“He called ten of his servants and gave them ten gold coins and told them, ‘Engage in trade with these until I return.’” // Luke 19:13 I sat in the back corner of my law school classroom filled with anxiety and fear once again. I could hear my heart in my ears—pounding loudly within my chest as I slumped in my chair, trying diligently not to be noticed.  Those three years of my life were some of the most excruciatingly challenging for me. I looked around at my classmates who seemed to enjoy all things law school and wondered what was wrong with me. How could I be in the midst of such an incredible learning opportunity and despise every second of it? I hated myself in many ways—for not being smart enough, quick enough, witty enough, studious enough, good enough . . . I believed the lie that I had nothing to offer and never would, and so I hid. I shrank into a shell of myself and I stayed there. In today’s Gospel, we read the parable of the nobleman and his servants (see Luke 19:11-28). The nobleman entrusts each servant with one gold coin and commands each to “engage in trade” until he returns. The first and second servants earn additional coins, but the third—we learn—stores away all he was given instead of stepping out into the world as he was instructed to do. He received what was entrusted to him yet stayed stuck. He didn't believe that he could offer anything more, so he buried what he'd been given. He chose what felt safe over true faith. He bought the lie instead of the belief for which he was made. Over time, I've come to understand that the "coins" that God entrusts to each of us are invitations to faith. Faith that He has gifted you and me with all we need. Faith that He can transform our fears and disbelief into hope and steadfast courage. Faith that He sees us in our circumstances and wants us to believe that we are enough just as we are, right now, already. And that belief, He'll take and multiply along with our faith in Him. And together—with faith in God and belief in His good gifts—we will bear lasting fruit in the world.

“I, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to live in a manner worthy of the call you have received, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another through love, striving to preserve the unity of the spirit through the bond of peace; “ // Ephesians 4:2 I’ve been pondering the different seasons of conversion God has so gently led me through over the years. From understanding God was real, but feeling that He was simply some distant being. To hearing for the first time in middle school that I could have a personal relationship with Him. To choosing to go my own way and eventually being led back by His grace in college. To consistently making prayer a priority in my early adult years. And all of the seasons that have followed since: every season has led, in some way, to this truth: I was created by Love, for Love, with intention and purpose. As are you. You were created with intention and purpose. In His mind’s eye, He sees you always and walks with you always too. You were brought forth by the Creator of all creation, and He invites you today to enter into the call for which you were created. But let us not become lofty in our thoughts or ideas pertaining to this call. Because perhaps, today, your call is lived out in the little things. While you’re at work from 9-5. While you tend to your littles underfoot. While you’re running errands or stuck in traffic. While you make the difficult phone call. While you stand again at the kitchen sink with a mountain of dishes piled high once more. While you put your phone down, look into the eyes of a stranger, and smile. While you pause what you’re doing and hug your spouse as he walks in the door. While you grab your rosary instead of that other distraction. While you run another load of wash and make another list of groceries. While you study. While you apologize. While you listen. While you slow down. While you allow yourself a moment of grace . . . Perhaps your call today is to simply love—with humility and gentleness, with patience and perseverance, with a heart filled with peace that pours forth into the world that surrounds you. Sweet Jesus, I love You. Reveal to me today the moments in which You call me to love more deeply. Give me the grace to surrender my way for Your own. Remind me to actively receive it. Take my to-dos and infuse Your love into each one. I give You permission to surprise me with Your love today too. Come be with me, Jesus. I give You my all—love me into being more like You.

“Your boasting is not appropriate. Do you not know that a little yeast leavens all the dough?” // 1 Corinthians 5:6 Over the years, one of my most consistent prayers has been this: God, show me what it means to be truly anchored in You and—therefore—confident in who You created me to be. As a business owner, I’ve often begged the Lord to show me how to show up authentically and genuinely in the world with my God-given gifts, skills, and abilities without letting pride creep into any nook or cranny of my life. In a world that emphasizes success, fame, fortune, and the grind (which I for too many years set my own eyes upon), I know deep within my bones that it is only by His hand that we receive the yeast needed to produce what we do. Today’s First Reading from 1 Corinthians 5:1-8 is direct: boasting is not appropriate. How often have I felt the need to prove myself to the world? How frequently do I lean into self-reliance and away from a posture anchored in trust of His goodness for me? How often do I confuse worldly pride with holy confidence? We often buy into the lie that little sins are just that, little—without effect, negligible, not a big deal. Yet we are reminded today that a little yeast leavens the dough. It is the seemingly little remnant of pride that breeds sin throughout our whole lives. Saint Paul reminds us today to rid ourselves of all sin, especially our pride, to “[c]lear out the old yeast, so that you may become a fresh batch of dough” (1 Corinthians 5:7). He encourages us to see ourselves as we truly are and become “unleavened bread of sincerity and truth” (1 Corinthians 5:8). When we humbly steward the gifts we have been given with holy confidence and gratitude, we allow God to knead us into who He wants us to be.

Indeed, like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand. // Jeremiah 18:6 There are seasons in my life that I can look back on and ask myself, Wow, why’d I do that? Why’d I choose that? Did I really think that was a good idea? I was a junior in college and spent my days skipping class and drinking too much. I made decision after decision that led me further and further away from who I knew I was created to be. But at that point in my life, I’d told God that He could wait for me while I did what I wanted to when I wanted to. I told God that I’d decide when I wanted to be in a relationship with Him again and, until then, He could wait. One Sunday morning after another long night out, I woke up at 10:30 a.m.—the time at which I went to Mass with my family growing up. It was a tremendously generous moment of grace. A moment in which the Potter gently asked that I return to Him. With all of my broken pieces. With all of the cracks in my core. He invited me to return just as I was, and He promised—with my permission—to make me new. Today's First Reading (see Jeremiah 18:1-6) is a testament to the truth that God wastes nothing in our lives—even those seasons, experiences, events, or moments in which we find ourselves feeling too broken and too unworthy to be held in His sacred hands. He waits patiently for us to approach Him, just as we are. He is the Potter Who longs to mold us into new creations. To take what is broken and love it into beauty. To buff out what must go—not to destroy, but to redeem. Sister, no matter how far you have strayed. No matter how far from His reach you believe you are. No part of you is irredeemable. What is He inviting you to place in His hands today? Surrender. Trust. Receive.

“When the crop grew and bore fruit, the weeds appeared as well.” // Matthew 13:26 I paused for a moment and thought to myself, Didn’t we already work through this, Lord?! It was a gentle reminder that though we’d been hard at work healing in a variety of ways—physically, mentally, and emotionally—there remained work He desired to do within me. How many times have you thought to yourself, Gosh, I thought we were over this! or Wow, I thought that part of me was healed! only to be gently called back into His own Heart for continued restoration and renewal? Healing is hard work and it is God—the Good Sower—Who plants in us the good seed of deeper faith within difficulty along with the hope for healing that perseveres through it all, and tends it to bear the fruit of a deeper and more steadfast love for Him and His tender care for us. But gosh, doesn’t it feel sometimes that with the healing comes an awareness of only more places in our lives that need healing? Healing is hard work, and it becomes exhausting when we try to heal ourselves by ourselves. Today’s Gospel reminds us that we have never sown alone (see Matthew 13:24-30). It is God Who plants and reaps and receives all of us—the fruit and the weeds. We don’t have to sift through it all by ourselves; we must only hand ourselves over into His careful care and allow Him to do the work within us. In what area of your life right now is fruit being borne? In what area of your life are you aware of your weeds?Sweet Father, help me today to hand myself completely over into Your careful care. Sift through every area of my life: may the fruits I bear glorify You and may my weeds of weakness be opportunities for deeper conversion and trust in You today. I surrender the sowing to You.

“For where your treasure is, there also will your heart be.” // Matthew 6:21 I huffed as I tossed my phone on the couch—how long had I been scrolling again? I checked my watch and realized that it wasn’t the quick thirty seconds I thought I’d need; it was far more. Disappointed in myself, I checked in on our daughter: “Can I have a bowl of grapes, Mommy?”  “Absolutely!” I responded. And without thinking, as I began to walk back into the kitchen, I reached for my phone, unlocked it, and began to scroll once more. I stopped mid-kitchen and was stuck, mid-step, on my way to provide for our kiddo’s spoken needs. Grapes were my mission at that moment, yet the treasure of a quick dopamine hit via a scrolling screen led me away yet again. Who knows, this time, how much time had passed—me standing still in the middle of my God-given mission. “Mommy, are you getting my grapes or are you on your phone again?” And just like that, I snapped back into reality. My heart sank as I realized that yet again distraction had led me far from the here and now—the place I desired to be with my daughter. As I looked up and looked into her eyes, I could see her disappointment too. There are few prayers I’ve prayed harder than this, and her question served as a moment of grace, an opportunity to ask for her forgiveness and His too. God, teach me to be detached from my devices. Teach me to rightly order their use. Teach me to lean into the monotony of motherhood and give me the desire to be all here—where my feet are. Today’s Gospel reminds us that where our treasure is our heart remains there too (see Matthew 6:19-23). What worldly and materialistic treasures have you stored up that keep you distracted from your God-given mission? How may God be inviting you to place these treasures in the right order today?

“For everyone who does wicked things hates the light and does not come toward the light, so that his works might not be exposed. But whoever lives the truth comes to the light, so that his works may be clearly seen as done in God.” // John 3:20-21 We’d been struggling in our marriage. I wrote it off as “we’re just busy.” Yet as time passed, it became evident that my excuses were simply a way to avoid the truth. It had already been a very “Lenty” Lent, you could say: our marriage felt particularly arduous and taxing. As I sat in our prayer space reading Be Transformed by Dr. Bob Schuchts that morning, I felt a nudge to share with my husband that I felt my deepest “core wound” was fear and that, according to the book, the Sacrament that would heal that wound was the Eucharist. It was God’s grace alone that led the rest of our conversation. My husband offered on his own that his deepest core wound was shame and asked if there was anything in the book on shame. There was a whole chapter dedicated to shame, in fact. The Sacrament that helped heal that wound was Confession. As I sat in the chair next to him, I wondered what would come next. Bring to light what You desire to, God, I prayed silently. He put the book down, and with tears in his eyes, shared with me about his ongoing struggle with pornography. The light of it all was blinding. I’d—in some way—known the truth all along but was too afraid to face it. It was easier to stay in the dark because the light would undoubtedly expose what I did not want to see. It was easier to avoid the hard conversations than it was to face the work it would take to heal. That morning was a pivotal point in our marriage. We’ve learned, over time, that marriage is meant to both expose our wounds and heal them, and we cannot do this without God. Today’s Gospel (see John 3:16-21) reminds us that we are created to live in Light Himself. It reminds us that God does not expose simply to reveal our wrongs, but reveals in order to redeem our lives. How is God inviting you into His light today? How is He calling you out of fear and shame and into freedom and hope?

Lent starts February 14, and so does the RESCUED Blessed is She Lent devotional. This year, you’ll be receiving an excerpt from the Lent devotional every day in your inbox (in lieu of our regular daily devo). We want to pray with one heart and one mind as the BIS sisterhood. If you prefer to have the book, purchase the 2024 Blessed is She Lent devotional RESCUED right here. Right upon purchase, you’ll receive a link to come into the free Blessed is She app to walk through the Lenten season with us in daily live prayer, small groups, and more. Together let’s look to the Lamb of God who came to rescue each one of us.   The Pharisees came forward and began to argue with Jesus, seeking from him a sign from heaven to test him. He sighed from the depth of his spirit and said, "Why does this generation seek a sign?” // Mark 8:11-12 I’ve been a Pharisee. Sometimes, I still am. I enter into the day focused on my list of to-dos and in a spirit of I can do this on my own. It isn't before long that I plead with Jesus to come to me, to show me a sign that He’s with me. To either ease my load or send help. I crumble into a state of near despair as I march on with one fist in the air, clutching my list. The laundry, the dishes, another snack for my daughter. In the midst of this monotony, His Spirit meets my own. I’ve been here with you all along, I sense Him gently say. I am here with you, in all of the mundane. I am here with you, do you see? I go with you, I stand beside you, I accompany you as you go about this day. It is not a sign you seek—it is Me. May I remain here with you? May I enter into your activity and provide the peace you so desperately desire? May I show you that this list is not the way, but it is I Who Am. Will you loosen your grip on all that was “supposed” to be and look at Me? I begin to see with clarity the help He’s extending to me.  It is Himself. Immediately, I refocus. I lay down my list and pause. I breathe. It is in this stillness that He pours the fruits of His Spirit into me—that I may carry my daily load with love, joy, kindness, peace, patience, and gratitude. My day-to-day includes monotony, yes, but He helps me see each demand as pure gift. And there are signs around me, just not those I’d expect—the laundry, the dishes, and the little hand that reaches high to hold my own—reminding me that this is where He needs me. I reorient my heart beside His and carry on as He accompanies me.  Thank you, Jesus, for this perspective shift; please help me love as You do today.

Jesus decided to go to Galilee, and he found Philip. And Jesus said to him, “Follow me.” // John 1:43 Just imagine Jesus traveling to Galilee. He walks miles with one pressing intention: to find Philip. As He approaches the region, His attention remains on one person alone: Philip. His eyes scan various groups of people looking for Philip in particular. His steps, though, continue forward one by one—it is Philip He longs to find. Jesus turns a corner and there Philip stands, chatting with a group of people that surround him. As if he knew, Philip's gaze turns and focuses on Jesus. Their eyes meet. "Follow me," Jesus says as He gently extends His arms. We know that Philip becomes an Apostle of Jesus. We know that after this encounter with Jesus, Philip finds Nathaniel and shares that Jesus has come. But what, in your mind's eye, is Philip's immediate response as Jesus calls him? Does he hesitate and look around for approval? Does he run directly into Jesus' open arms? Is he excited? Nervous? Had he been eagerly waiting to be found? Imagine Jesus comes to find you. Reread the paragraphs above, but put your name in place of Philip’s. Do you sense His presence but avoid it at all costs? Do you run into His open arms without a second thought? Do you hear those words echo within your own heart?  "Follow Me." What is your response? It's easy to read stories like Philip's and forget that Jesus speaks the same words to us today too.  Perhaps Jesus is calling you to frequent Mass more regularly—to be found in His presence and welcomed into His intimacy. Perhaps Jesus is calling you to start the Bible study you've been praying to find, but haven't yet. Perhaps Jesus is calling you to be still enough to see Him amidst the hustle and bustle of your day. Perhaps Jesus is calling you to follow Him more sincerely at work or at school, without hesitation. Where do you sense Him calling you? How will you respond to His invitation today?

“As a shepherd tends his flock when he finds himself among his scattered sheep, so will I tend my sheep.” // Ezekiel 34:12 I’ll admit I spent thirty minutes researching sheep for this devotional. "What are the characteristics of sheep?" I typed into Google. Turns out that sheep are not simply passive, unintelligent, or timid creatures, but incredible animals with their own complex personalities. Sheep have the ability to distinguish and recognize the voice and face of their shepherd. They are also “flock” animals that thrive in community. They can feel emotions, such as optimism and pessimism, based on their experiences . . . the list goes on. It’s wild, sometimes, how a simple (and silly, so it seemed) Google search can open our eyes, hearts and minds to a deeper understanding of who God is as our own Shepherd. We are His sheep—individual, unique, complex. We can distinguish and recognize His promptings in our lives when we take the time to rest in His holy presence. We seek relationships with those around us as we press on in the direction He desires us to go. But who is the Shepherd? He is Christ the King, the sacrificial Lamb of God. He understands what it means to be one of the flock, to be obedient to the Father, to follow the path set before Him, to trust that all that He encounters is ultimately for the Glory of God. He went before us as an example, the first Lamb among us. And He goes before us now, as our Shepherd—the one in whom we can follow with all of who we are, believing with confidence that where He leads, He leads to care for us and provide for us, and see to it that we are always found and brought back to the fold. Jesus, thank You for loving me and leading me as Your little sheep. Thank You for being a Shepherd who deeply knows and understands all of my intricacies. Be with me today as Christ my King and lead me where You will.  

I consider that the sufferings of this present time are as nothing compared with the glory to be revealed for us. // Romans 8:18 “You’re perimenopausal,” the doctor said as she looked me directly in the eyes. And as a thirty-one-year-old receiving those words, my heart sunk. Shock and despair are the best ways to describe the emotions that circulated within. Chronic pain was my story—sometimes debilitating, sometimes manageable, always exhausting. It was easy to feel hopeless, confused, frustrated with the body that God entrusted me with, and frequently lost for answers. Yet within the physical suffering and mental anguish, I continued to come back to these verses from our First Reading today (see Romans 8:18-35). “Redemption of our bodies” took on a whole new meaning for me. I realized in prayer that we are not simply bodies with souls, but that we are souls with bodies. And that all of the suffering we experience here on earth—when we allow it to—can become the foundation for supernatural joy and gratitude. With this understanding, my bitterness, frustration, and despair began to be replaced with the desire to learn from my suffering while experiencing it and the knowledge that God walked with me through every moment of suffering. He was not simply a spectator on the sidelines, but a teammate alongside me. When it felt as if I could find nothing to cling to, He stood firm. God answered my prayers not by taking all of my suffering away, but by turning my hopelessness into hope—not based on what my body could or could not do—but based on the glory He revealed to me along the way. He constantly reminded me of the strength He created me for, even amidst my weakness. So today, may we trust that He is for us and never against us. May we surrender our sufferings to His care and know that He cares deeply for us too. May we freely hope in the glory that is to be revealed to us, because He is a God that never withholds what we need.

Owe nothing to anyone, except to love one another; for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law. // Romans 13:8 You’ve GOT to be kidding me. I thought silently to myself. I could feel the inner groanings and grumblings begin to make their sneaky appearance. If she would just LET me in, we could sort all of this out . . . ! The thoughts kept coming. Thoughts of judgment. Thoughts of: If she would just . . .  Thoughts of duty and responsibility continued to toss and turn in my mind and heart—each thought reflecting my eagerness to try and “fix” instead of focus on the Lord, first. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, more like the millionth. Years had gone by before I’d exhausted myself. I’d tried so hard to lend the resources, share words of wisdom, and offer advice. And though my actions were meant to serve, they ultimately did more harm than good. And out of sheer exhaustion, I found myself finally asking Jesus to help me love her instead of praying for ways to help “fix” her. It was a transformative moment for me because I realized that love DOES help all those on whom it lands—whether seen or not. And when help is first ordered behind the intention to love, all else falls into place. Today’s First Reading (see Romans 13:8-10) reminds us to love, and love well. Not from a place of wanting to fix the people in our lives, but to love them with hearts wide open—meeting them exactly where they are without pushing on them our own perceptions, expectations, or hopes for them. It is a hard task, absolutely. But when we are open to it, the grace to love permeates our perceptions and allows us to see the person in front of us as God desires us to see them—as a person to love and love well.  Trust, today, that Jesus will do the rest in His own time.

Take courage, sister. There is nothing to fear. I can easily think of experiences in my life in which I stood on the brink of “the next step” in life. Graduating from high school and deciding where to go for college. Graduating from college and going on to serve in ministry. Leaving ministry to attend law school. Graduating from law school to pursue all things health and fitness. Getting married. Moving to a different state. The list goes on. There is always a “next step” as we live each day, isn’t there? And most often, it seems, the next step requires courage—a movement of the heart towards God. The "next step" almost always requires us to actively rebuke fear and live in deep faith. In today’s Gospel (Luke 9:18-22), we find Jesus praying in solitude while the disciples were with Him. Even Jesus took time away from the tasks and events of the day-to-day to intentionally step into the presence of Our Father. It’s humbling to realize, isn’t it? That Jesus Himself set time aside to meet His Father in conversation in order to go forth with “the next step.” Today's readings remind me of a few things in particular: 1) If Jesus prayed, I must too. Not only to know the Heart of the Father and His love for me, but also to receive the grace I need to be courageous always. 2) I have nothing to fear as I take each new step He calls me to. Grace is always here to embrace. 3) Even when I face suffering or challenges and obstacles in this life, I can rest assured that God wastes nothing. Each "next step" serves a purpose for my greater good and His greater glory. Sister, take courage. Set time aside today to enter into the presence of our Heavenly Father. Ask Him with bold faith to pour His Spirit upon you so that you may take the next step—whatever it may be—with confidence knowing that His Spirit is your guide! [bctt tweet="Set time aside today to enter into the presence of our Heavenly Father. // Shalini Blubaugh " username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

Wrecked is how I felt at the time. We’d been friends for the better part of our lives, but suddenly it felt as if finding forgiveness and reconciliation in the relationship were like trying to find a unicorn. In today’s Gospel (Matthew 18:15-20), we hear Jesus speaking to His disciples about faults had between brothers. We’ve all faced this, haven’t we? The discomfort that comes with addressing hard things in relationship—maybe with life-long friends, family members, co-workers, or others. As I get older, I recognize the beauty in these verses. The need for honest communication is so evident, regardless of whether or not it is received as we desire it to be. And what’s more? “If he refuses to listen . . . then treat him as you would a Gentile or tax collector” (Matthew 18:17). For as direct as this verse feels, it’s brought immense freedom to my own life. As I prayed through my relationship with my friend, a good priest friend shared this with me, “We are always called to forgive another. We are not always called to reconcile a relationship, though.” For as devastating as that sounded at the time, I can look back now and see exactly how Jesus was softening my heart and making space for new and beautiful friendships that were to come. I am years removed from losing contact from my old friend, but my heart rejoices knowing that we shared incredible joy while we were in each other’s lives. Relationships can be trying and hard. And yet, we can be filled with His Spirit and move in the direction He calls us knowing that we have forgiven well even if we are no longer in touch. Are you currently struggling with a certain relationship in your life? Offer authentic forgiveness from the depths of your heart and hand that person over to Jesus—let Him be your peace! [bctt tweet="Offer authentic forgiveness. // Shalini Blubaugh" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

I love today's Gospel, Mark 6:7-13 because it's a beautiful illustration of just how radical living out our faith is. I also love this Gospel because, for as easy as it can be to feel discouraged—um, I can't just pack up and leave everything behind, God—in my own little way, in my own little corner, radically living out my faith might look different and that's okay. It is enough! I wake early thinking my needs for the day are: coffee, time for me to sit and be in quiet prayer, and time to get everything done. I carry with me expectation, inflexibility, and a "I've got this on my own!" attitude. Jokes on me because instead I hear our little one stir. And immediately, I am reminded that my true need for the day is to simply love and serve well on the journey He's called me to. I let down my sack of expectation and inflexibility and say a quick prayer, "Jesus, equip me for this day. With open hands and heart, I welcome Your Holy Spirit that will guide me along the way. With an open mind, may You remain with me through whatever comes today." Sometimes it is in our littleness that we live out radically transformative faith. Take nothing for the journey. Uncomfortable, isn't it? And yet, His promise is true: He will provide for our needs. What are you carrying in these moments that you can let down? Ask Jesus to fill you, instead, with the grace you need to conquer this day beside Him. He is with you. You and He make two. Thank You, Jesus, for the gift of a new day! [bctt tweet="He is with you. // Shalini Blubaugh" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

I was in Kindergarten, and my favorite day of the week had arrived: Sunday. Not only would there be donuts and orange juice after Mass, but I'd also get to see my friends at Sunday school. And my favorite part of Sunday school? Singing "This little light of mine" with my Sunday school teacher and friends. Even as a Kindergartner, I knew there was something really special about the way God had created me. I wanted to share it with everyone. That light we sang about—it was almost tangible back then and came so easily. And then life goes on, doesn't it? "This little light of mine" becomes a jingle we brush aside with a smirk when we hear it. We grow older, and life happens. We slip away from Him as our anchor and lose sight of who He made us to be altogether. In middle school, I was too tall. In high school, I was a nerd. In college, I was unknown. In law school, I didn't fit. Yet in His eyes, still, I was a light. And so are you. As adults, it's easy to read the Gospel for today (Matthew 5:13-16) and think to ourselves: Who am I to show up? Who am I to share my gifts? Will others think I'm boastful or prideful? We usually doubt or question our own light before we realize that the light—our light—first exists because His face has first shone on our own. May the Holy Spirit guide you to embrace the light He's placed in you and allow it to shine before others! And when you shine with the intention to glorify Him in all things, watch those around you remember their own light in Him, too. listen to today’s devotion

I find that my most stressful days tend to be the ones in which I cling to my own vision of how my day should look. A phone call here, a Zoom meeting there, the opportunity to throw a load of laundry in AND switch it over before our toddler wakes. On these "I'm in control" days, I let my peace rest in the false hope that our little one will CERTAINLY take a nap, and my day will be strategic, well planned, and perfectly executed. Yet, our girl wakes before that first load of laundry is in. I forget about a scheduled phone call and can't find the link to the other Zoom call. I'm behind and restless and feel like I'm tossed from moment to moment, not able to truly love or serve well because my vision was just that: my own. Today's Responsorial Psalm reminds me of a truth I'm working to have seared into my heart: my life is not my own. I am interruptible! And Jesus' vision of how this day should go far surpasses any vision I have for it myself. His law is perfect and refreshes my soul. His lead is trustworthy and grants me wisdom to see. Even in the midst of my perfect daily planning, do I leave room for Him to live and breathe and move in me? My best, most peaceful and joy-filled days occur when I notice Him in the busyness. When I trade in my "perfect plans" for His perfect will. By whose authority do I live in unshakeable peace? Not bothered by a change of plans or a toddler that won't nap? Jesus' authority. Jesus, be our peace today. Remind us that Your plan for us today is one You so desire to reveal. Help us to follow Your lead with docility and an eagerness that allows You, God, to be God. [bctt tweet="Lord, help us to follow Your lead. // Shalini Blubaugh" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Lord Jesus, we love You so much.