September 18, 2026 // Friday of the Twenty-fourth Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Luke 8:1-3  Reflect on the Word // My circle feels small. I don’t mean intentionally or exclusively, but realistically. When I sit in front of God and ask Him how can I do more, how can I impact the world for Him, and only see a small number of people in my periphery, I can feel a sense of inefficiency or self-doubt. How can I make anything happen with only these few? Surely there must be a bigger sphere I should enter into; surely this is not enough.  And then I look at the Gospel for today (see Luke 8:1-3), simple and concise, a reminder of this original small group, who walked along Christ Himself, and changed all of history.  They walked with Christ. This is the key. It is not you or me. It was not them; it never was. It was Jesus Himself effecting change through His tender mercy and grace, in the hearts and minds of each soul the twelve and their companions met. They only had to humble themselves, to follow and to trust.  A handful of people is not many when compared to all of humankind, but it is what God Himself chose. Humans—flawed, proud, afraid. He is not asking for goodness or for holiness only; that’s too easy. He wants the whole of us, so that we can say “through You, I can do all things” (see Philippians 4:13). And so the world can see it too.  Let’s readjust our vision with whatever small world God has given us. Our families and workplaces, our friends and neighbors. This is the mission field, just like it was for the Apostles. Our job is to close ranks with Jesus Christ, in the same way they did, and to lead the masses to Heaven. Our militia is a conversion of the heart, one by one—through Him, with Him, and in Him. It’s always been the only way.  Relate to the Lord // Ask the Lord to highlight your small sphere of influence. Pray for them with intention today.

September 17, 2026 // Thursday of the Twenty-fourth Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Luke 7:36-50 Reflect on the Word //  Hospitality is a big deal in Mexican culture. It is embedded in our DNA. When I started dating my now husband, it was something he learned immediately. He understood that if my mom was cooking that he would need to find a way to be hungry even if he wasn’t. My husband gained “happy weight” during those first couple of months that we were dating. My mom’s breakfast burritos filled with papas and chorizo were not optional.  Homemade food is a way of saying, “Welcome! Sit down. I made time for you through this meal. I would like to get to know you by the way you receive and respond to hospitality.” A good indicator of the compatibility of a relationship is how a person treats you and connects with you when you are hosting them. It is one of the traits I highly value being Mexican-American and even now as a wife and mother it is something I carry with me wherever I go.  In today’s Gospel we read about a Pharisee who invites Jesus to dine with him but he comes up short as a good host (see Luke 7:36-50). The sinful woman in the city who learns that Jesus is at the table with the Pharisee is quick to arrive prepared. She takes an alabaster flask of ointment, bathes Jesus’ feet with her tears, wipes them with her hair, kisses them, and anoints them with the ointment. This woman understands hospitality.  The Pharisee welcomes Jesus, but his hospitality is limited and has conditions. He isn’t willing to allow it to cost him something. The Greek word for hospitality is philoxena which translates to “love of strangers.” Throughout the Bible, Jesus shows us how much He enjoys sitting and being among strangers.  Sister, this is our call too. Can we have this philoxena? We are called to a radical love which asks us to give of ourselves without measure. How can we be more authentic in the way we offer hospitality?  It doesn’t have to be audacious; it can be as simple as a homemade breakfast burrito.  Relate to the Lord // To whom can you offer hospitality to today? What might that look like?

September 16, 2026 // Memorial of Saints Cornelius, Pope, and Cyprian, Bishop, Martyrs Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: 1 Corinthians 12: 31-13:13 Reflect on the Word // The word “lovebomb” sounds like a wonderful explosion of love—something I as a romantic at heart would enjoy—but the term is more damaging than beautiful. When I first started seriously dating after graduate school, I had thought I had found “the one.” He was kind, intelligent, and very vocal about how much he liked me and saw a future with me. I was elated! I was loved.  But I wasn’t; that egregious outflow of compliments, reassuring words, and tender actions didn’t last longer than a few dates when he randomly ended things with me via text and a few curt words.  I had been lovebombed, not loved. Luckily for me, today’s First Reading holds a divine example of true love that I frequently turn to in times like these. Saint Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians describes what true love looks like—one that pursues, one that is ever-lasting, and one that does not fade quickly after flowery words and performative actions. “Love is patient, love is kind. It is not jealous, love is not pompous, it is not inflated,” and so on (1 Corinthians 13:4). That guy who made me feel so much was definitely not patient—he just left—and his love was surely pompous and inflated in hindsight.  Saint Paul’s definition of love—even-tempered, selfless, and truth-seeking—was everything I wanted and more, and I often found myself questioning, Where in my life will I find a partner with all these traits and green flags, a love I could believe in? And the answer is and always will be Jesus Christ Himself. He is the true Love Who is patient with you, sees you for who you are, and intentionally loves you in all the ways you yearn for. Jesus “bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things,” and He “never fails” (1 Corinthians 13: 7-8). Sister, no matter your vocation, let Jesus’ love explode all over your life in a good way! Believe in His words and actions because He will never stop pursuing you until you are His. Relate to the Lord // Read 1 Corinthians 13 and replace the word love with the Name of Jesus. What stands out to you?

September 15, 2026 // Memorial of Our Lady of Sorrows Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: John 19:25-27  Reflect on the Word //  The torrential rain came down hard that morning. On the drive to the funeral, I could almost hear my uncle wondering how much rain was collecting in the gauge. For forty-six years, weather shaped his days as a farmer. Where we saw this gray, heavy sky, he would have seen thirsty fields finally getting what they needed. A few hours later, after the funeral, we stood beside his grave. Two years earlier, his son had died in a tragic accident. Now father and son were being laid to rest side by side. The immediate family sat beneath a temporary tent in the cemetery. The rest of us gathered around them, standing on the wet grass. The rain had stopped, but the ground was still soaked. No one had the right words for another unexpected death. No one could change what had happened. So we stood. Family, friends, neighbors, quietly surrounding those we loved when there was nothing left to do but be there. This memory arose again as I prayed with today’sGospel: “Standing by the cross of Jesus were his mother . . . ” (John 19:25). Standing. Mary is not described as explaining, fixing, or fleeing. She is simply there. Awake to suffering. Close enough to see everything, and still she does not turn away. The Stabat Mater says, “Through her heart, His sorrow sharing, all His bitter anguish bearing.” She does not avoid the pain. She remains with Him in it. Women know this kind of standing. We stand in hospital rooms, funeral homes, and courtrooms; in hard conversations, long waits, and grief that has no words. We stand beside the people we love when nothing we can do will make it better.  Mary teaches us this: standing is an act of love that remains. It is love that stays. It is love that does not leave when it hurts. And when life brings us to our own crosses, Our Lady of Sorrows is there, standing with us.  Relate to the Lord // Read and pray the Stabat Mater today. Our Lady of Sorrows, pray for us!

September 14, 2026 // Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: John 3:13-17 Reflect on the Word //  As a Protestant growing up, I never had a crucifix in my home. When I became Catholic, I started my collection slowly. Crucifixes were given to me, I would rescue them from yard sales or thrift stores, and I was always quick to buy them from the Blessed Is She shop when a new one was in stock. Over the years, they multiplied. Now they adorn every room in our home, a constant reminder of our Lord, His love for us, and His sacrifice to bring us eternal life.  I recently saw a photograph of a different cross. In the foreground was a statue of the Blessed Mother in a traditional pose, holding the body of our Lord in her arms. A wooden cross hung behind and above them both. But the cross was not empty. Along its beams, the tools of the Passion were mounted including the flagrum, a long spear, and a hammer. They were suspended in the air, creating a stunning reminder that the empty cross cannot be separated from the Crucifixion. Seeing the instruments of Christ’s suffering mounted where Jesus had been brought a new harshness to the Crucifixion itself. Together, they presented a brutal timeline that ended with the piercing of His side and the outpouring of Blood and water. Growing up, I was told the empty cross celebrates Christ’s Resurrection and victory over death, as though we could fast-forward through the painful parts. This cross, adorned with the tools of the Passion, together with the image of Mary holding Jesus’ body, highlight both His sacrifice and His love. On today’s Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, which type of cross do we exalt? Do we rush past the difficult parts to focus only on the victory? As Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so the Son of Man was lifted up for us. Let us gaze upon Christ Crucified, allowing His sacrifice and love to draw us closer to eternal life. Relate to the Lord // Spend some time praying before a crucifix today. Thank Jesus for His sacrifice and love!

September 12, 2026 // Saturday of the Twenty-Third Week in Ordinary Time // Optional Memorial of the Most Holy Name of Mary Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Luke 6:43-49 Reflect on the Word //  My heart sank as doubt weighed it down. The malicious taunts of the enemy arose and shame unraveled in my heart as I found myself, once again, struggling with doubt and distrust. I had multiple prints of Bible verses placed around my room, to remind me of His character. I'd heard of God’s trustworthiness from podcasts, books, homilies, etc. My mind knew the Lord’s words were true yet my heart was estranged and lacked a strong foundation.  As I allowed my heart to soak in the richness of today’s Gospel, I was convicted by the truth that if I allow my heart to be built on anything but Him—whether it’s doubts, attachments, the lies of the enemy, etc.—I’m bound to be “collapsed” and “completely destroyed” (Luke 6:49). Jesus’ invitation to come to Him, listen to His words, and act on them (see Luke 6:47) isn’t about clinging to self-reliance. It doesn’t imply that I’ll never struggle with doubting again, but when those floods arise and rivers burst against me, I’ll have a foundation. A Person to Whom I can keep coming back and authentically give my heart, struggles, and fears. And not just give my heart, but also open my heart to receive Him. Sister, Jesus makes this invitation to you. To come back to Him, to listen, and believe. You have a Savior to Whom you can return again and again. He is always willing to receive your heart and give you His Heart of truth and His inexhaustible mercy. The foundation He speaks of is not built on grasping, controlling, or rushing. It’s built on returning to Him. The more we turn back to Him, the more we open and allow our hearts to marinate in His loving pursuit and trustworthy words, the more we go to Him each time we fall, the stronger our foundation will be, and we will bear good fruit in due season.  Relate to the Lord // Turn your heart to Him and go to Confession this week.

September 11, 2026 // Friday of the Twenty-third Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: 1 Corinthians 9:16-19, 22b-27  Reflect on the Word //  I hate running . . . I hate running . . . I hate running . . . That’s what ran through my mind one February night of my sophomore year, as I made my way nowhere on the human hamster wheel (aka the treadmill). At the beginning of a new semester, I’d determined to start exercising more regularly, and I was hating every minute. Then, I heard what I knew was our Lord, saying, Then why are you running away from My will? I managed to hit the “off” button before tripping, unceremoniously, off the machine and beelining for the exit. Until that moment I, unlike Saint Paul, had been running aimlessly, seeking my own will, what I thought would make me happy (see 1 Corinthians 9:26). I was not running the race to win the imperishable crown. I was running to win a crown of my own making, based on my own will, what I believed would make me truly happy (see 1 Corinthians 9:24). From the time He formed me in my mother’s womb and the baptismal waters poured over me as He claimed me as His beloved daughter, He had a plan for me, how He’d created me to love. But, from the time my will became my own, I had plans; I thought I knew my purpose and destiny, and that’s where I ran, time and again. To this day I call it my “Jesus mic drop moment.” Why are you running away from My will for you? Those words pierced me to the depths and changed the course of my life. I slowly walked back to my dorm room that night and made a phone call that ultimately ended in my yes to give my all “for the sake of the Gospel, so that I too may have a share in it” (1 Corinthians 9:23). We all do it in some way: We run from Him, deciding our plans are better until we run into a dead end, turn around, and find Him there ready to point us back to His path and guide us to that imperishable crown that awaits us in the glory of Heaven. Relate to the Lord // Are you running from God’s will in some way? Take a step towards Him in obedience today.

September 10, 2026 // Thursday of the Twenty-third Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word //  Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Luke 6: 37-38 Reflect on the Word //  One of the most life-changing and empowering books I have ever read is Battlefield of the Mind by Joyce Meyers. My very first spiritual director recommended it to me and gave me much-needed permission to “turn the channel” and gain better control of my thought life. Up until then, I always felt like a victim of my imagination, needing to dwell on whatever thoughts drifted in and out. Once I learned to stop ruminating and to be intentional with my thinking, my struggles with anxiety diminished greatly.  I still need the reminder, and today’s Gospel offers us an example of what happens when we forget to be vigilant in our thought life.  When we are in the habit of judging others, we live in a space where we feel we are being judged. When we spend our time condemning others, we are quick to think we, too, are being condemned. We know that God forgives our sins and loves us, but I appreciate that this Scripture is giving us the actual recipe for how to stop feeling like we are on everyone else’s radar: stop doing it ourselves (see Luke 6: 37)! The times that I forgive others, I feel freedom in my soul, a release from bondage that only Jesus can give. I want the gifts that the Lord offers, I want them in “good measure, packed together, shaken down and overflowing,” all poured into my lap (Luke 6:38). What a promise! In order to experience this reality, not just to have the Lord do these things for me but to really live at the level of knowing all of this goodness to be true, I have to adjust how I think.  God wants us to be free at every level. We don’t earn His love with our good behavior, but here the Lord offers us the secret to really experiencing all He has in store for us, His children whom He loves so much.  Relate to the Lord // Pray for the grace to become aware of your thoughts today and take captive every thought for Christ (see 2 Corinthians 10:5).

September 9, 2026 // Memorial of Saint Peter Claver, Priest [In the Dioceses of the United States] Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Luke 6:20-26  Reflect on the Word //  I sat in my car with tears streaming down my face. The marriage I had imagined wasn't the marriage I was living. The dreams I carried into our wedding day felt shattered and I found myself grieving not only what had happened, but what I thought would never be. I loved God. We were trying to follow Him. Yet there I was, heartbroken and wondering how something so painful could possibly fit into His plan. Addiction was never a part of mine. As I prayed, I wanted answers. Instead, Jesus offered His presence. Slowly, He taught me that He was not waiting for me on the other side of the suffering—He was with me in it.  In today's Gospel, Jesus says, "Blessed are you who are now weeping, for you will laugh" (Luke 6:21). At first glance, His words seem upside down. Irritating, honestly. How can grief be a blessing? How can suffering lead to joy? Yet the beatitudes reveal the logic of the Kingdom. God does His deepest work in the very places we wish He would remove. The greatest gift God gave me was not the marriage I had envisioned. It was Himself. As I brought my wounds, disappointments, and fears to Him, He began changing me. He taught me to forgive, to trust, and to place Him at the center of my life before expecting anything from anyone else. I found a sense of freedom I'd never known before. Over time, fruit began to grow where I once saw only loss. Not because we were capable of fixing everything on our own, but because God is in the business of making all things new—of making us new! The God Who raised Jesus from the dead is still working miracles today. Many of us carry disappointments that feel too heavy to bear. Yet, Jesus meets us there. When we place Him at the center of our lives and surrender what seems impossible, He can bring forth fruit where we see only grief. The Kingdom belongs to those who trust that He truly is in the midst of it all. Relate to the Lord // Take out a journal and write a letter to Jesus. Bring your grief to Him and allow His presence to comfort you.

September 8, 2026  // Feast of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: Micah 5:1-4a Reflect on the Word // It was an ordinary Tuesday. I woke up, got myself and the kids ready, drove them to school, and made my way to the office. As I sat down at my desk, I sighed and wondered, What do I do that really matters? Most days are filled with familiar routines and small acts that rarely seem noteworthy. In a world that values visible results—building a platform, sharing accomplishments, measuring impact—I can become impatient with the hidden life that I live. But as I pondered further, I realized that some of the most significant moments in my life were quiet ones: meeting my husband for the first time, holding my firstborn daughter and realizing I am Mom, learning to make a family recipe from my aging aunt. It is through these simple moments that God seems so close, so present. Perhaps that is why I am drawn to the words of Micah in today’s First Reading. He speaks of Bethlehem, a place “too small” (Micah 5:1) for most to expect anything remarkable. But God has a history of working through places and people the world overlooks. Sisters, how often do we dismiss the very places where God is quietly at work because they don’t seem impressive enough? There are no awards for listening to a friend, preparing another meal, sending an encouraging text, or simply showing up day after day. Yet, Scripture suggests that from these small beginnings, God brings forth greatness. We may not see the significance of today’s small acts of faithfulness, but God does. And He Who chose Bethlehem to be the birthplace of the “one who is to be ruler in Israel” (Micah 5:1) still works through ordinary people in quiet places. Mary’s birth, which we celebrate today, offers a similar reminder. When Mary was born, no one knew what her life would hold, yet God’s plans were already unfolding. As we celebrate Mary’s nativity, let us take heart in the truth that no part of our lives is too ordinary for God. The hidden moments, small sacrifices, and daily acts of faithfulness all have a place in His plan. Even when we cannot see what He is doing, God is at work, bringing forth something greater than we can imagine. Relate to the Lord // Pray a morning offering, entrusting all of your daily duties to Jesus through Mary: O Jesus, through the Immaculate Heart of Mary, I offer you my prayers, works, joys, and sufferings of this day for all the intentions of your Sacred Heart in union with the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass throughout the world, for the salvation of souls, the reparation of sins, the reunion of all Christians, and in particular for the intentions of the Holy Father this month. Amen.

September 7, 2026  // Monday of the Twenty-third Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Luke 6:6-11 The trip to Alaska was hard. A formidable headwind added ninety minutes to an already lengthy flight. By the time I gathered my bags, rented a car, shopped for some food staples, found my lodgings in the darkness of night, and then lugged my many bags inside, I was exhausted. It was a weary beginning to a week’s worth of speaking and leading retreats. But the next morning, I had the chance to visit the adoration chapel where my reversion really began. It had been thirty-three years since I last visited this sacred, humble spot where Jesus taught me about His Eucharistic Heart. I stumbled into the chapel and collapsed before the Lord for a remarkable holy hour. So much life had gone by since my last visit. I sat there chatting with Jesus like a long-lost friend reviewing the highs and lows, the sorrows and joys of three decades together. It had been thirty-three  years of growth and grace, challenge and color, sickness and health, heartbreak and glory. And more restoration than I could have ever imagined possible. I was flooded with gratitude over the Lord’s fidelity and generosity, His mercy and tenderness over so much life. The next day as I prepared for my first gig, it was as though I was the one with the withered hand, being called before the crowd in today’s Gospel. As if Jesus came into the room and asked me: “Stretch out your hand, your life, your heart before me.” And as I did, I was restored. Restored to overflowing. The entire trip to Alaska was nothing short of grace upon grace. On my return, I couldn’t stop grinning for a week. We need never fear to approach the Lord in all our inadequacy. Where we are withered, Jesus is whole. Where we are empty, broken, and small, Jesus is mighty, infinite, and fullness forevermore. Where we crumple under the weight of our burdens and responsibilities, Jesus can lift us soaring to the heights of His glory and a lifetime of greater restoration and satisfaction. Relate to the Lord // Spend a holy hour in thanksgiving for the “years of growth and grace, challenge and color, sickness and health, heartbreak and glory.”

September 5, 2026 // Saturday of the Twenty-second Week in Ordinary Time // Optional Memorial of Saint Teresa of Calcutta, Virgin Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Psalm for the Optional Memorial: Psalm 34:2-3, 4-5, 6-7, 8-9, 10-11 Reflect on the Word //  Washing my hands, I glanced up and caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror. I had lost thirty-ish pounds and people were starting to notice. I had always thought that losing weight would resolve my insecurities only to find out that it was, indeed, only a number.  “It doesn’t matter. You’re still ugly.” I can’t remember if I thought it or said it out loud. And it’s only in recounting this painful moment many years later that I realize how disembodied it was. I didn’t say I was still ugly; I parroted the lie the enemy had been leveling at me my whole life.  Like many women, I subscribed to a cultural beauty standard that I couldn’t measure up to. Even when the Lord repeatedly, tenderly, told me that I was beautiful, I bemoaned that I might have a beautiful heart or soul or personality, but I wasn’t objectively beautiful.  I was blind. Not only to myself but to real beauty. Thankfully, our beloved Saint of the day revealed the truth to me. Saint Teresa of Calcutta is a paradox. At four feet eleven inches tall, her deeply lined face and modest sari are not features typically associated with fame or beauty, yet her radiant face graced dozens of magazine covers. The world was captivated by her presence and personhood. She was beautiful.  It was Mother Teresa’s love of Jesus that transformed her, both interiorly and externally, embodying today’s Psalm: “Look to him that you may be radiant with joy, and your faces may not blush with shame” (Psalm 34:5).  Though she didn’t resemble Him in a natural way, when you saw Mother Teresa you saw Jesus. And Jesus is beautiful. Unlike fillers or fads, true beauty blooms in us when we look at Him and radiates out to transform our whole person. We are in every way changed into love—and love makes us beautiful. As I study photographs of this audacious Albanian nun I begin to understand: when Jesus says I’m beautiful, He’s not lying or exaggerating. I just didn’t know what beautiful was before.  Relate to the Lord // Stand before a mirror today and ask Jesus to tell you how He sees you.

September 4, 2026 // Friday of the Twenty-second Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: 1 Corinthians 4:1-5 Reflect on the Word //  Raised voices came from the kitchen, a sound of bickering yet again: a frequent sound in a home full of teenage girls. As their mother, I found myself criticizing and correcting, yet again. However, as I walked into the room, I discovered that the girls were not truly bickering, but engaged in a lively discussion. Another time, what seemed like a criticism from one girl to another was actually intended to be helpful (though unsolicited) advice. Tones of voice and intention are hard to interpret, especially among people who love each other.  In today’s First Reading, Saint Paul writes to the Corinthians about not passing judgment on others and on oneself. True charity gives the benefit of the doubt—believes that the other does not intend to hurt oneself or another with their words. The Lord, when He comes, “will bring to light what is hidden in darkness and will manifest the motives of our hearts” (1 Corinthians 4:5). He knows the true intentions in each of us, the desire we have to love and be loved in return. It is just that so often, even when we try to express something with love, it comes out all wrong. But Paul states that in the end “everyone will receive praise from God” (1 Corinthians 4:5). Sister, the Lord is so merciful to us. He sees us for who we really are and for who He calls us to be. He is the kind of Father Who sees what is good in us even when it seems impossible to find. We are meant to be like Him in how we view others and ourselves. When we repent of our wrong doings, we must also allow the Lord to show us our own goodness and let His mercy wash over us. And when we think we see sin in others, we need to show them the same mercy that is shown to us. We do not know the motives of their hearts or for what they will receive praise from God. Relate to the Lord // Notice both your words and tone today. Ask the Holy Spirit to help you practice charity in all of your interactions.

September 3, 2026 // Memorial of Saint Gregory the Great, Pope and Doctor of the Church Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: 1 Corinthians 3:18-23 Reflect on the Word //  Exhausted, my husband and I headed into the dark, empty parking lot of the dentist’s office and buckled our son into the backseat. It wasn’t the way we’d planned to spend the evening: an emergency extraction of our little boy’s front baby teeth after a faceplant onto our hardwood floors. I was worried about how traumatic it all must have been for him.  “You were so brave,” I said softly. “You didn’t even cry. I’m proud of you.” He nodded, looking out the window. Struggling to form words with his still-numb mouth, he said matter-of-factly, “I offered it for the Holy Souls in Purgatory.” Oh, the wisdom of children. They are so close to God, so simple, so “uncluttered.” They see the supernatural, I think, more than we realize. And in moments of clarity, we get to see their vast, bright inner world when we pay close attention. They are windows into the holy simplicity of God Himself—and they remind us of His original relationship with us.  That’s why Saint Paul warns against the “wisdom of this world” (1 Corinthians 3:19). What looks smart and proactive and well-researched and forward-thinking? If it’s not aligned with the mind of God, it’s all nothing.  And in order to be rightly ordered before Him, the first thing we need to do is remember that we don’t know much at all. Humility, humility, humility: “let him become a fool, so as to become wise” (1 Corinthians 3:19). It’s the reason Saints like Thérèse of Lisieux offer us a path to holiness that mirrors childhood. Her Little Way is the ultimate alternative to worldly wisdom. Instead, she proposes complete trust and radical dependence on God, centered on knowledge of our own smallness and the immenseness of His love.  Worldly knowledge can be valuable when put in the service of the kingdom. But chasing after knowledge for its own sake or believing that true maturity means being somehow “greater” than others is a dead end. Rather, real wisdom is embracing the smallness of spiritual humility. We are invited today to remind ourselves of our own poverty and need for God, Who loves us tenderly and whispers when we accept our littleness, I’m proud of you.  Relate to the Lord // Read those words again from the heart of God for you: I’m proud of you.

September 2, 2026 // Wednesday of the Twenty-second Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Luke 4:38-44 Reflect on the Word //  I was in deep spiritual conversation with a close friend when someone came up behind me with a piercing tone. No sooner had the interruption begun than my friend, with a profound maturity, self-possession, and freedom, moved us and our conversation aside out of this person’s way. His charity toward the other person and to me was clear and unencumbered by the thought of offending them. This visceral vignette came to my heart’s memory as I felt the security of the Lord’s words, “To the other towns also I must proclaim the good news of the Kingdom of God, because for this purpose I have been sent” (Luke 4:43). The Lord gives me strength as He shows me that I have also been called and sent. I have sympathy for our Lord as I consider how He could have rested in the seeming approval of these people who pursued Him to discover the deserted place to which He had gone early in the morning to pray. But instead, He rested in the Father. His rest was to go apart from the crowds, approving or vindictive, to pray to His Father and to be rooted in their communion of love. It was from His place of profound union that He could easily discern that He needed to move on to minister to new towns and places “because for this purpose [he had] been sent” (Luke 4:43). Sister, we too have been given a purpose that is woven into our daily yeses which can seem so ordinary. May we perceive the wondrous glory of God in our daily, moment-by-moment responses to our purpose. May we also be rooted and grounded in His love so that we can answer His call. Relate to the Lord // How do you sense God’s call within your ordinary daily life? How will you give a deeper, more joyful yes today? 

September 1, 2026 // Tuesday of the Twenty-second Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Psalm: Psalm 145:8-9, 10-11, 12-13ab, 13cd-14  Reflect on the Word //  I sat in the adoration chapel, leaving my broken heart at the feet of Jesus. One difficult chapter in my life had just come to a close, leading straight into the next. My recent prayers received a different answer than I wanted. For months, I’d begged God to heal deep wounds and mend hearts. Friends prayed novena after novena with me. God answered those prayers with a clear, No, not yet. I was crushed, unable to understand why He didn’t do what I asked right then, on my timeline. And yet if He said, Not yet, He must know best. I read the Psalm from today’s Readings during that broken-hearted Holy Hour and noticed a word I often miss: all.  The Lord is just in all His ways, faithful in all His words, holy in all His works. The Psalmist writes of God’s dominion lasting for all generations. He lifts all who are falling and raises up all who are bowed down (see Psalm 145:8-14).  No matter how broken and lost I may feel, our Father is and will be faithful, always. I know that whatever He plans to do in my life and relationships must be for the good. All His ways are for the good, and all He does is meant to touch all our lives. I turned back to the Psalm during that Holy Hour, surrendering my heart and renewing my trust in His ways. In journaling, I spoke with the Lord: You said, “No, not yet,” to the miracle I requested, And yet You are faithful in all Your words. I’m likely to stumble in my sorrow, And yet You lift up all who are falling. I can’t make sense of what You are doing, And yet, You are just in all Your works. All of God’s words are trustworthy, sister. In times of confusion, sorrow, and longing, we have a choice. We can be overcome with the pain or we can turn to the Lord, Who will lift us up while He completes His work.  Relate to the Lord // Take some time to journal from your heart in conversation with God today.

August 31, 2026 // Monday of the Twenty-second Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: 1 Corinthians 2:1-5 Reflect on the Word //  Talking to my teenagers can sometimes feel like an uphill battle. We will be driving somewhere and I will try to draw them into conversation only to have them not respond as if talking were an impossibly arduous task. I will try relating what I thought was a funny story from my day only to reap zero laughs. Occasionally, I make the last-ditch effort of trying to use Gen Alpha slang only to experience complete mission failure. Talking to teenagers might not be the same as Saint Paul proclaiming the Good News to the Corinthians, but I can’t help but think it might have some comparable aspects. Bringing the news of Jesus’ Life, Death, and Resurrection to a foreign city whose culture and religion were diametrically opposed to the idea of the One God coming to earth to die for our sins would be no easy task. How to win over new crowds who viewed Paul as a foreign stranger talking about a man rising from the dead? While we all have instances where the idea of bringing up a topic or talking to a certain person or group of people seems impossible, we can think of how trying it must have been for Saint Paul and the Apostles as they began to bring the Gospel to the world for the first time. His “weakness and fear and much trembling” (1 Corinthians 2:4)  is such a vivid description of the overwhelming experience it must have been for Saint Paul.  We can find encouragement in the challenge of having hard conversations in our lives, whether it is about our faith or not, through today’s example from Saint Paul. We should rely less on our own wisdom, our own way with words, our own persuasive skills, and rely more upon the Spirit. It is a leap of faith to trust the Holy Spirit to inspire our words, even if we’re not preaching the Gospel directly, because as Christians all our interactions in the world are capable of being a light for others toward the Good News of Jesus Christ.  Relate to the Lord // Practice calling upon the Spirit throughout the day. Make “Come, Holy Spirit” your constant prayer.