child, and he is delightful. I take a deep breath and pray, “Lord, You are here, and so am I.” Sister, I am often tangled in the net of distraction. Struggling and impatient. And maybe you are too? But amid our fruitless wrestling with all the demands that we place on ourselves, Jesus simply looks at us with love and asks us to drop our nets. He invites us to see. He invites us to be. He invites us to follow Him. [bctt tweet="He invites us to follow Him. // Leana Bowler" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

Even the sparrow finds a home, and the swallow a nest, in which she puts her young. Your altars, O Lord of hosts, my king and my God!// Psalm 84:3 She tells me about her dreams as we sit beneath the light of the stars. Smiling and roasting her marshmallow above the crackling fire, she wears her favorite oversized sweatshirt and dirty sneakers. She is my daughter. Almost a teenager, effortlessly lovely. And on this night, she tells me her hopes and dreams. The ways in which she is dreaming with the Lord and her words, spoken with excitement as she thrusts her hands towards the night sky, invite me into her beautiful reverie. She gives me the courage to ask, “Where shall we go, Lord?” Courage to seek Him without shaking steps, but rather my feet grounded in the earth, listening intently as I follow His voice. In this moment, I am reminded of the hopes He has placed in my heart. I am reminded to hope and to dream. What are the longings of your heart, dear sister? Have you forgotten them? If so, I invite you to remember. I invite you to raise your hands high in praise for the God Who loves you and hope. The Lord is with you. He is nourishing you and strengthening you. Go where He has called you and do not be afraid. Share your dreams with Him and surrender them to His immeasurable love. You are free to fly, sister. Free to fly upon the steady grace of Your Savior. [bctt tweet="Go where He has called you. // Leana Bowler" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

“For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”// Luke 14:11 The church was nearly silent, other than the soft rustling of their long habits as they knelt. Identical white veils swayed delicately down their backs. Dark-colored rosary beads hung at their sides. I edged closer to them. They were beautiful. A row of serene faces, some etched with the loveliest laugh lines, others with penetrating eyes that gazed lovingly at the large Crucifix above the altar. Peace emanated from each of them. These Sisters gave their entire lives to the Lord by answering the call to a life of prayer and humble service, a life without prestige in the worldly sense. Each agreed with joy to take the lowest place. They took vows of chastity, poverty, and obedience. On their wedding day, they danced with the Bridegroom. They were women with distinct personalities and varying gifts, sharing a charism of love. Women, who through their glorious witness, extend an invitation to each of us to live our blessed vocations for the Lord. To find peace wherever Christ calls us. In the quiet moments of life, unrecognized by the world, that is where we find His boundless love. That is where peace is ever-present. That is where we become who we are. I saw it within the Sisters. The fullness of a life poured out for the love of Christ and neighbor. Awaiting the day when His Holy Face smiles upon us. His wounded hand reaches out. His voice calls us to the table of the King. [bctt tweet="His wounded hand reaches out. // Leana Bowler" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

“And I tell you, ask and you will receive; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.”// Luke 11:9-13 A small tree grew alongside the rusted metal fence in my great-grandmother’s backyard. Its branches drooped beneath the weight of ripened figs, deliciously sweet, and warm from the unrelenting Arizona sun. I gathered them in a blue plastic bucket and ran barefoot across the gravel yard, bursting through the warped screen door into my great-grandmother’s kitchen. She stood at the stove, making tortillas, her hands strong and movements swift. She was ninety years old. In the corner of her kitchen was a statue of the Sacred Heart of Jesus surrounded by flickering candles and fresh roses from her garden. The words she spoke that day echo softly in my mind like an old comforting song, “See His heart? He will always take of you . . . always.” My great-grandmother didn’t have accolades or affluence. She never learned to read. She never had a bank account, preferring to stuff what little money they had underneath their bedroom mattress. She was a simple woman. A humble woman. A wise woman who shared with her family an immeasurable inheritance. She shared the Faith, bestowing powerful truths while standing at the kitchen stove. Powerful truths that would wash over me and revive my dry bones many times over the years. A reminder that I have a Lover of my soul. His heart poured out for me. His heart poured out for you. “See His heart? He will always take of you . . . always.” Soak in this truth, sister. [bctt tweet="He will always take of you . . . always. // Leana Bowler " username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

"Amen, amen, I say to you, whatever you ask the Father in my name he will give you." // John 16:23 I heard the soft chiming of the alarm clock. I had set it with the intention to wake up before my children so I could pray. But as I saw the sliver of sunlight peeking through the curtains and felt the familiar ache of tense muscles after a night of sleeping amid the twists and turns of multiple little ones, I faltered. I silenced my alarm and grabbed what had become my crutch for tired mornings: my phone. The bright and shiny screen of distraction from the current state of mind. The object to consume mindlessly, restlessly, only to find it did not nourish my heart and soul. It did not breathe life into my listless body. It cannot do these things for me. And it cannot do these things for you. But how often do we reach for it when we want to escape? When we want rest? While good can come from our phones, there is Someone greater to fill those deepest needs. Jesus will nourish our hearts and souls. Jesus will breathe life into our weary bodies. His grace is abundant, and He desires to sustain us in everything. Sister, I encourage you to begin your morning with this simple prayer, “Jesus give me strength.” I began to wake up far more joyful, ready for prayer, ready to offer my tired body to be soothed by the grace of sacrificial love. Jesus is a generous giver. Offer yourself entirely to Him. Rely on His strength. [bctt tweet="Offer yourself entirely to Him. // Leana Bowler" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

And when he comes he will convict the world in regard to sin and righteousness and condemnation. // John 16:8 The shouting increased, shattering the peace of the quiet evening. Two family members were arguing. Their anger seeped out, more visceral with every word, seemingly cloaking everything in heavy tension. I felt my chest tighten, felt the desire to speak in a way that would bring calm. To utter words that would stop this fight quickly getting out of hand. However, my words caught in my throat. One of the family members in his pain and brokenness turned to me and screamed, “You think you’re so holy! What about everything you have done! You’re just a hypocrite!” Memories from my past flooded my mind as I tried to hide the tears welling up in my eyes. The old lies from the enemy began to claw at my heart, and I felt completely crushed by the weight of my past sins, crushed by the way this family member thought of me, crushed by the lie that continuously wounded me: You will never be good enough for Jesus to love you. Sister, these are lies from the very pits of hell. I want to proclaim to you that no matter your past, Jesus loves you. Jesus pursues you. Jesus redeems you and restores you. In His great mercy and love, He convicts your heart and sets you free. Holiness is for you. Sainthood is for you. I encourage you to open your heart to the Lord and reveal the areas, the sins, the wounds, and all the hurtful words and lies you may have believed. Reveal them to our tender and loving Lord Who will reveal to you the truth: You are His beloved daughter. You were made to be a Saint. Trust Him. He will lead you. He is with you. By His wounds, you are healed. [bctt tweet="By His wounds, you are healed. // Leana Bowler" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

“As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you; abide in my love.” // John 15:9 A rhythmic patter of rain hit the old, weathered roof of the church. Droplets slid down the stained-glass windows, dripping through the cracks and crevices where the stone walls had been worn down over the years. The church was simple and lovely. I was captivated in a new way by the colors, by the statues, by the red candle burning brightly above the tabernacle. Captivated because it was my first time entering the church after going to Confession and receiving an outpouring of the Lord’s mercy and forgiveness. I had not been to Confession since I was a little girl, and I approached the confessional with immense trepidation. I wondered if Jesus could truly love me. I wondered if after years of being away from the Faith, and drowning in the shame of my sin, if Jesus would even want to heal me. I wondered until the power of His grace flooded my wounded heart and soul in the Sacrament of Reconciliation. And after that, I knew I was loved by Him. Years later, I still remain in His merciful love. Sister, in Confession we encounter His profound love for us. When I had walked out of that church, everything had seemed far more beautiful because Jesus had embraced me. From His heart into mine had flowed a river of love that saturated my soul. I encourage you to go to Confession. Seek this place of love where Jesus wants to restore you. Go to this Sacrament where you are invited to press all your brokenness into His precious wounds. He loves you. Abide in His love. [bctt tweet="His grace flooded my wounded heart. // Leana Bowler" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

"Gather up the fragments left over, that nothing may be lost."// John 6:12 I live in the Arizona desert. The dirt here feels parched, but the land is not barren. Through jagged rocks and thorny plants, flowers bloom. There is life in the desert. Last year I desperately needed this reminder. Last year my husband and I were in a desert of grief and pain. My father-in-law passed away suddenly and unexpectedly. Mere days after his passing, we suffered a miscarriage. All felt parched. All felt barren. My heart felt jagged and thorny. I felt completely alone. As I sat in Mass, tearfully watching as smoke from the incense swirled and floated to the hanging crucifix, I thought of the Cross. I thought of the horrific death inflicted upon Our Lord. I thought of this instrument of tremendous torture. And I thought of how Jesus made it beautiful. Like a bloom in the desert, life burst forth. Life that is everlasting. Sister, some seasons we feel alone. Seasons where we search for nourishment and wonder how we can find peace amid so much discord. Times in our lives where we ache to be filled with love. This place is where we find Jesus. We find endless love pouring from His heart. A love that will transform us. A love that will nourish us. A love that will give us peace. Nothing will be lost. Not a single tear you shed. Not a single prayer you utter. Not a single moment you give to the Lord. All of it will be gathered up. I invite you to place every fragment of your heart beneath the flood of mercy pouring from the wounded side of Jesus. Imagine yourself there under the torrent of grace. Place every fragment, and He will make them whole. [bctt tweet="We find endless love pouring from His heart. // Leana Bowler " username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

For as yet they did not know the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. // John 20:9 They stood at the front of the church on Easter Vigil, clothed in their simple baptismal garments. Precious souls, ready and waiting to be submerged into the cleansing waters of Baptism. Ready and waiting to emerge anew. Ready to be called His. Ready to shed the heavy burden of sin and to encounter Jesus. Ready to be overcome by the Blood of the Lamb. I can smell the sweet scent of the lilies surrounding the altar, but I cannot see them. The church is dark. Ready and waiting for the flicker of candles to spread. A wave of holy light revealing the faces of the faithful. Faces that the Lord knew and loved when His Sacred Heart spilled the last of His Blood. A love so amazing that after tasting the sting of death His Sacred Heart beat again, bursting the tomb open with the power of His glorious Resurrection. My eyes adjust to the darkness as I watch each person begin to walk to the waters of Baptism. Their bare feet quietly walking to new life. I imagine the Lord walking before them. His pierced feet quietly stepping through the crowded church of His family. Calling to them to follow Him to eternal life. Sister, this is the joy of Easter. Jesus is alive! We are the beloveds of the Risen Lord! I invite you to walk in the power of Jesus. I invite you to see His glory in every moment of your life. I invite you to see His light in any darkness. Proclaim this truth to yourself and to others: Jesus is alive! I am overcome by the Blood of the Lamb. I am set free. [bctt tweet="We are the beloveds of the Risen Lord. // Leana Bowler" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

I lit each candle, whispering their names, and letting the tears fall. The sweet smell of melting wax and smoke was both familiar and comforting. Yet the ache in my heart increased, as I looked at the row of flickering flames. Each candle for one of my little ones that I never got to see. Precious lives that were here for a moment and then lost. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine who they would have been. Tried to imagine them with long lashes and a mess of curly hair, just like their siblings. Playing, and laughing, and throwing their little arms around my neck. I felt great sorrow in this place. In this place of longing for God to breathe life into my womb. In this place of waiting. In this place of darkness. But like the flicker of those tiny candles, I felt the glimmer of hope. Hope in the promises of Jesus. Hope in His goodness. It was a hope that lifted my tired head as I reached my hands up in praise. I would bless the Lord in this place because He is worthy, and I could trust that He would hold me. Trust that He would heal me. I could trust Him in the aching, in the sorrow, in the waiting. This is my hope for you, dear sister. That in whatever you are going through, you will have the courage to hope. You will dare to step forward. You will dare to stand on His promises, even when you feel weak. He is with you. He is for you. He is hope fulfilled. [bctt tweet="Trust Him in the aching, in the sorrow, in the waiting. // Leana Bowler" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

He leaned against our kitchen counter, clutching his plate close to his chest, quickly shoveling forkfuls of food in his mouth. His eyes darted around nervously, a habit he developed because for the past few years, every meal he consumed was as an inmate at the prison. The early years of his youth were swallowed by a neighborhood rife with violence. Lonely streets were filled with the sounds of sirens and gunshots. Lonely jail cells with cold cement floors. Scratched metal tables were stacked with social workers sitting across from him with pen in hand, hastily filling out paperwork detailing his crimes, his life, his losses. This was all he knew. This was all he believed he would ever know. Yet here he was in our kitchen, eating a hot meal and then helping me pile all the plates in the sink. Playfully boasting that he was good at washing dishes. The fastest on his cell block. I smile to myself and soak in the wonderful sound of his laughter. It is like music. It is like grace. It brings warmth, and beauty, and healing. I am not surprised though that this lovely young boy is here, that his broken heart and all the broken pieces of his life are being mended. That is what the Lord does. Jesus searches for the lost and finds them. Jesus gathers all that is broken and makes it whole. When this young man walked out of the prison, alone, with his head down staring at the cracked pavement of the sidewalk, the Lord knew him. When he pulled out a handful of change and took a city bus down to a church, the Lord knew him. And when he sat in pew and buried his face in his hands, lamenting his pain and repenting of the pain he had caused others, he began to know the Lord. Mercy met him in his tears. In your own tears and times of brokenness, the Lord seeks you. No matter where you have been, He pursues you in love. Trust in His mercy and be found. [bctt tweet="Trust in His mercy and be found. // Leana Bowler" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

I walked up the smooth stone steps, balancing a tray of muffins in one hand as my five-month-old daughter squirmed on my hip, and repeatedly poked me in the eye with her finger. I was headed to Bible study. That morning I had meticulously prepared and rehearsed what I was going to say. I planned on sounding very holy and very theologically adept. I was a few years into my reversion to the Faith, and I wanted to prove I was on the path to righteousness by impressing all the ladies at Bible study with my muffin baking skills, and baby juggling skills, and praying out loud perfectly skills. I certainly wanted to exult myself, and the Lord certainly humbled me (see Luke 14:11). The moment I sat down, I forgot all my deep theological insights, and I stumbled awkwardly through my prayer. At that time, I wasn’t striving for holiness in order to grow closer to the Lord. I was striving for holiness in order to impress others. I was using holiness as a competition. The Lord reminded me that holiness was about love, and relationship, and truth. Holiness was about humility, and grace, and healing. Maybe you have fallen into this trap? The trap of wanting to be perceived as the greatest. Maybe you are afraid of being honest about your struggles? Afraid to ask questions? Afraid of being who you are and allowing the Lord to see you? I encourage you today to reject those lies and comparisons and prideful pressures. I encourage you to find the gift of humility, the beauty of humility, and the healing of being humbled again and again by the One Who loves you most. [bctt tweet="Holiness is about love. // Leana Bowler" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

The warm wind blew her silver hair across her face, a beautiful face with dark deep-set eyes and a map of wrinkles. Wrinkles that told the story of her ninety years on this earth. Years of standing beneath the blazing Arizona sun and picking fruit. Years of scrubbing threadbare clothes in a wooden tub of soapy water. Years of birthing babies and wearing them in a colorful cloth on her back, while her strong hands kneaded flour for tortillas. She was my great-grandmother, and though she couldn’t read or speak English, she could grow roses in the heat of the desert and soothe wounds by snapping the stems of aloe vera plants. I watched her tend to her roses, her hands calloused and crooked from years of work and age, her fingertips indented from her rosary beads. I didn’t understand it then. As a little girl, running around her small house with my dirty bare feet, happily drinking the sweet fig juice she gave me from the tree in her yard, I wasn’t aware of the sacredness of her work. I wasn’t aware of her strength. A strength that raised four children, mopped peeling linoleum floors until they shined, and cooked large pots of soup to feed her family and her neighbors. She was a quiet woman. She was a wise woman. She was a woman who taught me without hardly saying a word. She was certainly a Martha like from today's Gospel according to Saint Luke. A woman burdened by much serving, but a woman who nonetheless turned to the Lord. Remember this in your serving, dear sister. Remember to turn to the Lord, to offer even the tedious burdensome things. Remember to offer Him your anxieties and your frustrations. In everything, choose the Lord. [bctt tweet="In everything, choose the Lord. // Leana Bowler" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion