“Love your enemies and do good to those who hate you, and lend expecting nothing back.” // Luke 6:27-38* For years I thought I had sacrificial love figured out. From summers of mission work to life as a military wife and mom, I could “do” sacrifice. I shared my life with babies in pregnancy and nursing. I have dropped plans to bring much-needed items to my husband’s work or to purchase last-minute school supplies. I have changed plans, given up sleep, and even put my own desires on hold. Yet I look back, wondering how many times I woke up begrudgingly. Too often have I driven with a bad attitude because someone made us late or grumbled about those last-minute errands. There’s also that bad habit of snapping at my kids’ sass with my own snark, which pits us against each other rather than strengthens our bonds. Snark and bitterness leave no room for love to flourish or be poured out through sacrifice. They are ugly fruits, not the fruits of a heart growing in the kind of love Jesus invites us to live. I still have a long way to go in making a true gift of self as the Lord desires. Today is the feast of Saint Elizabeth of Hungary, a noblewoman who was married at a young age, yet used her position in society to serve the poor. Biographies reveal that she had a happy marriage, loved her husband and children, and was supported by her husband in her generosity. I’m inspired by her life and look to her for her intercession and example of loving sacrifice. I imagine we all have a bit to learn about sacrificial love, especially the kind that expects nothing in return. Jesus knows this and gave us His life and death as our ultimate example to live as He’s called us to in today’s Gospel. Sister, pray with me today for sacrificial love to grow in our hearts. Through the intercession of Saint Elizabeth of Hungary, we ask for our hearts to be united to Christ’s in radical selfless love, so that we will love and serve our friends and enemies alike, expecting nothing in return. * Mass readings for Saint Elizabeth of Hungary [bctt tweet="Expect nothing in return. // Gina Fensterer" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

I chose you from the world, to go and bear fruit that will last, says the Lord. // Alleluia, see John 15:16 When I was in high school, I had an encounter with the Living God that made me realize following Him would be worth the effort. Several years later, as a college student trying to figure out life, I prayed about becoming a nun. When God made it clear to me that wasn’t the plan, I thought, I guess God has His special people picked out to really do His work, and the rest of us head off for marriage and the suburbs . . . . Of course I loved being married and becoming a mother. But there was not an immediate understanding of vocation: this idea that the thing I was doing was building the Church. It wasn’t until a few more years into family life that the Lord really revealed to me the beauty and mission of being called by Him. God chose us from the world to go and bear fruit that will last. The Lord chose me—He chose you!—and He has a special mission for each one of us that only we can fulfill. That doesn’t necessarily mean our job or our state in life. Those are certainly things God uses. But we are chosen to connect with the Trinity in the hidden depths of our being in a way no one else can. What the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are doing within you is not happening in anyone else. And this deep encounter helps each one of us go and bear fruit that will last—being loved by the Father and loving those God puts in our path. We are called to share God’s love with the people He loves so much. [bctt tweet="The Lord chose me—He chose you!—and He has a special mission for each one of us that only we can fulfill. // Rachel Balducci " username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

“For the Son of Man has come to seek and to save what was lost.” // Luke 19:10 On tiptoe, her eyes barely came above the library countertop. Her stack of books sat ready, checked out by the volunteer who was offering her a treat from a plate on the counter. “Wouldn’t you like one?” he asked again, gesturing at the Valentine cupcakes, elaborately frosted in pink and white with glittery heart decorations. What preschooler doesn’t want a glittery Valentine cupcake? But she bit her lip, shook her pigtails, collected her books, and stepped back, her feet flat on the floor again. “No, thank you, have a nice day,” she said and pranced off toward the door. I hurried to catch up, grabbing her small hand as we stepped out into the gray winter morning. “What’s up?” I said. “You didn’t want a cupcake?” “No, it’s Lent!” she said. “But I didn’t want to hurt his feelings in case he wasn’t a Catholic.” In today’s Gospel, we meet Zacchaeus, a vertically-challenged tax collector who has not been the poster child for holiness. His reputation for making money by overcharging others was typical for tax collectors of his time. Despite Zacchaeus’ well-known status as a cheater, Jesus seeks him out for some one-on-one conversation, inviting Himself to Zacchaeus’ house. As a result of this encounter, Zacchaeus declares he will pay back fourfold anyone he has cheated. He’s a new man. Being noticed by Jesus after having been overlooked and despised by so many others has completely changed his life. Does this mean Zacchaeus will never sin again? Probably not. It does mean that he’s on a new path of salvation, following in Jesus’ footsteps, walking toward holiness. In the Prologue to Saint Benedict’s Rule, he references today’s Psalm (15) as the roadmap to following Christ and dwelling “in God’s tent” (RB, Prologue 23-27). Becoming more like Jesus is a process. It’s up to us each day to point our feet along the path toward Christ and run in the direction He leads us. Every small choice can be part of a daily recommitment to Christ. Let one of your decisions today be a conscious, intentional affirmation of your identity as Jesus’ disciple. [bctt tweet="Every small choice can be part of a daily recommitment to Christ. // Abbey Dupuy" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

The people walking in front rebuked him, telling him to be silent, but he kept calling out all the more, ‘Son of David, have pity on me!’ Then Jesus stopped and ordered that he be brought to him; and when he came near, Jesus asked him, ‘What do you want me to do for you?’ He replied, ‘Lord, please let me see.’ // Luke 18:39-41 Can I tell you a secret, sister? This week I celebrate my 41st year of life! I'm ashamed to admit that for a few years in my thirties I looked to birthdays with a fair bit of dread. One more turn around the sun was just a reminder of past missteps, dashed hopes, and “missed” opportunities. I wasn't physically blind like the man in today's Gospel (Luke 18:35-43), but I was certainly spiritually blind to the providence of God and to the truth that my life was a pure, undeserved, and (let’s be honest) pretty awesome gift from the Creator. A few years into those "woe-is-me" birthdays, I got tired of floundering (thank You, Jesus) and instead made a conscious decision to look forward to my birthday with anticipation instead of dread. Gratitude instead of regret. Hope instead of despair. With a profuse amount of birthday spirit, I made one more birthday commitment: I was going to anticipate my birthday with as much zeal as an eight year old. That’s right—bring on the cake and candles and waking up with a smile on my face because I was another year older. I was ready to celebrate: Right where I was at. Right where God wanted me to be. Whatever turn around the sun you will celebrate in the coming year, my prayer is that all of us might celebrate each and every birthday with the words of that man in today’s Gospel: “Lord, please let me see.” Let us see Your presence, Your blessings, and Your calling on our lives. And let us celebrate every year of our lives with the ardent zeal of an eight year old. Amen. [bctt tweet="Let us see Your presence. // Karen Schultz" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

"Stand erect and raise your heads because your redemption is at hand." // Luke 21:28 My little daughter heart was exhausted. I kept depending on the people in my life to provide me with the satisfaction and healing that my soul craved. Both my mind and body couldn’t carry the bondages anymore that held me captive from receiving true freedom. However, the freedom I was seeking appeared unfathomable in my mind. My heart was full of worldly pleasures, yet when it came to the true Love I was thirsting for, it was empty. In today’s Gospel Acclamation, we read, “Stand erect and raise your heads because your redemption is at hand“ (Luke 21:28). Redemption is the fruit of Jesus' love for us. Not only a fruit, but a deep desire that flames within His Sacred Heart. He didn’t wait to approach me until I was “put together,” He came to me exactly where I was, in all my brokenness, weariness, exhaustion, and ache. Jesus’ love poured a flowing current that captivated the yearning of my soul. His love is the real remedy to your ache. Every desire that you have, every bit of healing that you seek, it’s all found in Him. When it comes to redemption, Jesus doesn’t settle. He desires the fullest freedom and healing for each and every one of His daughters and sons. Sister, I gently encourage you to sit with Him today. Don’t worry about having to perform a certain way, or say the “right thing,” or if you look holy or not. Take the pressure off yourself. Jesus isn’t looking for perfection from you; He just wants your heart and to make you whole. Allow Him to meet you right where you are. Jesus, we love You. Thank You for the gift of our redemption. Help us to meet You, right where we are. Help us to be open to Your merciful Love. Amen. [bctt tweet="He just wants your heart and to make you whole. // Bella Rol" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

“Will not God then secure the rights of his chosen ones who call out to him day and night? Will he be slow to answer them? I tell you, he will see to it that justice is done for them speedily.” // Luke 18:7-8 “Sister, you don’t trust the Lord.” My face must have given away my reaction of shock, perhaps indignation, because the next thing he said was, “I’m not putting words in your mouth. Everything you just confessed has lack of trust at the root.” He was right. But his frank declaration of my lack of trust after I had just vulnerably laid out my sins stung a bit. I mean, I am a Religious. I know God is trustworthy, a good and loving Father Who keeps his promises. The reality, though, is that I often pray more out of a spirit of desperation than one of trustful hope. Knowing God is trustworthy and actually trusting Him are very different things. How often do we go through the motions of praying for the resolution to a situation or a particular person’s conversion because “it’s what we’re supposed to do”? Do we really pray in true trust and confidence that the Father will accomplish all in His will and His time? Do we keep praying in a spirit of trustful hope day after day, month after month, year after year, confident that Our Heavenly Father has not abandoned us, even when we see nothing happening, practically speaking? Sister, He is at work. He hears you, and He is waiting for you to keep coming to Him, seeking a resolution. But He also delights in you and knows that with every act of faithful prayer, He is growing trust within your heart; He’s revealing Himself as your Father. Beloved daughter, do not lose hope, do not waver in trusting that your Father hears you. Your Father gazes in love upon you. And you, chosen and beloved one, will receive from Him whatever you ask for in faithful trust. But remember, when the Gospel promises that justice is done for them speedily, one day within His house is as a thousand elsewhere. Father, help us to trust You more and more each day that we might confidently come to You with our every prayer, knowing that You hear us and will answer us, even when it seems that You are not near. [bctt tweet="He’s revealing Himself as your Father. // Sister Maria Fatima" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

For this is love, that we walk according to his commandments. // 1 John 1:6 There aren’t many things I would consider myself to have mastered in my twenty-four years of life, but I know one thing for sure: I am very good at being a middle child. If any stereotypes come to mind, I’ve probably lived up to them. For example, in early childhood, I tasked myself with the seemingly dire job of constantly keeping the peace, ensuring fairness, and being completely independent so as to not rely on anyone. And it worked . . . until it didn’t. I spent the first few years of my adult life crippled by anxiety, tethered down by the weight of my own expectations which were sorely complemented by my reluctance to ask for help. I was lonely, burned out, attributed my spiritual desolation to being “just a season,” and wondered where the Lord was in all my perfectly laid-out plans. It wasn’t until my friend, Beth Davis, invited me to take up a regular Holy Hour (and referred me to an amazing Catholic therapist) that I began to uncover the freedom the Lord has been offering me all along. I didn’t need to keep the peace with Peace Himself. I didn’t need to ensure justice with Justice Himself. I didn’t need to figure everything out on my own; I needed to follow Him. Through this dedicated time with Him, week after week, I began to surrender my preconceived notions and to grow in my desire to follow His will for my life. His love wasn’t asking me to perform or earn my place—He simply invited me into an abundant life, guided by His holy will. Because that’s what love does: It heals. It sets free. It restores us to life. This freedom is for you, too, dear friend. Visit Him in Adoration today. [bctt tweet="Love heals. It sets free. It restores us to life. // Kelsey Dassance" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

The Lord gives sight to the blind. The Lord raises up those who were bowed down; the Lord loves the just. // Psalm 146:8 I walked through the hall of lockers, clutching a class schedule, unsure of where the science building was located. Shaking my head, I laughed at the feeling of déjà vu overcoming me. It had been decades since I walked the halls of my own high school campus. On this day, I was following the schedule of my freshman son and meeting his teachers. When I was in school, I would look for the farthest seat in the back of class, not wanting to draw attention to myself. I feared saying something wrong or looking ridiculous. This is normal teenage behavior, but what if you never grow out of that awkward stage? As an adult woman, I still found myself hiding in the back of the room and being afraid to speak up and show my true self. Slowly, God was working on my heart and my self-destructive attitude. At a Blessed is She retreat years back, I shared my struggles with a priest during the Sacrament of Confession. He challenged me to not be afraid of the woman God created me to be and reminded me that God had “called me by name” (Isaiah 43:1). It was a moment of grace within me. Psalm 146 rang true: “The LORD gives sight to the blind. The LORD raises up those who were bowed down” (Psalm 146:8) because the blinders on my heart were falling, and I lifted my bowed shoulders as a weight was removed. When I returned to the retreat to hear the next talk, instead of hiding in the back row, I sat unafraid in the front row closest to Our Lord in the tabernacle. Is there something stopping you from drawing closer to Our Lord? Is there negative talk in your head, shame in your heart, or wounds that make you feel unworthy of His love? Now is the time to let Our Lord release those chains so you can fully embrace Him. Ask Him to heal your heart and open your eyes to see your worth and value. Neither of us needs to hide in fear anymore. [bctt tweet="Ask Him to heal your heart and open your eyes to see your worth and value. // @bobbi_rol" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

Do you not know that you are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwells in you? //1 Corinthians 3:16 UGH! WHY!? ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? *throws phone across the room* Picture me at 11:30 p.m. doom scrolling Twitter instead of sleeping. This was me most nights. And lunch times. And at breakfast. And in between work breaks. Last winter, I was stuck in this vicious cycle. Any free moment, I was checking my phone. I scrolled through my Twitter feed or I looked at Instagram stories. I kept telling myself that I needed to check social media to see what my friends were up to or to connect with loved ones. But truthfully, I had spiraled down a dark hole of snark, sass, and sarcasm (oh my!). I found myself becoming angry, cynical, and exasperated. It was seeping into my personal life. I was frustrated with family members who don’t share my exact views. I was looking down upon those who have not come to share in my epiphanies. I started to surround myself with an echo chamber of shared experiences. It was toxic. My mind and heart were becoming a garbage heap. I had made a New Year's resolution to take care of my body by eating better and exercising more regularly. I wanted my body to be a temple. I had spent nearly a decade either pregnant or breastfeeding, and I wanted to refocus on physical health. But my emotional and spiritual health . . . WOMP WOMP. For Lent, I decided to give up Twitter. I cannot describe how hard those first weeks were. I did not realize how frequently I would grab my phone to open the app. I did it mindlessly. But after going cold turkey, I found myself more at ease. More forgiving. More gracious. More patient. I changed my relationship with social media for the better. My heart, mind, and body needed to be worthy as a dwelling place for God. It’s a daily effort, and I often slip up, but I’m working on it. Sister, you are worthy of God’s love, and His Spirit dwells in you. How can you humble yourself before Him today in your words, deeds, and thoughts? [bctt tweet="You are worthy of God’s love. // @substance_soul" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

[L]ive temperately, justly, and devoutly in this age, as we await the blessed hope, the appearance of the glory of the great God and of our savior Jesus Christ. // Titus 2:12-13 “Why does your Church have so many rules?” asked one of my friends in college. “Isn’t freedom important? I don’t know why anyone would subject themselves to such torture!” “Well,” I replied, “Have you heard the phrase ‘Holy Mother Church?’ I view the Church as my mother—a good mother who nourishes, protects, and provides boundaries so that I can live in the freedom of who God created me to be. Sure, it might seem like there are a lot of rules to keep track of, but I see these as guides that are leading me to my home in Heaven.” “I don’t understand why you would want to live a miserable life, deprived of earthly pleasures,” she replied. “You are missing out by being so devout.” My friend shut down the conversation, and my heart sank with sadness for her. How I wish that she knew the joy of the Gospel! Yes, the Gospel demands sacrificial love, but it is a life-giving love united to the Heart of Jesus. The Cross is always fruitful and leads to the resurrection. And we do not have to wait until Heaven to experience this new life in Christ. Saint Elizabeth of the Trinity, whose feast we celebrate today, helps to unlock this mystery for us. She wrote, “It seems to me that I have found my Heaven on earth, since Heaven is God and God is in my soul. The day I understood that, everything became clear to me. I wish to tell this secret to those whom I love so that they also, through everything, may also cling to God” (Letter 122). Sister, as we strive to live a life of virtue and “await the blessed hope,” let us never forget that the Holy Trinity is dwelling within our souls. How will we let Holy Mother Church nurture this life of grace within us today? [bctt tweet="The Cross is always fruitful and leads to the resurrection. // Rose Coleman " username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

“Be on your guard! If your brother sins, rebuke him; and if he repents, forgive him.” // Luke 17: 3 Forgiveness has many layers to it. I’m a very forgiving person, quick to reconcile with God and others, not withholding love from them even after I’ve been wronged. However, it wasn’t until I went through the Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius of Loyola’s (19th Annotation) that I realized I had a lot of wounds from my sins and the sins of others. The way I was treated and, at times, discarded, had long-term emotional and spiritual effects on me. I shared this with my spiritual director, and she helped me through an exercise where I rejected several evil spirits and asked God to replace those areas of emptiness with a new spirit and grace. + I rejected the spirit of manipulation and asked God to replace it with His spirit of courage and right judgment. + I rejected a spirit of shame and asked God to replace it with His spirit of honesty and truth. + I rejected a spirit of comparison and asked God to replace it with His spirit of authenticity. + I rejected a spirit of fear and asked God to replace it with His spirit of trust. + I rejected a spirit of loneliness and asked God to replace it with His spirit of love. I had told myself numerous lies, I had to reject evil spirits, I had to acknowledge wounds, and I had to allow myself to grieve deaths. Forgiveness had been given to me, but I hadn’t fully received all God wanted me to receive. There’s a reason God says to forgive seven times seven. Forgiveness, like wounds, goes much deeper, and we often don’t see the damage beneath the skin and memory. “Be on your guard” (Luke 11:3), sister, but don’t remain guarded. God wants to pour life-giving grace upon you. Our hearts are so tender and easily broken. The way we love, forgive, and desire reconciliation is one of the most beautiful aspects of our feminine genius. I believe the way we forgive and receive forgiveness changes human relationships and makes them more honest and authentic. I invite you today to reject any evil spirits that are not of God and ask the Lord to replace that place of emptiness with His Spirit. Be open to receive all the grace God wants to give you today. [bctt tweet="Ask the Lord to replace the places of emptiness with His Spirit. // @socaltriciat" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

But the Lord is faithful; he will strengthen you and guard you from the evil one. // 2 Thessalonians 2:16-3:3 I was in a myriad of Facebook mom groups when I first became a mom. I thought it would be a great way to learn some hacks and practical tips for our firstborn. Plus, it felt like a rite of passage to be added to these groups. While I never actively interacted in these groups (since I was such a newbie), I remember one distinct moment that stopped me from scrolling. A fellow mama had posted a comment that she had been given a rosary but wasn't Catholic and was seeking advice on what to do with it. The comments flooded in, “wear it as a necklace, pray with the beads, regift it, why would you need a rosary if you can go straight to Jesus?” The last comment felt different than the others. Tone is hard to convey via social media; however, I could not dismiss entering into this conversation. “But the Lord is faithful; he will strengthen you and guard you from the evil one” (2 Thessalonians 2:16-3:5). It quickly became very awkward and uncomfortable. Two strangers defending their different faiths on the Internet not knowing anything about the other, besides both being mothers. I made a case for Our Blessed Mother, and this individual used Scripture to articulate why she believed we can completely bypass her. As I began to sense the thread was beginning to make me and my faith look like I was trying to win instead of presenting truths about the Faith, I politely welcomed this individual to continue the conversation with me outside of the thread. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. The victory is not in winning arguments for my faith as much as it is having the courage to share the truth. Believing in Jesus is always going to come with some type of questioning on and offline. Sister, we may not feel equipped to fight the battles that come our way, but Jesus will provide us with the strength we need because He is faithful. All we have to do is ask Him. Let's pause and ask Him in humility for His strength and help. [bctt tweet="Jesus will provide. // Mytae Carrasco Wallace" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

In every circumstance and in all things I have learned the secret of being well fed and of going hungry, of living in abundance and of being in need. I have the strength for everything through him who empowers me. // Philippians 4:12-13 The fridge had been stocked with a dozen eggs, rashers of bacon, plump sausages, rosy red tomatoes, and a freshly baked loaf of bread. Our Irish vacation was underway. Thrilled to be renting a house, our group of American students had grand plans to make our very own traditional Irish breakfast. Arriving far past sunset the night before, we’d found our lodgings lacking in necessities like towels and top sheets, but no matter, we made do with what we found. The sun arose, and a trio of us traipsed downstairs to the kitchen only to find it empty of any appliances or wares save for a baking sheet, two plates, a butter knife, and a single wooden spoon. How were we going to grill tomatoes let alone scramble eggs? Thankfully, we were young and lighthearted; changes were made to the menu, and laughter turned trials into memories. In Saint Paul’s letter to the Church in today’s reading (Philippians 4:10-19), I’m reminded of the Christian life and growth that happens as we continually place our trust in Christ. Paul wrote, “I have learned the secret of . . . living in abundance and of being in need. I have the strength for everything through Him who empowers me.” The secret isn’t to know everything, have everything, or be able to do it all ourselves. Instead, we’re called to rely on each other through the Church. That breakfast made solely with a wooden spoon could have become a disaster if we’d focused on all we lacked, but instead we delighted in friends, making good use of what was present, and managing to pull off an almost perfect “Irish breakfast.” Instead of striving for independence, let us strive for the self-sufficiency that Saint Paul had, flowing out of his trust in God. Our sisterhood here at Blessed is She is a living example of the beauty of community, of women ready to stand alongside you in joy and trials. You’re invited to join in. Not sure how? Start here. [bctt tweet="We’re called to rely on each other through the Church. // Sarah Ortiz" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we also await a savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. // Philippians 3:20 I stood in my friend’s kitchen, hot tears welling up in my eyes. The feast of the Ascension was back, and with it, my sense of bewildered abandonment. Why did Jesus have to leave us here? Why did my husband have to die? Why is there this massive chasm between Heaven and earth? And my dear, wise friend looked me in the eye and said without a hint of either sympathy or malice, “Are you a citizen of Heaven?” “Yes,” I answered. “And do you know that you have access to Heaven now?” I eyed him skeptically. He asked if I wanted to visit the heavenly city, and then he led me in a beautiful imaginative prayer: “I see Jesus is standing in front of you, His Sacred Heart open,” he said. “Either He grows very large or you grow very small so that you can climb inside His Heart and be held. As you are cradled in His Heart, you rise up together, through the clouds, up into the Heavenly City. You approach the gates, and you see the golden, shining city. Jesus holds your hand and leads you in. There’s someone He wants you to see.” At that point my imagination took over, and I wept openly as I saw the sweet face of my late husband, my best friend. He was standing next to a fountain, and as I walked toward him, he reached out for me, and I was caught in his embrace. Every time we pray the Our Father, we ask God to make His kingdom come on earth, “as it is in Heaven.” As His hands and feet, we are responsible for this. We are responsible for looking beyond the humdrum details of our everyday lives and seeing the supernatural everywhere. In the changing of the seasons, in the complexities of family life, and especially, particularly, in the Mass. When we perceive that mystery, the ultimate reality of what is hidden in plain sight, we are responsible for showing it to those who cannot yet see. “All the way to Heaven is Heaven,” said Saint Catherine of Siena. “For Jesus said, ‘I am the Way.’” Fix your eyes on Him, immerse yourself in His love, and keep planting one foot in front of the other. Where will you find Heaven today? How will you show it to others? [bctt tweet="We are responsible for showing those who cannot yet see. // Elizabeth Blanke" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

More than that, I even consider everything as a loss because of the supreme good of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. // Philippians 3:8a I usually think about death when I’m going 533 miles per hour while 37,000 feet up in the air. But the time death seemed more like a reality was when I was actually on a gurney in the hallway of an emergency room, experiencing excruciating pain and short, shallow breaths. I was thousands of miles from home, and although friends had offered to keep me company, I didn’t want them to experience the boredom of the waiting room. I knew, or at least hoped, that I wasn’t going to die, but I couldn’t help but to think about it. I would miss each of my family members, especially my nieces and nephews. I would miss my friends and the experiences we’ve shared. It wasn’t long before my mind drifted from what I would miss to what I was looking forward to: Heaven! What do you perceive Heaven to be like? Look like? Feel like? Smell like? Sound like? I always wonder if I will somehow finagle a seat on Mary’s lap or sneak into the Sacred Heart of Jesus? What song of praise will I join in singing? Who will greet me? Who will I greet? I wish I was always prepared for death, but unlike Saint Paul, I oftentimes hold onto this life with too firm of a grasp. What a grace it is to “consider everything as a loss because of the supreme good of knowing Christ Jesus!” (Philippians 3:8a). We have the same grace that gave Saint Paul the courage to live with Heaven in the foreground. It takes honesty, discipline, and faith to cultivate virtue, as well as the recognition that letting go doesn’t mean to love, care, or cherish less, but rather to love in right order. Take this next breath and offer it to Jesus. Ask the Lord to help you receive His love and mercy and help you respond by prioritizing your relationship with Him. In doing so, you’ve already begun to give Him your life. [bctt tweet="Take this next breath and offer it to Jesus. // @chikasworld" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

"For this is the will of my Father, that everyone who sees the Son and believes in him may have eternal life, and I shall raise him on the last day." // John 6:40 Last autumn, I rather ambitiously set out to read The Divine Comedy by Dante Aligheri. I dusted off the copy I had bought years ago (in another fit of ambition), one with good footnotes, and found a podcast to walk me through the one hundred cantos which make up the Comedy. I wanted to be ready for the set of lectures that were slated for after Friday Stations at my parish during the upcoming Lent. And while I had planned to read the whole thing, I just barely made it to the beginning of the third part on Heaven, when I ran out of steam. Nevertheless, I drew great benefit from the sections I had managed to finish. In the first two parts of his Comedy, Dante writes of an experience of being guided by Virgil through Hell and Purgatory, giving a theologically sound understanding of the effects of sin. In each circle, or level, of Hell and Purgatory, Dante encounters sinners and converses with them about their major failings in life. And in Purgatory, he was continually asked to pray for the souls of those to whom he spoke and even further requested, when he got back to earth, that their living relatives also pray for them. The truth is that the souls in Purgatory depend on us, the living on earth, to pray for them, to help them through the purification process which readies them for the complete happiness of Heaven (see Catechism of the Catholic Church §§ 1030-32). Sister, today is the Feast of All Souls, a day which comes after the glorious Solemnity of All Saints. This feast was established by the Church to remind us of the need of those who have died for our prayers. This month, and especially this week, are specially set aside by the Church to pray for the dead. Take some time to look into the ways the Church encourages us to pray for the souls in Purgatory and give your beloved departed the gift of your prayers for their souls. [bctt tweet="Give your beloved departed the gift of your prayers. // Susanna Spencer" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

When he saw the crowds, [Jesus] went up the mountain, and after he had sat down, his disciples came to him. He began to teach them. // Matthew 5:1-2 Years ago, I was elbow-deep in a pile of dishes when I heard my four year old’s flustered sigh from the other room. I rushed there, only to find our bedroom floor strewn with stubby crayons and creased papers. The more Kristen pressed the crayon upon the canvas, the more the picture ripped beneath her efforts. “I cannot color within the lines,” she blurted with tears streaming. That morning, in her try-hard weariness, I saw myself. I saw the mom who strived to keep a clean house and arrive everywhere on time. I saw the wife who dutifully served dinner by candlelight and who remembered everyone’s birthday. I saw the friend who thought she knew just how to comfort a friend struggling with her teen. I lived within my own set of invisible lines. But no matter how hard I tried, I kept spilling over. In the Gospel today, we hear about the Beatitudes. Jesus singled out people who didn't have it all together and who didn't live their lives within their lines. If anything, they were needy, dependent, and weak. I realize that Jesus’ words are neither innocuous nor soothing. They are an affront to my way of living. They school me in humility and free me from perfectionism. They invite me to abandon old securities and embrace my vulnerability. They call me higher to where striving ceases and communion flourishes. Sister, are you struggling to live within a set of lines too? We all have places where it feels impossible to get our lives together. But what if we traded our self-invented lines of expectation for the compassionate contours of grace? What if we saw our ‘creases’ as sacred spaces for the Spirit to move in? What if we embraced the Beatitudes, not as some sensational acts reserved only for "superwomen," but as attitudes of those who struggled through the fears and fatigues of everyday life? Today, the Church celebrates the long list of Saints and Blesseds who lived a free life infused with the Beatitudes, who are honored not because they were perfect, but because they allowed God to work through their creased canvases and crushed spirits in ways only He can. [bctt tweet="Embrace the Beatitudes. // Michelle D'Silva" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion