My husband stood in the yard. A whispered prayer fell from his lips as he looked at the sunset. He was pleading with the Lord. Pleading with the Lord beneath a sky bathed in rich color, swirls of orange and pink reflecting through the thick clouds. As he stood there gazing into the beauty of God’s creation, his father was dying. Before the sun completely set on the horizon, his father took his last breath, and my husband’s face crumpled with grief. Beneath the beauty of that colorful sky, hot tears soaked our faces. Suffering spread over us like a thin veil. In the sorrow, we sought the Lord. In the days that followed, we surrounded ourselves with dear friends who would pray when we could only cry. In grieving the loss of my father-in-law, we felt welcomed into the arms of others suffering loss. Others who had been to this abyss of pain and waded through the waves of grief. A gathering of people who were walking this road and along the way, with every shaky step, proclaimed, “Let us go with you, for we have heard that God is with you.” Yes, God is with us. On this holy mountain of suffering and healing, God is with us. He is with you, dear sister. Whether you are in the ebbs and flows of sorrow, or walking alongside someone who is, God is with you. In the hard places, a river of peace will find you. A river of peace that streams from the heart of Jesus. Wherever you find yourself in this moment, I encourage you to keep going. Keep stepping forward. Keep embracing the richness of this life. It is full of joy, and love, and loss, and healing. Keep meeting your beloved Savior in the space between suffering and beauty. You will always find Him there, holding out His wounded hand to guide you. Suffering and beauty, each a wondrous gaze into the glory of God. [bctt tweet="Suffering and beauty, each a wondrous gaze into the glory of God. // Leana Bowler" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

I recognized his familiar gait as he limped over to our van and grabbed a bottle of water, pressing it to his forehead, hopeful that it would offer some reprieve from the blistering heat. I shielded my eyes from the sun and smiled, then nodded towards the box of clothes we had brought with us. His name is JR, and his tent is one of many that are set up along this stretch of road. Tents faded and damaged from the unrelenting Arizona summers. Tents that JR and all those who live alongside him call home. He runs a comb through his curly gray hair and laughs. A deep glorious laugh that brings joyful tears to his kind eyes. Eyes clouded from untreated cataracts and lack of nutrition. Eyes surrounded by deep lines that tell the story of hard living, and wisdom, and age. JR looks at me and says, “You know . . . I was thinkin’ today, and I’m not homeless. I’m not homeless because this is my home.” He motioned to his green tent, and then spread his arms wide over his head, “And God is my home, you know? So, I got a home.” More than once JR has taught me a lesson. He is an incredible teacher. He has taught me about loving others, about friendship, and about forgiveness. On this day he taught me about home. Sister, I know that when we think of “home” it’s not always a place of comfort and peace. Sometimes our sense of “home” reminds us of our deepest wounds, of our longing, our regret, and our stress. If your heart is aching for that place of solace, a place where you can find rest, a place that feels like “home,” I pray that the words of my dear friend JR give you peace. Home for JR looks a lot like Emmanuel, God with us (Matthew 1:23). When we feel lost, He is with us. When we feel lonely, He is with us. When we wander, He is waiting. Waiting for us to come home. How does this resonate with you today? [bctt tweet="When we wander, He is waiting. // Leana Bowler" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

My son was learning to ride a bike. With his bright red helmet and his shoelaces tied extra tight, he wobbled unsteadily with a giant smile on his face. He was not discouraged by the bumps in the sidewalk because his little sister ran alongside him. She clapped her hands and shouted encouragement, as the bottom of her sparkly princess dress blackened from the pavement. She is an encourager. He is a listener. I marveled at the goodness of their gifts. The ways they help each other find joy. The ways that their joy flows out and envelops everyone around them. They are like the good and faithful servants in today’s Gospel parable (Matthew 25:14-30). Multiplying their gifts and sharing in the Master’s joy. Their childlike freedom and trust in the Lord untainted by the uncertainties of the world come easily to them. I marvel, and I long to emulate them because all too often I am like the servant who wants to hide. I want to bury my gifts. That feels safer than sharing. Safer than sharing my story, my words, and my heart. Safer than being received for who I really am because I am afraid that I won’t measure up. Maybe you have felt this way? Maybe you want to bury your past, or bury your dreams, or bury your brokenness. But the Lord uses it all. He uses it to bless you and to bless others and you don’t have to be afraid. He is a loving Father, and you are His beloved daughter. He will encourage you. He will delight in you. Sister, you are a gift. Your story, your words, and your heart are gifts. The Lord has done wondrous deeds, and creating you was one of them. Do you believe that today? [bctt tweet="He is a loving Father. // Leana Bowler" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

My little hands trembled as I watched the slender lamp swivel and then crash to the floor, glass exploding into the air like confetti, and the burst of the light bulb like a camera flash. Bright, disorienting, and then dark. Their shouting grew louder, and the violence of my stepdad’s words seemed to insidiously seep into everything within range. Into my mother’s ears as she frantically tried to defend herself, and into my tender heart as I watched him abuse her. Our tiny apartment was filled with violence, trauma, lies, and fear. I learned to hide. Hide the bruises, hide the trembling, hide the shattered pieces of a childhood and attempt to make it all sound prettier. Sisters, these are places in my heart I would like to remain hidden. Places that I want to conceal because I am afraid of what will become of them when they are revealed. Maybe you have similar places in your own heart? Painful memories that you hold onto. Areas of brokenness that you don’t want Jesus to see. One day I confronted the Lord with a question that terrified me: If I am Your beloved daughter, why did You allow all of that to happen to me? Then I perceived an image of Jesus on the Cross, crying out to His Father to ask why He had been forsaken. A glimpse of overwhelming sorrow, of the intense pain, of the longing, of the grief, and of the love. There He was. There I was. There we were . . . crying out to our Father together. A ray of beauty penetrated the surrounding darkness and I realized that I was never alone. He was pouring out love for me, and my heart would be healed. “But who do you say that I am?” (Matthew 15:16) I always said He was a good Father, yet I was afraid to approach Him. I was afraid to reveal my deepest sorrows and my questions, afraid what He would do. But what He did was to hold me, love me, and heal me. What are you afraid to bring to Him? He wants to hold, love, and heal you, too. [bctt tweet="He wants to heal you. // Leana Bowler" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion  

A crucifix hangs above my window. It is the first thing I see when I wake up. When I wake to nurse a baby back to sleep. When I wake from the minor aches and pains of a body that has birthed six children. When I lay awake to pray in times of joy and in times of sorrow. There I see Him on the Cross. There I am reminded of His love for me. I am reminded of His most Sacred Heart. A heart that beat within Our Lady, our Holy Mother, for our salvation. A heart that ceased beating upon the Cross and poured out for us from the pierced side of Our Lord an ocean of mercy that we did not deserve but was given to us. He is the Light of the World surrounded by total darkness in the tomb. Then His Sacred Heart filled with life and flowed with His most Precious Blood again. The power and glory of this moment burst the tomb wide open, allowing the light to flood in. Christ is risen. This is our Savior. This is our God. Therefore, sister, let nothing steal our peace for we are held within the rays of His Divine Mercy. Gaze upon the Crucifix. Gaze upon the Lord. Allow Him to flood the places in your heart that are like stone. The fears, the anxieties, the darkness. May it all fall away. May it be crushed beneath the wounded feet of Christ. In this breaking, in this flow of Blood and Water, may you remember that you are His. May you hear Him whisper, “Do not let your hearts be troubled . . . I am the way and the truth and the life” (John 14:1, 6). listen to today’s devotion [bctt tweet="He is the Light of the World. // Leana Bowler" username="blessedisshe__"] My Lord and My God, open my heart for Your healing.

I smiled as I watched them dance. A father and a daughter dancing together in their kitchen on camera. Her face luminous, exuding pure and unfettered joy. His face overflowing with love for her. Their laughter blending with the music. Then my heart felt a pang of sadness. I would never have this experience. I did not know what it was like to have a relationship with my father. I did not know what it was like to be loved by my father. Tears filled my eyes, and they were healing tears. They broke open a wound that needed to be revealed. A wound that I had covered and hidden from the Lord. A place in my heart that He wanted to flood with His love and make it whole again. A place within my heart that had grown cold and empty, and He desired to fill it with His abundance until it was overflowing. I did not believe that it was possible to know a father’s love, but the Lord revealed to me it was. Through this moment of tears. Through this revealing of sadness that I did not know still existed. Through my sorrow, the Lord showed me His mercy, His desire to love me, His desire to be my Father. In today’s Gospel Jesus says, “Unless you people see signs and wonders, you will not believe” (John 4:48). Then He heals the royal official’s son, and their entire household comes to believe. Sister, He desires to heal your wounds. He desires that you believe in His goodness. [bctt tweet="He desires that you believe in His goodness. // Leana Bowler" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Have you cried healing tears? How was the Lord present in that moment?  

When I was younger, I wanted to be famous. I wanted to be important. I wanted to be noticed when I walked into a room. Seen and valued for my ability to perform and to pretend. I went to school, and lies spewed from my mouth that I was wealthy. I told everyone that I lived in an extravagant house and lived a lavish lifestyle. Each day I had to pretend, and perform, and control the narrative. Nobody knew who I really was, and it was exhausting. Eventually, my lies caught up with me. Maybe it was my grandfather’s rusty car that he picked me up in after school. Somehow the other kids realized I was not rich, and I spent more than a few days crying in the bathroom when my cover was blown. I still thought I would grow up to have accolades and an impressive bank account. But I have neither. I have a quiet hidden work. The simple tasks of a wife and mother. A wonderful work of sacrifice and loving others. In today’s Gospel, Jesus says, “What profit is there for one to gain the whole world yet lose or forfeit himself?” (Luke 9:25) Sister, you might, as I did, put pressure on yourself to perform for others. Maybe you feel this as a mom, or in your workplace, or in your online presence. The pressure to pretend to be someone you are not because you feel that you must uphold a certain image. A pretense that does not allow you to be vulnerable. I invite you to lean into the words of Our Lord. Lean into the truth that you are a beloved daughter, seen and eternally valued by your Savior. [bctt tweet="Lean into the truth that you are a beloved daughter. // Leana Bowler" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Re-read today's Gospel.

I have a photograph from the day of my baptism. My young mother is smiling at the camera. She had a 1980s-style perm and had just graduated high school. I’m sure beneath her lovely smile was a world of worry and uncertainty. She and my father were not on good terms. She did not have a bank account, a place of her own, or a wedding band. But she had me baptized. In the parish she grew up in, she held me over the same baptismal font I would one day hold my own children. She beamed proudly when the priest poured holy water over my head. I think often of this day. The day that I became a member of the Body of Christ, freed from sin and clothed with grace. I think of the gift of the Sacraments. I think of the beauty of the Church. I think of my mother and how she allowed me to receive the greatest wealth . . . a life in Christ. Sister, today's Gospel (Mark 1:7-11) tells us about the Baptism of the Lord. I invite you to reflect on your life as a beloved daughter of God. I encourage you to think about the wealth of the Sacraments. Even in our brokenness, we are given a share in the mission of the Church. As John said, “I am not worthy” (Mark 1:7). We sin. We stumble. We struggle. However, Christ uses us for the glory of the kingdom anyway. Seek to follow Him. Be led by the Spirit in all that you do. Be holy. You are His beloved daughter, and He is well pleased. [bctt tweet="Seek to follow Him. // Leana Bowler " username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Listen to this renown scholar on Jesus' Baptism.

The old wooden table belonged to my grandparents. My grandfather was a musician, and one week before Christmas he came home with his guitar filled with tamales and crumbled dollar bills. It was just enough to buy a nice table for Christmas dinner. Over the years the wood warped and rippled. But we kept it. We admired the scratches and dents. They were reminders of meals shared, tears shed, fists that pounded on the table in both laughter and frustration. This old worn table was a wobbly token of family life. Life that is full of messiness and miracles. Brokenness and healing. Rejoice and sorrow. Life that is full of imperfect people, some of whom are easy to love and some of whom are hard to love. Today’s Gospel, Matthew 1:1-17, is the genealogy of Jesus Christ. I will admit I have skipped through it many times. It is the least marked-up passage in my Bible or maybe any Bible for that matter. However, one day while I was sitting at that old wooden table, I realized the beauty of this Gospel. When I took the time to read through each name, I was reminded that Christ came from a long line of saints and sinners. A family with people who were holy, wise, and courageous. A family with people who were adulterers, murderers, prostitutes, and drunkards. Our beloved Savior came to us through a lineage of people just like us. Sister, when we are weary with the trials in our family life, with our family of origin, or simply the people whom God has placed before us to love, we can rest in this Gospel. This Gospel reminds us of the depth of God’s love for us. It reminds us that He is Emmanuel. It reminds us that redemption is real. [bctt tweet="This Gospel reminds us of the depth of God’s love for us. // Leana Bowler" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Read more about Jesus' genealogy in the Catholic Encyclopedia.

My shoulders ached as I gathered up the toys and books scattered across the living room floor. Knots had settled deep into my muscles, physical remnants of a stressful week. A candle flickered on the mantle illuminating a statue of the Sacred Heart of Jesus that once belonged to my great-grandmother and now rests atop the mantle above our fireplace. I thought of the perfect sacrificial love of Christ. This great love so powerful and eternal, that Blessed Fulton Sheen once said, “If you were the only person in the world who ever lived and sinned, He would have come down to earth, died and suffered just for you alone. That is how much He loves you” (source). I let those words settle into my weary bones. My mind wandered to all the ways I was telling myself that I had failed this week. The moments unkind words had spilled from my lips. The moments I had lost patience. The moments I felt my prayers were lacking and dry. Yet here I was, feeling this flood of grace because redemption is real. As it says in today’s Responsorial Psalm, “Here God lives among His people” (Psalm 84:3). When my soul yearns for Him and my heart cries out, He is here with me. He is here with you. We stand upright and we raise our heads in triumph because our redemption is real. God lives here as I trace a cross over my children’s foreheads and smile at them through tired eyes. God lives here as I say a quick prayer for a friend while nursing a hungry baby. God lives here as I stumble through the day and keep inviting Him into my brokenness. God lives here as I seek forgiveness, extend mercy, and rejoice over simple moments of extravagant grace lavished upon me by my Father. He remains near, calling us closer, reminding us of the glory of the Kingdom that awaits. [bctt tweet="Our redemption is real. // Leana Bowler" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Pray the Our Father with this beloved pontiff today.

My four-year-old son bolted into the kitchen as I was cooking dinner. In his typical humorous display of emotion, he dramatically clutched his hand to his heart and stared at me wildly. I took a deep breath in preparation for him to tell me that he had brought a tiny lizard in the house. I quickly glanced at his other hand to make sure that there was no lizard in it about to break free at any moment. There wasn’t. In fact, he was now pointing at a small scrape on his foot and seemed to be overwhelmingly thrilled about it. “Mommy! I think I have that Jesus thing!” I was confused and asked him what he meant by “Jesus thing.” He clasped his little hands together and joyfully shouted, “I have that Jesus thing when your feets bleed!” My little boy believed that Jesus had given him the stigmata just like his favorite, Padre Pio. I couldn’t help but smile and think back to the time that I heard him asking Jesus to turn him into Spiderman, and the time that he asked Our Lady to give him good dreams about eating candy. I explained to him that he didn’t have the stigmata and had probably just scraped his foot playing. He understood and went back to his regular four-year-old-boy adventures. I returned to the stove and continued to marvel at the beauty and simplicity of his faith. Right then, I asked the Lord for a childlike faith that doesn’t put limits on His goodness. Today’s Responsorial Psalm says, “Make me understand the way of your precepts, and I will meditate on your wondrous deeds” (Psalm 119:27). My prayer for you, dear sister, is that you remember to have a sense of wonder. Take a moment to ponder and behold the glory of God's goodness in all the ways He invites you to, no matter how small they are. Let the warmth of His everlasting love move your heart to shout with joy. [bctt tweet="Let the warmth of His everlasting love move your heart to shout with joy. // Leana Bowler" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Take a listen to this Catholic musician and experience God's love.

I took a deep breath and pressed my forehead against the cool surface of the window as raindrops began to fall. I was hoping to get a glimpse of her before I went inside. A glimpse of a woman whom I had never met, but whom I should have known all my life because . . . she was my grandmother. She had disappeared from my father’s life when he was only a baby, and he had disappeared from mine when I was only a little girl. Over twenty years later, the Lord would have it that we would find each other. My father would be a man restored, healed from years of debilitating anger and violent behavior that had nearly destroyed him. As it says in today’s Psalm, he had found refuge in the Lord. My grandmother was dying, her body ravaged from years of drug use and living on the streets. My father had taken her into his home, his mother, a stranger, and gave her the gift of taking her last breath in the presence of her son. She was loved and forgiven. I entered her room, and her gaze slowly met mine. Her eyes that I’m sure were once a rich brown had faded to a pale blue. Her hands were withered and scarred, telling the painful story of her life as an addict. However, as she lifted one withered hand to touch mine, I noticed a small Bible in the other clutched against her thin chest. She smiled weakly but with such joy, and I thought of Jesus saying in today's Gospel, “Stretch out your hand” (Luke 6:10). She was not destroyed. She was saved by a Father Who loved her and had forgiven her. You are also loved by Jesus, and whatever you think is withered and destroyed is not. Restoration is for you. Stretch out your hand and place it in His. listen to today’s devotion [bctt tweet="Restoration is for you. // Leana Bowler" username="blessedisshe__"] If you missed our "Restore" retreat in person, we have a streaming option available.

I first met Roger outside our local grocery store on a blistering hot summer afternoon. His bare feet were dry and peeling from walking on the scorching pavement. He had half a jug of water next to him and had poured the other half on the plants surrounding the area he frequented. Roger was homeless and for all I knew he had been homeless for most of his life. Sometimes Roger wanted to talk, and other times he simply wanted a meal with soft foods that wouldn’t hurt his failing teeth. On this particular day, he wanted to talk because someone had given him a bicycle and he was overjoyed. I felt relief flood my heart knowing that he would at least have his bicycle this summer, especially since he refused to wear shoes. I gave him some chocolate and headed home, praying for him and all the other people in our community who decided to truly get to know him and look out for him. We became his friends and we were certainly blessed that he allowed us into his life. He was quick to remind me of the goodness on this earth. He was quick to show us what loving others can do and how hearts can change in miraculous ways. When I think of him, I am reminded of today’s Psalm, “For upright is the word of the LORD, and all his works are trustworthy. He loves justice and right; of the kindness of the LORD the earth is full” (Psalm 33:4-5). On this memorial of Saint Augustine, I am reminded of Saint Monica fervently praying for her beloved son, placing all her hope in the Lord and trusting that one day her precious Augustine would be converted. I think of how her Augustine became one of the greatest Saints. That is what hope does. Hope reveals to us the goodness of the Lord. Hope reminds us of what the Lord can do when we remember that we are His hands and His feet. I pray that today you see the goodness of the Lord on this earth. listen to today’s devotion [bctt tweet="Hope reveals to us the goodness of the Lord. // Leana Bowler" username="blessedisshe__"] Is there an opportunity right in front of you to help be God's hands and feet today? Don't shy away! Take it and praise Him.

I was driving in circles after leaving the adoration chapel near our home. My tears blurred the beauty of the morning sunrise. My husband and I had argued throughout the night, and I was expecting that during my time in Adoration the Lord was going to agree with all my complaints and change all of my husband’s very human faults. However, as I knelt before the Lord and huffed my frustrations with loud, exasperated sighs I felt that Jesus was silent. I found myself asking Him, “Do you even care, Lord? Fix this! Tell me what to do!” In the stillness, I heard Jesus say in my heart, “Go home. Be at peace, daughter.” My mouth fell open, and I left the chapel dumbfounded. Go home and be at peace? Is that it? I wonder if Martha had the same reaction. I imagine her surprise when Jesus does not respond in the way that perhaps she expected. I imagine the Lord’s tender love when He says, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and worried about many things.” Jesus was inviting her to look within her own heart. While Martha saw Mary simply sitting around while she worked tirelessly, Jesus revealed how He saw Mary. He saw her sitting at His feet, listening, right where she should be. Oftentimes, during the daily frustrations of life our hearts can wander from the gaze of Jesus. We can allow the overwhelm of the moment to consume us and forget that He is in our midst, pouring out enough grace for the moment, enough grace for the day, enough grace to help us see as He sees if we open our hearts to receive it. Jesus is enough. Jesus teaches us how to love. Jesus teaches us how to forgive. May we sit at His feet and listen. listen to today’s devotion [bctt tweet="Jesus is enough. // Leana Bowler" username="blessedisshe__"] Sit with Our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament today. If you can't go by the chapel, visit Him online.

There was a time when I believed I was too flawed and too sinful to be loved and healed by Jesus. I grew up with a very broken concept of fatherhood, love, and relationship. As I result, throughout my teenage years I hungered for male attention and love. I sought to satisfy that hunger through sexual promiscuity. It came to a breaking point when I was seventeen years old and assaulted by two boys who I thought were my friends. For several years after I clung to the idea that my story would always be full of shame and full of sin. I thought that I would always be marked by my woundedness. I bought into the lie that this was my identity. Thankfully, only God has the authority to tell us who we really are. God says all the hairs on our heads are counted. He says we are worth more than many sparrows. He says we are loved and we are His (see Matthew 10:29-31). We do not have to be afraid that we are too wounded, or too impatient, or too whatever to be loved by the Lord. Relationship with Jesus is for all of us. He wants us to work with Him for the glory of the Kingdom, and we do not have to be afraid to proclaim this truth from the housetops. We do not have to be afraid that we are not worthy to speak His name and share all He has done in our lives. We do not have to be afraid of our stories. Each of our stories will have suffering and brokenness, but the things that we have done, and the things that have been done to us do not define who we are. You belong to Jesus, and He speaks your name before the Father. Be not afraid. [bctt tweet="Thankfully, only God has the authority to tell us who we really are. // Leana Bowler" username="blessedisshe__"] Lord Jesus, draw us close to You in our wounds and heal us with Your loving touch.