The LORD God then took the man and settled him in the garden of Eden, to cultivate and care for it. // Genesis 2:15 My family would pile into the station wagon every summer to camp at a new National Park. This was back in the days when seatbelts were a suggestion and Car Bingo and Travel Scrabble were our entertainment rather than cell phones and Nintendo Switch. We would cook over a campfire, hike for hours, raft rivers, and play board games until we cocooned into our sleeping bags and tents under the stars. So it was fitting that after my dad passed away, nature called me to pay a visit. A friend of mine wanted to descend the Grand Canyon and visit Havasupai Falls. After seeing the images, I had to gaze at the turquoise waterfalls and rivers with my own eyes. This land is untouched. The only remaining Pony Express is how the Native Americans receive their mail on this hallowed ground. It is truly paradise in the desert canyon. One evening I couldn’t sleep, so I stepped outside my tent and lay on the ground, looking up at the expansive and brilliant stars. They felt like a weightless blanket covering me. The air was so pure, the trees so tall. The sound of water flowing nearby calmed my grieving soul. Nature was caring for my soul in a way only God’s creation could. John Muir, Father of the National Parks, once said, “In every walk with nature, one receives far more than he seeks.” God called Adam to cultivate and care for nature, knowing his soul would be cultivated through his actions. Pope Francis wrote in Laudato Si, “The universe unfolds in God, who fills it completely. Hence, there is a mystical meaning to be found in a leaf, in a mountain trail, in a dewdrop, in a poor person’s face. The ideal is not only to pass from the exterior to the interior to discover the action of God in the soul, but also to discover God in all things” (Paragraph 233). Like Adam in the Garden of Eden, I was seeking something at the bottom of the Grand Canyon that I could not find in the concrete jungle of Los Angeles. Perhaps, God is calling you to nature to cultivate your soul today. Find your garden of Eden, your Grand Canyon, and pass from the exterior to the interior to discover the actions of God in your soul.

God looked at everything he had made and he found it very good. // Genesis 1:31 I am not a nature girl. Perhaps my family’s most iconic winter photo demonstrates this most clearly. Bundled from head to toe in a snowsuit, winter jacket, hat, hood, and mittens, I’m standing on the front porch of our house with tears of misery streaming down my face as my older siblings frolic in the yard building a snowman. Why would anyone choose to leave the comfort and warmth of their home to purposefully subject oneself to frozen wetness and bone-chilling cold? As for the spring and summer, I don’t like being dirty so anything involving dirt or mud, or the possibility of dirt or mud, was out of the question. Then there’s my sordid relationship with poison ivy which on occasion led to heavy duty antibiotics and steroids! I often have to remind myself that nature, created by God is, in fact, good, not because my experiences of it are good, but because God has revealed to us that it is good. It is easy to forget, sometimes, that I am part of God’s creation and therefore, I am good, my body is good; humanity is good. Our goodness is not in our actions or experiences of our bodies always being good, but because God created us in His image and likeness. He finds us very good (see Genesis 1:31). He delights in His creation, in humanity above all. His delight is so complete that when He finished creation, He rested in His delight. Sister, today, rest in the goodness of creation. Rest and delight in the world around you. Look past the frozen wetness and bone-chilling cold of the snow to see the beauty of the sparkling snow—each flake as unique as the human being contemplating its design. Bask in the beauty of the ocean, “teeming with an abundance of living creatures” seen and unseen. Rest in your own beauty. Rest in the Father’s delight in you. As you look in the mirror today, remind yourself that when the Father gazes upon all that He has made He finds it “very good,” and you are included in that.

