And his commandment is this: we should believe in the name of his Son, Jesus Christ, and love one another just as he commanded us. // 1 John 3:23 Seeing her name on my schedule, I inwardly rolled my eyes. Oh, this lady again, I lamented to myself. My patient had scheduled another office visit appointment with me to discuss the same issue—again. I’ve lost count of how many consultations we’ve had about the same issue. Each visit is much the same. She explains her chief concern, I explain my findings and diagnoses, she states she understands her condition and her options and we make a plan for her next visit together. She leaves in good spirits. But then she returns and it’s the same conversation, the same outcomes. I have tried diagrams, videos of options, plastic tooth models, “Googling” images together. I see the lightbulb turn on and I think: Yes, that’s it, you’ve got it!  But after multiple visits of the same song and dance, her name on my schedule annoys me. I have maintained my patient and calm demeanor at each visit, given her my full attention, answered each question, and yet today, my inner spirit was frustrated and irritated.  AGAIN? I seethed inwardly. What more can I do!? But I felt that small tug on my heart and asked myself: Why am I so annoyed? I realized how ungenerous and unloving I was towards this woman. The Lord commands us to love one another. PERIOD.  He didn’t say to love one another as long as they aren’t annoying or as long as they act in a way deserving of love or only if they agree with us. He commands us to love one another, just as He loves us. I am sure I am annoying sometimes—or frustrating, or disagreeable, or one of the many other shortcomings I display on a daily basis. I take something to prayer, find peace with the Lord, and then question Him later more times than I can count. But I am wholly and unequivocally beloved by the Lord. Sister, when you feel your annoyance or anger or irritation bubble up under your skin, I invite you to pause and let the Holy Spirit fill those spaces in your heart. Love that annoying coworker, love that curmudgeonly neighbor, love your messy roommate, love your forgetful spouse. 

“If you remain in My word, you will truly be my disciples, and you will know the truth.” // John 8:31-32 It’s a no-brainer that we live in a noisy world. Our lives can be filled with many distractions, both internally and externally. In our world of noise, it’s crucial for us to reflect on whose voice we are listening to. As I've experienced, it’s easy to give in to the lies that the enemy attempts to plant within our precious-daughter hearts—especially lies that emphasize the areas of ourselves that are most wounded or places of lingering insecurity.  In the verse for today’s Alleluia, Jesus reveals to His disciples that, “If you remain in My word, you will truly be my disciples, and you will know the truth” (John 8:31-32).  Sister, can I gently encourage you to sit with Him today and ask, What do You say about me? Spend time with Him in His loving presence—either meeting Him in your heart, in His words in Scripture, and/or in His presence in Eucharistic Adoration. The more you spend time with Him, the more you will know Who He is and who you are. Where the enemy wants to pick us and our wounds apart, Jesus wants to pick up those broken pieces of our hearts—and not just heal, but make them completely new. Where the enemy’s voice leaves us feeling shameful, the Lord’s voice rejuvenates our hearts and entire beings.  The Lord upholds the dignity of your heart and daughterhood. Go to Him and believe His words. Lord, we love You and we praise You. May we, as Your beloved daughters, come to You for our healing, and allow the words of Your Heart take root in ours. May we know the Truth. Amen.

“Do not let your hearts be troubled.” // John 14:1 I sucked in a breath and tried to remain as still as possible while the sunny-haired technician pressed the doppler firmly to my chest and captured the images she needed. The icy cold gel stung my bare skin, but I felt the tangible inner warmth of the Lord’s presence as I surrendered the findings of this latest test to His Cross.  Concerns from my doctor that I might have an undiagnosed heart condition prompted him to order a cardiac ultrasound to assess the structure and overall function of my heart. I didn’t yet have an explanation for the frequent flutters in my chest or the frightening episode of syncope (a fancy word for passing out) that had caused me to crash my car months prior. But what I did know was that Christ was using everything to draw me to Himself (see John 14:3).  As I shifted my body toward the wall so the tech could take more pictures, I offered a silent prayer to Jesus to unify my heart with His, whatever this procedure might show. Moments later, I heard the tech exclaim, “Your heart looks beautiful!”   I smiled to myself. Suffering love so often paves the way to beauty, doesn’t it? Just like the story of Saint Clare of Montefalco, also known as Saint Clare of the Cross. Clare was a thirteenth-century Augustinian nun who possessed a deep devotion to Our Lord’s Passion. During her life, which was marked by nearly constant suffering, she adamantly professed that she bore the Cross of Christ in her heart. When her heart was examined after she died, it was found to contain not only a perfect imprint of the Cross, but also other miniature instruments of Christ’s suffering and death (source).       Dear sister, take a moment to dissect your own heart before the Lord. Are you able to see signs of His Presence impressed there, even amid suffering and turmoil? Whatever your troubled heart holds, rest assured that He is within you, engraving His likeness into every fiber of your being.   And, believe me, friend, that is a beautiful thing.

The God of all grace who called you to his eternal glory through Christ Jesus will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you after you have suffered a little. // 1 Peter 5:10 On this Feast of Saint Mark the Evangelist, we can enter into with our prayerful imaginations the writing of Saint Peter’s letter in Rome. Let’s imagine Mark standing in the room with Peter and Silvanus. Silvanus writes on a scroll the teaching Peter speaks as he paces the room. Mark listens to his teacher and friend and gathers his thoughts on the life of Jesus Christ, Son of God, about Whom he hopes to write.  As the letter comes to an end Peter speaks the words, “The God of all grace [ . . . ] will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you after you have suffered a little” (1 Peter 5:10). Mark thinks of his own cowardly acts of fleeing the garden at Jesus’ arrest (see Mark 14:51) and his leaving of Saint Paul and Saint Barnabas during one of their apostolic journeys (see Acts 13:13). He remembers his failures which lead to great interior suffering, but he also sees now the grace God has given him, strengthening him.  Mark would be so strengthened that he would eventually pen the divinely inspired words of a Gospel that would “go into the whole world and proclaim the gospel to every creature” (Mark 16:15). As tradition has it, Mark wrote his Gospel based on Peter’s experience, recording Peter’s own denial of Christ. Mark also eventually allowed God to strengthen him, to help him have the courage to travel with the Apostles and share the Gospel. As Peter concludes his letter, Mark chimes in to be remembered to those in Asia Minor, and hears Peter speak of him as “Mark, my son” (1 Peter 5:15). Sister, like Saints Mark and Peter, we all have given into cowardice at times when we were called to proclaim the Gospel. The Lord wants to restore us and give us His grace, especially the graces we first received at Confirmation, to share His love with others. Ask Saint Mark to intercede for you today, that you may receive more fully the Gifts of the Holy Spirit to more fully live out your personal call to evangelization.

“I did not come to condemn the world but to save the world.” // John 12:47 When I cease to identify with the sick and the sinners in the Gospel, I lose my need for a Savior. If I start to look down on the thieves, possessed, adulterers, and chronically ill humans who encountered Jesus, I become a Pharisee. If I believe myself to be above their faults and failures then I deem myself above the grasp of God, for His default posture toward us is bending low.  Like those who first heard Jesus’ words in today’s Gospel (see John 12:44-50), I am called to turn my sick soul away from sin and toward a life of grace. I am called to be “sent forth by the Holy Spirit” (Acts 13:4). But I must never forget that I remain in need of His salvation at every moment.  How quickly I take my salvation into my own hands! Most of the time this urge springs from two manifestations of pride: haughtiness or self-reliance.  Haughtiness tempts me to believe that I am pretty great on my own. I’ve got it together! Things are going well for me! And it’s all thanks to my brilliance, charisma, holiness, and discipline! I become blind to my helplessness and call myself the light of the world. I forget my need for a Savior. The other side of this pride is a sad self-reliance. Here, I am well-aware of my sins, shortcomings, and desperation. But I believe the voice that lies: No one is coming to save you.  Thus, I struggle in shame and try to do it myself in spite of Christ’s promise, “I did not come to condemn the world but to save the world” (John 12:47). My self-condemnation heightens when I try to save myself. I forget the Savior came for me. We are free when we remain convinced of our constant need of saving while living in the joy that Jesus has, in fact, come to save us. How do you need Him to save you today? Take a few moments of quiet prayer now. Tell Him of your need for Him. And trust that He has come just for you.

“My sheep hear my voice; I know them, and they follow me.” // John 10:27 I expected something flashy. I mean, I knew better than to think that God would simply descend from on high and split the church ceiling right then and there as I sat before the tabernacle, fidgeting with a loose string on my scarf and worrying about my future, again.  But still. Was it so much to ask for just a bit of clarity?  Earning my doctorate has often felt like a strangely out-of-time experience, passing in a blissful haze of mornings spent ensconced in the library, and afternoons nursing a second (or third, or fourth) cup of tea. But with just one year left, the dull background murmur of anxiety about my career is becoming a siren wail. Some days, I just want God to appear before me—plainly—and tell me in no uncertain terms where to go next. But that’s not how He speaks to me. More often, I hear Him in the gentle tugging of my heartstrings when I read something that moves me deeply, or in the profound joy that comes from helping a student analyze a tricky poem during office hours. These whispers of the Lord in my heart, so easily missed if I’m not paying attention, attune me to the sound of His voice—its steady cadence and gentle tone—and beckon me to follow, one step at a time. Sister, if we are to be sheep who know His voice and follow Him, we need to be attentive to these nuances—to ask where Christ is making His presence known, day after day. Then we will find that, unlike those who question Him in today’s Gospel (see John 10:24), we do not need to wait in suspense. He is already here, calling to us.    How is He speaking to you today?

“Whoever enters through me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. A thief comes only to steal and slaughter and destroy; I came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly.” // John 10:9-10 It was my first time on a yacht in the ocean, and until then seasickness had been a foreign concept to me. I remember the doctor giving me a shot on the arm and falling fast asleep. When morning came I woke up with vomit up all over my arm. Creeping over to my cabin window, I peered through the shade. The water was calm, it was crystal clear, and it was a turquoise blue that I had never seen before in any body of water. It was truly breathtaking.  I had been hired as a nanny on this private yacht for a milestone birthday celebration. This world that I had entered into was completely detached from my everyday life. There were new menus created daily, my cabin was turned down every night, and when I had free time I would go up to the deck, gaze at the incredible view, and play with the golf simulator (mostly because it was there—not because I was an avid golfer).  I could see where this world could sweep one away with all of its excess and luxury. It would be easy to find pasture here and think it is a life of abundance (see John 10:10).  Spending time with the invited guests reminded me of Christ’s words, “For where your treasure is, there also will your heart be” (Matthew 6:21). The “treasure” of excess and luxury can feel like the pinnacle of fulfillment. This trip through the Southern Caribbean overwhelmed me with a sense of what the thieves in our lives can be when we do not have our eyes fixed on our Good Shepherd: wealth, social media, material possessions, excessive preoccupation about the future, obsession over politics, academic superiority, etc. There is much that can deter us from living a truly abundant life when we don’t enter through the gate.  Sister, what thief have you allowed to interfere with your relationship with Jesus? Pray again with today’s Gospel (John 10:1-10) and listen to the stirrings of your heart.

No one takes it from me, but I lay it down on my own. // John 10:18 A lot of cleaning. That’s what I saw in nearly every frame of the documentary. The Missionaries of Charity cleaning everything and everyone, from toilets to kitchens to frail and newborn bodies. Their famous threadbare saris wrapped and tied in such a way so as to be able to get their hands dirty for whatever Jesus in His distressing disguise might need.  Tears of gratitude slowly spilled down my cheeks. This is what it means to be holy, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. As the movie rolled on, something like wonder took deep hold. I began to recognize my own life—the potential for my own gift of love—laid out before me on the screen. Because do you know what I have to do everyday? Clean. Every day I make my bed and take out the trash and wipe the sink and tidy, tidy, tidy. When united with the love of Jesus, my life and duties as a single woman can make me a missionary of charity. My best friend, too, lives a life of radical service and self-gift. She loves and feeds and clothes her seven children day after day, night upon night, year after long year, pouring out her life as a libation. Indeed every mother is a missionary of charity, caring for the poor, hungry, and naked in her home.  For years I’ve carried the mental load of bills and budgets, appointments and errands as a heavy yoke made more unbearable by resentment over my lack of help or hope of reprieve. It’s a temptation we all face when our tasks pile up like endless laundry. But as I studied those beautiful sisters, something like the grace of their yes was infused into me. A conviction: I want to live a life of love which is a life of service. I want to lay down my life on my own, to be a gift even as I do the dishes.  This is the secret of sanctity: your life is a gift.  Give it fully, give it lavishly, give it to Jesus right where you are, today and every day. 

Jesus then said to the Twelve, "Do you also want to leave?" Simon Peter answered him, "Master, to whom shall we go?” // John 6:67-68 When my dad was diagnosed with brain cancer—four months before he died—one of my biggest fears was that my faith would be shaken. Faith really is a gift and I wondered if walking through the death of my dad would be more than I could bear. Could I handle it? Could my faith handle it? I wondered if Jesus would still feel real to me once I suffered this loss. Would all the truths of my faith stand up to this test, to this devastating separation? Maybe I’ve shared about this before and here I am again. But it’s worth repeating: God’s promises are true. He provides for us in all we need. And we see that in how He implemented His plan of Salvation. While death and sadness were not part of God’s original plan and are a result of our sin, Jesus’s Death on the Cross redeemed all of it for us. God walks with us in the midst of this suffering because He has gone through it before. Death conquered death. As I worried I would be tempted to leave Jesus, I realized what Simon Peter does in today’s Gospel: “[T]o whom shall we go?” (John 6:68) Sister, there is no place beyond the reach of God’s love. Whatever pit we may find ourselves in, God can be there with us. He can take our suffering and redeem it for good. He can take our mourning and turn it into joy.  Why would we go anywhere else? To whom else could we possibly turn?

“There was a disciple in Damascus named Ananias, and the Lord said to him in a vision, “Ananias.” He answered, “Here I am, Lord.” // Acts 9:10 In one breath we are so ready to place ourselves at the Lord’s disposal, eager to do whatever He asks, willing to offer Him our all. Then, with our next, after we hear what it is He wants, we question, doubt, and often shrink back from what He asks. Here I am Lord . . . Wait, you want me to do what?! I cannot count the number of time’s I’ve had that reaction in dialogue with the Lord. It is so easy to say the words until He calls us to do, give, offer, suffer that thing. I don’t know what your thing is, but I’m pretty sure you have one. It is the sacrifice, act, call, whatever that you tell the Lord you’re willing to give, but deep down pray that He never asks it; then the day comes when He does. Your thing might be little, like a particular sacrifice for an intention that stings more than expected, it might be reaching out to that person who makes you snap into a fight-or-flight mode at the mere mention of their name. It might be a little bigger, like stepping out of your comfort zone into a new career, taking the next step in a relationship, or responding to a vocation to religious life. Whatever it is, big or small, we’ve all been there, feeling the anxiety and questions creep while our heartbeats quicken—and like Ananias we’ve searched for any excuse that would let us off the hook! (see Acts 9:13-14) That fear does not come from the Lord, and He does not let our questioning and doubt have the final say. He is ever gentle, meeting us where we are and bringing us along to reveal that with Him we are capable of doing whatever it is He is asking of us. Like He did for Ananias, He dispels our misconceptions, reveals His plan to us, and invites us, with His help to bring those plans to fruition. Sister, where is God calling you to step out of comfort and doubt into fulfilling His plan for you and those you know and don’t know? 

He replied, “How can I [understand], unless someone instructs me?” So he invited Philip to get in and sit with him. // Acts 8:31 I decided to be a graphic designer about halfway into college. I remember switching my major and eagerly signing up for design classes the next semester. I had zero experience. I can totally do this. How hard can it be? Around the same time, I connected with an older design student. I would watch as she whipped up projects like it was nothing. She knew every shortcut, effortlessly used all the software, and had the most brilliant ideas. The more I watched her, all I thought about was how much I didn’t know. With pure generosity, she would ask me often: “Do you want me to show you how to do that?”  Absolutely not. How embarrassing to admit that I didn’t know everything yet! I’d always say no thanks, that I could “figure it out.”  Of course, “figuring it out” always meant secretly Googling, accidentally deleting files, and throwing myself into pits of stress. If I would have let her show me, it would have been so simple. I could’ve asked specific questions and truly had fun learning from someone who enjoyed design as much as I did. Learning could have been a positive experience, instead of one filled with anxiety and self-criticism. In today’s remarkable First Reading (see Acts 8:26-40), I’m honestly astounded at the court official’s radical openness. When asked if he understood what he was reading, he replied, “How can I, unless someone instructs me?” (Acts 8:31) Talk about true humility. This man had a heart that was begging to be taught, eager to enjoy the company of someone wiser than him. Because of it, he was practically running to be baptized and walked away dancing with joy. I want my heart to look like that. From the tiniest task to the biggest doubts in your mind, it’s not embarrassing to be the one asking questions. It’s okay to ask for help. In fact, I would argue that it’s the fastest track to a joyful life. Jesus, give me the grace to be a life-long learner. Teach me the joy of asking for help.

Jesus said to the crowds,"I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst.” // John 6:35 When I was a senior in college, I traveled in a charter bus from Notre Dame to Philadelphia to see Pope Francis for the World Meeting of Families. If you’ve ever been to a papal audience, you’ll know it’s absolutely chaotic and totally wonderful.  Various groups of parishes, schools, and religious orders invaded the blocked-off streets. Some were sporting school uniforms, others were in matching bright-colored beanies, and giant banners waved through the air. People were speaking different languages, mothers were pushing strollers as toddlers bounced around them, and there was, as always, lots of singing.  This wasn’t my first time attending a papal audience, but I noticed something different this time. When it came to the moment when Holy Communion was being distributed during Mass, they started singing the hymn Gift of Finest Wheat: “You satisfy the hungry heart, with gift of finest wheat . . . ”  I stood there on the grass, observing it all. Hundreds of priests dispersed throughout the crowds, and large groups of people started moving spontaneously towards them. These men dressed in white, each cupping a gold ciborium in the palm of his hands, were bringing us Jesus Himself.  Suddenly this reality became overwhelmingly beautiful. Jesus was coming down from heaven to feed us the Bread of Life—to meet us in our yearnings, our lacking, and our weakness. Each person in the crowd approached the Lamb of God with a hungry heart, and He fed each child who opened their mouth to Him.  In today’s Gospel, we hear this truth spoken from the very lips of Jesus (see John 6:35-40). He passionately proclaims it to a crowd of people. Stand in that crowd today and listen. Do you trust Him with your hungry and aching heart?  The next time you receive Holy Communion, ask the Lord to open your heart more fully as you open your mouth to receive Him. He is dying to feed you.

[T]hey said to [Jesus], “Sir, give us this bread always.” Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst.” // John 6:34-35  Feeding myself is a tedious process. Due to severe allergies, I can only have the simplest, cleanest, and most limited ingredients. I’m always prepping separate meals for myself and my family; there’s no shortcut or “cheating” unless I want to spend several days sick in bed. It often feels like wearying, never-ending work. At the same time, it’s an act of mercy and reverence: nourishing the temple of my body to better commune with Almighty God Who dwells therein.   I empathize with the people in today’s Gospel (see John 6:30-35) who were also tired of the tedium and ready for a shortcut. Their days were endlessly filled with grinding flour, kneading dough, and baking it into bread simply to sustain themselves. They’d grown up with their ancestors’ accounts of miraculous manna in the desert, and their encounter with Jesus had all the echoes of the same. Here was a wonder-worker Who claimed to be God and promised divine bread—finally, they’d have a break from the everyday toil. Finally, they'd find fulfillment without the backbreaking investment. But Jesus wasn’t offering a life hack. He was offering Himself. He could’ve snapped His fingers and immediately erased their hunger; He could instantly heal me now if He willed. Yet Jesus was inviting them—and us—into something far deeper and more lasting than relief from physical hunger.  Christ knows that the life hacks and time-saving devices we crave can never deliver the fullness of freedom and healing we truly desire. Instead, our “time saved” is quickly overrun by more longing and our energy diverted to other anxieties.  The answer is not more ease and comfort. It’s possessing Jesus. In His wisdom, the Lord allows certain difficulties because they can propel us toward Him, the Bread of Life—the only life hack Who can fully satisfy, no matter the task or trial. Today, take stock of your longings. Is Jesus a part of them? Visit the Bread of Life in Adoration or receive Him at Mass, and give Him greater access to your heart—that He may satisfy you beyond your greatest desires.

Do not work for food that perishes but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you. For on him the Father, God, has set his seal. // John 6:27 The frequency with which I find myself grasping and clinging to “the food that perishes” rather than “the food that endures” still shocks me.  I have been Catholic all my life and have lived my faith fairly seriously most of my adult life. I take going to Mass every Sunday seriously. I try my best to make daily prayer a priority. I value praying with and thinking about Scripture.  And yet, despite these things, it is all too easy to want and desire the food that perishes.  I want my prayers to be answered, and not merely answered, but quickly and in just the way I desire. Accompanying my prayers is my attitude that my will must be completely correct—God cannot possibly disagree with me or have plans that do not coincide with my own! When my prayers are not answered in the way and timing I want them to be, I am thrown. There cannot be better reasons as to why the answers are not forthcoming. Why can’t I receive what I want when I want it?  I want the easy, fast, vending machine of God answering my prayers. I want the quick fix of food that perishes, that satisfies my wants of today. In my pride I choose the food that perishes immediately. I refuse to humbly trust in God the Father to answer my prayers in His perfect timing and ways—I refuse the food that endures forever.  It is so easy to go about our lives thinking that our faith and trust in God is deep and profound. But truly pursuing that which endures requires giving up our own desires in many ways which we do not expect. Our pride can be hidden in so many places within our hearts, urging us to forsake that which endures for the all-too-familiar temporary food that lasts just a moment. Where in your life are you holding on to your own desires so strongly that you are willing to give up the food that endures for the quick fix of being satisfied today?

“Repent, therefore, and be converted, that your sins may be wiped away.” // Acts 3:19 In today’s readings—on the Third Sunday of Easter—we hear of the need for repentance and conversion, so that our sins may be wiped away. It seems like a rather “Lent-ish” reading to land so solidly in the Easter season. As Catholics, we have the season of Lent to give us another chance, to enter into life-changing habits, but so often after Lent passes us by, we are back to our old ways. Perhaps it is because as a culture, we often commit to changing our habits but stop short of inviting God to transform our lives. Instead, we return to the attachments that keep us from real conversion. It turns out, resolving to do better simply isn’t good enough. If we want our lives to be transformed by Christ, we must glance back as well as look forward. Where do we first need repentance before we enter into deeper conversion? What tendencies are keeping us trapped, even after Easter?  If you see your life needs radical change, don’t wait until December 31, 2024, or the beginning of next Lent. Take it to prayer today. Ask the Lord to show you how and where He desires you to grow. Go to Confession and start anew. Saint Jerome said, “As often as the world’s vain ambition delights you [ . . . .] transport yourself in your thoughts to paradise: begin to be what you shall be” (source).  What and who do you want to be? Let’s start anew today.

As the number of disciples continued to grow, the Hellenists complained against the Hebrews because their widows were being neglected in the daily distribution. // Acts 6:1 I often ask the Holy Spirit to make my heart attentive to those in need around me. A few months ago, I noticed a situation in my workplace where we were neglecting to care for the spiritual needs of several people. One day during daily Mass, I received a very clear conviction about this situation. I was unable to ignore the problem.   The Holy Spirit helped me to see something that others were unable to see. I received many things: the courage to humbly bring these needs to my supervisor, the opportunity to speak to the administration in a timely manner, the freedom to share my heart, and a clear plan of action for how we might be able to solve the problem. I noticed an unshakable confidence which immediately calmed my fears. I barely recognized myself, but also felt completely myself. My administrators listened to me and we created a plan to remedy the problem. The gift of my feminine genius felt fully alive. I received a conviction and let it pierce my sensitive heart. I responded with generosity, cherishing the souls entrusted to my motherly care. The Father created our souls with this feminine design of receptivity, sensitivity, generosity, and maternity (both biological and spiritual). It was a gift to detect these gifts harmoniously working together for the benefit of others. Sister, the Church needs our attentive hearts. Who is being neglected in your community? What do you notice? How can you respond with generosity? How will you provide motherly care? Do not be afraid, especially as you might face strong winds of resistance. Be attentive and courageous! The Holy Spirit desires to strengthen you today.

The LORD is my life's refuge; of whom should I be afraid? // Psalm 27:1b Trembling inside, I walked into my employer’s office. I’d been to Reconciliation the day before and I imagined, as the priest had advised me, that Jesus was on one side of me and Mary on the other. I asked my boss if he would listen without interruption while I read what I had written. I believed God was calling me to a new job, so I read the letter thanking him for all I’d learned from him and giving my two weeks notice.  When I finished reading, I was afraid he would yell at me in anger; instead my boss crumpled my letter and threw it in the trash, saying, “Leave my office now.” A few minutes later his assistant came to relay the message that I had four hours to clear everything out of my office. Because of God’s goodness, I can now look back with gratitude that God strengthened me to face my fears and to obey what I believed He was asking of me. I could never have imagined the emotional healing and restoration He had in store for me, nor the future reconciliation (nine years later) He had planned for me and my former employer. Dear sister, when we run to the Lord as our refuge, we can trust in confidence even when we feel afraid. God will not forsake us.  Is there someone you’re afraid of? A relationship you’re afraid of losing? I encourage you to pour out your heart to the Lord and listen to what He asks of you. Then step out in courage and confront your fears, remembering that you are God’s own beloved daughter and you are safe with Him.