“This is my chosen Son; listen to him.” // Luke 9:35 Recently a majority of my prayer has felt like the refrain from the hymn “Transfigure Us, O Lord” where we ask for healing, breaking the chains of sin, and guidance from God. In one way or another, I have asked Jesus to transform my marriage, motherhood, relationships, friendships, and whole person. This hymn for me is a deep and personal prayer that touches all aspects of my life. The lyrics remind me that I don’t have to carry my spiritual life in a caboodle: stowing, compartmentalizing, and sorting out things prematurely instead of handing them over to Jesus. Instead, Jesus breaks chains that suppress, speaks healing words, goes before us, and desires to transfigure us into eternity with Him. My limited view of Heaven inhibits my desire to seek holiness as I fall into sin time and time again. However, Jesus has the power to transfigure everything. Peter, James, and John catch a glimpse of Jesus in all of His glory (Luke 9:32) and are left speechless (Luke 9:36). I imagine I would have responded the same way. This gives me comfort as I presume they would have known how to respond accordingly since they were so close to Jesus. The Father says, “This is my chosen Son; listen to him” (Luke 9:35). “Listen to him” is what He tells the disciples. This is the same thing He says to you and me when we feel stagnant in prayer, complacent, indifferent, overwhelmed, or have a nudge to caboodle our spiritual lives. Sister, do you believe Jesus will transform you with His glory? On this feast day of the Transfiguration of the Lord, I invite you to take a moment to listen to the hymn yourself. The Father tells us to listen to Jesus. How is your posture of listening? How can you listen with an openness to being transformed? [bctt tweet="Jesus breaks chains that suppress, speaks healing words, goes before us, and desires to transfigure us into eternity with Him. // Mytae Carrasco Wallace" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

At the sight of the crowds, his heart was moved with pity for them because they were troubled and abandoned, like a sheep without a shepherd. // Matthew 9:36 It was such a feast to be with Father Swenson—to delight in his presence and discuss the construction of the new church building. He easily could have been the male version of Mother Angelica. I will never forget the first time we took Father out for breakfast. He happily ordered pigs in a blanket—a breakfast entree I had never heard anyone order before. Since he frequented this particular restaurant with other parishioners, the staff knew him, and he didn’t need their name tags to call them by name. This priest was as instrumental in the development of my faith as he was intimidating, but I loved being known by him. I remember how during the first time I was asked to lead a decade of the Rosary with the congregation, Father exclaimed “louder” from the altar. When Father Swenson passed away, I felt abandoned. We had no other priestly father like him. Even with his healthy Irish temper, he was so much more than our parish priest because he truly fathered each and every one of us. “At the sight of the crowds, his heart was moved with pity for them because they were troubled and abandoned, like a sheep without a shepherd” (Matthew 9:36). No one has ever taken this faithful servant's place in my heart, but I have since committed to praying for priests and religious. It's so easy to complain about the shortage of priests we have in our diocese and point out all the ways it doesn’t measure up against other thriving dioceses, but complaining doesn’t bear fruit. Pining for something I don’t have access to (a CFR friary would be nice) doesn’t produce laborers for the harvest. I may not have a priest in my contact list who I can call up or invite over for dinner, but my sense of abandonment has turned into gratitude. Sister, join me in praying for priests. Let’s support them with our deepest gift of prayer. Which priests in your life could use your spiritual support or kind words of encouragement? [bctt tweet="Pray for priests! // Mytae Carrasco Wallace" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

"Remain in me, as I remain in you, says the Lord; whoever remains in me will bear much fruit." // John 15:4a, 5b I had just wrapped the towel on my wet hair and put on my favorite pajamas and was looking forward to an evening of God’s word to keep up with the Teachable Tuesday Bible Study of John with Beth Davis (at this point, it was catching up). My husband swung the bedroom door open and announced our daughter was throwing up. An hour earlier I had just changed out her sheets with newly laundered ones. I walked towards the bathroom where she was and stepped on what felt like a very wet mushy substance. In her defense, she had done her best to get to the bathroom. There was no trash can beside her bed because there had been no indication that vomiting was in the forecast. Thirty minutes before, our youngest had been complaining that she didn’t have her favorite blanket in addition to the five blankets she was already snuggling. I was worn down by the toddler’s bedtime demands and just wanted the humming sound of the dishwasher to keep me company. Now I would be trading it for the sanitize cycle on the washing machine. I caught myself being tempted to let the “we can’t catch a break” thought creep in. It sounds so defeatist, and I didn’t want to let the hard work I had done during Lent fall prey to old habits. “Remain in me, as I remain in you, says the Lord; whoever remains in me will bear much fruit” (John 15:4a, 5b). Can I truly remain in Him? Even when the fruit that it is bearing is equivalent to the bodily fluid I had just stepped on? As I pulled my daughter's hair away from her face, I looked at us both in the mirror. This is where I am asked to remain in Him. Sister, in life’s mess is where Jesus invites us to remain in Him. I offer this simple prayer for you today: Be with me, God. Stay with me, Lord. Hold me, Jesus. Remain in me. Amen. [bctt tweet="Remain in Him. // Mytae Carrasco Wallace" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

I long to see your face, O Lord. // Responsorial Psalm 27:8b As I was finding my place in the confessional line the weekend before Holy Week, I was comforted by the solidarity of those waiting with me in line. Typically, I would have berated myself for not attempting to have gone to Confession at least three times during Lent because three sounds like a full commitment and holier than just going once. The sacristans were preparing the church for Palm Sunday. While I tried to focus on my examination of conscience, I couldn’t help but notice the red drapes hanging from the door frames that lead into the sacristy. The sacristans kept working the fabric over and over again. As they continued to work the song “Wait for the Lord” was playing in the background. Normally I would welcome these sights and sounds, but I needed silence. As the song intensified, I began to feel agitated. I didn’t want to listen to the song anymore; I didn’t want to be immersed in the external environment of Palm Sunday—and if I’m being honest—I just wanted to go straight to Easter. “I long to see your face, O Lord” (Responsorial Psalm 27:8b). As the song kept playing, I felt this longing to receive forgiveness, to be absolved, and for this weight that I was carrying to be lifted at once. I so badly wanted to leap to the front of the line, but I had just let my mom go in front of me because I know how tiring standing can be for her. Each minute waiting in line felt even more burdensome. Finally, it was my turn. I don’t think I could muster more than two sentences to the priest before the tears came. I longed for the Lord in the Sacrament of Confession, and He looked at me with the most tender eyes of mercy and the warmest smile through this priestly father. Sister, our longing is for Him and is from Him. It is a gift and a cross. The sacraments keep us close to Jesus. Can you create space in your daily routine to come close to Him? [bctt tweet="Our longing is for Him. // Mytae Carrasco Wallace" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

How shall I make a return to the Lord for all the good he has done for me? // Responsorial Psalm He laid there with a complete awareness of his destination. I was only twenty years old and in complete denial. I sat next to him there on the bed, and he reached gently for my hand. He began apologizing for all of the things he wouldn’t be able to do for me. Affection didn’t come easily to my father. He was one of eight and, as the oldest, culturally a lot of the responsibility fell on his shoulders. I never held it against him because he didn’t have a childhood. My father was preparing to meet His Creator and in his last hours, he used his breath to apologize to me. “How shall I make a return to the Lord for all the good he has done for me?” (Responsorial Psalm). At that moment, I certainly couldn’t see the good in the words my father was offering me. I didn’t have the capacity to pay attention to the reality that he was at peace with all that the Lord had done for him. This love poured out onto me from my mom and dad as a visible sign of the good He has done for me. The Lord doesn’t have an I-O-U policy. “How shall I make a return to the Lord for all the good he has done for me" (Responsorial Psalm). Even in that moment with my dad, how could I repay the Father for showing me His goodness by delicately preparing me for something I wasn’t prepared for? This painful love that my dad displayed to me is a mystery. There was no remorse in his voice; on the contrary, there was a deep intimate love that my dad was trying to convey to me. I realized that I can cooperate with God to use the sufferings and hardships I have experienced to open my heart in gratitude for the good He has done for me. Sister, as we continue to celebrate in His glorious Resurrection, let's return our gaze at Him on the Cross and return all the good He has done for us. [bctt tweet="Love poured out. // Mytae Carrasco Wallace" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

So they picked up stones to throw at him; but Jesus hid and went out of the temple area. // John 8:59 I was in my last year of undergrad and felt I had a good grasp on what to expect from my capstone course to complete my degree. I remember the professor walking into class and thinking, “This is who is going to teach us?” She didn’t look like the seasoned professors I was used to, the ones who would walk into a lecture hall and confidently take command of the podium. To my horror, she didn’t have a syllabus prepared on the first day of class. How was I supposed to write down when my assignments would be due in my planner? I was invested in my broadcast journalism career and worked towards ensuring my resume reflected my dedication, persistence, and hard work for my future television gig. In addition to all of that, it turned out this lecturer was experienced in print journalism. I had already made up my mind about people who lectured about print. “So they picked up stones to throw at him; but Jesus hid and went out of the temple area” (John 8:59). How many stones do I throw at Jesus when I think badly about someone like my former professor because of my own presumptions? In today’s Gospel reading we see how the people press Jesus with their questions (John 8:52-53). It's so easy to discredit the Son of God because of how He speaks (John 8:58). Here He is and yet the disbelief turns the people's hearts into the physical stones they throw at Him. I would love to say I have since outgrown my youthful judgments. In some ways I have and in other ways I haven’t. I realize this corruption inside of me comes from a lack of love. Sister, do your judgments or assumptions of others become the stones that you throw within your heart? It stings to consider the ways we can harm others with our thoughts. I invite you throughout the remaining days of this penitential season to allow your heart to turn towards the mercy He offers us and extend that mercy to others. [bctt tweet="Turn towards mercy. // Mytae Carrasco Wallace" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

Even now, says the LORD, return to me with your whole heart, for I am gracious and merciful. // Joel 2:12 Today’s readings are so abundant I wasn’t sure where my reflection would land. I initially felt called to share on the reading from Jeremiah particularly that “faithfulness has disappeared; the word itself is banished from their speech” (7:28). As I step into the world, I wonder at times if this is what has happened. I walk among faithful people who have become faithless as we continue this trial that has affected us all. Is the Word not penetrating our hearts such that the Word itself is banished from our own speech? I become distracted with what’s going on out there, I don’t allow the Word to penetrate my innermost being to increase my own faithfulness and walk with the Lord. Then I kept reading and the Responsorial Psalm cried out, “If today you hear His voice, harden not your hearts.” I know my heart becomes hardened to protect myself from being hurt further. At times I resist being vulnerable because it's not reciprocated or I feel as if I will be left without. My heart finally settled on the verse before the Gospel, “Even now says the Lord, return to me with your whole heart, for I am gracious and merciful.” I know giving up sweets (I miss my sweetened latte already), snacks (my adult lunchable is my favorite), minimizing screen time (I am easily distracted) throughout the day, and increasing my prayer time is good for me. It also isn’t really mortification, but it does increase my interior obedience. Ultimately the Lord isn't focused on my external offering, it is my interior motives that allows me to return to Him. It is the posture of my heart in what I am offering that will allow His grace and mercy to take root in me. Sister, maybe you are in a season where you feel like Lent has escaped you or you aren’t getting something out of it. Today, return to Him with your whole heart and allow Him to cultivate His grace and mercy in you throughout your Lenten journey. [bctt tweet="Allow His grace and mercy to take root. // Mytae Carrasco Wallace" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

“If your hand causes you to sin, cut it off. It is better for you to enter into life maimed than with two hands to go into Gehenna, into the unquenchable fire.” // Mark 9:43 As a child, I remember being afraid of God. I didn’t envision Him as the thoughtful, approachable, forgiving, loving, and merciful Father I have a relationship with today. The God I heard about from the pulpit sounded strict, authoritative, and more of a disciplinarian than a welcoming lap I could sit on to be embraced. Today’s Gospel can set off an alarm of fear within us. “If your hand causes you to sin, cut it off. It is better for you to enter into life maimed than with two hands to go into Gehenna, into the unquenchable fire” (Mark 9:43). What a vibe kill! If we read this through the worldly view of comfort and convenience, we may resist the message that we really need to hear: our complacency towards sin and its effects have no room in the Kingdom. In my own daily life, I am aware of the lack of discipline I have towards the habits that will keep me from having to cut off my hand, primarily my thumb. How many times my thumb has caused me to sin! I reach for my phone, and instantly my thumb leads me to comparison. “Wow, that family dresses beautifully for mass and the mom looks so well rested. She doesn’t have any bags under her eyes.” My thumb continues scrolling and leads me to doubt, “Maybe we need to get out of the city and live off the land.” My thumb, an interconnected part of my hand, leads me to sin because I have allowed it to do so. As Lent begins next week, consider some things that you could cut off? What good habits can replace your temptation to sin or to feel jealousy towards a stranger on the internet? I don’t want a Peloton bike or someone else’s farm life, but because it’s in front of me, I feel like I do. This Lent I am going to work on my thumb leading me to commit the seven deadly sins. Sister, does your thumb cause you to fall into temptation? Let’s trade scrolling for obedience. [bctt tweet="Let’s trade scrolling for obedience. // Mytae Carrasco Wallace" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

“Looking around at them with anger and grieved at their hardness of heart, Jesus said to the man, ‘Stretch out your hand.’ He stretched it out and his hand was restored." // Mark 3:5 We are two weeks into ordinary time and already in today’s Gospel of Mark, we see the Pharisees trying to corner Jesus in breaking the law of the sabbath. This is the same Jesus Whose birth everyone was greatly anticipating; the Messiah for Whom we sang, “Hark! The Angels Sing” in unison as one Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church a couple of weeks ago. I am reminded how quickly my own heart turns when I am in the parish parking lot, trying to get my kids to stop arguing over whose foot is touching the other person’s foot in the car. I may not be outwardly breaking the sabbath law, but I may as well be if I have just received Holy Communion and am acting in a way that doesn’t reflect that. The Pharisees’ loveless obsession with meticulously following the law had corrupted their ability to be merciful, compassionate, and loving towards their neighbor. We are like the Pharisees when we receive Jesus in Holy Communion, but close our hearts towards others when Mass has ended. We rush to the parking lot to be the first ones out so we don’t have to wait in a long car line or rush to get donuts after Mass so we aren’t left without a maple bar, only to skip it altogether since the line is too long. Jesus asks them, “Is it lawful to do good on the sabbath rather than to do evil, to save life rather than to destroy it?” (Mark 3:4) Jesus is always turning the unlawfulness of our hearts towards good. He shows that His mercy doesn’t cease on the sabbath. “Looking around at them with anger and grieved at their hardness of heart, Jesus said to the man, ‘Stretch out your hand.’ He stretched it out and his hand was restored" (Mark 3:5). Jesus shows us the kind of love that we as humans couldn’t have learned through our own efforts. Abba, help me stretch out my hand today out of love for You. Remove the unlawful parts in my heart and stretch out my hand to receive Your love. Amen. [bctt tweet="His mercy doesn’t cease. // Mytae Carrasco Wallace" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

