[W]e have the mind of Christ. // 1 Corinthians 2:16 “Come back and give a proper greeting,” my parents would call out to my brothers and me. Their words were like the tug of a resistance band holding us back from play. It is customary in our Vietnamese culture for children to fold their arms and bow to greet each person in a home upon arrival. If we folded our arms sloppily or if our bow was half-hearted or not deep enough, Mom or Dad would correct, “Khoanh tay lại.” This was certainly tedious for us as kids, and I never guessed how my parents' efforts would help me to grow steady in facing the world.  My parents’ unwavering gazes taught us the profound value of respectfully addressing each person, especially elders our grandparents' age.  Years ago, when I found myself living across the country from my parents, I realized I had formed the habit of slightly bowing my head out of respect as I greeted people in acknowledgement of their God-given inherent goodness and their relationship to me. As I examined my heart to see if this was a custom I wanted to keep, I realized how I relish reverence. In the same way that we learn healthy posture to be musicians and athletes, it is deeply good for us to become disciplined in doing good and giving God just praise. In the same way that I feel differently when I treat people with due reverence, it is healing and fitting for me to embrace the beauty of discipline in worshiping Almighty God and orienting my entire being toward Him, especially in the Sacred Liturgy. In the First Reading, Saint Paul says because we do not have the spirit of the world but the Spirit of God, we do not speak by human wisdom “but with words taught by the Spirit, describing spiritual realities in spiritual terms” (1 Corinthians 2:13).  Sister, may we allow our gracious Lord to draw us into the beauty of discipline, which is essential for authentic discipleship. May Jesus teach us the sweetness of His Way, for all authority and power belong to Him (see Luke 4:36).

The Lord is my Shepherd; there is nothing I lack. //  Psalm 23:1 My companion and I arrived on mission to begin a branch house for my religious community. We drove a donated car across five states to an old rectory, set our bags down, greeted a few parish workers, and cleaned into the night. This was adventure enough, but when we went to rest, I realized we didn’t have pillowcases, sheets, or hangers, for that matter.  The next day, my phone lit up with an unknown number three times. I picked up on the fourth, not knowing the person on the other end would change my heart.  Miss Kelly’s voice was seasoned and tenacious, “Honey, I don’t have much, but I have more than you do. I know what it means to move with nothing. So, tell me what you need. I’ve got a pen and paper.” Stunned by her generosity, I struggled to keep up with her rapid-fire questions.  “Do you need paper towels?” “Yes.”  “Do you need hand soap?” “Yes.” And on she went.  Miss Kelly finally slowed down when I volunteered that we could use hangers. “Well, good. Alright then, Sister. Anything else?”  That day, I learned so much about love.  Over time, I learned how Miss Kelly fought for faith through poverty and her husband’s death. Years later, we finally visited her home and saw she was poor. I marveled at her giant heart. Over the course of our friendship, I grew in reverence for how she allowed God to expand her heart over decades. She embodied compassion—to suffer with. Her love for the Cross made her undaunted in befriending and helping us in those early months when everything was new.  Miss Kelly had a shepherd’s heart, which the Lord requires of those who lead His flock in the First Reading (see Ezekiel 34:8). She knew how to bear the heat of the day like the workers in the Gospel (see Matthew 20:12). She showed me how to love from my littleness and faithfully shepherd those He puts under my care. May the Lord bless us and teach us to live our vocations with His Shepherd’s Heart.

“There is need of only one thing.” // Luke 10:42  I don’t know about you, but I can sometimes completely relate to Martha, who heard our Lord Jesus say to her, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and worried about many things” (Luke 10:41). Under the intense pressure of full-time school, work in my community’s mission, and other responsibilities, I had to learn how to optimize my waking hours and organize my energy. This was all so I could still have time for prayer and other basic things. Although I would rush into prayer and often promptly fall asleep because I was worn out by the day, I still went because He was and is the one thing—“There is need of only one thing” (Luke 10:42).  Sister, I venture to guess He is also your “one thing.” That’s probably why you are reading this devotion and participating in this beautiful, amazing community of women!  Yet why do you and I still sometimes find ourselves in the absolute throes of anxiety? What is the remedy? Repenting and turning to God for mercy. Jesus told Saint Faustina, “Do not lose heart in coming to me for pardon. For I am always ready to forgive you. As often as you beg for it, you glorify My mercy” (Diary, 1488).  Sister, may we never tire of returning to our place of refuge—His Most Sacred Heart. Just as Jesus found refuge and a place of rest in the home of Bethany with His closest friends (Mary, Martha, and Lazurus) whose feast we celebrate today, so too, Jesus wants us to go to Him and rest.  It can be hard to humble ourselves like this again and again. God knows this. This is why He gave us an overflowing treasury of help through our Holy Mother the Church. Spend some time today with the Lord, your one thing, today. Avail yourself of the Sacrament of Confession. Dwell with Him in His Eucharistic presence. Let His loving presence within your soul from the moment of your Baptism fill your whole being. Ask Him to be your one thing again.

He went down with them and came to Nazareth, and was obedient to them; and his mother kept all these things in her heart. // Luke 2:51 I was suddenly overwhelmed by excitement and praise as I prepared to log on to a video call. The thought of how I would introduce each person left me in awe of how profoundly privileged I felt to know and love them. As I treasured and praised God for each of them, I also smiled and pondered how mysterious it was that their beauty was hidden from them like a huge secret in plain sight.  I felt alive, awake, and buoyant as I introduced each of these friends. For a second, I glimpsed a fraction of the love, excitement, and joy our Blessed Mother and all of Heaven have in looking at each of us dear sisters in Christ! This reminded me of a priest I deeply admire, explaining that we are at our best when we are other-centered and not turned in on ourselves. He said this is a fundamental Marian principle for our daily lives. It’s true. Loving and introducing them to each other took all of my attention. Today, as we celebrate the Feast of the Immaculate Heart of the Blessed Virgin Mary, we can also think of how her whole life was devoted to the service of the Lord, from before her motherhood, throughout the life of her Divine Son, and now as our own dearest Mother. Sister, each of us would please our Lady so much on her feast day today if we took fifteen minutes to quietly ask her to show us how her maternal heart sees us. Ponder her gaze. Consider how our God, Who freed the Blessed Mother from Original Sin, is breathing you and me into life right now.  Can you receive it? Can you receive your life as a gift so as to make your whole life a gift to the glory of God and for others? This is the secret of all happiness and peace. We can learn how to give our lives from her. She will teach us to ponder these things in our hearts (see Luke 2:51). May you know and feel her patient and perfectly attentive love today and every day of your life.

Samuel grew up, and the LORD was with him, not permitting any word of his to be without effect. // 1 Samuel 3:19 Several years ago, I ran full force into being a spiritual director for a retreat for college students at a Newman Center in Texas. Life was so full that I regretted adding this week-long retreat to my schedule but I offered my exhaustion to the Lord. I will never forget my first directee bounding into the little choir room where I was meeting people. She was a junior and had an exuberant personality. We prayed, and she promptly started sharing. I caught my breath as she shared. I could feel the Lord so vividly present to her and sensed her desire to know and love Him. All of my exhaustion dissipated like clouds that the wind had deftly whisked away. I was awakened. I was like the priest Eli in the First Reading (see 1 Samuel 3:1-10, 19-20). He sounds tired and grumpy. You can almost hear him saying, “I’m tired. Stop waking me up, you youngster.” But the Lord blesses precisely this kind of youthful love of God. He yearns for it. He yearns for hearts that seek Him and have the audacity to respond, to ask questions, to ask for big things, and to say, “Here I am.” That’s why God blessed Samuel so much that his every word was blessed. I felt this desire for the young woman before me during that retreat and for other students I have met over the years. I want them to be so blessed. I desire that the abundance of God’s gifts overflows in them, so much so that their every word gives fruitful glory to God. That’s probably a tiny sliver of what you mothers must feel when you think of your children and grandchildren. May it be so. May all of our children and spiritual children be so blessed as to flourish and to become Saints. And that is what I want for you, dear sister: to have a renewed passionate, youthful love of the Lord and a greater willingness to jump up and serve Him. May all of our words spoken in His service be blessed! Amen!

“I tell you, to everyone who has, more will be given, but from the one who has not, even what he has will be taken away.” // Luke 19:26 I felt shocked walking into the grocery store near our family home. Nothing had changed in the store, but I was different.  I was returning from a weeklong service trip with the parish youth group. We had gone across the border to Agua Prieta, Mexico. At fifteen, I soaked up the enthusiasm of the leaders and other members of the youth group. I marveled at how well they knew the people we stayed with, the children at the orphanages, and the people running the facilities. The testimony of their love for these people, each other, and God still brings a smile to my face, even as I think of those long days and hard work. I can still see some of the cherub-faced children who swarmed our vans when we came to deliver food and clothing. Amid such rugged poverty, people there lived with ready smiles, gratitude, and blessings.  A spontaneous prayer arose from the core of my heart as I walked under those familiar fluorescent lights in the grocery store: Lord, help me to always praise You for what I have. My parents, Vietnamese refugees, often told us to thank God for what we have, and to be ready to be content with little. Mom reminded us that this is all we need: God, a bag of rice, a roof, and each other. Everything else is extra.  But how often do I catch myself striving? How often do I grasp at more, even in relationship with God? I’ve always been haunted by the words from the Gospel today, “[T]o everyone who has, more will be given, but from the one who has not, even what he has will be taken away” (Luke 19:26). Our Lord teaches us the flipside of the Gospel logic of multiplication today. God can multiply and wants to do so abundantly, but we have to surrender. May we surrender generously.

We praise you, O God, we acclaim you as Lord; the glorious company of Apostles praise you. // Te Deum (Alleluia verse of the day) I recently moved to a deeply Catholic farming community. Being born and raised in a big city and attending public schools through high school, part of me always longed to know my neighbors by name and to have conversations where our encounters with Jesus in the Sacraments are an integrated source of life. I never imagined a place like this could actually exist, especially in today’s secularized society, but here it is.  And without fail the people in my new community are evangelizing me with their authentic goodness and valor.  Being evangelized by another person’s goodness, or in my case by many good people, is a startling thing. I am confronted by the fact that I had let my hope fade and become jaded. I had allowed the toxic air of skepticism to silently invade my thoughts. So I am grateful for this humble pie and wakeup call. Because it is better to live our lives in the truth of Christ, where the hope of the Gospel shines brighter and more enduringly, as Saint Paul says in the First Reading: “[Y]ou are fellow citizens with the holy ones and members of the household of God” (Ephesians 2:19). It is hard in our day to hold on to the light of faith. So many things vie for our attention. They grasp and try to pull down my hope with ever-new shocking “truths” about what is “really going on.”  But in the end, like Saints Simon and Jude, whom we celebrate today, I only have a finite number of days to live, and I am ridiculously blessed to have received the gift of faith. I pray that like them and the other Apostles whom Jesus names in the Gospel today—I can live ever closer to the heart of God and sing with all the Church Triumphant, Suffering, and Militant: “We praise you, O God, we acclaim you as Lord; the glorious company of Apostles praise you.”

"I give you praise, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned you have revealed them to the childlike.” // Luke 10:21 It was all hands on deck when I first moved back home to take care of my mom. My brother and his amazing wife were living with Mom temporarily. I was more than happy and honored to be extra hands and act as Mom’s cheerleader, cook, beautician, housekeeper, driver, gardener. Mom was dealing with grief over my father’s sudden death and recovering from two surgeries and a long stay at the hospital. The days were intensely packed. And because Mom needed so much care, I hardly noticed that I did not have a rhythm. I prayed at irregular hours, and we went to Mass at different times according to appointments and other needs. Although I welcomed the change of pace as a learning experience, I eventually somehow realized that waking up a few hours before Mom so I could pray set the whole day on a solidly even pace. I grew to cherish these still hours in the morning before the sun came up. The silence was free from pings of texts, whirring cars, and there was almost no threat of a phone call. Advent is the Lord’s gift to us. This holy season we have just begun is like the early hours of a great day. As we look ahead to celebrating the birth of Christ, Our Love and Lord, we can imagine the tiny light peeking over the horizon and gently starting to pervade the sky. Sister, the King of Mercy is coming. He is coming for your heart. He is coming to bless you in new and abundant ways. He wants your blessings to overflow to your family and community. The key is to become little. In this holy season, we contemplate how God Himself chose to become a little Baby, and Jesus prays in the Gospel today, “I give you praise, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned you have revealed them to the childlike” (Luke 10:21). May Our Blessed Lady help us to enter Advent with setting our fears and pride aside to step anew into littleness—life in Christ. [bctt tweet="Step anew into littleness. // @srmariakim" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

“I have come to set the earth on fire, and how I wish it were already blazing!” // Luke 12:49 The Readings today are vivid in promise and imagery. Saint Paul’s prayer bespeaks the promise: “May [God] grant you in accord with the riches of his glory to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in the inner self” (Ephesians 3:16). And Jesus expresses His longing love in vivid imagery, “I have come to set the earth on fire, and how I wish it were already blazing!” (Luke 12:49). But I wonder if sometimes we might want a break from the absolute nature and intensity of the Gospel. We may especially want a break when Jesus says He brings tension and outright conflict: “From now on a household of five will be divided, three against two and two against three” (Luke 12:52). Many of us have what people call the “nesting instinct.” I can hardly help it. Other Sisters have teasingly called me ‘grandma.’ I don’t mind because it’s true that I love being in and creating spaces where people feel nurtured and have what they need. I relish helping people feel loved, appreciated, and honored. In practice, though, I’ve had to do a lot of reflection and growth precisely here. What does it mean to create a hospitable, loving environment when truth-in-charity means having a tough conversation to establish better boundaries? When I hear Saint Paul reference Jesus’ promise to renew and strengthen our innermost self, I think of how this impacts my closest relationships. Those are the people who will feel the impact most directly when I allow the Lord to help me conform my heart to His way of mercy and love. This kind of transformation can indeed create the precise division and conflict I naturally avoid. So what is the counterbalance? I don’t think there is one. The call is to lean in. Sister, each time we lean into Christ Who is Truth, we quickly rediscover the intense imperative to listen and live in humility. The more we allow ourselves to be evangelized by the beauty of the Gospel, the more we realize how little we know and how much we need mercy. Sister, may Jesus Who is meek and humble of heart make our hearts more and more like His. [bctt tweet="Be evangelized by the beauty of the Gospel. // Sister Maria Kim Bui" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

“The greatest among you must be your servant. Whoever exalts himself will be humbled; but whoever humbles himself will be exalted.” // Matthew 23:12 Ten minutes before Mass, I knelt on the right of the center aisle eight pews from the sanctuary. My attempts at praying and placing intentions were pierced by the sound of mumbling and plastic bags rustling against a thick coat. Dragging thuds of too-heavy boots carried the mumbles and rustles closer and closer. At their pause, I glanced up to see a man looking at the empty space next to me. I asked the Lord for mercy as I tried to summon a convincing smile, moved over, and gestured for him to come and share the pew. Finding the space adequate, he bowed low to the tabernacle and started to move in. Canes, bags, and his oversized coat fit nicely and momentarily seemed to drown out the polyphonic music. A man in the next pew turned to give warm smile amid the commotion. I asked the Lord for mercy. Change my heart, O Lord. May my eyes, heart, and hands be Yours. May I know and understand that the lowly, poor, marginalized are especially beloved. Help me to see him as a brother in Christ and help him to know You love him. The Holy Spirit answered in a hurry. Joy. Compassion. Humility before the truth that my new pew-partner had a particular claim to the Lord’s Heart. In the Gospel today, the Lord is as direct and simple as we could possibly ask. He is giving a mandate or warning to discriminate and to be intolerant. He has no tolerance for doing and saying things for appearance . . . He wants our hearts. The Lord warned against the Scribes and Pharisees because they loved accolades and titles, but they were not genuine. May the Holy Spirit teach, purify, transform us evermore into citizens of the Kingdom where we call God “Father,” and may we allow Him to mold hearts in the way of humility and littleness so that the Trinity may dwell and reign in us forever. [bctt tweet="He wants our hearts. // Sister Maria Kim Bui" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

All good giving and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no alteration or shadow caused by change. // James 1:17 Our readings today give the remedy for lack of peace. We all experience a myriad of forces tugging and pushing us from different directions. This is especially true in times of crisis. I was tempted to chase myself with lists of “shoulds” in the weeks and months when my parents were seriously ill and after my dad died. But the Lord’s grace was so palpably abundant in those days especially through Our Lady and the intercession of the Saints. And I remembered that my confessor had told me that his novice master used to say, “Don’t should all over me.” The Most Holy Sacrifice of the Mass and the Most Holy Rosary were totally transformed for me in those weeks and months. They pulsated with new life and meaning. The Mass and the Rosary with the richness of Sacred Scripture and Our Lord’s True Presence were truly immovable guideposts. The waves of grief and questions threatened to disorient my heart, but there, amid another of life’s storms, I discovered that in God “there is no alteration or shadow caused by change” (James 1:17). God does not change. I am the one who needs to change. But why is it so difficult to change? The reason it is difficult to change is the same reason peace can be elusive. I don’t change or have peace because I “love” too many things. Our readings today unveil the key to transformation in Christ and how to obtain peace. Sister, may we persevere in love and fidelity in times of temptation and turmoil as Saint James encourages in the First Reading. May we experience the blessedness of those who allow themselves to be instructed by the Lord as in the Responsorial Psalm. And may we seek only the Lord Jesus and no other master as He warns in the Gospel Reading. Then we will experience the superabundant fullness of life which Our Lord promises in the Gospel Acclamation, “Whoever loves me will keep my word, says the Lord; and my Father will love him and we will come to him” (John 14:23). [bctt tweet="God does not change. // @srmariakim" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

I was recently impressed by the serene and confident gaze of an image of Our Lady. How consoling it is to think about this heroic and all-loving, ever-faithful mother. She bore the sorrows, trials, and crosses just as any woman would, and yet her gaze is steady. She sees and experiences the joys and sorrows of human hearts even now from Heaven because just as any mother rejoices and rises and bends low to be with her child, so Our Lady is with each of us. Today we celebrate as a universal church—militant, suffering, glorious—the tremendous truth of the Assumption of Our Lady, body and soul into Heaven. We offer to you, O Mary, all of our joys, gratitude, suffering, worries, hopes, fears, dreams, and our very lives. You, O Mother, are now face-to-face with God. Hear our prayers and grant us Marian hearts to follow the path you chose of total, all-consuming love of God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Teach us the way of perfect surrender—the only way to everlasting peace, joy, and love. [bctt tweet="Teach us the way of perfect surrender. // @srmariakim" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion  

We called her “Snazzy,” short for “Sister Nazzy,” short for Sister Mary Nazarene. I loved this tiny, Birkenstock-wearing sister with a walker and a smile bigger than her. Shortly after I entered the community, she made a definitive pronouncement: all the world's troubles were due to lack of love for Our Lady. I knew we would be friends. I used to say to my fellow postulants, “W.W.S.N.D.? What would Sr. Nazzy do?” Our friendship grew over years of formation and time savored together at meals. Tiny, smiley Snazzy would make everyone laugh with her whopper tales. I often would sit with her at prayer time so I could help her find the pages. And each time a sister died before her, her thick furrowed brows underscored her voice as she would complain, "Why doesn't the Lord come for me?!" The sisters thought it was endearing but she was serious. I will never forget the night I was driving home from night school when I had a sense I should go to the infirmary where the sisters were keeping vigil in Sister Mary Nazarene’s room because her dialysis had stopped working. I went in and slipped my hand under hers and said "Sister Nazzy, it's Sister Maria Kim. I'm going to pray a Rosary for you.” Her eyes were closed but she squeezed my hand when she heard the beads begin to click. As I prayed, I realized that she would probably want me to ask Jesus to come for her. So I offered my Rosary for this intention. Moments later her eyes opened wide. She looked high over my shoulder. Joy and peace washed over her face and then her entire body. When she gently closed her eyes, I was sure the Lord would come for her that night. I prayed Rosary after Rosary thinking that I might be there when Jesus and Our Lady came for her. As the hours passed, I felt she might not want me to see her die because I was a very young sister. So I asked her to pray for me, for vocations, and for all of us as I kissed her forehead goodnight. When I woke up the next morning, I felt a little peaceful, joyful presence next to my bed and I heard the words,“Only Jesus.” As my eyes filled with tears, I said in my heart, “Snazzy! You are with Jesus now!” I was so happy for her as I prepared to go to chapel and unsurprised when I saw the death notice on our chapel door. [bctt tweet="Only Jesus. // @srmariakim" username="blessedisshe__"] Find comfort and depth in the Catechism's view on death.

Heart of mine, why are you restless? You scurry about and disperse yourself in freneticism and abandon yourself to the ever-spinning gerbil wheel of attention and approval seeking. You hurry about with a polite smile for everyone but for yourself. You court the unmerciful, nagging, petty voice that tisks, “Stupid! unlovable! guilty! friendless!" The small voice with zero creativity and persistent shapeshifting. Always saying the same things in every circumstance and speaking over everyone. Busy even in the silent stillness sought in prayer. My heart, remember you have heard and experienced the Almighty and True God’s voice Whose words always ring true. He is truer than the air you breathe and surer than the ground on which you plod through your toilsome days. His voice is the voice of a Lover who hears your every desire and knows that you seek His goodness and beauty. His voice beckons you to allow Him to pervade, heal, and restore your mind, will, heart, and soul. His voice can and will bring you to and enfold you in the very center of eternal love. It is willing to find you whenever and from wherever you call. He will hear your voice when you cry out above the chaos, the noise, and you will hear His response. You hear, “Beloved, cherished, worthy daughter.” Heart of mine, when you allow yourself to abide in this voice, you discover that all things are working for your good (see Romans 8:28), transforming you to be able to receive your eternal destiny of joy, belonging, purpose, love, and peace. Do not, therefore, “sin against the Holy Spirit” (Luke 12:10) and set limits on His love by saying, “His mercy cannot reach here or there.” Remember well how Christ proved His love for you when on the Cross and in conquering death and darkness. Look for the loveliness of the hidden but most faithful ways He protects, guides, and provides for you. You are the Beloved Daughter of the King of the Universe. Let nothing separate you from His victorious reign. [bctt tweet="He is truer than the air you breathe. // @SrMariaKim" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Take in this beautiful art of Christ the Pantocrator.

My older brother loves a simple Vietnamese soup my mother makes. The soup is so seemingly uncomplicated that no restaurant would ever serve it. We had it frequently in our family, and although I liked it, I wasn’t crazy about it like my brother. After he moved out for college, my brother purposefully told my parents when he was planning on coming home, so my mom had enough time to make his favorite soup. Predictably, he devoured at least one huge bowl every time, and his absolute delight was so genuine that it was contagious. When I moved away to enter the convent, I went a full year without eating this soup, and after a couple of years, I started looking forward to this soup and my brother’s predictable enjoyment of mom’s home cooking. It was just the right balance of simple ingredients, cooked at just the right temperature, and served with just the right amount of rice. Saint Paul’s words in today’s First Reading are meant to strike a familiar cadence: “I am reminding you, brothers and sisters, of the Gospel I preached to you, which you indeed received and in which you also stand” (1 Corinthians 15:1). He wants us to be encouraged and to be grounded. He wants the Gospel to be familiar, warming our hearts much like our mother's homemade soup. The woman in today's Gospel was so lavish in her expression of love for Our Lord that it made onlookers uncomfortable and perhaps embarrassed. But Our Lord is completely in stride with her. He responds with equal abundance as He defends her and receives her love saying, “I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven; hence, she has shown great love” (Luke 7:47). Sister, may we be women who become so familiar with being loved by God and loving others that it becomes a part of our bones. May this experience of love ground us so that tasting God's goodness—especially at the Sacred Liturgy—we will always remember and understand that we are infinitely, tenderly loved every second of every day. listen to today’s devotion [bctt tweet="He wants us to be encouraged and to be grounded. // @SrMariaKim" username="blessedisshe__"] Let's pray the Act of Love today.

When I was first coming back to the faith, I was almost incredulous at the goodness and kindness of the people I was meeting in the Church. I was particularly confused and hopeless at the time. Of course, I would not have expressed it so explicitly, but my obligations in family and school all seemed rather arbitrary, dependent only on people’s preferences. My worldview and the worldview of those around me seemed not rooted in any constant truth. I went through the motions of life. I was obedient for fear of negative consequences, but I had no decipherable purpose. I did not know if I believed in God. This changed in one instant when I experienced Jesus' love for me from His True Presence in the Most Blessed Sacrament. I knew at that moment: Love ordered the cosmos; Love gave everything purpose and meaning. Today's First Reading describes the difference between when we live apart from God and when we allow His love to permeate and enfold our lives. When we are mired by the chaos and despair of sin—a life apart from God—we feel the true words of the prophet Jeremiah: “Incurable is your wound, grievous your bruise; There is none to plead your cause, no remedy for your running sore, no healing for you” (Jeremiah 30:12 -13). But when we go to God, He restores us. The words of the prophet describing God’s blessings are so beautiful. This stark difference described by the prophet between curse and blessing helps us see why prayer is so important. Prayer is stepping into the healing, generative balm of God’s grace. He brings us to new, pure life. God, Our Creator and Redeemer, is waiting for us to meet Him in prayer so He can enfold us and make us whole again. Then, gradually through experience, we grow to believe in the truth of love. We see that the depth of goodness in the people we encounter and in our own hearts are nothing but testimonies to the power of God coursing through us and radiating into the world. listen to today’s devotion [bctt tweet="We grow to believe in the truth of love. // @SrMariaKim" username="blessedisshe__"] Pray the words from the Prophet Jeremiah today aloud as blessings over you and your family.