“If a house is divided against itself, that house will not be able to stand.” // Mark 3:25 I put my phone down on the days there is breaking news. It’s a learned response, one that saves me the frustration of seeing all of the hate spewed across my screen in real time. Inevitably, it is still there when I return. Because there is always something to be passionately angry about on the internet, apparently. I know you know what I’m talking about. Because you’ve seen it too, haven’t you? Whether it’s arguing over national news or bickering back and forth about liturgy, there is so much contention in our Church, so much unrest in the hearts of His people. Christ tells us in today’s Gospel that “if a house is divided against itself, that house will not be able to stand” (Mark 3:25). And I think this is what we’re overlooking when we’re furiously tapping away on our keyboards is the table. We have become so good at tucking ourselves into tiny corners with other like-minded individuals that we fail to see Christ beckoning us all to His table. It is there that He nourishes and unites us: the saint, the sinner, the liberal, the conservative, the rich, the poor. We are all welcomed. We all belong. I don’t know which corner of the house you reside in or whether or not you feel invited, but I want you to know that there is a seat for you here. Let us unite in His love in the house that He established on a firm foundation, trusting that He will not let it fall. Listen to today's audio devotion.

I urge you, brothers and sisters, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you agree in what you say, and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be united in the same mind and in the same purpose. // 1 Corinthians 1:10 I have never been one to jump into a conflict. Most of the time, I am strong in my convictions and intentional about my choices. Yet I avoid disagreements as much as I can. At the heart of my avoidance is the recognition that I am not responsible for other people's choices or opinions. Which is not to say that I am reticent to share my own ideas. I would be a fairly poor author, podcaster, and speaker if I was unwilling to share my thoughts. But once those views are voiced, it is up to the individual to choose what to do with them. I don't need to debate anyone. The Second Reading today from Saint Paul’s letter to the Corinthians says we are to be “united in the same mind and in the same purpose.” The Apostles had little time to disagree or battle with others inside or outside their circle. They were instructed to preach the Good News of Jesus Christ to all the world with one voice. There was one message to be told in each of the Apostle's own words. If people choose to accept that message—then praise be to God. But if they rejected the teaching, the Apostles were not instructed to sit and argue with the unbeliever until he or she was convinced. When we take it upon ourselves to argue and disagree with others, it can open ourselves to the sin of pride. Pride turns our focus away from our own spiritual growth or mission to evangelize and leads us to be overly concerned with the thoughts and ideas of others. Pride leads us towards division and disagreement, and division and disagreement are not of the Lord. So unite yourself to the Lord’s purpose. Do your part, speak your mind, share your life and witness, then let the Gospel message simmer in the lives of those who are yet unwilling to fully accept the truth. Listen to today's audio devotion.

When His relatives heard of this they set out to seize Him, for they said, “He is out of His mind.” // Mark 3:21 When I took a job with the Church, living below the poverty line in a small, rural town, I had loved ones who thought I was out of my mind. When I became engaged to a man I’d dated for six weeks, many of the people who came to our wedding six months later thought we were out of our minds. When I had eight babies in twelve years, I basically set myself up for always having someone who thinks I am out of my mind. When my husband and I load up the van and take our eight kids to 7 a.m. Mass each Sunday morning, there are people who think we are out of our minds. As my family and I live our lives within the rich teachings and rhythms of the Church, a great multitude think we are out of our minds. But I know that I have been doing the sanest thing in the world: wholeheartedly following the Lord. I don’t worry what all those people think. Jesus Himself had family members who wanted to stop His ministry because they believed He was out of His mind. If the Lord Himself had people who knew Him, but thought He was crazy while doing God’s will, of course I will too! If I had followed the advice of my loved ones, the culture, and complete strangers, my life would surely be messier, lonelier, and filled with more heartache. I look at the decisions I’ve made and can see the abundance of grace and goodness that has come from them. Today let us thank God for the paths He’s led us down and the blessings that have followed. Listen to today's audio devotion.

Now our high priest has obtained so much more excellent a ministry as he is mediator of a better covenant, enacted on better promises. // Hebrews 8:6 My first year of college, I realized that my desire to be a pediatrician was not really in line with my natural gifts. Rather, psychology was my calling. It was the first thing I wanted to study each day, and so I would save the psychology subject matter till the end of my day as a reward. If you are thinking “what a nerd,” you are quite right! I embrace that aspect of myself proudly. But there was one area that always seemed to give me trouble: statistics. As a psychology major who pursued graduate study, I had to endure a lot of statistics classes. Mean versus median, moderator versus mediator—I had to keep looking up these elementary concepts. When reading Hebrews today I found myself again, twenty years removed from my last stats class, looking for a refresher on the vocabulary. A mediator is a mechanism that causes an effect on the relationship between two things. If one thing is affected by another thing, sometimes there is something in between (a mediator) that is actually responsible for the effect. A mediator can also be the variable or mechanism that explains the relationship between two other variables. It is the statistical ‘go-between’ that is responsible for the effect between the two variables. And it is a Biblical term that can be used in a theological way. In Hebrews today, we read that the heavenly priesthood of Jesus places Him as a mediator of the new covenant between God and His people. I don't suggest that Jesus Christ Our Lord and Savior is reduced to a statistical variable, but rather that through Him our relationship with God the Father is affected. Our relationship is made new and different because of the life and death of Jesus Who offered His Body as a living sacrifice. Moreover, He not only gave of Himself in atonement of our sins, but He is continually present to us in the Mass, Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity, to bring us to the Father. And that radically changes the equation for our eternal lives. Spend some time today thinking about how you best relate to Jesus in your daily life. Listen to today's audio devotion.

He told his disciples to have a boat ready for him because of the crowd, so that they would not crush him. // Mark 3:9 “Hey, I know you’re tired, but do you want to play a card game or something?” It was the end of a very long year month week day. I was tired. I wanted to curl up with a book and then go to bed early (and by early, I mean early enough to get a tiny bit of sleep before a kid wakes me up crying, asking for water, wondering why elephants are so big, or just to tell me that planes go fast). Our family is in a busy season. Between school drop-offs and pick-ups, our work schedules, and the daily tasks, I don’t have much time to sit and have a long (or uninterrupted) conversation with my spouse. Other than our task-oriented quick texts throughout the day, I had missed just talking to him. And while I recognize my privilege that we both have steady work schedules that allow for family time in the evenings, our time together can be punctuated by mostly adorable interruptions. “Sure, let’s play.” It wasn’t about the card game. It was about reconnecting. It was about recognition. We spent time together, and it was life giving in this busy season. I picture the crowds around Jesus in today’s Gospel–waiting hours or days to see a glimpse of Him or to touch Him. Sister, are you in a busy season in work or home life? Do you feel drained and just need someone to reach out to connect with you? Well, Jesus is there. You don’t even have to fight through crowds of people. He’s there in the Eucharist. He’s there in prayer. He’s there in Scripture. Reconnect with your Beloved Who loves you. What’s holding you back today? Listen to today's audio devotion.

You are a priest forever, in the line of Melchizedek. // Psalm 110:4b For the priest who baptized me into the Catholic Church, let us pray to the Lord. For the priest who gave me my First Holy Communion, let us pray to the Lord. For the priest who provided college students a weekly opportunity to worship in Eucharistic Adoration, let us pray to the Lord. For the priest who patiently and joyfully welcomed me back to the Sacrament of Reconciliation after many long years away, let us pray to the Lord. For the priest who presided with such tenderness and love at my wedding Mass, let us pray to the Lord. For the priest who generously shepherded a small group of young families in New York City, let us pray to the Lord. For the priest who drove to our apartment with the Eucharist in the early days of the pandemic, let us pray to the Lord. For the priest whose openness to the Holy Spirit allows me to hear and know the Father’s love through his words and witness, let us pray to the Lord. For the priests who have hurt, confused and disappointed me, let us pray to the Lord. For the priests who lay down their lives for their sheep, in ways big and small, day after day, let us pray to the Lord. For men discerning a call to the priesthood, for their courage, perseverance, and spiritual protection, let us pray to the Lord. For every Catholic baptized priest, prophet and king that we might live into our anointing more boldly and bravely, let us pray to the Lord. For greater conviction in our hearts to pray faithfully for priests, let us pray to the Lord. Listen to today's audio devotion.

God is not unjust so as to overlook your work and the love you have demonstrated for his name by having served and continuing to serve the holy ones. // Hebrews 6:10 Today, I would like to speak with you who are in full-time ministry, if you would permit me this moment. You come up with the fliers, you print the song sheets, you do rounds of pick-ups and drop-offs before the events, you spend countless hours brainstorming new icebreakers or attention-grabbers. You may even have to scrub the toilets after the prayer group is done or the Bible study has come to an end. Maybe you get paid to do this, or maybe it is all volunteer work and you still somehow manage a full-time job. As is inevitable for some, you may find yourself at a place of stagnancy, of feeling overlooked and overwhelmed. You not only feel that your team overlooks your work or your pastor does not see your sacrifices, you begin to think that the same is true of the Lord. You may try to push down those feelings and bite your tongue in prayer, if you manage to pray. And soon, a life of ministry becomes a life of drudgery. The author of the letter to the Hebrews reminds us that the Lord does not overlook our work and the love we have poured out in His name through service (see Hebrews 6:10). Yet, I must ask, sister, do we believe that? Or in our depths, are we suspicious of the Father’s gaze upon us that it is constant and tender? Trust from your heart that He sees you. Your work in His name is not overlooked by Him Who sees it all. Whether we are in full-time ministry or barely getting ourselves together, the truth is that, as Christians, we are not overlooked by our Heavenly Father. Are you living sluggishly because you feel unnoticed by Him? Or are you living as one who is already “inheriting the promises” (Hebrews 6:12)? Let’s start again today, sister, to live in the promise of His blessing, His presence, His sustenance. He sees us. Listen to today's audio devotion.

Son though he was, he learned obedience from what he suffered; and when he was made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him. // Hebrews 5:8-9 On July 9, 2022, my husband Jim passed away in our home after a sixteen-year battle with melanoma skin cancer. In his last few days, he was surrounded by friends and family and, as I was reminded by today’s First Reading, priests. For many years, we made a point of getting to know our pastor and the other priests at our parish, as well as local order and prelature priests and brothers. We wanted to offer them friendship and hospitality and community and a home-cooked meal, and to make sure that our sons knew priests and had heard their vocation stories so they could be sure to consider their own vocations. Over the last two years of Jim’s illness and at his death, those friendships with priests became an invaluable resource for him and our whole family. During Jim’s various surgeries and hospital stays, we had the contact information of multiple priests in our phones so we could get in touch with them to arrange for a visit and, when necessary, the Sacrament of Anointing of the Sick. Our pastor made sure to remind us that we have a responsibility to keep him informed of family births, deaths, and serious illnesses because he has a special responsibility to care for members of his flock in those times. The visits from priests to Jim in our home in the last days of his life have been the greatest consolation to me in the months since. On Thursday, we had a family dinner together, then a priest friend came by to visit, heard Jim’s confession, and anointed him. It was Jim’s last conversation. By Friday morning, he was mostly in a sleep state, just barely able to respond to questions. Our pastor came over at midday and performed the last rites. When Father began reading the Gospel, Jim opened his eyes to listen. When Father asked him if he’d like to receive the Eucharist, Jim said, “Yes.” It was the last thing he saw, the last word he spoke, the last food he ate. He was visited by other priests during the day on Saturday. They talked with Jim, prayed with us and Jim’s other visitors, and brought us comfort. Just after Jim passed away, a priest was there to pray over his body. Our pastor returned to be with us as the mortuary removed Jim’s body. As the men came in, they told us the family usually wants to leave the room for this part. Father said, “No way, we’re staying!” And he led us in singing the Salve Regina as Jim’s body left our home. It’s a beautiful memory that I now cherish. All of these moments, individually and collectively, have solidified to me the sacred nature of priests as “representative before God,” and, while nothing can take away the pain and hardship of losing someone we love, the consolation of the Sacraments has given us an extraordinary peace.

I will make you a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the ends of the earth. // Isaiah 49:6 My father, 94, and mother, 89, make two holy hours every day. They spend the bulk of their day in prayer. Still, age is catching up with them. My father is falling more and less able to care for himself. My mother can no longer serve as his nurse. Like so many families, ours reached a crisis point recently and needed to make some changes. One sister, Anne, hopped on a plane and within hours was in mom and dad’s apartment, cleaning and cooking, caring and tending. Over a weekend, exchanging emails, texts, and phone calls, my six siblings and I discussed our options and eventually landed on a plan—made possible through the extraordinary generosity of another sister, Virginia, a nurse. She will retire early, move into an apartment below my parents, and care for them. She is as overjoyed with this development as my parents are. Another sister, Janet, has already volunteered to furnish the new apartment. Another, Maureen, will move Virginia from the east coast to the Midwest with her truck and trailer. And so it goes, we all do what we can. My family will never make the headlines. My sister Virginia will never be famous. No one is going to make a movie about her life. Though she has spent it caring for others, though she deserves at the very least a mini-series, she won’t get one. Still, she is every bit a light to the nations; she sees that the Lord’s compassion and care reach to the ends of the world she has been given to inhabit. I want to remember: the first nation to whom I may witness, for whom I might shine, is my family, those I live with, work with, am in daily contact with. My nation may not be exotic or vast; my nation may not be powerful, wealthy, or remarkable. And my contribution may not be as bright or as spectacular as someone else’s, but the call remains: be a light such that the love of the Lord reaches the ends of the earth, starting with your living room.

[Andrew] first found his own brother Simon and told him, “We have found the Messiah,” which is translated Christ. // John 1:41 Surely this can’t be happening raced through my brain as I listened to the argument rising in tone, pitch, and decibels in the other room. A family discussion gone awry left the air stale by the time I re-entered with my toddler, avoiding eye contact, just there for the diaper bag I had left behind. We resumed the vacation that afternoon, but I could still feel it. The sorrow for misunderstandings between sisters, the blurring of “oh fun we’re at the beach” with “when are we heading home.” My input was finally solicited later, and I tried to articulate something about being loving to each other first, and how these primary relationships radiated out to everything else. I think it sounded garbled and like I had a baby cutting teeth at night so, incoherent too. When Saint Andrew, a disciple of Saint John the Baptist, is directed by John to Jesus as the Messiah, he fetches his own brother (then Simon, now) Peter. Scripture tells us, “He first found his own brother Simon and told him . . . .” He must have loved him so much that this news of the Messiah had to go to him first. He couldn’t keep it from him. He wanted him to know the Christ so urgently. In every misunderstanding, in every instance of hurt feelings you may have experienced over the holidays and holy days with those you love, did this come to mind? This idea that maybe wanting them to be with God, to know Jesus for all eternity, could start with you? How do you treat them? How do you bring the Good News through your actions to those you love? If you’re like me, these questions make you . . . a little uncomfortable. I wasn’t on my best behavior with family over the Christmas festivities. I complained, grumbled, and congratulated myself on what great gifts I had selected. I didn’t bring Jesus to these people whom I love so dearly. Today is the day to begin again. This moment is the moment to begin again. Let’s invite Saint Andrew to inspire us.

They came bringing to him a paralytic carried by four men. Unable to get near Jesus because of the crowd, they opened up the roof above him. // Mark 2:3-4 “I know you can’t pray right now, so I’m praying in your place.” The text from my best friend came through as I coaxed my cheek off the cool tile floor. I wiped the remaining vomit from the corner of my mouth—was it the grief or the early pregnancy?—and responded, “Thanks.” Then I laid back down near the toilet, continuing to not pray. Today’s Gospel account is profound to pray with using lectio divina. Often, I sense the eagerness of the paralytic: the hope he must have had in meeting Jesus, the gratitude he felt toward his persistent friends, the deep desire to be healed. But sometimes I imagine he felt the opposite (because sometimes I do, too). What if he did not want to go see the Teacher that day? What if he had ceased to hope? What if he was resigned to his suffering? And what if his friends brought him to Jesus anyway? During that particularly intense season of suffering in my life, I was overwhelmed by “the crowds” of distraction, disappointment, and despair. I had to humbly rely on my community to do the heavy lifting to the roof and the lowering before the Healer. I often quipped that I couldn’t leave Jesus because the people in my life kept dragging me back to Him. Thank God for them. There will be challenges in our lives that are crushing. But we must not lose hope. Jesus continuously calls us to Himself, ready to receive us at our weakest. He promises us forgiveness and healing that this world cannot provide. And if you can’t bring yourself to His feet, ask your friends to carry you there. After all, this is what we do every time we intercede for one another. Who in your life can you pray for today? Think about it now. Name them. And do it. Drag them to the Lord and don’t stop.

“If you wish, you can make me clean.” Moved with pity, he stretched out his hand, touched the leper, and said to him, “I do will it. Be made clean.” // Mark 1:40-41 This past summer, I had a profound experience in prayer contemplating Ephesians 6:10-18, a powerful Scripture about putting on the armor of God. In prayer, I asked God how He armored me and what my armor looked like. After a long period of silence, He placed across my chest the heart of His Mother, Mary. But not the Immaculate Heart of Mary, rather her pierced heart of seven sorrows. I was not excited; rather, I was saddened and humbled. I’ve had a devotion to the Seven Sorrows of Mary for the past few years. When He revealed to me that my compassionate heart was my spiritual defense against attacks by Satan, I accepted the armor and buckled up. Daily my actions are motivated by God when my heart is pierced by the modern-day lepers I encounter. Lepers in Jesus’ time were severely ill men and women shamed, lonely, and cast out by society. But who are the ill men and women I see shamed, lonely, and cast out by society today? Between the homeless on the streets, the students needing healing from addiction and sexual trauma, and the lonely students overwhelmed by campus life, there are days I come home exhausted from my overzealous compassionate heart. So many people are in need of help, healing, and friendships, and we are all moving at such a fast pace that we don’t slow down long enough to reach out to one another. When was the last time your heart was pierced with pity like our Mother Mary’s? So often we would rather look the other way or not place ourselves in situations where our hearts will be pierced to avoid feeling pity. Mother Teresa said, “You can find Calcutta all over the world, if you have eyes to see. Everywhere, wherever you go, you find people who are unwanted, unloved, uncared for, just rejected by society—completely forgotten, completely left alone” (source). I hope we each find our Calcutta and not only have eyes to see, but hearts moved by pity. God wills that we are all made clean (see Mark 1:40-41). It just takes us, His hands and feet, to reach out to one another.

Rising very early before dawn, he left and went off to a deserted place, where he prayed. Simon and those who were with him pursued him and on finding him said, ‘Everyone is looking for you.’ // Mark 1:35-36 5:30 a.m. on a midwinter morning is as dark as midnight, but I forced myself to get up anyway. Carefully inching away from the warm, soft, soundly sleeping toddler next to me, I slid my feet into my fuzzy slippers and snuck soundlessly out of the room and down the stairs. I made myself a cup of coffee and sat down on the couch, ready to spend a few quiet moments with the Lord. I opened my Bible to read. Pitter patter pitter pat. Overhead came the unmistakable sound of fleece-pajama-clad feet followed by a soft, “Mama? I couldn’t find you!” Most of us are not called to live a hermit’s life. Most of our lives will be filled with our best intentions and plans being interrupted—dare I say ruined?—by the better plans of God. Our Good Father uses friends, spouses, children, colleagues, and even strangers to break down our selfishness and use us to accomplish His will, if we will only cooperate with Him. Does this mean that we shouldn’t make plans or that it’s pointless to even try? Of course not! This is the beauty of our co-creative, cooperative life with God. We make our plans, through prayer and discernment, and then we offer them to God, just as Jesus did. At this time of year, you might have new goals and dreams, hopes for change, and intentions about how your life will go. Don’t forget to offer them first to the God Who has created you for a purpose. Be willing to pivot if things don’t go according to plan. Allow Him to use the people and circumstances in your life to reveal the role you are to play in His Kingdom.

Receive the word of God, not as the word of men, but as it truly is, the word of God. // 1 Thessalonians 2:13 During my first year of public high school, after attending a tiny Catholic school for about nine years, I quickly became aware of the various stereotypes and different ways people categorize themselves. As I struggled to find my place in this unfamiliar environment, I often looked for my identity in the amount of friends I had, number of social media followers, the kind of clothes that I wore, or the sort of compliments I received, etc. Searching for my identity in worldly things left my heart feeling empty, lost, and unseen. My mind was fixated on the fears of what others would think or say about me, instead of going to the One and hearing who He said I am. In today’s Gospel Acclamation, we read, “Receive the word of God, not as the word of men, but as it truly is, the word of God” (1 Thessalonians 2:13). While I sought to place my worth in things that would provide only temporary satisfaction, my heart had yet to open to hear the words of Love speak life into my thirsty soul. Sister, the truth about your identity is in Him and in Him alone. You can trust the words of the One Who created you. Pope Saint John Paul ll has a well-known quote, “It is Jesus in fact that you seek when you dream of happiness; he is waiting for you when nothing else you find satisfies you” (source). Friend, when your soul is weary and restless, His words of love and truth for you are what will bring your heart back to life. He is more than delighted to remind you of your identity and the truth that you’re fully seen, heard, known, and loved by Our Most Loving Father. His words are true. Father Most Loving, we thank You and praise You. When our hearts are restless, please remind us of our identity as Your beloved daughters. Root this truth into our hearts. Amen.

I, the LORD, have called you for the victory of justice, I have grasped you by the hand; I formed you, and set you as a covenant of the people, a light for the nations, to open the eyes of the blind, to bring out prisoners from confinement, and from the dungeon, those who live in darkness. // Isaiah 42: 6-7 She grabbed the red box that contained her baptismal candle with her sweet chubby cherub-like baby hand. Her tiny little fingers wrapped around it completely. It's like she knew there was something inside of the box that was just for her. Behind this little babe and her parents stood the sisters of our Blessed is She small group, a group of women she and her mom had only met twice before. I marveled at the fullness of the Church from discussing Dwell on our living room couch to sitting at Church together, witnessing this baby receive her first Sacrament. It was the first time I had ever served as a proxy godmother, and, after having five godchildren of my own, it didn’t make it any less special. In fact, I became more aware of the power of the witness we carry to be a “light for the nations.” “I, the LORD, have called you for the victory of justice, I have grasped you by the hand; I formed you, and set you as a covenant of the people, a light for the nations, to open the eyes of the blind, to bring out prisoners from confinement, and from the dungeon, those who live in darkness” (Isaiah 42:6-7). The waters of Baptism trickled down her hair. Original Sin had been removed, and now she was an adopted daughter of God, incorporated into the Body of Christ. When she was lifted up from the baptismal font, it felt like that moment in the Lion King when Mufasa lifts up Simba and presents him to the animals of pride land. Each one of us sisters were bursting with joy. This sweet baby girl reaffirmed and reminded us of our own baptismal promises with renewed strength and hope. Sister, as we settle into the New Year, it is a good time to consider your own baptismal promises and the graces that have sprung forth and continue to grow from your first Sacrament. Today on this Feast Day of the Baptism of the Lord, spend some time in prayer thinking about how you live out your Baptismal call of Priest, Prophet, and King.

When Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, in the days of King Herod, behold, magi from the east arrived in Jerusalem, saying, “Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We saw his star at its rising and have come to do him homage.” // Matthew 2:1-2 Have you ever experienced a time when an aspect of faith clicked in your mind, and you felt awe? I was sitting towards the back of a dimly lit hotel ballroom while a theologian was explaining the correlation of the book of Revelation and the Holy Mass when my hands unexpectedly shot up in the air and frantically waved around. I didn’t have a question. I was just so mind-blown at what was being spoken and the fact that it actually made sense to me that my involuntary gesture was actually me communicating that I needed him to slow down because it was all so amazing! The mysteries of God are seemingly incomprehensible, and yet He makes them alive and tangible to us through faith. The magi, although not Jews, believed the prophecy about the Newborn King of the Jews and followed a star until they laid eyes upon Him. As an act of faith, they came bearing gifts, believing that at the end of their journey, they would lay them down before Him. In joy at the revelation of the Child, they worshiped Him. Faith takes us on unexpected journeys, introduces us to obstacles that are possible to endure, and emboldens us to seek the Christ Child. Ultimately, faith leads us to worship. As we celebrate the Epiphany of the Lord, we come to Jesus with joyful and expectant faith, ready to receive and ready to worship.

Now there were six stone water jars there for Jewish ceremonial washings, each holding twenty to thirty gallons. Jesus told them, ‘Fill the jars with water.’ So they filled them to the brim. // John 2:6-7 The little shepherd boy is one of my favorites to pray with in the Christmas season. He is a young boy in the Nativity scene, set far back in the crowd. He is small, maybe nine or ten years of age, sporting a worn blue cloak and tousled brown hair. He has no shoes on his feet or anything remarkable in his possession. But in his arms, he carries a lamb, and he looks expectantly to the manger, full of pride at the gift he will soon be sharing with the Christ Child. In his face, there is no shame in the smallness of his gift. There is no worry over how it will be received or if it will be judged as sufficient. His face says it all: Anticipation. Joy. Love. Trust. Perhaps this little boy knew that the Messiah, the Son of God, would take delight in his gift, no matter how small. Isn’t that a wonderful place for our hearts to rest, sister? In today's Gospel from Saint John, we read of another gift that was received and transformed by Our Lord: gallons of humble water became wine—not just any wine, but good wine (see John 2:7-10). Here again, Jesus doesn't scoff at the simplicity of the offering. He graciously receives the gift and transforms it into something that far surpasses what any wedding guest could anticipate. Sister, if you are entering the New Year with a tug on your heart to give of yourself in a particular way, I encourage you to sit in prayer with those at the Nativity. Ponder the little shepherd boy who gave with equal amounts of generosity and trust. Whether it’s the discernment of a new job or the tentative plans for a new ministry or the pondering of a pregnancy, Our Lord delights in you. He delights in your giving heart (see Psalm 149:4). And He desires to transform the smallest of your gifts into the greatest of fruit.