“My God, I am heartily sorry for having offended You, and nailing You to the cross by my sin . . . .” I finished my Act of Contrition, and the priest responded with the Church’s beautiful words of absolution. As I got up to leave, he stopped me and said, “Sister, it is true that Jesus offered Himself on the cross for our sins. Remember, He chose to do it. He did it because He loves you.” More often than not, when I look at the crucifix I see my sin, my failure, my rejection of His perfect love. I forget to see Christ’s love for me, for us. The love that led Him to immolation on the Cross. I let the Cross justify my self-condemnation instead of heal and free me from the bondage of sin. The reminder from that priest, though, changed that. Jesus willed, He chose, to suffer because He loves and desires to bring us to life. “Even when you were dead in transgressions . . . he brought you to life along with him, having forgiven us all our transgressions; obliterating the bond against us, he . . . removed it from our midst, nailing it to the cross” (Colossians 2:13-15). The nails pierced His flesh not because I have sinned, but because He allowed the flesh to be pierced. He nailed my sin to the Cross, so that it no longer has the power to condemn. Yes, the Cross exists because of sin, but the Cross has power because of the Divine Love of Jesus. Love that restores, heals, and transforms us into His new creation—beloved daughter. I pray today that you have eyes to see the Cross not as a tool condemning you because of the ways you’ve turned away from God, but as a sign of the unique, infinite, eternal love that God has for you. May the power of the Precious Blood of Jesus flowing from His pierced side heal, restore, and refresh you today as you embrace with confidence the truth that “[t]he Lord is compassionate toward all his works” (Responsorial Psalm). [bctt tweet="The Cross has power. // Sister Maria Fatima " username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

I’m a “doer,” always have been. I see something that needs doing, and I do it. And so, I often find myself “too busy”—even for the Lord. “I don’t have time to pray, I have to . . .” Fill in the blank, sister, we’ve all said it. The Lord calls us to prayer, but we have to do that one last thing first. Don’t get me wrong, we all have legitimate responsibilities and tasks, but, too busy for the Lord? Who do I think I am? The Lord waits, sending His Spirit, prompting my heart to come to Him—to His banquet of love—but there’s one last test to grade, load of laundry to fold, kitchen to clean, e-mail to send . . . you get the point. And, the Lord waits, calling, longing, desiring. Sometimes I hear the call, but resist because I feel unworthy of entering into His presence. I distract myself with doing because I want to make sure I am ready, that I have made myself a perfect creation before entering into relationship with the Creator. But the Lord’s invitation does not depend on my readiness or my efforts. The wedding banquet of the Lamb is prepared, and He calls those whom He wills because worthiness to sit at the table with Him does not depend on us. It is a gift only He can give. What we lack, He provides. We do not need to provide our own perfect wedding garment to enter the banquet. When we lay aside our own efforts, we allow the King to clothe us with the glory of His grace. When we stop, and allow ourselves to receive, we are made worthy to come to the feast, by His call, His love, His grace, we can say with confidence, “Here I am Lord, I come to do your will” (Responsorial Psalm). Sister, where do you need stop striving and start receiving? Hear the Lord’s call to come as you are and receive all that He desires to give, clothing you with His grace. [bctt tweet="Stop striving and start receiving. // Sister Maria Fatima @DSMMEVocations" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

Early in my religious formation, I received news that the priest who had inspired my vocation and had accompanied me in my spiritual growth throughout high school and college was withdrawing from active ministry. To say I was shattered is an understatement. I didn’t feel like a sheep without a shepherd; I felt like a sheep abandoned by her shepherd. I was left with so many questions, so many doubts, and fears about the authenticity of my own vocation. In the weeks following the news, I went through all the stages of grief and had some very raw conversations with the Lord. Each of those conversations ended with the same questions in my heart. Why did you come here? Did you enter because I called you or because he did? I came to realize who my true shepherd is. I was not a wandering sheep. I am His lamb, held in the tender arms of my Shepherd. I took refuge in the truth that even though our Lord used this priest to lead me to His will, I was responding to the voice of my Shepherd who called, and He is the only one to whom I must cling! Sister, sometimes people in our lives disappoint us, even those we count on most. Sometimes we come to rely on the people the Lord sends more than the One Who sends them. In those moments we must realize that while He sends people to represent Him, He is the only True Shepherd. While others may abandon, disappoint, or hurt us, He will never abandon or desert His lambs. In moments when you feel abandoned, betrayed, left alone, or confused, Jesus Christ the Good Shepherd never ceases to have pity on you and draw you to Himself. “The harvest is abundant but the laborers are few; so ask the master of the harvest to send out laborers for his harvest” (Matthew 9:37-38). Sister, join me today in asking the Master, in His pity, to send faithful, courageous, laborers for His harvest with perseverance to lead and guard His sheep. [bctt tweet="He will never abandon or desert His lambs. // Sister Maria Fatima " username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion  

I often find myself thinking about freedom, seeking greater freedom. At those times I turn to the gift of the Spirit dwelling within me. Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom (2 Corinthians 3:17). Where the Spirit of the Lord is, all veils are removed. Where the Spirit of the Lord is, hearts are transformed from glory to glory. Where the Spirit of the Lord is, Christ is preached, and we become slaves not to sin, hiding in shame behind the veil, but of Jesus Christ crucified. Where the Spirit of the Lord is, Christ’s light shines in our hearts, making His glory known to the world through us. Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom: Freedom from fear Freedom from shame Freedom from sin Freedom from the burdens we try to carry on our own. As we turn toward the Lord and the veil is removed (2 Corinthians 3:16), we see what has been holding us in chains, binding us. We see the sin we are turning to, the lies that have kept us from reconciling with those we love. Sister, today, look to the Lord and find the freedom offered by the Spirit within you. With unveiled heart and unveiled face, allow Him to change you so that you might be transformed from glory to glory. Show Him your chains, your scars, your wounds and let Him into your darkness! "For God who said, Let light shine out of darkness, has shone in our hearts to bring to light the knowledge of the glory of God on the face of Jesus Christ" (2 Corinthians 4:6). Sister, the glory of the Lord will dwell in our land (Responsorial Psalm), but the first land in which it dwells must be your heart. Ask yourself, today, “Do I allow my heart to be a place where freedom reigns and the glory of the Lord dwells?” [bctt tweet="Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. // Sister Maria Fatima @DSMMEVocations" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion  

People tend to have a lot of opinions about what it means to be a middle child. As “Twin A,” four years younger than my Sister and one minute older than my brother, I can assure you, it's a thing! Apparently nature doesn’t care about time, because those mere seconds somehow gifted me with the glorious title of “middle child” and all that goes along with it. Keep the peace. Make sure everyone gets along. Don’t rock the boat! Make sure everyone has what they need! Don’t ask for too much. Let everyone else go first. Don’t be a burden. None of these were ever spoken. It’s almost as if they were written into my nature to the extent that, as a toddler, I dislocated my shoulder and just stopped using my arm. When my mom noticed, she put me in the bath, got me into PJs, into my coat and to the ER only to have me sitting on the exam table singing Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes with the nurses. Apparently all the getting me ready to go relocated my shoulder, and it all turned out just fine. Today, Jesus promises, “Whatever you ask the Father in my name he will give you” (John 16:23). Asking for what we need can be a challenge if, like me, you try to do it all yourself because you don’t want to bother anyone else . . . even God. Sister, are we willing to lay our hearts bare before our Heavenly Father, telling Him our deepest desires? It isn’t that He doesn’t know them already, but that He wants us to trust Him that much, and to trust the promise of His Son. “Ask and you will receive, so that your joy may be complete . . . . For the Father himself loves you" (John 16:24, 27). Today, be willing to ask in Jesus’s name whatever you need that “your joy may be complete” (John 16:24), and know that the “Lord is King of all the Earth” (Responsorial Psalm). Throw Him the reins and let Him reign in your Heart! Sister, how can you let the Father love you today by asking for what you need? [bctt tweet="Let Him reign in your Heart. // Sister Maria Fatima @DSMMEVocations" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Jesus, help me to ask You, in Your name.  

I remember sitting across from the priest. I had just unloaded some pretty heavy stuff. He looked at me with gentleness, reached over, and flopped his Magnificat open to the day’s Gospel, John 3:16-21. “How do you feel about this passage?” I looked back at him, wrinkled my nose, and smirked a little, “Um . . . yeah . . . I’m not a fan.” You see, I know God loves me, I know He forgives me when I repent, and I know He desires me to be with Him forever in Heaven. But sometimes things get lost in translation between the knowing in my head and the believing in my heart. Then, I end up in a place of self-condemnation, overwhelmed by my sins, faults, and failings. In those moments when I find myself preferring darkness to light (John 3:19), I need to turn toward The Light to expose the lies in my heart. I need to recognize that the darkness of my self-condemnation comes from believing in myself instead of the true God Who “did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through Him” (John 3:17). Sister, as we bask in the light of the Lord’s Resurrection, if you find yourself lost in the darkness, in the lies that say your past, your sins, your faults define you, “Look to him that you may be radiant with joy, and your faces may not blush with shame” (Responsorial Psalm). Live in the truth that “whoever believes in Him will not be condemned” (John 3:18). "God so loved the world that he gave his only-begotten Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life" (John 3:16). Sister, where does darkness need to be exposed in your heart today? Where does the light of the Resurrection need to conquer the lies and enable you to live the truth? listen to today’s devotion [bctt tweet="Bask in the light of the Lord’s Resurrection. // Sister Maria Fatima of @dsmmevocations" username="blessedisshe__"] Lord Jesus, illuminate my heart and scatter the darkness.  

Growing up, it was the most natural thing in the world that my dad’s first stop in the morning paper wasn’t the front page or sports section, but the obituaries. My siblings and I still joke that there must be some unwritten “code” in Portuguese culture that instructs one to attend a wake or funeral even if one’s only connection to the deceased is that you knew their college roommate’s third cousin’s dog walker’s friend’s aunt. It may sound strange, but my grandfather was an ardent wake and funeral attendee, and I guess it rubbed off on my dad. Apparently it rubbed off on me, too. From an early age, attending wakes and funerals was a routine part of life. It wasn’t until high school, at the wake and funeral of a friend’s grandfather, his only classmate there, that I thought, “Maybe not everyone is as comfortable with death as I am . . . .” Don’t get me wrong, I still have “Martha Moments” echoing the complaint, “If you had been here Lord . . .” (John 11:21), when it seems death wasn’t fair. A friend’s eighteen-month-old son drowned in the family pool. My grandfather was killed by a drunk driver. A friend received two terminal pre-natal diagnosis. She carried her girls to term, and had just hours with them before having to give them back to God. At those moments, you could say I had some “Martha like” words for the Lord. But His response is always the same. “I am the Resurrection and the Life, whoever believes in me, even if he dies will live”(John 11:25). By His grace, I’ve found the strength to echo Martha’s faith, rather than her complaint. “I have come to believe that you are the Christ the Son of God, the one who is coming into the world” (John 11:27) and those of the psalmist, “I trust in the Lord, my soul trusts in his word . . . for with you there is mercy and fullness of redemption” (Psalm 130:5,7). While illness, suffering, and tragedy, may end in death, the Lord’s mercy transforms death. He makes it “for the glory of God, that the Son of God may be glorified through it” (John 11:4). *Scrutiny Year A Readings listen to today’s devotion [bctt tweet="The Lord’s mercy transforms death. // Sister Maria Fatima " username="blessedisshe__"] Take the time to sit with today's Gospel again.  

I have a confession to make. I’ve never really been “good” at Lent. In third grade, my CCD teacher asked us to share what we were giving up for Lent. My response? Homework. Let’s just say that didn’t go over very well. I don’t remember what I “gave up” that year, or most of the subsequent years. In college I gave up meat, and did a pretty good job of it, too, if I do say so myself. We won’t talk about what happened after Lent when, during the Easter Octave, I consumed my weight in hamburgers! Suffice it to say, my Lenten fasting and penances were the type that would likely have earned the rebuke, “Is this the manner of fasting that I wish, of keeping a day of penance . . . do you call this a fast?” (Isaiah 58:5) I was missing the point. I chose penances to test my own will power rather than make room for the Lord. I wanted to prove something to myself and to others rather than offer a humble contrite heart (Psalm 51:17). The problem with Lenten penance was seeing the sacrifice as an end, rather than the means to a new, deeper, relationship with Christ. When we feel the emptiness left by our fasts, do we run to the Lord or reach to something, or someone else, to fill the void? My dear sister in Christ, as Lent begins, let us hear the voice of the Bridegroom calling. Wherever it is that Our Lord is calling to your heart, empty it into His hands and allow His love to fill the emptiness. The Bridegroom has been taken away, it is time to fast (Matthew 9:15), but He will return again. So if you find yourself reaching out to that “thing” you gave up or struggling to stick to an extra prayer practice, do not be afraid to return to Him and make your offering again, as we say with the psalmist, “my sacrifice is a contrite spirit; a heart contrite and humbled, O God, you will not spurn” (Psalm 51:17). [bctt tweet="Allow His love to fill the emptiness. // Sister Maria Fatima @DSMMEVocations" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion How is the Bridegroom calling in your heart? Take time before the Blessed Sacrament this week.  

When I was a little girl, I was afraid of a lot—being alone, strangers, the dark, and, if family pictures are to be believed, Santa Claus and snowmen. Above all, though, I hated thunderstorms. If one was forecast, I would go to bed early so I could sleep through it. If I didn’t, the first sound of thunder or flash of lightning signaled a sleepless night of fear for me. Far from Saint Paul’s desire for the Corinthians (1 Corinthians 7:32-35) in today’s reading, my heart was not free from anxieties, whether the storm was in nature or, as time went on, in my heart. I remained chronically afraid of thunderstorms, and a growing number of other, less tangible things in life, until the summer before I started college. While attending a youth retreat, there was a Eucharistic Procession. We were under a giant tent in the middle of an empty field. As the Blessed Sacrament processed around the tent, a severe thunderstorm raged around us. Rain pelted the roof of the tent, thunder drowned out the sound of our praise and worship, and the lightning brightened the night sky. But my heart . . . . My heart was at peace, and I had eyes only for the Lord. That night, I recognized the authority of Jesus and embraced the power of that authority to drive out the fears, anxieties, and worries that plague us. My vulnerability in the face of that raging storm was completely overshadowed by the presence of the One Whom even the seas and winds obey. What are you anxious about today, sister? Whether big or small, inside of you or outside, He invites you to offer it to His authority. Fear is never from the Lord, we must surrender it to His mercy if we wish to find freedom. Today, let us offer to Jesus the demons of our fear that He might destroy them and, “If today you hear his voice, harden not your heart” (Responsorial Psalm). [bctt tweet="Fear is never from the Lord, we must surrender it to His mercy if we wish to find freedom. // @DSMMEVocations" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Did you catch this podcast on being set free? Ask the Lord to set you free from your fears.

The Mother of God and I had some difficulties in our relationship. And, let’s face it, since she’s the sinless one, the fault lies with me. Growing up Catholic, but with little understanding of God—let alone the Blessed Virgin Mary—I had a shadowy understanding of “Our Lady.” Sure, I enjoyed weekly viewings of the classic cartoons The Day the Sun Danced and the live action The Miracle of Our Lady of Fatima—the only two television options during our post-Mass visits to my paternal grandparents’ house—and the kitschy statue on my dresser, but Mary was not real to me. In later years, as I learned more about Mary, including the fact that today’s feast celebrates Mary’s and not Jesus' conception, I was afraid to get close to this Immaculate One. Faced with her perfection, sinlessness, and immaculate purity I couldn’t handle the challenge to my sins, faults, and failings. I could never be like Mary, I was her exact opposite. Holiness was not possible if Mary was the measure. But, I had it all wrong. I was looking at myself compared to Mary, thinking I was responsible for making myself like her, that holiness was about my efforts. I was mistaken. Sanctification is about cooperating with grace, freely given to us in Christ Jesus, not our efforts at powering forward and willing it. Saint Paul reminds us today that “God chose us in [Christ] . . . to be holy . . . making us His adopted sons . . . such was His will and pleasure” (Ephesians 1:4). The best part of this “being chosen” is that we’re not on our own; Mary is with us, along with her Son, picking us up, brushing us off, and binding our wounds—because she’s our mother! Sister, our holiness is not about how we prove ourselves any more than the Immaculate Conception was Mary’s doing. God chooses us, we must cooperate with His grace in order to receive that blessing. Doing that enables us to echo Mary’s humble Fiat: “Behold the Handmaid of the Lord, be done to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38). [bctt tweet="God chooses us. // Sister Maria Fatima" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion O Mary conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee.

I wasn’t casting a net into the sea or mending my nets; I was a sophomore in college running laps at the student fitness center. I stopped mid-run and realized, “Running away from God is not cardiovascular activity!” That was my “follow me” moment. The Lord was whispering, “Follow me," but I was hightailing it in the other direction. That night I dropped my nets and six months later I was a postulant in religious life. I have to imagine that when Peter, Andrew, James, and John heard the Lord say, “Follow me” they were a bit startled. They were just going about their daily routine, and the Lord broke in and called them out of the ordinary into the extraordinary: from catching fish to catching men—fellow disciples of Jesus Christ. Sisters, the Lord is calling each one of us to follow Him in extraordinary ways through the ordinary tasks of our daily lives. As you do the dishes, He whispers, “Follow me." As you fold the laundry, drive carpool, sit through another meeting, hear Him whisper, “Follow me.” He does not ask us to drop the nets of our daily responsibilities, but to drop the fear that holds us back from following Him. He is calling us to follow Him by doing everything for love of Him. In ordinary moments, He calls you to the extraordinary through virtue, generosity, charity, and patience. So, as you’re picking up the Legos, tucking in your kids, offering a kind word, or giving extra time to a co-worker or stranger, hear His whisper, “Follow me.” It is in following Him in those little ways that we, like the Apostles, become fishers of men and preachers of the love of God (Matthew 4:19). It is through our acts of virtue and dropping the nets of our fear that His message goes out to all the earth, His words to the end of the world (Romans 10:18). [bctt tweet="He is calling us to follow Him by doing everything for love of Him. // Sister Maria Fatima" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Ask yourself today, "What nets of fear hold me back from being a true disciple of Jesus Christ?"