"Mary set out and traveled to the hill country in haste to a town of Judah, where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth." // Luke 1:39 She came in haste to drop off her relic of Saint Francis of Assisi so I could take it with me into the delivery room. On our fourth day of being at the hospital, the discouragement began to consume me. With no sign of the baby coming on his own, that relic was a constant reminder that she was praying for me. I was a couple days postpartum, and she came in haste to deliver some lactation cookies. She came again in haste when I was in the throes of postpartum depression. I really wanted her to leave me alone in my brokenness, but instead she delivered an entirely homemade chicken pot pie that was so good that I won’t have one that isn’t made from her recipe (neither will my husband for that matter). She came in haste to feed us because she knew we would need to be comforted. She came in haste when I didn’t want to talk to anyone. She came in haste even though I tried to ignore her text messages, but she was so persistent that I couldn’t. She came in haste even though she had just lost a baby who grew in her womb and passed away after birth. Here she was serving me. I felt like such a coward. She didn’t allow her grief to harden her heart, and there I was with a baby in my arms, still reeling with depression because of the circumstances surrounding my son’s birth. I was so ashamed of my body because I believed it had failed me. I didn’t want her to see me this vulnerable and wounded. She came in haste to break through the grief that was penetrating my heart. She came in haste, and I will never forget how she treated me as if I belonged to her. Who has been Mary to you and has come to you in haste? Thank the Lord for her and be that for someone else today. Go in haste and treat her as if she belongs to you. [bctt tweet="She came in haste. // Mytae Carrasco Wallace" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

I realize my desire to have a welcoming home for Jesus comes at my family’s expense. “Put your toys away. Let’s try to keep the house tidy for Jesus’ birthday. Why can’t you guys pick up your dirty laundry?” I probably get too ambitious with how I want our home to look without considering that whatever work we do to clean, organize, wipe down, or put away will never be sufficient for Jesus to enter under our roof. Our external factors aren’t where Jesus wants to reside anyway. In today’s Gospel, a Centurion offers us wisdom on how to approach this new liturgical year. Spoiler alert: it has nothing to do with Christmas decorations or how tidy your home is. The Centurion’s servant is “lying at home paralyzed, suffering dreadfully” (Matthew 8:6). Jesus, being who He is, responds immediately, “I will come and cure him” (Matthew 8:7) The Centurion’s response in this exchange are words for us to contemplate this Advent: “Lord, I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof; only say the word and my servant will be healed” (Matthew 8:8). Jesus' life is a gift to us that we are not worthy to receive, yet God sends His only son to us so that we may know Him. We are called to have unwavering faith in the word that Jesus speaks. The Centurion continued to speak and afterwards when "Jesus heard this, he was amazed and said to those following him, 'Amen I say to you, in no one in Israel have I found such faith'" (Matthew 8:10). Jesus is amazed at the faith of the Centurion. This is the only time in the Gospel of Matthew that Jesus is “amazed.” As I read this line, I wondered if Jesus would be amazed with my own faith like He was with the Centurion's? Sister, as we begin to set up our manger scenes and partake in Christmas festivities let’s make room for Jesus to enter into the chamber of our hearts and allow Him to be amazed with our faith in Him. [bctt tweet="Let’s make room. // Mytae Carrasco Wallace" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

I wouldn’t say my mom is a coupon queen exactly. I have seen coupon queens, and they don’t mess around. They carry around their coupons in alphabetical order and keep them secure in a little zippered pouch. My mom is probably a grade below that. She probably falls in the category of “I have a coupon, and I’m not afraid to use it.” No isn’t an option when the coupon hasn’t expired and still meets the criteria outlined in the tiny fine print. When the coupon isn’t valid, my mom patiently waits for the manager. She isn’t upset, heated, or indignant; she simply wants to use her coupon or hear the reasons why she isn’t able to use the discounted piece of paper that she received in the mail. My mom’s persistence usually pays off, and it reminds me how I need to persist in all things and in all ways. Today’s Gospel reminds us that Jesus doesn’t grant our prayer requests out of annoyance toward us or move on to someone who has a more worthy prayer request. God fathers us well, unlike the judge who doesn’t have paternal care over any human being (Luke 18:4). The judge desires to be free of the widow bothering him, and that is his only motivation for helping her (Luke 18:5). God is the exact opposite of the judge. He is concerned with every fiber of our being and doesn’t put us off because we are nagging Him too much. My mom has been a widow for fifteen years now. The perseverance she has in using her coupons is applied to her prayer life as well. We know that if we are able to persevere and be persistent in worldly things, we can employ those same methods in prayer. Sister, do we tire of knocking when Jesus isn't opening the door to our request right away or do we persist like the widow in today’s readings? Think about where you need to persist today. [bctt tweet="He is concerned with every fiber of our being. // Mytae Carrasco Wallace" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

The last time I had visited Mountain Charleston, I wasn’t a wife or a mother yet. This time, I stood, surveying the pine trees in front of me, inhaling the fresh air, and hearing the pine needles beneath my shoes with every step I took. My children ran in front of me, excited to touch the dirt, peer inside the holes in the ground, and enjoy the freedom of nature. The sun peered through each of the pine trees, offering sunlight while the pine trees offered shade. I don’t experience the two together often in the concrete jungle that is the city of Las Vegas. It was also my first time being without cell service in years. The sight of tents, people cooking outdoors, and the monstrous echo of motorcyclists revving their bikes up the mountain was a feast for my eyes and ears, and I couldn’t help but wonder why I hadn’t seen this before. The blind man in today’s Gospel requests, “Master I want to see” (Mark 10:51). This man is physically blind, but I experience a blindness in my own interior life as well. Spiritual blindness also needs healing. How long do I walk in faith being blinded by what I can’t see? I'm just like those who rebuked the man and told him to be silent (Mark 10:48). We don’t have the eyes to see into people’s hearts or the perception Jesus has of our own lives. I am easily blinded by my routine. I can’t see or think outside of it. Being in nature made the Lord’s presence palpable to me. I felt a clarity that I hadn’t felt in a long time. Jesus tells the man, “Go your way; your faith has saved you” (Mark 10:52). Do we have the kind of faith that saves us? Sister, do we ask Jesus to help us look deeply into our own lives of faith even though when we think we already have? Today, let us ask Jesus for faith that will save us. [bctt tweet="Let us ask Jesus for faith that will save us. // Mytae Carrasco Wallace" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

The last two summers our parish has been blessed by the presence of a visiting priest from Chicago, Illinois. His homilies exude deep interior reflection with the gentleness of a grandfather and the humor of an uncle. Whenever he arrives I ask him when he is leaving so I don’t grow too attached to the spiritual wisdom his homilies provide me. As I placed myself in the crowd of today’s Gospel (Luke 4:38-44), I wonder if I also would have prevented Jesus from leaving. I imagine myself rubbing shoulders with anyone creeping into my personal space as I try to get one last glance of Jesus before He heads to the next town. I sometimes have a tendency to prefer hearing from certain priests, religious brothers, or sisters because of the way they articulate the Good News. It’s tempting to think that only a handful of people can feed us spiritually, but Jesus is the Living Word. The Word is always on the move, and the Word lives in us. The truth is that Jesus can reach us through anyone and we do not have to follow them around to encounter His Word. He is always with us. The crowd that longed to hear Jesus knew this. Jesus said, “To the other towns also I must proclaim the good news of the Kingdom of God, because of this purpose I have been sent” (Luke 4:43). Perhaps if this priest was a permanent fixture at our parish, I wouldn’t be so eager to absorb his insights and apply them to my life in a practical way. I might take them for granted if they were readily accessible. Sister, you carry the Word within you. Do you only proclaim it around certain people you deem suitable or do you share it freely? Think about how you appreciate Jesus' eternal presence. [bctt tweet="He is always with us. // Mytae Carrasco Wallace" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

I arrived in Puebla, Mexico in January 2007, grieving the loss of my father the past October. I was ready to unleash my hurt, anger, and rebelliousness in a land that wasn’t my own. I spoke the language and felt confident in understanding the ins and outs of the culture. I could pretend to be someone I wasn’t while I was temporarily away from my family’s home. Here, I could decide what values and morals I wanted to abide by. My routine consisted of dancing the night away at a club with people who I could hardly call friends, walking back to my dorm room in the wee hours of the morning, and dreading getting ready for class (which I couldn’t imagine skipping). After growing tired of running away from my sin and threading together my unwoven prayer life, I knew it was time to pour my heart out in Confession. I had my first ever face-to-face Confession. The priest welcomed me, spoke to me in my own language, and offered me a warm meal and hospitality with another family from the U.S. “You have searched me and you know me, Lord” (Responsorial Psalm). I hid from God during that time I spent abroad. I detached myself from who I was because no one was around me to keep me accountable. Sisters, insert your situation and repeat, “You have searched me and you know me, Lord.” He has always been there shielding you and lessening your distress, waiting for you to let Him in. Will you let Him in today? [bctt tweet="He has always been there. // Mytae Carrasco Wallace" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

In today's reading we hear that "Pharaoh directed all the Egyptians to go to Joseph and do whatever he told them” (Genesis 41:55). It gets me thinking about the price it cost Joseph to be the pharaoh’s right-hand man—that jealousy and bitterness of his brothers which drove them to sell him into slavery. I’ve had moments where I have disagreed greatly with my brother and sister, but I have never imagined selling them! I can still hear the times that they insulted me as an adolescent, “You’re such a spoiled brat” or “Mom and Dad aren’t nearly as strict with you as they were with us.” I remember how belittled I felt, and how their words would rouse an intense feeling of animosity towards them (a feeling that I wasn’t used to). I was the baby in the family so it's not like I had anyone to vouch for me. My siblings are ten and thirteen years older than me, so I really was in the prime spot to be blamed for the ways they felt shortchanged in their upbringings. I relate to Joseph in that he didn’t seek to be favored by his parents; he simply wanted his rightful place in being received and loved by his siblings. Can we forget the people who we belong to even when they have wronged us? “Joseph recognized them as soon as he saw them” (Genesis 42:8). When my sister was away during law school, all of the moments when we had really disagreed disappeared as soon I saw her walking towards us at the airport baggage claim on a trip home. Family dysfunction is inevitable but through God’s saving hand, He was able to change Joseph’s story completely! A man who was detested and cast off by his own brothers became the one who fed them, not the physical nourishment of their bodies, but the lasting nourishment of forgiveness and mercy. In this year of Saint Joseph, go to Saint Joseph and ask him to help you reconcile the hurts of family turmoil. And perhaps prayerfully consider how you can bring nourishing mercy and forgiveness into your household or friend circle. [bctt tweet="Go to Saint Joseph. " username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion  

Abraham’s warm hospitality is a gift that he gives freely to his visitors in today’s reading from Genesis. He ensures that they are cared for and well fed. God multiplies Abraham’s gift (He is never outdone in generosity) and announces to him that Sarah will have a son (Genesis 18:10). Upon hearing this, Sarah laughs (Genesis 18:12). I think about the times in my own life when I have secretly scoffed at the encouraging words of a friend or have doubted the work that the Good Lord can do in my own life. Jesus has never given me a reason to doubt Him—He died for my sins—but in my human condition, I am wired this way and have to fight against disbelief every day. I don’t laugh when new life is born, when someone announces their pregnancy, or when someone is cured from cancer. I praise God. I thank Him. I believe! For myself, however, it’s an entirely different story. Maybe you feel this way too. Maybe you’re a cheerleader for other people but not for yourself. It's almost like we close off the invitation for Jesus to do something great in our lives because we have become jaded from our exposure to living in the world. We have become great cynics of the powerful work God can do in our lives even though we ask Him to do the extraordinary for us in prayer. God gave Sarah what she yearned for, yet when the time came for her to receive news about her coming pregnancy, she laughed. Is it too much to believe that God desires to work miraculous deeds in our everyday lives? Sister, nothing is too marvelous for the Lord (Genesis 18:14). It may be for us, but it’s not for Him, and with His grace He will work through us, with us, and in us. Let's learn from Sarah and believe in our unbelief. May we turn our laughter and doubt into great works of praise. May we be ready to receive the miracle God has ready for us in our own lives with open arms like Abraham. Amen. [bctt tweet="God desires to work miraculous deeds in our everyday lives. // Mytae Carrasco Wallace" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion