April 8, 2026 // Wednesday in the Octave of Easter Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Luke 24:13-35 Reflect on the Word // I stood on a low stone wall and delighted over the view. A few dozen pairs of women were walking the grounds of the convent where we were hosting a women’s half-day retreat. They were taking an Emmaus walk.  We’d spent the afternoon opening our hearts to the Father’s love as revealed in Jesus and now He “drew near and walked with them” (Luke 23:17).  The disciples who walked with Jesus on the road to Emmaus are not really very different from us. Like them, we have questions, fears, dashed hopes. Things rarely work out the way we imagine, even for those trying to discern and do God’s will. So when we’re left holding the broken pieces of our plans and hearts, we too can become downcast.  In moments like these, we can take a simple spiritual lesson from the Gospel: Go for a walk. Moving our bodies helps us to get out of our heads and integrate what we believe with what we feel. The fresh air, the rhythmic movement, the deep breaths will all help us to process and move through confusing or painful parts of our lives.  Perhaps this week you could take your own Emmaus walk with a friend, in person or over the phone if you need to. Like the disciples, open your hearts to one another about what has happened, what you hoped, and where to go from here. And as you walk, open your heart to Jesus. With Jesus and a friend, as you share “what sort of things” are burdening you (see Luke 23:19), our hearts, so slow to believe in His goodness and love, will slowly begin to burn again. Relate to the Lord // Call or text a friend to take an Emmaus walk this week. Share your heart with her and the Lord. 

April 7, 2026 // Tuesday in the Octave of Easter Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: John 20:11-18 Reflect on the Word //  Shamed for my tears, I’d long ago exchanged them for emotional numbness and habits of negative self-talk. This all changed when I went on a healing retreat, and I found myself arrested by an image of Jesus crowned with thorns and weeping. The tears on His cheeks and His loving gaze conveyed an immense depth of sadness. The Holy Spirit used this image to convince me that Jesus, far from shaming my tears, weeps with me when I weep. Since He cries with me, I now freely let my tears flow when I have the need to cry. In today’s Gospel, Mary Magdalene weeps without shame. Peter and John see the burial cloths in the tomb, believe, and go home while Mary Magdalene stays outside the tomb weeping. When she bends to look inside, two angels ask her why, and  she says she doesn’t know where they took Jesus’ body.  Jesus is there too, though Mary mistakes Him for a gardener. Jesus asks her why she weeps and Who she’s looking for. Do her copious tears blind her from recognizing Jesus? Does her inner anguish mute the sound of the voice she knows so well?  Jesus doesn’t scold her for her tears nor for being slow to recognize Him. He listens to her desperation, then simply speaks her name. Something about the way He says her name transports her from the fog of grief to the reality that her beloved Lord is here with her. She responds, “Rabbouni” (or teacher), for He shows her how to live. I wonder how I’ve let my own perception of circumstances blind and deafen me to seeing and hearing Him. Like Mary Magdalene, we can seek diligently for the Lover of our Souls, whether in joy or in pain. Even when we don’t recognize Him, He listens, then calls us by name until we are transported to the reality of resurrection life. He’s alive! As this truth sinks in, we can announce with joy, “I have seen the Lord!” (John 20:18) Relate to the Lord // What tears are you withholding from Jesus? Share your sadness with Him and in prayer see Him weep with you, for you.

April 6, 2026 // Monday in the Octave of Easter Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 28:8-15 Reflect on the Word //  “We lost the contract,” my husband’s text said. I read it under the soft glow of our Christmas tree while visions of sugarplums died in my head. My gut response was fear. Of course it was. This contract meant food on our table and a roof over our heads. It meant paying our bills and keeping the water running. It held within it the difference between poverty and profit.  And it is there that we currently linger—in the in-between—watching our savings ebb while praying for work to flow. But it is also here, in this in-between, that I see God at work. I feel Him calling me out of my fear of the unknown and beckoning me to step into something unexpected—excitement.  In today’s Gospel, the two Marys became witnesses to the Resurrection of Christ. In the face of that reality, they were met with both fear and joy (see Matthew 28:8)—fear for the unnatural truth they were beholding and joy for the knowledge of what that truth meant. I can see the same dichotomy at work in my life right now. I feel both the fear of the unknown and the excitement for what God has planned. Yet, it is in Jesus’ greeting to the two Marys that my heart finds the most balance.  In Matthew 28:10, the very first thing Jesus says upon seeing them is, “Do not be afraid.” These words are easy to gloss over. They are simple to sit with when life is predictable and kind. They are much harder to live with when faced with an unknown fate.  Sister, I don’t know what unknowns you are walking into, but I do know that you tremble as you do. I know because I do// too. But I want to remind you that the words of Christ are alive, even today—even to you. “Do not be afraid.” Relate to the Lord // Pray with the words of Jesus today: Do not be afraid. How are His words alive and personal for you today?

April 4, 2026 // Holy Saturday Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s the First Reading for tonight’s Easter Vigil: Genesis 1:1-2:2 Reflect on the Word //  “It’s not fair how good you are to me. / How can I bear such prodigality? / In the valley down below or up on the mountain peak, / There’s crystal sky above and soft earth beneath my feet.” Every morning these days I turn on the song “Good” by the Hillbilly Thomists as I get dressed; it has been both a theme song of this year of major life changes and a reminder of how good God is. The song continues to talk about God’s love and care for us—a love that led to the Son becoming incarnate and dying for us.  Tonight’s first of the Easter Vigil Readings is the first telling of creation in Genesis. God creates light, land, plants, animals, and finally humans, saying: “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness” (Genesis 1:26). And then He looks at all He has made and finds “it very good” (Genesis 1:31). Good. He made all things good; He made us good. He looked down from Heaven, after our first parents sinned, and saw that they were made for good. He knew how all of history would unfold, with all of its evils, and still proclaimed us good. He still uses the goodness of creation to lead humanity back to Him. All He creates is good.  The Son became Man so that our goodness could be complete. He came to draw us—who are made in the image of the Trinity—back into God’s likeness. He poured Himself out in love, so that we will pour ourselves out in love. And every bird of the air and creature that crawls on the ground, every fish of the sea and plant that bears seed and fruit are here to show God’s goodness. Sister, on this Holy Saturday, all creation holds its breath, waiting for God to show how good He is yet again. We can enter into the waiting expectation and anticipate with faith the truth that Jesus rose on the third day, and hope for our own rising with Him.  Relate to the Lord // Reflect on God’s goodness throughout your life and Salvation History. Rest in Who He is.

April 3, 2026 // Good Friday of the Lord’s Passion Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel of the Passion of our Lord: John 18:1–19:42 Reflect on the Word // “Can you play hide and seek with Jesus, Mommy?” My little boy peeked out from the blanket he had playfully pulled over his head. Hide and seek was one of his favorite games. He would run through the house, trying to hold in his uncontrollable laughter, and look for the very best place to hide. But he always picked the most obvious places because more than anything else, he loved to be found. I have tried to hide from Jesus. And each time, He invites me to come out saying: Come, little daughter, for I have a place for you.  I often prayerfully imagine the Roman centurion, looking upon our Lord’s marred, divine countenance as He hung on the Cross. Splintered crown of thorns embedded into His Sacred Head. A mix of blood, sweat, and tears dripping down His Holy Face. Hands and feet pierced. Flesh torn. What had the centurion's life been like up to this point? What were the movements in his heart as he watched the agony of crucifixion? Before he thrust his lance into the side of the Savior of the world, did he feel consumed by an unnameable darkness? Did he have an unquenchable ache in his soul that he could not comprehend? A longing that he silenced and fought against? I do not know.   “But one soldier thrust his lance into his side, and immediately blood and water flowed” (John 19:34).  I watch him fall to his knees in astonishment, after the violent lunge of his spear brings forth a torrent of love. Blood and water flowed and swept up his heart and soul. This is conversion. This is the place where I want to be found. On my knees in astonishment and washed by the Blood of the Lamb.  Jesus presents us with the wound in His side, the blindingly beautiful passage to His Sacred Heart, inflamed with love and mercy. It is so bright, and at first, we may be afraid. Stepping out of the darkness into the light can hurt. But the Cross is what heals us.  Relate to the Lord // Bring your need for healing and your gratitude for Jesus’ sacrifice to the Cross today. Offer Him everything.

April 2, 2026 // Holy Thursday Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading for the Evening Mass of the Lord’s Supper: Exodus 12:1-8, 11-14 Reflect on the Word //  Every Holy Thursday, I procure a lamb. Sometimes I buy lamb chops. Sometimes a small roast. Occasionally I simply procure it from a restaurant because Holy Week is tremendously busy when you work for the church. “Every one of your families must procure for itself a lamb” (Exodus 12:3). Yes, Lord, I have procured the lamb. I feast before Holy Thursday’s Evening Mass of the Lord’s Supper, because lamb in your belly is the best when you are listening to these sacred Readings. I also remember the semester I spent student teaching in New Zealand, where there were ten times more sheep than people. My host dad, Roger, would say, “These lambs lived such happy lives.”  That semester, I even got to shear some sheep for a school fundraiser. The lambs were small, fragile, and endlessly curious, chasing each other into trouble. Yet they trusted the shepherd completely. God asks the same, for us to rest in His care. Tonight I step into a church buzzing with anticipation for the Triduum. I will help supervise more than forty altar servers. Amid the flurry of preparations, I recall the Lamb Whose sacrifice is perfect. In every Mass we encounter Him under the forms of bread and wine. Jesus is the unblemished Lamb of God Who takes away the sin of the world, offering us His Body and Blood. Tonight we truly celebrate the gift of His priests and the gift of the Eucharist. We, too, are called to procure the Lamb within our hearts. Just as the Israelites obediently marked their homes, our souls are indelibly marked through the Sacraments of Baptism and Confirmation. The Lamb has conquered, bringing us from slavery to sin into a glorious life of freedom, hope, and love. Let’s enter this Triduum with docile hearts, ready to receive the gifts the Lamb of God longs to give. May we, like those happy lambs in New Zealand, remain in the Good Shepherd’s care and live our happy lives with complete trust, abiding peace, and Easter joy. Relate to the Lord // Thank God for His gift of the priesthood and the Eucharist. Pray for your parish priests offering the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass this Triddum.

April 1, 2026 // Wednesday of Holy Week Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 26:14-25 Reflect on the Word // I was sitting in the middle of a group of nine- to twelve-year-olds when I realized that the biggest problem in my family was me. We were in our Catechesis of the Good Shepherd Atrium, reflecting on Jesus’ instruction (mostly from Saint Matthew’s Gospel) on how to live. This reflection is a remarkably deep examination of conscience, and that day the one that struck me was from Matthew 7:3: “Why do you notice the splinter in your brother’s eye, but do not perceive the wooden beam in your own eye?” When I got remarried a few years after being widowed, I expected it to go a certain way. I unconsciously expected life to go “back to normal.” When it didn’t, I panicked and looked around for someone to blame. In my effort to make my life conform to my expectations, I stopped listening to the voice of Jesus. I allowed perfectionism to creep in, correcting my children—and even my husband—with harshness and undue frequency. The atmosphere of my home and my relationships with my family suffered as I clung to control. When Judas began following Jesus, he expected something very different. The people of Israel were hoping for a military leader to free them from Roman rule, and along came a gentle, wandering rabbi preaching love for enemies and a Kingdom in Heaven. There must have been many moments, just as in today’s Gospel, when the disciples wondered why following Jesus felt so different from how they expected it to. When reality hit Judas in the face, and he saw all that he would have to sacrifice to continue following, he turned his back, attempting to thwart the will of God by betraying Jesus. Instead of repenting of his sin, he abandoned hope and was lost. Similarly to how the Last Supper really occurs mystically when we celebrate Holy Mass, each refusal to obey Him renews His betrayal by Judas. This Holy Week, we can open our hearts to see ourselves in the disciples’ weaknesses. But far from despairing in the face of our sin, we can turn to Jesus in faith and ask Him to heal us. Relate to the Lord // How will you renew your love and trust in Jesus today as we prepare to enter into the Holy Triduum?

March 31, 2026 // Tuesday of Holy Week Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: John 13:21-33, 36-38 Reflect on the Word //  My heart was arrested as I stood before Saint Peter. Not the living, breathing man himself, but a first-class relic of our first pope. I paused before the wall of Apostles in a local parish’s reliquary and wondered why he had stopped me. A memory flashed before my eyes. A painful, shameful experience I’d confessed and prayed about dozens of times. But still, it lingered.  I remember seeing an icon at the very place of Peter’s betrayal of Jesus in Jerusalem, the Church of Saint Peter in Gallicantu. A bold rooster filled most of the frame and Saint Peter, horrified, shrank in a corner, realizing what He had done, remembering Christ’s words from today’s Gospel.  I’d experienced so much healing and forgiveness but I still felt like Peter in that icon, crouched in a corner of my soul, covering my face in shame.  Peter presents a problem for the Christian. Because the man Jesus undoubtedly trusted the most, the one who vowed that very night to never leave him, did. Just as Jesus forewarned in today’s Gospel (see John 13:38), Peter denied Jesus not just once but three times.  But that’s not the problem. The part that can be hard to imagine is not the betrayal, but the forgiveness. The self-forgiveness. The courage it took for Peter to receive Christ’s forgiveness and not spend the rest of his life punishing himself for his sins.  Christ didn’t revoke the keys from Saint Peter when he fell, and He doesn’t remove His love from us when we do either. When you bring your sins to Jesus in the Sacrament of Confession, His merciful love washes over your wounds and He makes them look like His glorified ones.   So if there’s a sin or mistake that haunts you, whether it was a lifetime ago or last night, ask Saint Peter to pray for you. He understands how hard it is to forgive yourself. And he will show you how to stand up out of the shadows and step into the light of Christ’s love. Relate to the Lord // Is there a sin or memory that haunts you? Ask Jesus to submerge it in His Precious Blood this Holy Week and ask Saint Peter to teach you how to receive Jesus’ forgiveness. 

March 30, 2026 // Monday of Holy Week Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: Isaiah 42:1-7 Reflect on the Word //  My younger brother and I have always been close. I’m sixth and he’s seventh of seven children. When he decided to enter seminary in his thirties, I moved back to Minnesota, in part, just to be close to him and witness this inspiring part of his life. A few years after he was ordained, our state entered into a battle over an amendment that would make same-sex unions legal, a highly contentious proposition. At his very first parish assignment, my brother preached bravely and thoughtfully on Church teaching on this issue. One day, as I sat in his congregation and listened to him outline brilliantly the importance of marriage between one man and one woman, I watched as one family he had spent many hours ministering to stormed out in protest over his homily. The vast majority stayed, but I could see my brother mournful, even from the ambo, for having “lost” this family, like that one lost sheep. Later, we visited my parents and my brother went to sit with my father for a while. At one point, he fairly drooped before my dad, saying, “It’s so hard, it’s so hard.” My father reached out his hand, and, placing it on my brother’s head, he said, “This is my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased.” At that, my brother crumpled into agonized weeping. Being “chosen” is costly. When Isaiah declares, “Here is my servant whom I uphold, my chosen one with whom I am pleased; upon whom I have put my Spirit” (Isaiah 42:1), that doesn’t mean this filiation is easy. But it does mean we are never alone as we speak the truth of Jesus. Sister, we can pray for the grace to be courageous, to speak the truth of Christ with gentleness, clarity, and love, but with strength too. How I long for the Lord to place His hand on my head and yours one day and say, “You are my chosen one. I set my spirit upon you. You are pleasing in my sight.” Relate to the Lord // As we enter Holy Week, sister, let’s pray for our shepherds.

March 28, 2026 // Saturday of the Fifth Week of Lent Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: John 11:45-56 Reflect on the Word //  “If that baby had not miscarried, I would not exist.” The words of my daughter were startling, but even more so was her brother’s repetition of her words about another baby who had died in utero. If my mother had not become terminally ill with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), our family would not have come together in love and prayer to care for her and my father. If I had not suffered from Lyme disease for nearly a year, my husband and I would not have grown closer in self-giving love. In our fallen, suffering world, God has a way to redeem every circumstance, no matter how challenging.  In today’s Gospel, God works through the evil intentions of the high priest Caiaphus as the chief priests and Pharisees plan to put Jesus to death. As high priest, Caiaphus has the gift of prophecy, and his words that seem like a political move—to protect the Jews from their Roman rulers—has a deep spiritual meaning: “He did not say this on his own, but since he was high priest for that year, he prophesied that Jesus was going to die for the nation, and not only for the nation, but also to gather into one the dispersed children of God” (John 11:51). Caiaphus did not know nor did he believe that Jesus was the promised Messiah that the Jews were waiting for—he likely saw Jesus as a rival teacher. But God worked through the evil acts of the priests and Pharisees, and brought about salvation for their nation as well as the whole world, through Christ’s offering of Himself and Resurrection. Sister, we will all have trying times in our lives—unexplained losses, illnesses, division between family and friends. The Lord invites us to bring our suffering to Him, to join Him on the Cross, to offer these deep sufferings in and through His ultimate sacrifice. He already has and will continue to redeem all that is lost. Entrust your suffering to His care. Offer Him your loved ones. Sometimes all we can do is pray and let the Lord do the work of changing hearts. Relate to the Lord // Look at Jesus in prayer today and give Him permission to change your heart and redeem your sufferings.

March 27, 2026 // Friday of the Fifth Week of Lent Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: Jeremiah 20:10-13  Reflect on the Word //  I lit a candle and lay in bed, not quite tired, the silence marked by the occasional falling acorn on the roof. In that space, gold haloes on the ceiling and warm shadows in the corners, I found myself wrestling with the Lord, desires and disappointments rising up along with the “sunset” scent of my candle. I found myself asking Him what I was supposed to do with my life, and—the underlying question—didn’t He want me to be happy? “For to you I have entrusted my cause,” the prophet Jeremiah says to the Lord in today’s First Reading (Jeremiah 20:12). I find my whole body relaxing as I consider that “my cause”—my happiness, my interests, my loved ones, my vocation—is also His. After all, He wants me to be in Heaven, even more than I do! He has begun a great work in me, and He wants to bring it to completion (see Philippians 1:6). During this season of Lent, the Church spends forty days preparing for Easter, remembering Jesus’ forty days of desert trials before His ministry, Death, and Resurrection. Two thousand years ago, He was already fighting the battle against sin and death for me. Because even then, before I existed, He wanted me to spend eternity with Him, and He was willing to do anything to make that possible. Turns out, my cause has always been His. This is true for all of us in our various states of life. Wherever our hearts are today—whether we are at the beginning, in the middle, or near the end of life—we get to say with Jeremiah, “The Lord is with me, a mighty champion” (Jeremiah 20:11). The battle is already won. Let’s live our lives like that is true.  Relate to the Lord // What cause do you need to (re)entrust to the Lord today? Ask Him to be your champion.

March 26, 2026 // Thursday of the Fifth Week of Lent Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: Genesis 17:3-9  Reflect on the Word // Jesus calls to me most often in the ways I do not want. The complication that sidelines the day, the trustworthy kid suddenly caught in a lie, the humiliation, the broken dishwasher, the argument. It’s particularly in times of want that I realize my desire for control even more. Lent is no different. Ironically, even when I’m categorically “giving up” so much, these are the things I cling to with even more intensity. It’s as if my sacrifices are for me—my boxes to check, my plans to see through. How is it, then, that even in the middle of a season filled with so much supposed sacrifice, I am so resistant to the ways He is actually calling me? In all the small inconveniences, the changes to my plans, the disappointments, it’s as if our Lord is saying, Just be with Me here, just give this up. I long to soften my heart enough to say yes even then.  In today’s First Reading God makes a covenant with Abraham, promising to bless him and be the God of his descendants. God tells Abraham, “On your part, you and your descendants after you must keep my covenant” (Genesis 17:9). This is exactly the struggle—being faithful to God in return for His faithfulness to us. Even in the middle of so many things we can seemingly do “right”—piety, prayer, a liturgically correct approach to this Lenten season—it’s still possible to do it all wrong.  The proof is in the pudding—when we hear His voice, how do we respond? Can we move? Can we pivot? Can we forgo our ideas and our plans? Can we love Him even in the middle of the mess? In the middle of it all we will surely hear His voice and remember His promise. Relate to the Lord // Welcome the inconveniences today and look for God in them. 

March 25, 2026 // Solemnity of the Annunciation of the Lord Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Luke 1:26-38 Reflect on the Word //  I paced restlessly, each second an eternity. My gaze darted between my husband and the test on the bathroom counter. Finally, the timer sounded; I bolted to look. “Only one line,” I announced, conflicting emotions swirling. My husband peered over my shoulder, then leaned closer. “I don’t think so,” he murmured, pointing. Squinting more closely, I caught my breath. The faintest second line was visible. His face broke into the widest grin as he wrapped me in his arms. “Another baby!” he breathed. Thank you, Lord. What a blessing!  My heart raced.  And . . . I’m already overwhelmed, so scared of another loss. Lord, please help!  I pondered how, much like our Lady at the Annunciation, I had only the word of an outside source to confirm the presence of this new life within me, the fiat echoing in my heart amid countless questions and worries, and the singular promise of God’s eternal plan for this precious soul. The physical assurance of symptoms would take several days and the visible evidence many months. The same demands of daily life would continue. Yet, like our Lady, we now knew its intentional direction and purpose. Another soul, created in the image and likeness of God. A deeper yes, a more surrendered trust, a fuller mission.  “May it be done to me”—this was our Lady’s unreserved, wholehearted response (Luke 1:38). The one God invited me to imitate. Not only with this new baby, but in everything He wished to conceive in me, heart and soul.  You, too, are invited to this response. In each and every calling. In every single prompting, big or small: Lord, may it be done to me.  Whatever tangle of joy and grief, suffering and redemption may await: May it be done to me.  No matter how vague the details or uncertain the future: May it be done to me.  Why? Because whatever the Lord does to us is always for us—for our highest good. Everything the Lord does brings about life. New life from nothingness, eternal life from death, abundant life from human limitations.  Relate to the Lord // Pray today with our Lady: Yes, Lord, may I let Your life be conceived in and through me—now and always.

March 24, 2026 // Tuesday of the Fifth Week of Lent Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: John 8:21-30 Reflect on the Word //  At the beginning of Lent, I imagined this wide and dusty desert that we were all collectively entering. And yet, I imagined some of us felt very much like we entered it alone. But we didn’t. We didn’t walk into this Lent on our own, and we don’t walk into any desert season alone. Rather, like Christ as He entered the desert and was accompanied by the Holy Spirit, we too are accompanied.  Christ in today’s Gospel passage said to the Pharisees, “The one who sent me is with me. He has not left me alone” (John 8:29). We too can say this with Him as we encounter the challenges of living the call the Father has given us. This short excerpt—this proclamation—I hope, can become an echo within our hearts throughout the rest of our time in this Lenten desert and throughout our lives. A reminder that we’re never alone. Something I’ve grown to enjoy over the last few years is how I’m more easily recalling the Gospel reading as it's being read. After going to Mass for decades now, the repetition has really cemented, or planted, the Word within my mind. It’s as though I’ve been listening to my grandparents’ stories of faith over and over again. The more I hear them, the more I learn, the better I recall.  In the same vein, if we read or hear Jesus’ prayer over and over again, it can become our own. The legacy of faith can be passed on. And when we enter the desert again—as we all likely will do, whether that’s next Lent or another season of our life that feels like Lent—then Jesus’ prayer can be what guides us, as God’s word was what guided Jesus in living out His mission from the Father.  Relate to the Lord // Have you been walking alone this Lent? Invite Jesus in again and ask Him to accompany you. 

March 23, 2026 // Monday of the Fifth Week of Lent // Optional Memorial of Saint Toribio de Mogrovejo, bishop Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: John 8:1-11 Reflect on the Word // I sit in the sand, next to the ocean. Waves come in, calm and steady. In my place of prayer, I see Jesus also sitting on the shore. I stand and slowly make my way toward Him, and as I come closer, I notice Him writing in the sand “with his finger” (John 8:6). When He finally lifts His head and looks up at me, the intensity of His gaze crashes into me like a giant wave. With piercing love, He sees past my outward appearance and into the depths of my heart, where my brokenness resides. He knows the childhood trauma. He sees the shame of believing I am unloved and unaccepted. He recognizes the patterns of perfectionism and striving. He sees every wound, every sin, every struggle. Yet, He does not accuse. He does not throw stones. Instead, He rises and reaches for my hand. His radiant smile displays His unconditional love. In that moment, He forgives, pardons, and saves. He embraces me with love, wiping away my tears. All of us are in need of God’s mercy. Whether we identify in today’s Gospel with the woman caught in sin or the self-righteous ready to criticize and judge (see John 8:1-11), we have all experienced moments that have distanced us from Christ. But when we turn back to Him, seeking His mercy and reconciliation, particularly in the Sacrament of Confession, we are restored. As Jesus and I walk the shore, hand in hand, I feel the power of His merciful love flowing through me. An ocean wave rushes over our feet, and it reminds me of the cleansing waters of Baptism—the moment I first became a daughter of the Father. And I am warmed by the reality that I am no longer condemned but redeemed. “Go, and from now on do not sin any more” (John 8: 11). My sister, Jesus came to walk with us, to be in friendship with us. Ultimately, He came to save us, so we could spend eternity with Him. Let’s not delay; let’s open our hearts to His mercy and allow eternity to begin today. Relate to the Lord // Take a walk with Jesus today. Lean into His friendship.

March 21, 2026 // Saturday of the Fourth Week of Lent Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Psalm: Psalm 7:2-3, 9bc-10, 11-12 Reflect on the Word //  There are many things I don’t like about driving in heavy rain: the decreased visibility, the threat of floodwaters, the increased likelihood of a crash, the sound of raindrops—so soothing when I am home, cuddled on my couch with a book and a cup of tea—pummeling the roof of my little Mini Cooper. I am a somewhat anxious driver at the best of times, and inclement weather does nothing to quell my nerves. Especially if I’m on the freeway.  The brief reprieve afforded by an underpass in these situations comes as a welcome refuge. For two seconds—or a few minutes, if traffic is crawling along—I can almost forget I’m in a storm. The raindrops cease; I can hear the Spotify playlist I’ve cranked up to distract me and the directions issuing from my GPS system. And I am reminded that the rain doesn’t, in fact, touch everything. There are still some places that remain impenetrable.  This is the image that comes to mind in reflecting on today’s Responsorial Psalm: “O Lord, my God, in you I take refuge” (Psalm 7:2a).  In the chaos and tumult of everyday life, when I feel as if I’m driving down the freeway in an epic thunderstorm, the love of the Lord quiets my heart. The clamor of the world ceases and I can hear His voice above the rattle of my anxiety. But His consolation is not merely a temporary reprieve; His sturdy protection never abandons me.  Nor does His protection ever abandon you, sister, no matter how stormy the weather—either literally or metaphorically. His love, sturdy and impenetrable, is a quiet place that is always available to us, shielding us from danger; He wants us to seek shelter in Him whenever we feel frightened or anxious, confident that He will save the “upright of heart” who trust in Him (Psalm 7:11). Relate to the Lord // Take a few moments in silence today and share your anxieties with Him. Let Jesus quiet your heart.

March 20, 2026 // Friday of the Fourth Week of Lent Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: Wisdom 2:1a, 12-22 Reflect on the Word // The First Reading today sounds more like a recent description of high school drama, political division, or online banter than ancient Scripture. It is a familiar decree of division and a call to arms for evil, to attack those who are living a different life, aloof from the path of the wicked.  Evil abounds. Once your eyes are opened to it, you cannot help but see its influence each and every day. A young woman told me recently that she puts up little invisible barriers daily. Keeping her guard up and her eyes open prevents cruel words or insults from affecting her. She knows that the evil said and done around her cannot hurt her—unless she allows it. It is exhausting to be sure, but she remains vigilant, because when she doesn’t, it is too easy to collapse under the lies and attacks of others.  She is like the “just one” we read about today in the book of Wisdom, being beset by the wicked. Many of us are trying to live as a child of the Lord, living a life that is not like that of others—different are our ways. Our patience and gentleness is being tested by the wicked who have rejected God’s counsel. But knowledge and “the hidden counsels of God” (Wisdom 2:22) as we submit to the Holy Spirit will guide us from the assault. With the insight from today’s First Reading, we can recognize that our spiritual fortifications are strengthened by God’s grace, and we are able to continue to live in truth and light.  This takes time and intentionality in daily prayer to discern the best way to live as a child of the Lord. How often are your gentleness and patience tested in the face of cruel words or insults? How we respond to those seeking to upset us is a true test. And it is a test we prepare for by remaining vigilant. The more we understand about the reality of the spiritual battles around us, the easier it is to understand the hidden counsels of God which guide and protect us.  Relate to the Lord // Ask for the intercession of Saint Michael the Archangel today as you face your spiritual battles. Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle . . .