June 23, 2026 // Tuesday of the Twelfth Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 7:6, 12-14 Reflect on the Word //  I stared at my phone longer than I’d like to admit. The message was typed out, honest but uncomfortable. I knew it needed to be said, but I kept rereading it, softening the words, wondering if I should just delete it altogether. It would’ve been easier to avoid it or stay vague in order to keep the peace. My finger hovered over “send,” caught between what was easier and what was right. In that moment, I realized how often I equate peace with ease. If something feels uncomfortable, I assume it must not be the right choice. But more often than not, the easier option isn’t the more honest one. It doesn’t require courage, or trust, or surrender—it just keeps things smooth on the surface. And yet, I’ve started to notice that the choices that shape me most are rarely the ones that feel effortless in the moment. In Matthew 7:13-14, Jesus speaks plainly: “Enter through the narrow gate; [. . .] How narrow the gate and constricted the road that leads to life.” There’s something unsettling about that. We don’t like limitation—we associate it with restriction, not freedom. But Jesus reframes it. The narrow road isn’t about confinement; it’s about direction. It leads somewhere real, somewhere lasting. What I’m learning is that the narrow path often looks like small, daily choices: choosing honesty when it’s easier to stay vague, choosing prayer when I feel distracted, choosing trust when I’d rather control the outcome. It doesn’t always feel significant at the moment. It can feel hidden, even unnoticed. But over time, these small yeses shape a life rooted in something deeper than comfort. The wide road promises ease, but the narrow one promises life. And not just any life—true life, the kind that forms us, anchors us, and ultimately leads us home. We live in a world that constantly invites us to take the easier path. May we have the courage to choose the narrow way, trusting that even when it feels small or difficult, it is leading us into the fullness of life God desires for us. Relate to the Lord // What small yes are you being invited to give today? Maybe it is going to daily Mass, forgiving someone, putting down your phone, etc.

June 22, 2026 // Monday of the Twelfth Week in Ordinary Time // Optional Memorial of Saint John Fisher, Bishop and Saint Thomas More, Martyrs // Optional Memorial of Saint Paulinus of Nola, Bishop Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 7:1-5 Reflect on the Word //  Most days the beam in my own eye makes itself apparent before breakfast is cleared away. And somehow, today’s beam is always completely different from yesterday’s. There is no shortage of the ways in which I need to evaluate my own shortcomings, be they interior or in my outward actions—and this is all before I even look at the Internet! Jesus is clearly calling me to a higher degree of discipleship when He implores me to “remove the wooden beam from your eye first; then you will see clearly to remove the splinter from your brother’s eye” (Matthew 7:5).  Jesus is calling all of us to Confession and acceptance of His grace and correction. It’s a call to action, to great holiness—not just a call to introspection. And it frees us to support those around us as they strive to root sin out of their own lives. We see this in the lives of the Saints like Saint Thomas More, whom we remember today. He let the Lord perfect him, and he was courageous in calling out the error and sin he saw in the life and actions of King Henry VIII. Saint Thomas More did not act as if the errors and sins of the king were not his problem, but bravely called the king to repentance, even when he knew it could cost him his life.  Helping others recognize truth and acknowledge their sin only works if we ourselves live a life of holy humility. How can we know whether or not we are on the road to that holy humility? We might begin by asking ourselves if we’re willing to sacrifice for the truth to the degree Saint Thomas More did—to the point of martyrdom.  Relate to the Lord // What speck have you been focusing on in your neighbor’s eye? Where do you need to remove the beam from your own? 

June 20, 2026 // Saturday of the Eleventh Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 6:24-34  Reflect on the Word //  This year my oldest child will turn twenty-two years old. My youngest, the sixth, will be eleven. Many women without large families or older children often ask me about how I “do it all”: handle the teenage years, or feed four growing boys with bottomless stomachs. “One day at a time,” I often answer, “sometimes just one moment at a time!”  The more truthful answer (which I should use more often) is “by the grace of God.” The longer I’m a wife and a mother, the more I marvel at the work of God in my life. I’d have faltered terribly long ago without His grace. Today’s Gospel ends with a verse that I memorized decades ago, possibly in eighth grade: “Do not worry about tomorrow; tomorrow will take care of itself” (Matthew 6:34). It appealed to me in a way I couldn’t express then, but enough that I committed the words to heart. At the time, I didn’t realize just how deeply rooted Jesus’ words would become. Jesus’ direction “do not worry about tomorrow” convicts me to stay focused on the present moment. Serving my family and doing only as much as today requires are plenty to occupy my mind. Worrying about the future adds unnecessary stress, prevents me from loving fully, and keeps me from trusting Jesus. In truth, worrying is exactly the opposite of what Jesus tells us to do. Worry prevents us from asking for, trusting in, and receiving God’s grace.  I’m reminded also of the words Jesus taught us to pray: “Give us this day our daily bread” (see Matthew 6:11). Just as God provided food for His people day by day in the desert, so He provides for me now. There is nothing more I could want or need; His grace is enough for today. The Lord knows we have many pressing concerns. Still He commands us to not worry about the future. When we place our needs in His hands, we grow in reliance on Him as the children we are. He will never fail to provide for what we need, one day at a time. Relate to the Lord // Have you been worrying lately? Tell Jesus and ask Him for the grace you need to trust Him today.

June 19, 2026 // Friday of the Eleventh Week in Ordinary Time // Optional Memorial of Saint Romuald, Abbot Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: 2 Kings 11:1-4, 9-18, 20 Reflect on the Word //  I knelt in Fabriano, Italy, at the tomb of Saint Romuald on his feast day, eight years ago today. June 19  is my baptismal anniversary. This Saint has been praying for me my whole life. He is obscure, almost unknown, yet I am part of his family, connected through the Communion of Saints. How does God call us into His family and claim us as His own? He does so through His covenant with us, as we read in today’s First Reading, “by which they would be the LORD’s people” (2 Kings 11:17). In Baptism, that promise is fulfilled in our lives. Baptism is a Sacrament of belonging. Through water and the Holy Spirit, my Baptism unites me to God, welcomes me into His family, and calls me to live as His own child. In my Baptism, I am claimed, loved, and drawn into the covenant that binds me to the Lord and to others in His Church.  This belonging is not just personal but communal. Baptism joins us to a people across time and space. In the Sacraments, we are reminded that we are part of something larger.  After Mass that day, I found myself alone in the crypt at the tomb of Saint Romuald. The elderly sacristan spoke in Italian and guided me around to the other side of the altar, where more of the tomb was exposed. I did not understand his words, but his gestures were clear: I could remain. He walked away, locking the door behind him. I was free to leave at any time, and no one else would enter to disturb the silence and solitude Saint Romuald and I both treasured. The sacristan did not know who I was, but his kindness was clear, and we were quietly united in joy by the Saint whose feast we were celebrating. There, in the stillness, I felt at home in the family of the Church. We are all invited to live in the joy of being God’s people. Through Baptism, we are part of something greater than ourselves. Together, we embrace this gift, the blessing of belonging, and the call to share the joy of the Gospel with the world. In Baptism, God claims us, draws us into His family, and makes us His forever. Relate to the Lord // Look up your Baptism anniversary and make a note in the calendar to celebrate!

June 18, 2026 // Thursday of the Eleventh Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 6:7-15 Reflect on the Word //  Arms thrust heavenward he boldly declared, “Lord you are good, great, and almighty; and I am nothing, weak, and pitiful.” Father was being a little overly dramatic in his preaching this particular day. He even threw in a fake British accent for effect.  We Sisters weren’t quite sure how to react, but the drama certainly drove his point home: “Sisters, that’s not how the Saints prayed. The Saints got real with God.” We were in the midst of our immediate preparation for final vows, being exhorted to give God our authentic selves—who we truly are and not who we thought He wanted us to be. I can be tempted in prayer to ensure I’m saying, doing, asking, or sharing the correct things with the Lord. Sometimes, it looks like I am trying to make my journal entries sound like something out of Saint Thérèse’s Story of a Soul or Saint Catherine of Siena’s Dialogue. Then I realize, that’s not me. The Lord doesn’t want to hear my best imitation of the Saints, He wants to hear from me. He wants to hear my heart from me, even, if I’m being honest, “me” sounds a little raw, unpolished, confused, and vulnerable. “Do not babble like the pagans, who think they will be heard because of their many words. [. . .] Your Father knows what you need before you ask Him” (Matthew 6:7-8). The Lord doesn’t need me to come to Him with the perfect words of praise or expression of my needs. He just wants my heart as it is, with all its needs, imperfections, desires, love, and gratitude. As it is. Period. Prayer isn’t about our crafting the perfect formula so that God will hear and answer. Prayer is about an honest expression of the heart. Bring the good, the bad, and the ugly. When we pray, let us be simple. We call upon a God Who looks, not for the right phrases, but for the purity of our hearts seeking, above all, to love Him, and to be loved by Him, Who is our Heavenly Father. Let’s be real with God!  Relate to the Lord // Speak to Jesus from your heart today with honesty and vulnerability because He is a Living Person Who wants a relationship with the real you.

June 17, 2026 // Wednesday of the Eleventh Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Psalm: Psalm 31:20, 21, 24 I drove away from the hospital in a daze as I headed back to my dad’s house. My heart was weary with grief. This was the second time cancer touched my life. First my husband battled it (and thankfully won). Now, my mom was battling it, but she was not going to be spared. Despite all of our prayers, my mom would pass away within days. As I drove, the song “King of My Heart” by Bethel Music came on the radio, and the lyrics’ repeated reminder that God is good challenged my heart.  In today's Responsorial Psalm we hear, “Let your hearts take comfort, all who hope in the Lord” (Psalm 31:25), and it brings me back to that moment in the car. I remember praying, But how can I hope when my heart is breaking, Lord? How can I believe in Your goodness when You are allowing my mom to die too soon? I can see no good.  Yet the Psalm assures us, “The Lord keeps those who are constant” (Psalm 31:24). Was my love for God constant? Or did I only love Him when things were going well? I made a decision in the car that day. I sang along with those lyrics, affirming God’s infinite goodness, and I sobbed. Even though I was in such pain and it made no human sense, I was going to trust and take comfort in Him.  To this day, when I’m struggling or overwhelmed, I enter back into that moment of prayer. I beg for the grace to remain constant and recall how He never abandoned me and how He held me up when I was weak. That moment continues to strengthen me and give me hope. When we are struggling in life, it’s good to think back to moments when God spoke to our hearts or moved in our lives. Perhaps it was through the Sacraments and Scripture, or even through a song, a movie, nature, or the encouragement of a friend. These are reminders that God is good and is always seeking ways to draw us closer to Him.  Relate to the Lord // How has God spoken to your heart recently? Rest in that grace again.

June 16, 2026 // Tuesday of the Eleventh Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 5:43-48  Reflect on the Word //  As a recovering people-pleaser, I’ve had to wrestle with the reality that not everyone loves or likes me. I’m not everyone’s cup of tea—just as some people are not my cup of tea. One day in prayer, struggling over a situation involving someone who disliked me, I was inspired to ask the Lord, How do You see this person? God allowed me to imagine them in a glorified state, in the light of His love. Afterwards, I found myself more free to love this person with God’s transcendent love and genuinely pray for them even when their actions still stung. This prayer reminded me that God has beautiful reasons for making humans so different. He is infinitely creative and loves variety. He gives us different strengths and allows particular weaknesses so that we are interdependent, relying on one another in community and complementing each other in the process.  Yet as fallen human beings, we also have different wounds, sins, and defects. Our differences often grate against one another in painful ways. This friction can tempt us to deep resentment, fear, and division—or it can propel us toward authentic virtue, repentance, and charity. Thankfully, our Lord doesn’t call us to bulldoze healthy boundaries. We don’t need to give in to someone’s selfish whims or approve of unjust behaviors. Christ in today’s Gospel does not command us to like someone’s personality or actions, but rather to love the person themselves, made in the image and likeness of God (see Matthew 5:43-45). How do we love other fallen children of God as Christ does? Through intercessory prayer and self-gift. Even if we never exchange words with our so-called “enemies” (sometimes it’s best not to!), we can still love them intentionally by praying for them and making little sacrifices for them.  None of us can journey through this life alone. Some people serve as companions on our journey— others, as instruments of sanctification.  This friction we experience from those instruments of sanctification, when paired with love, is like fine sandpaper. It smooths our roughest edges and shapes us ever more beautifully into the infinitely unique saints we were created to be.   Relate to the Lord // If you’re struggling with someone today, ask the Lord to show you how He sees that person. Notice how your heart changes. 

June 15, 2026 // Monday of the Eleventh Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: 1 Kings 21:1–16  Reflect on the Word //  He did what?! I thought to myself as I read through my Bible in Adoration, trying not to gasp out loud. I was totally unfamiliar with the story from today’s First Reading, and I felt disgusted by the selfishness of King Ahab. He was so greedy that an innocent man was stoned to death.  The king of Samaria had plenty of land already, but he wanted Naboth’s vineyard for a vegetable garden. When Naboth refused to give up his vineyard, King Ahab refused to eat and became depressed. Then he agreed to let his wife plot Naboth’s death.  I also felt disgusted as I reflected upon the most recent ways I had chosen selfishness over generosity in my own vocation. I saw myself in Ahab, recognizing how easily I can grasp and take instead of give.  Scrolling on my phone for ten more minutes instead of unloading the dishwasher. Greeting my husband poorly because he came home from work later than I expected. Sulking in a bad attitude if my preferences aren’t accommodated.  Reflecting on the various ways I have chosen self-indulgence over self-donation, I heard Jesus whisper into my heart: Am I not enough for you?  How easy it is to forget the gift of my royal inheritance. Like King Ahab, we too have been given much more than we have earned on our own. God gives us His inexhaustible love, friendship, and mercy as a pure gift, but when we stop trusting Him, we begin to grasp.  Ahab thought a vegetable garden would satisfy his heart’s desires. Like him, we can easily become blinded by our own folly and think we need more time on our phone or the latest thing we saw an influencer using. We may even convince ourselves revenge will satisfy us.  But what if Jesus truly was enough for us? What would our vocations look like if we lived in the deep awareness of our rich inheritance found in Him? Where are we trading His Heart for a vegetable garden?  Relate to the Lord // Ponder this question inspired by today’s First Reading: Where am I trading His Heart for a vegetable garden? Be honest with yourself and the Lord. 

June 13, 2026 // Memorial of The Immaculate Heart of the Blessed Virgin Mary // Memorial of Saint Anthony of Padua, Priest and Doctor of the Church Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 5:33–37  Reflect on the Word //  My father was an honorable and generous man who used pithy sayings to impart life lessons to his children and grandchildren. Often, when our words were untruthful, insincere, or mean, he would warn us: “Even a fish wouldn’t get into trouble if he kept his mouth shut.” Over the course of many decades, the image of an open-mouthed fish snagged on a deadly hook has been a vivid reminder to pay attention to my speech, and to keep my mouth shut. From an early age my dad taught me the importance of saying what I meant and meaning what I said, but my ability to live with this kind of integrity only came much later, with the help of the Holy Spirit. In today’s reading from the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus calls out the widespread use of legal oath-swearing in His time that provided loopholes in the law and cheapened the value of one’s words. When Jesus instructed His followers to let their yes be yes and their no be no, He challenged them to go beyond the external or superficial observances of the law (see Matthew 5:37). They must cultivate an inner disposition of honesty and trustworthiness, expressed in both words and actions. Jesus is also instructing me as a disciple living in a world of endless talk, empty promises, and words that lack clarity and truth. Jesus calls me to be different from the prevailing culture, to be trustworthy in what I say and do, and to reflect the character of God Who is Truth. This means I am striving to always tell the truth, with no white lies or half-truths that deflect the blame or self-protect. I am striving to always follow through on what I’ve agreed to do (or not do) without fanfare or excuses—when others are watching, or when no one notices. Sister, join me in being a woman of the Word and a woman of your word! With the help of the Holy Spirit and the grace of the Sacraments, our words—truthful and trustworthy—can be powerful instruments of God’s love. Relate to the Lord // Ask the Holy Spirit make you a woman of the Word and a woman of your word!

June 12, 2026 // Solemnity of the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Second Reading: 1 John 4:7–16 Reflect on the Word //  I stepped out onto the back deck as afternoon sunshine glinted off the gently lapping water and lingering laughter drifted away on the fleeting breeze. It felt good to stretch my legs and breathe in fresh air after hours in the car. What struck me most, though, was the sense of familiarity I felt as friends welcomed me to the sound of boat motors roaring in the distance. I hadn’t grown up going to this lake, or any lake for that matter, but my friends made me feel as though I had lived amongst the Minnesota pines for years. When we first arrive somewhere, we may feel as though we are on the outside of something great. We may peer through the open door and wait to be welcomed in, clinging to any sense of familiarity until we feel at ease again. Some places, however, require no introduction, because the people occupying them already lavish us with reminders of home.  As Catholics, we could live like restless nomads, exploring town after town, and still always find a place to rest our heads. Jesus is present with His Sacred Heart within every tabernacle, from breezy island chapels to bustling city cathedrals, so there is no place we could venture where He would not warmly greet us. “God is love, and whoever remains in love remains in God and God in him” (1 John 4:16). Jesus does not venture far from His Church. Rather, He waits with great patience to welcome us with open arms, drawing us close to His Sacred Heart and inviting us to remain with Him. We are not strangers in His house, but long-anticipated friends called to make our dwelling with Him. On this Solemnity of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, may we surrender more fully to the Lord’s ever-present love. May we accept His invitation to make our home with Him, to abide in His peace, and to invite others in through the breezy, open doors. Relate to the Lord // Join us this month as we pray with the In His Heart digital download and rest in the Sacred Heart.

June 11, 2026 // Memorial of Saint Barnabas, Apostle Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: Acts 11:21b-26; 13:1-3 Reflect on the Word //  It happens every time we have dinner together.  Before we’ve even ordered our drinks, he’s asked the server’s name and is building a rapport. He’s kind and curious and wears a collar, which usually gets people’s attention. Father is a natural Barnabas, a name meaning “son of encouragement.” Whether at a coffee shop, ministry event, or in the foyer after Mass, he is locked in on people.  This interest is not feigned; Father’s heart has been formed after God’s fatherly heart. He recognizes the eternal and unrepeatable soul before him and genuinely delights in the unique gift of each one. It’s easy to chalk something like that up to personality or temperament, and that certainly helps. But I know the attention he pays, the encouragement that flows so genuinely from his heart, is also a habit, a practiced disposition. He has learned to live in sync with the Holy Spirit and respond to His promptings—just like the Apostle we celebrate today, Saint Barnabas.  He was originally named Joseph, but the disciples called him Barnabas (son of exhortation or consolation) because of his generosity. They sent him to Antioch where “he encouraged them all to remain faithful to the Lord in firmness of heart, for he was a good man, filled with the Holy Spirit and faith.” And because of his powerful witness we know that “a large number of people was added to the Lord” (Acts 11:23–24).  Before his radical joy won souls on the mission field with Saint Paul, Barnabas first built up the Church. He encouraged other believers. Like Barnabas, you and I shouldn’t reserve our kindness and curiosity only for strangers and servers, but must exercise them regularly with those we love. Our homes, parishes, schools, and workplaces are full of people wasting away for want of encouragement.  The Holy Spirit is the great Consoler. He comes both to encourage your heart and to pour out consolation to others through you. Invite Him in today and ask Him for the grace to become a daughter of encouragement, especially to those closest to you. Relate to the Lord // Practice looking for genuine ways to compliment or bless the people in your path today.

June 10, 2026 // Wednesday of the Tenth Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: 1 Kings 18:20–39 Reflect on the Word //  The silence of the church beckoned me to fix my gaze on the miracle taking place before me. As I knelt, the priest whispered prayers of consecration to the Father as the Son took the form of bread and wine right before me. Jesus was there—Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity.  How am I so blessed to be Catholic? What a gift to be a beloved daughter of God through Baptism! And yet, do I fully live this reality in my daily life? Or do I “straddle” my faith with a divided heart? Long after Mass, I continued to reflect upon my desire to belong fully to God and my conflicting tendency to choose comfort and ease, especially when life presents challenges. How often do I scroll instead of pray when I feel restless or uncertain? Why do I avoid the discomfort of waiting when I know God has a purpose for it? In today’s First Reading, Elijah asks the people, “How long will you straddle the issue? If the LORD is God, follow him; if Baal, follow him” (1 Kings 18:21). They, too, live in that middle space, belonging to God but also wanting to stay comfortable. In this passage, I heard God gently pointing out how much I rely on comfort. Not in big, obvious ways, but in subtle habits that keep me from Him—scrolling when distracted, shopping for a quick sense of satisfaction, or turning to food when feeling lonely or sad. While we may not think of these as idols, they do take His place. They are what we turn to first. And like the idol of Baal, they never really answer when we call on them. Perhaps today, my sister, Elijah’s question is our invitation to stop living with divided hearts, to stop choosing what numbs us, and to stop trying to escape what is uncomfortable or painful. Instead, let us choose God more fully in every small decision that we make: what we reach for, how we spend our time, how we respond to the circumstances of ordinary life. Relate to the Lord // Visit Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament today or this week. He is truly present and waiting for you there.

June 9, 2026 // Tuesday of the Tenth Week in Ordinary Time //  Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Psalm: 4:2–3, 4–5, 7b–8 Reflect on the Word //  During Lent, every Sunday before Mass I would begin prayer by looking at Jesus crucified. I wished I had blinders like the ones horses use during races so I could remove the swarm of distractions that provoked me. Even in this space of desiring silence, I couldn’t reach it. I had been here before spiritually. Wandering but anchored in the hope of the risen Lord. Putting one foot in front of the other even though I was anticipating the fall. Trusting but at the same time noticing that doubt was around the corner. I was running various scenarios of how things could have played out differently during the last seven months. I was trying so hard to make sense of God.  I had been so used to reducing my own cross as I accompanied so many in prayer that I forgot to let Him look at me. “Lord, let your face shine on us” in today’s Responsorial Psalm is the cry I was experiencing silently but didn’t know how to verbalize (Psalm 4:7a). Relationships that I thought were safe and resilient had broken, and the fragmentation had left me with feelings of betrayal, bitterness, and hurt—and so many questions. While I was trying to rewind each scenario and figure out what went wrong, I hid from God even though I was looking directly at Him. I was so busy with my shame, humiliation, and woundedness that my gaze was one of solution-based prayer rather than allowing Him to “put gladness into my heart” (Psalm 4:8).  What happens when we take our attention away from what we are doing and focus on what God wants to do in us? How does returning to the practices of Lent in Ordinary Time help us allow God  to let His face shine on us? We may experience rejection from people who were deeply rooted in our lives, but God doesn’t want us to live in that. His gaze of unlimited mercy pleads for us to know that He isn’t afraid of anything we have endured on this side of Heaven.  Relate to the Lord // Pray with a crucifix today. Meditate on Jesus’ loving sacrifice for you.

June 8, 2026// Monday of the Tenth Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word// Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 5:1–12 Reflect on the Word //  When the call came in, I could hear the tension and fear in his voice. My older brother and his wife had just received the news: their baby, number ten, due in some months, had Down Syndrome. He asked, “Would you please pray for us?” Naturally, they were initially awash in questions. What would this diagnosis mean for their child, for their family? Who would care for her after my brother and sister-in-law were gone? My sister-in-law took the news especially hard. But that season of fear and anxiety didn’t last long. Once little Maggie Rose arrived, all that fear was transformed into so much joy, I thought my sister-in-law’s heart would burst. Her many siblings can hardly stop kissing “the Rosebud.” You cannot mention her name without my brother breaking into a beaming smile. My sister-in-law can hardly stand to be separated from her for even an hour. Maggie Rose has taken hold of the heart of the entire house, and her big, blue-eyed, pink-cheeked smile is like a little shock of Heaven bursting over the earth. Every time I see her, I think, that little baby is living beatitude, a little bit of heavenly blessing right here, right now. How often the Lord works exactly that way, surprising us with burdens that turn out to be blessings. Oh, but we must learn to look with God’s eyes, His eternal vision, His vision that sees everything in its completion, its fullness. Jesus says our reward will be great in Heaven (Matthew 5:12), but that doesn’t mean He won’t give us a taste of heavenly joy right now. Maggie Rose is proof of that. The paradoxical tension we feel in the beatitudes is not meant to frustrate us, but to orient us, to keep our eyes fixed on Heaven and eternity. When our burdens don’t feel like blessings, let’s ask the Lord to give us heavenly vision, to see as He sees, and to love as He loves.  Relate to the Lord // When have your burdens turned into blessings? Reflect on God’s goodness to you.

June 6, 2026 // Saturday of the Ninth Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: 2 Timothy 4:1–8 Reflect on the Word // I straightened up to answer the phone, leaning the broom against the kitchen counter. “Hello?” I answered, tapping the dustpan against the edge of the trash can. The voice on the other end was friendly and familiar. I wondered, Why is the head of our local Catholic women’s conference calling me? “Will you keynote our conference next spring?” she asked. I gripped the counter. You don’t have anything to say. Why is she asking you? How could you possibly say yes? The enemy didn’t waste any time telling me to say no. “Yes,” I answered, before he could have his way. I’ve since come to understand, many talks and retreats later, that my Baptism has empowered me to put my prophetic gifts in service of the Gospel. That doesn’t mean I’ll wander the desert eating locusts. What it means is that I was baptized to share in the priestly, prophetic, and kingly mission of Jesus Christ. The Holy Spirit empowered me to do so. I have the calling, the gifting, and the commission to do as Saint Paul instructs in today’s First Reading: to “proclaim the word; be persistent whether it is convenient or inconvenient; convince, reprimand, encourage through all patience and teaching” (2 Timothy 4:2). For me, that involves writing during early mornings and late nights, long flights to speaking engagements, and travel delays. It means intense bouts of desolation and long stretches of self-doubt. But I must be faithful to the unfolding graces of my Baptism. Sister, you, too, are given the baptismal grace to proclaim the Gospel. In an age when souls are hungry for what is spiritual, but often unable to untangle truth from “myths,” we all can be the witnesses proclaiming Jesus. We can bring light and hope to a world unaware of its own darkness. It might not be on a stage. Your call will honor your unique gifts and opportunities. You may bring the Gospel to the woman in line behind you at the coffee shop or simply by writing a note to a coworker. But a word of hope, when infused with the Spirit, can bring forth untold light and life. Don’t let the enemy tell you otherwise.  Relate to the Lord // Ask the Lord to show you ways to use your prophetic gifts today to share Jesus with others.

June 5, 2026 // Memorial of Saint Boniface, Bishop and Martyr Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: 2 Timothy 3:10–17 Reflect on the Word //  When I was in third grade, my Catholic primary school held a Bible story competition where all participating students were quizzed on people, places, and stories in the Bible. I won the contest, being able to answer all the questions correctly except one (about Nicodemus—I still remember missing it all these years later!). My prize was an illustrated children’s Bible that I still have. Today happens to be my birthday, and I’m filled with gratitude for my parents (both now with Jesus) whose example of reading Scripture daily, and reading it to us as a family, taught me the truth of the power of Scripture. More important than winning a contest is how this example guided me in my own life, shaping my understanding of God’s goodness.  When we read Scripture, we are hearing God talk to us. We find truth and wisdom, guidance and clarity. Scripture offers us the tools we need to understand God and do what He asks us to do.  Sometimes we get the solutions directly, with answers to the questions we seek. And sometimes soaking up the Word of God gives us answers to questions we didn’t even know we were asking. We read Scripture so that we “may be competent, equipped for every good work” (2 Timothy 3:17).  The challenge is to remember to consume Scripture. We are blessed to have our daily Readings, and we should offer ourselves the fruit of Scripture by feasting upon it every day. We need to make the effort to prioritize spending time with God’s Word, listening to His voice speaking to us.  God’s Word refreshes us and reminds us of who we are and Who God is. Reading Scripture is the perfect antidote to all of life’s challenges, the reality check we need as we go about each day. It is a lamp unto our feet and light unto our path.  Relate to the Lord // Pick up God’s Word today and pray with Scripture. You could reread the daily Mass Readings, a single Psalm, or start one of the Gospels. 

June 4, 2026 // Thursday of the Ninth Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: 2 Timothy 2:8–15 Reflect on the Word // The popular Christian song “Love You to Death” by Josiah Queen and Strings and Heart perfectly captures the guilt I sometimes feel as a 21st-century Catholic in the western world. The song talks about wanting to love and follow Jesus but worrying that our faith isn’t as great as that of the early disciples and martyrs, like Saint Stephen or Saint Peter. How can we claim to have faith when it doesn’t cost us what it cost those first Christians?  I often question in the same way: Do I love Jesus fully if I am living a safe, cushiony modern life?  In today’s First Reading, Saint Paul shares his own experience of loving Jesus to death and answers my modern-day question too. From his prison cell in Rome, Paul writes about his sufferings as a follower of Jesus during that time: “Remember Jesus Christ [. . .] such is my Gospel, for which I am suffering, even to the point of chains, like a criminal” (2 Timothy 2:8).  Paul beautifully sacrificed his life for the Lord, yet instead of comparing himself to others, he invites all disciples to live this way with Jesus too: “If we have died with him, we shall also live with him; if we persevere, we shall also reign with him” (2 Timothy 2:11-12). Even if our faith does not incriminate us as it did Saint Paul, we can still choose ways to spiritually die and persevere for Jesus in our lives today. Sister, what chains or crosses might the Lord be asking you to bear? Let Paul’s words remind us that our modern chains of discipleship are good and holy too, even if they don’t look like first-century incarceration or martyrdom. Let us love Him to death in whatever way He is calling us in our lives today, so that we may live with Him forever in the life to come. Relate to the Lord // What would it look like to bear your cross for love of Jesus today?