They scurried about the surrounding country. // Mark 6:55 Imagine having such faith that upon seeing Jesus, you would drop everything to bring your sick loved ones to Him. Imagine having the belief that your loved ones—or yourself!—will be healed, by simply touching the tassels of Jesus’ clothing. Imagine having the faith to recognize the Son of God in your midst. Imagine daring to approach the God of the Universe! Sister, this is what the Lord wants for us! He longs for us to have this kind of radical faith, to recognize Him, to drop everything when He comes, to dare to approach Him with all that we are. This Gospel story is incredible! If you skimmed it, I invite you to read it again. I can’t get over how the people recognized Jesus and how they “scurried about” to bring the sick to Him. I can’t get over the miracle that everyone who touched Jesus’ cloak was healed. Did you catch that part? The people “begged him that they might touch only the tassel on his cloak, and as many as touched it were healed” (emphasis mine, see Mark 6:56). It’s astounding! I want a faith like that. What will I drop to see Jesus? How far will I go to be with Him? When I imagine everything these people dropped when they glimpsed Jesus, I know I have a long way to go in loosening my grip on worldly matters. When I realize that the people immediately recognized Jesus, I wonder if I, too, recognize Him, or if my life is too full for me to even look up. There’s a part of my life the Holy Spirit has been gently nudging me to prune. He knows I can’t scurry about the countryside if I’m overly concerned with task-completion, glued to glowing screens, and distracted from prayer. If seeing Jesus is what I desire, I need to let go. I need to let go, and look up to see Him. Sister, taking even five minutes to pray in front of the Eucharist is a life-changer. Join me today in letting go and looking at Him?

“You are the salt of the earth.” // Matthew 5:13 I was on a four-day pilgrimage to a Marian shrine, and it was glorious: the pain, the satisfaction, the sweat, the grace during walking Confessions, the music-filled air, and chanted Rosaries. I had learned two important things on my first go-around the year before: the speed at which one walked determined the conversations had and also whether or not one could hear the witness talks shared over the bullhorn. On this particular day, speed was in my favor for both reasons. A friend of mine began to tell me about a convert who was among us. He had been a Protestant mega-church pastor who decided to leave everything and become Catholic. I was intrigued! Just some moments after this conversation, a voice came over the bullhorn introducing the next speaker who would be sharing his testimony with us. To my surprise, it was the Protestant pastor-turned-Catholic, whom I had just heard about. He shared his powerful testimony with us—those of us close enough to hear it—and at the end of his talk, he reflected on this very line of today’s Gospel: “You are the salt of the earth” (Matthew 5:13). I had often read past this line and skipped to the “city on the hill” part since it was much easier for me to understand. I knew of some of the common interpretations of the image of salt. Yet this convert shared with us a new perspective I had not heard. He asked, “What does salt do?” There were many typical answers floating around in everyone’s mind, I’m sure. Then he interrupted these thoughts to say, “Salt makes us thirsty. We are called to make the world thirsty for God.” (Insert that mind-blown emoji because that is exactly how I felt). Many years have passed, and I still remember these words vividly. I hope I do not forget them. You and I are called, sister, to live in such a way that we make others around us thirst for God—the God Who also thirsts for them (see John 19:28).

“You are the salt of the earth.” // Matthew 5:13 I was on a four-day pilgrimage to a Marian shrine, and it was glorious: the pain, the satisfaction, the sweat, the grace during walking Confessions, the music-filled air, and chanted Rosaries. I had learned two important things on my first go-around the year before: the speed at which one walked determined the conversations had and also whether or not one could hear the witness talks shared over the bullhorn. On this particular day, speed was in my favor for both reasons. A friend of mine began to tell me about a convert who was among us. He had been a Protestant mega-church pastor who decided to leave everything and become Catholic. I was intrigued! Just some moments after this conversation, a voice came over the bullhorn introducing the next speaker who would be sharing his testimony with us. To my surprise, it was the Protestant pastor-turned-Catholic, whom I had just heard about. He shared his powerful testimony with us—those of us close enough to hear it—and at the end of his talk, he reflected on this very line of today’s Gospel: “You are the salt of the earth” (Matthew 5:13). I had often read past this line and skipped to the “city on the hill” part since it was much easier for me to understand. I knew of some of the common interpretations of the image of salt. Yet this convert shared with us a new perspective I had not heard. He asked, “What does salt do?” There were many typical answers floating around in everyone’s mind, I’m sure. Then he interrupted these thoughts to say, “Salt makes us thirsty. We are called to make the world thirsty for God.” (Insert that mind-blown emoji because that is exactly how I felt). Many years have passed, and I still remember these words vividly. I hope I do not forget them. You and I are called, sister, to live in such a way that we make others around us thirst for God—the God Who also thirsts for them (see John 19:28).

People were coming and going in great numbers, and they had no opportunity even to eat . . . . When Jesus disembarked and saw the vast crowd, His heart was moved with pity for them. // Mark 6:31, 34 I rubbed my eyes, bleary with exhaustion, and scanned my lengthy to-do list. I’d just gotten over being sick, had a major surgery scheduled in three days, and could hardly process the overwhelm of tasks underscored by the ticking clock. There were work projects to wrap up and countless logistics to arrange so my family could still make it to school, sports, and have food to eat during my recovery. I didn’t relish the thought of surgery, but at this rate at least I’d have a few uninterrupted hours of rest under anesthesia! Then the email came. My son was dealing with something difficult, and it surpassed every other task and thought of rest. Stress over my schedule dissolved into heartbroken pity; my exhaustion reached a new low. I was already stretched far beyond my human means, but now I was being asked to give infinitely more. “Lord, I can’t.” I prayed. “But You can. I need You to do this—in me and through me.” In that moment, Our Lord’s Own heart moved with pity, and I felt a surge His love infused with supernatural strength—enough for me to take a deep breath and the next grace-filled step. Our God never grows weary of meeting us in our need. As Psalm 23 so poignantly reminds us, whatever our valley of suffering, God desires nothing more than to meet us there “with His rod and His staff that give [us] courage” (Psalm 23:4). Notice how Our Lord doesn’t swoop in to pluck us out of the dark valley, but instead draws alongside us to walk intimately with us, to help us reach even greater heights of glory. Sometimes in life we have to be stretched beyond our perceived limits, propelled beyond all natural human limitation, in order to notice God’s invitation: Will you turn away from self-reliance in order to receive My supernatural strength? Today, let the Lord gently point out where you’ve been trying to manage it all yourself. Give Him permission to walk with you—and give yourself permission to ask for the supernatural help He’s longing to freely give.

Let marriage be honored among all and the marriage bed be kept undefiled. // Hebrews 13:4 What does letting marriage be honored mean to you? Does it mean images of sentimental, puffy-sleeved wedding dresses? Does it mean legalistic realities where a woman could only purchase land or vote if she had a legal husband? Does it mean holding marriage as the ultimate happiness? Does it mean a loveless relationship held together by expectations and determination? We all have deeply personal experiences of marriage, whether that of the marriage of our parents, marriages of those around us, or marriages of our own. That is part of what makes marriage so important: that it deeply impresses so much upon children and in turn, the community at large. But the negative aspect of this is that we all have our individual issues when it comes to marriage as a concept and as a lived experience. It is a necessary and important reminder to us then that marriage is holy to God. We need to reorient our ideas about marriage in God’s light, not let the burdens, damage, and wounds from marriage that we carry extinguish it. Honoring marriage may begin in our own marriage, right now. Or it may come in how we speak of marriage, how we approach dating, how we empathize with children of divorce. In today’s Gospel (Mark 6:14-29), Saint John the Baptist was killed for speaking the truth about marriage; that is how important it was then, and still, is to God. Lord, we pray today for marriage: our marriages, the marriages within our family, the marriages of those around us, and for a strengthening of married love.

She never left the temple, but worshiped night and day with fasting and prayer. // Luke 2:37b I sat in a dimly lit room, nursing a sleepy babe and scrolling. As bright and beautiful photos of tidy homes and faraway adventures flooded my brain, I slipped into a familiar daydream. One day, when our kids had grown and flown the nest, our home would be a haven of comfort and rest. We would enjoy the fruits of a life spent choosing what mattered—prioritizing our marriage, planning date nights, having hard conversations, playing and laughing together—all this would bear a harvest of intimacy to be savored in this new, quieter season. When my husband died, those dreams were swept away like a sand castle in a flash flood. The future I had dreamed about was replaced by a dark and desolate wasteland I had no interest in exploring. I had known and loved my husband, and my vocation as his wife. What was my life to be, now that all of that was gone? Saint Luke tells us that the prophetess Anna was married for only seven years before she became a widow. Doubtless this was not the way Anna saw her life playing out. But she sought the Lord in the upheaval and uncertainty in her life, allowing Him to use her for His purposes. Instead of clinging to the version of her future she was used to, she allowed God to become her entire life. Because of her faithfulness, she was present for the arrival of the Messiah. Though we are only a few weeks into this new year, you have probably already lived through a shift, be it small or large. Maybe you made a resolution a month ago, and you shake your head at the way it has turned out. Or maybe tragedy has smashed into your life like a meteor, shattering the future you had planned and discerned. Breathe. Wait. Listen. God has not abandoned you. The future He has planned is better than anything you could have imagined. The Messiah is still coming into your life, if you will be patient and attentive, if you will be present to watch for Him.

The Lord’s kindness is everlasting to those who fear him. // Psalm 103:17 There’s a hilarious old Tumblr thread about how terrifying are the actual descriptions of angels in the Bible, and how that’s why their standard greeting to humans is, “Do not be afraid.” Someone references a Christmas special on an old radio show: Angel: “FEAR NOT.” Shepherds: *screaming* Angel: “I SAID FEAR NOT.” Shepherds: *screaming louder* Angel: “WHAT PART OF ‘FEAR NOT’ ARE YOU NOT UNDERSTANDING?” And someone replies: “Maybe that’s why so many Christians see visions of saints or the Virgin Mary instead . . . like, Jesus is all . . . no, no see being human made me realize sending angels might not be the best idea. I don’t know if humans can handle this. So I’m gonna just send Mom.” The whole thing always makes me laugh. But also, it seems pretty accurate. It makes sense to me. Angels might be accidentally terrifying, but they do try to soothe us. And Jesus doesn’t want us to fear. He says as much, multiple times (see Matthew 10:26, 28, 31; 14:27; 17:7; 28:10; Mark 5:36; 6:50; Luke 5:10; 8:50; 12:4, 7, 32; John 6:20; 14:27; Acts 18:9). So then why does today’s Psalm response have us repeat over and over again, “The Lord’s kindness is everlasting to those who fear him”? Why would we want to do that? Well, because it doesn’t mean what we think it means. “Fear of the Lord” is one of the gifts of the Holy Spirit. These gifts “complete and perfect the virtues of those who receive them. They make the faithful docile in readily obeying divine inspirations” (Catechism of the Catholic Church § 1831). “Fear” of the Lord isn’t a terror of God’s power or of His ability to punish or send discomfiting angels as messengers. Rather, it’s respect for God's power and recognition of our duty to Him as our Creator. This “gift” of fear manifests as a desire to never be separated from God through sin. Because that, truly, is the only thing to fear! What is holding you back from closeness with God today? Bring it to Him in prayer or the Sacrament of Confession.

She fell down before Jesus and told him the whole truth. // Mark 5:33 I sat there in front of the monstrance in the deserted adoration chapel feeling empty, worn out, and tired. As a struggling perfectionist, I was tired of never quite feeling like I could be enough. I felt worn out each time I saw my brokenness and all the ways I perceived myself to be failing. Ultimately, I felt as though I had run out of the Lord’s grace and had to just run on empty because there was nothing else to do. As someone who is quite passionate about people knowing they are loved, I had spent a lot of my life speaking of Jesus’ love to those around me. But somehow, at that moment, I didn't have what it took to speak it to myself. So there I sat in front of Jesus, feeling like I had nothing to offer. Deciding there was nothing else to do, I chose to pour my empty heart out. I told Him the truth. I let Him into the ache of constantly feeling the need to be perfect. I spoke to Him about how I felt so empty. I cried tears that I had held back for years. And then, I felt Him speak truth to my heart: Your brokenness doesn’t scare Me, so why do you let it scare you? I realized that I had spent so much time running away from my brokenness, rather than running with it toward Jesus. In reality, that’s all I really needed to take with me. Sister, your brokenness is a place to let the Lord encounter you. He desires to hear the truth from your lips, let you touch even just the threads of His clothes, and most of all, heal the brokenness and wounds that afflict you. Healing happens when we let Christ into our fragmented and weak hearts and tell Him the whole truth. Your brokenness doesn’t scare Him, so don’t let it scare you. Fall down before Jesus and tell Him the whole truth. Listen to today's audio devotion.

“Go home to your family and announce to them all that the Lord in His pity has done for you.” Then the man went off and began to proclaim in the Decapolis what Jesus had done for him and all were amazed. // Mark 5:19-20 There was a memorial service on a Friday morning in March. As we entered the hall and took off our winter jackets, the song Amazing Grace was just coming to a close. A friend and I sat down, prayed, and then opened a program to preview the upcoming eulogists and speakers. Nothing could have prepared us for who was to come next. The sound of high heels began to click on the linoleum floors, and a small, yet mighty, woman made her way to the podium. Her confident presence was palpable even as she adjusted the podium stand. She then took to the microphone and began to testify to the power of God. This woman proceeded to share her conversion story, reliving the moment she was ‘saved in a grocery store.’ As she told her story, she powerfully reminded all those gathered that no one is beyond the saving power of God and that He desires to raise His people from the graves of sin. She courageously preached this word of faith to a community of people who knew the tombs she used to dwell among (see Mark 5:3) before that moment in the grocery store. This disciple of Christ was boldly proclaiming and courageously witnessing to the God Who “makes all things new” (Revelations 21:5) to those who knew who she once was. She stood in her reclaimed identity as a beloved daughter of God, and she spoke as one who knew the mission Jesus had given her to testify to what He had done for her. Listening to this woman speak, I could sense she lived in the power of the Spirit, the Power that pulls apart chains and smashes the shackles of sin and death in our lives. In the Gospel of Mark 5:4, we see a contrast between the physical chains which restrained the man under the possession of Legion, but he broke out of, and the chains of sin which Christ freed him from. What chains of sin are holding you back from God? Bring them to Him today. Jesus, You are our Savior and our Redeemer. Give us the grace to never forget what You have done for us. Strengthen us, so that we may testify to Your Resurrection in our lives. Make us witnesses of Your Saving Power. Make us new. Listen to today's audio devotion.

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. // Matthew 5:9 From my eighth-grade desk, I looked over at Kat and her golden locks shimmering in a beam of afternoon sunlight. We had just voted for the eighth-grade girl who would crown the Blessed Mother at the May Crowning. It was a big deal for the eighth graders and a marked honor for the girl chosen. There was no doubt in my mind that it would be popular, beautiful, head cheerleader Kat. I sighed knowing that someone like me—shy and chubby with a head of unruly, curly hair—would never be chosen. Yet, it was my name the teacher called. I stood dumbfounded as my classmates turned and smiled at me. Later, when talking to a friend about my shock, she commented on how I always tried to be kind to others, defended those who were being mistreated, and tried to keep the peace amongst classmates. I would never be the beautiful, popular cheerleader, but in that moment, my classmates saw something that mattered more. That happened decades ago, yet it still touches my heart because it is a lesson we can live in our adulthood. When God looks at us, the most important things aren’t going to be how popular or successful we are in the world. He will examine the state of our hearts and if we’re living a life of love and mercy. Jesus gives us a long list of Beatitudes in today’s Gospel (Matthew 5:1-12) and it can be overwhelming to strive to be poor in spirit, meek, merciful, clean of heart, peacemakers, and rejoicing at persecution. However, every day we are given little moments to live the Beatitudes. Perhaps, there’s a Beatitude that you don’t understand. Take a moment to look it up in the Catechism to get a better appreciation of it. Or if there’s a Beatitude that bothers you, take it to prayer and ask God to open your heart to its meaning. Lord, teach me how to be a reflection of the Beatitudes in my life, so I can love You more and draw others to Your mercy. Listen to today's audio devotion.

Brothers and sisters: Faith is the realization of what is hoped for and evidence of things not seen. // Hebrews 11:1 It has been said that Saint Francis de Sales wrote that you learn to speak by speaking, to study by studying, and to love by loving. By his logic, we also learn to have greater faith by putting that faith into practice. It's a thing we have to do—to live out, for it to grow (source). A beautiful way to put that into practice is to pray, to enter into a conversation with Our Father in Heaven, to trust that He is listening and wanting our good, and to look for how He already is responding and working in the details of our lives. He did it for the disciples, and He does it for you. You can pray the Rosary and learn about Jesus' life with each mystery. You can spend time with Him in silence at Adoration. You can be united to Him at Mass. You can begin your day with a Morning Offering and end your day with a prayer of thanksgiving. Each of these practices offers a space where your faith can grow in any season of life and with any set of prayer intentions you bring. As we work on our faith, let's remember, too, that when the Apostles asked Jesus to increase their faith, the Lord replied that they only needed to have faith the size of a mustard seed (see Luke 17:5-6). So let's ask Him to increase our faith now, and let's put it into practice and let it grow. Little by little. Listen to today's audio devotion.

“It is like a mustard seed that, when it is sown in the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on the earth.” // Mark 4:31 It was a late night at work, and I could feel the headache from physical and emotional exhaustion coming on. The recent transition into a new job and a new city weighed heavily on my heart, and I felt restless. I did not think I could reasonably call a friend at 11 p.m. on a weeknight, so to a tiny chapel I went. Hurrying to pray, I opened my Bible and my books to find some sort of answer to fix this uneasiness and exhaustion. Minutes went by, and I grew to be more frustrated. Nothing seemed to bring rest within me. I read and read, and yet I grew even more tired and depleted. I called out in frustration, “What do You want from me?” Honesty, I heard in my own heart. I began to realize I had not offered God what was truly at the root of my exhaustion: my loneliness. My fear was that it was too insignificant, too small. I learned that night that the Lord desires to be with me at all times. When I am lonely on my drive home, when I’ve had an interaction that was draining, when I simply need a friend but it is too late, or when I just need a hug, He is there. He cares for me there. He longs to meet me here. None of these desires are too small for Him to notice. And often, like the mustard seed in today’s Gospel, these are the seed bed for the greatest truths. Friend, Our Lord takes great delight in being invited into those small and tender mustard seed places of your heart in order to sow the seed of intimacy that will bear much fruit. May you have the clarity to see these small but mighty places in your own heart and the courage to bring them to Our Beloved. One thing alone is necessary; that the sinner set ajar the door of his heart, be it ever so little, to let in a ray of God’s merciful grace, and then God will do the rest. // Saint Faustina, Diary of Saint Faustina (1507)

I yearn to see you again, recalling your tears, so that I may be filled with joy, as I recall your sincere faith that first lived in your grandmother Lois and in your mother Eunice and that I am confident lives also in you. // 2 Timothy 1:4-5 Sunshine poured through the kitchen windows across the dining table on the crisp fall morning. The sun’s rays combined with the countless family photos warmed the room, inviting me and anyone who entered to feel at home. My boss, Susan, had invited me over for breakfast: sourdough pancakes from her starter that might have been older than me. We sat and exchanged stories while we took bites and sipped our coffee. The front door revolved through the meal, welcoming members of her family who’d heard there were pancakes. Children, grandchildren, and one great-grandchild filled the space and filled the gaps in her stories. I’d only been in town a month or so, and already I was welcomed into the family through the generosity and hospitality of its matriarch. Isn’t that just like a grandmother though? My own grandmother opened her home to me during breaks in grad school just as she and grandpa had for my family when I was a toddler. And during the years in between, when I didn’t live in their house, I may as well have with how often I was there. The door was always open as was the invitation to stay. Grandma was my first introduction to a love of God through her devout faith and the immeasurable generosity that flows from it. She continues to inspire me today, as does Susan, and the memories of all of the grandmothers I have been blessed to know. Every single one of them a radiating light of the goodness of God, just as I imagine Saint Timothy’s grandma, Lois, was based on Saint Paul’s description. I often say that Saint Anne is my favorite Saint because the perfection of her daughter, the Blessed Mother, can seem unrelatable and intimidating, Anne is more approachable, like a dear friend who invites you into her home for a warm meal where she tells you beautiful stories about her daughter and goes on about how much they all just adore her Grandson. And in those stories you learn how much you are loved—by her and by God. Isn’t that just like a grandmother? Listen to today's audio devotion.

Immediately things like scales fell from his eyes and he regained his sight. // Acts 9:18 I know I need Jesus to illuminate so many areas of my life. There are glaring areas of my thinking that have not yet conformed to Christ’s thinking. I struggle to let go of holding my own opinion higher than that of the Church. But the grace of conversion and the personal encounter with Jesus is not a one-time experience. Even though Saint Paul dramatically experienced Christ knocking him to the ground and blinding him with the Truth, he also continued to grow in his experience with following Jesus for the rest of his life. Saint Paul had to be corrected in his error, his persecution of followers of Christ. Saint Paul walked in his journey towards holiness everyday after that historic journey to Damascus. I am sure that the process of learning the ways of Christ did not come in a painless way for Saint Paul. Just like Saint Paul, we live in a world that constantly tells us messages contrary to the truth. It takes intention, perseverance, and daily conversion to conform ourselves to the truth the Church teaches. But I want the scales taken from my eyes, even if it means a sometimes painful process. If I follow in Saint Paul’s footsteps of a determined and strong faith and love of Christ, then I know I too will encounter suffering, but also will live in the light. Jesus, show me where in my life You want to remove the scales from my eyes and see the truth. Lead me in Your ways, O Lord. Listen to today's audio devotion.

“For whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.” // Mark 3:35 The kitchen clock ticked steadily while my son sat fidgeting over his math workbook. I looked at his assignment book, mentally calculating the time he needed to complete his homeschool work for the day. His older sisters worked studiously in the dining room with a number of assignments to complete. Anxiety whelmed up inside me as I considered if we should rush to make it to the nearby daily noon Mass that day. What should we do, Lord? I cried out in my heart to Him as I wavered between my desire for the Sacrament and the reality of my children’s pace. I weighed the rest of the day as well: piano lessons, parent-teacher conferences, and writing deadlines all would claim our time. “We are not going to go to Mass today,” I told my son. His little body visibly relaxed. The girls were also relieved, and the weight of indecision lifted off my heart. We finished our school morning in peace, ate lunch together, took a short walk, and sat down for a leisurely prayer time before our family altar and icon wall. As I rested in the Lord, I saw that I had followed His will. While going to Mass would have been a very good thing for my family, staying home without being rushed was better for us that day. Other days, noon Mass fits seamlessly into our schedule, but this day, the sacrifice required of me was to be present to my children, to instruct them well, and to savor the sweet family time of homeschool life. The readings for Mass today all talk about the importance of doing God’s will. Sometimes it is hard to find what He wants for us moment-to-moment, but He also offers us the grace to know what is best and helps us grow in the virtue of prudence. Stay close to Him in prayer, sister. Learn His ways. Let the peace in your heart guide you to what He desires for you. And when you do this, He will call you His “sister.” Listen to today's audio devotion.