May 8, 2026 // Friday of the Fifth Week of Easter Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: John 15:12-17 Reflect on the Word // I rushed into the grocery store. The sun had begun to rise and as I saw the colorful rays burst their glorious light over the mountain, I did not ponder their beauty, but instead I felt an increase in my urgency. We were going to be late for school if I didn’t hurry. I pushed the cart aisle by aisle, checking the time on my phone over and over. I passed by others quickly and did not notice them all that much. We made it to school on time, but when I arrived back home to pray, I noticed that I had written on the calendar a message to my children: “Love Jesus. Love others. This is the most important task.”  “This is my commandment: love one another as I love you” (John 15:12). Throughout my rushed morning, the tender gaze of Jesus did not leave me. In every moment, His love was being poured out over me. The colorful rays of sunlight were a gift from Him. The precious souls I passed as I rushed through the store were a gift from Him. The food I had thrown in my cart was a gift from Him. In all of this, Jesus invited me to live out His commandment to love. In these moments of mundane life, the Heart of Christ continues to burn and thirst for souls. It is all an encounter with the Beloved. I was called to be a missionary of love. Called to love as He loves. What does that look like in practice? It looks like reverencing Christ within the person before you and loving them because He created them. The person at the grocery store. The person in the school pick-up line. Our coworkers, our friends, our family, those who are easy to love, and those who are difficult to love. Jesus has given us the gift of calling us to love every single soul that we are blessed to meet in our everyday life. When we deeply contemplate the love of Christ and the command He has given us, it will transform us and those around us. Relate to the Lord // How will you love Jesus today? How will you love others? 

April 18, 2026 // Saturday of the Second Week of Easter Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: John 6:16-21 Reflect on the Word // I held the holy card and repeated the prayer on the back over and over until I fell asleep. This was my nightly routine as a little girl. I was plagued by fear, nightmares, and worry. The image of Jesus, His eyes filled with love, calmed me. I didn’t realize it at the time, but on the back of my crinkled holy card was a Consecration to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Each night that I trembled and wiped my tears, I was making an offering, even on the nights that I felt deeply alone. Waves of suffering crashed against my soul. The sea of life was oftentimes stormy, dark, and sometimes terrifying. For many years, I lived my life from a place of fear. Jesus healed this wound in my heart. When I wondered if I was truly loved, or if my brokenness made me unlovable, Jesus responded, “It is I. Do not be afraid” (John 6:20). And the truth of those words eventually pierced my heart. I saw Jesus and His Sacred Heart burning with tremendous love for me. He is sovereign. He desires that I be with Him. I am His, and there is truly nothing to fear. When we feel the familiar grip of fear destroying our peace, we can look amid the thrashing waves, and see the gentle smile of Christ. Through the wind and the storms we can see love bursting forth from His Heart. He knows our anxieties. He sees our pain, our suffering, and our doubt. He remains near. He is in control. We can trust Him.  Relate to the Lord // What Scripture or prayer can you repeat as you lean into trust?

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.

October 17, 2025 // Memorial of Saint Ignatius of Antioch, Bishop and Martyr Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Luke 12:1-7 Reflect on the Word //  I gazed at my cart full of groceries and felt my shoulders relax. The worry that had gripped my heart dissipated. I finally took a deep breath, and with it, felt all the racing thoughts in my mind slow down. I have been here many times before. Consumed by uncertainty and fear. Would we have enough to get by this month? A question heavy with shame. But most of all, a question that I have held on to tightly, refusing to release my grip and give it to the Lord. And yet, He shows up. He provides. His gentle voice whispers, “Do not be afraid” (Luke 12:7). Jesus speaks these powerful words in today’s First Reading and throughout Scripture. They are a beautiful refrain. This verse sung over me from the depths of His Heart. Words that reveal His closeness. He stands beside me offering peace. Peace for every problem. It is an unshakable peace, but it requires surrender. It requires reckless abandon, as I move forward towards His embrace and proclaim that I believe in His promises. When questions arise, I see Him, calling to me, reminding me repeatedly that I have nothing to fear and that “[e]ven the hairs of [my]  head have all been counted” (Luke 12:7). Doubt crumbles to mere dust. I follow His voice. I surrender.  We have nothing to fear. This is a truth that we wrestle with. In our fallen human nature, in a world full of brokenness, fear overwhelms us. Our questions overwhelm us. Uncertainty overwhelms us. But nothing overwhelms the Lord. He is with us in everything. Offering us peace. Offering us hope. Offering Himself. We have more than enough. We have the God of the universe by our side. Do not be afraid.  Relate to the Lord // What fears have been assaulting you? Tell them to Jesus. Read and pray with His words to you, “Do not be afraid” (Luke 12:7).  

September 8, 2025 // Feast of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 1:1-16, 18-23 Reflect on the Word // I couldn’t remember why we stopped speaking. We are family. We were close. And then, our laughter-filled conversations, phone calls celebrating and lamenting the activities of our children, all the connection between us began to splinter and crumble away. This happens all too often within families. A misspoken word, a misunderstanding, a mistake fractured hearts and broke bonds.  This is the nature of anger sometimes. It simmers. It hides below the surface until resentment explodes out of it with a force that wounds us. I struggled with unforgiveness, and in a moment of begging the Lord to soften my heart toward this family member, I was reminded that our God became Man and is  “Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham” (Matthew 1:1). From this long line of suffering sinners came the Savior born of the Blessed Virgin Mary whose birth we celebrate today. Her full trust in God and His grace made way for our Redeemer. Redemption moved them forward. Love moved them forward. Forgiveness moved them forward.  Jesus was asking me to remember His promises and trust His word. Jesus was asking me to remember that we are called to a radical love. He is asking this of each of us. Can we move forward? Can we see that Jesus is cleansing our wounds by the power of His Blood, washing away the debris and mending the division? He knows and He sees all, and forgiveness will set us free. On this side of Heaven, it will be imperfect. We may need boundaries. We may need time. But Jesus is with us in all of it. We are part of the greatest story of love and forgiveness, which began with the birth of His Mother. Lean forward. The Savior is coming.  Relate to the Lord // What do you need? Tell Jesus, and have hope.   

August 1, 2025 // Memorial of Saint Alphonsus Liguori, Bishop and Doctor of the Church Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 13:54-58 Reflect on the Word //  Slow the pace. I walked deliberately. Focused on each breath. Focused on the warmth of the sun. Focused on the present. The Lord was telling me to notice, to be attentive, and I had underestimated how difficult this request would be.  How long had it been since I noticed? The cobalt sky with puffy white clouds . . . the soft hum of bees . . . the words spilling out from my toddler’s mouth as she notices everything. How long had it been since I slowed the pace? Since I sought the Lord in everything around me like a little child? I couldn’t remember, and I doubted whether I even knew how to do that anymore. I had become distracted, tired, and absent. But then Jesus asked me to go on a walk. That was simple enough, and each day that I walked, feeling His tender presence next to me, step after step, our walk became profound.  I followed instead of racing ahead without purpose. I noticed how I needed to breathe, to nourish my body, to find beauty and take the time to enjoy it. I laughed with the Lord. I spoke with the Lord without the pressure to perform. I slowed the pace.  Throughout life, there will be times when we grumble in astonishment at the Lord. The Lord shows us a way, a path overflowing with grace. But we so often do not see Who He truly is and like the people in the synagogue in today’s Gospel, we say to ourselves, “Where did this man get such wisdom and mighty deeds” (Matthew 13:54)? This question and others overwhelm us, rapid thought after rapid thought, until we collapse into the false comfort of distraction.  But there is a better way.  Jesus leads us to peace, to presence, to being whole . . . one step at a time. He invites us to receive the grace to slow the pace. The grace to seek Him as our Lord and God and notice that His love abounds in the present moment, in every breath, in everything around us.  Relate to the Lord // Take a walk with the Lord today. Take your time. Notice.  

May 28, 2025 // Wednesday of the Sixth Week of Easter Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: John 16:12-15 Reflect on the Word //  “Wait and see.” A refrain that has been spoken about my nephew more times than we can count. “Wait and see” as my brother paced in the NICU, worry lines etched in his young face as his first-born son struggled. “Wait and see” at the pediatrician’s office, when my brother asked if my nephew would ever walk or talk. But when we looked at this precious little boy with his big brown eyes, by the grace of God, those words did not stifle our joy. Those words did not quiet our resounding joy. In the tension and the sorrow of the unknown, the Lord gave us guidance and we surrendered. Yes, surrendered to the “wait and see.” Wait and see what the Lord can do. The Lord is so tender with my heart. He waits with me, speaking to me through the words He spoke to His Apostles in the Gospel: "I have much more to tell you, but you cannot bear it now. But when He comes, the Spirit of truth, He will guide you to all truth” (John 16:12-13). Even so, I beg for all the answers. I throw myself at His feet and wonder at His silence. Then I remember that with Jesus there is always more. More love. More grace. More miracles. His gaze is steady, and in it, I am plunged into peace. The warmth of His love surrounds me. I can wait here. He knows what we need, and He knows when we need it. We can surrender to His guidance that He offers through the Holy Spirit. Jesus will never lead us astray. Whether we are led into the desert or the greenest pastures, He goes before us. Let us eagerly follow, hearts filled with trust, and see what the Lord can do.  Relate to the Lord // What worry or fear can you bring to Jesus today? Renew your trust in Him.  

April 14, 2025 // Monday of Holy Week Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: John 12:1-11 Reflect on the Word //  My baby boy rested his head against my chest, and I sang the Regina Caeli antiphon, over and over until I felt him finally drift into a deep sleep. This had become our routine. He was most content when held close, his sweet breath against my cheek. He protested any separation with a longing cry, little hands reaching, groping in the darkness, only settling when he discovered he was back in my arms. I smiled wearily and felt such peace, peace in the exhaustion, and all the aches and pains quickly became familiar friends during this season of life. Tremendous peace because, like they often do, my child showed me the goodness of the Lord. I whimper and grope in the darkness, and He comes and lets me rest my head on His chest. The beat of His Sacred Heart soothes my soul. He holds me close, and I find rest. Day after day. Night after night. He is always there.  His loving presence invites us to pour out and share in a holy affection with Him, our Beloved. Like Mary, we are drawn to give Him all that is precious to us: “Mary took a liter of costly perfumed oil made from genuine aromatic nard and anointed the feet of Jesus and dried them with her hair; the house was filled with the fragrance of oil” (John 12:3). We approach Him, our grasp tight, but prepared to let go. Prepared to trust Him. The tenderness in His eyes penetrates the depths of our being, and we feel the freedom to lavish Him with love. And though there are times when I hear the deceptive voice of the enemy attempting to sow doubt in my heart, the voice of our Blessed Lord rises above the clamor: “Leave her alone” (John 12:7). Our hearts long to be close to Him in this way, and He tenderly waits and allows us to humbly place ourselves at His feet, spilling our tears, giving it all without counting the cost, because He is the greatest Lover.  Relate to the Lord // Take a few moments to imagine yourself as that little infant resting on Jesus’ Heart. Breathe deeply and rest.  

March 25, 2025 // Solemnity of the Annunciation of the Lord Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: Isaiah 7:10-14; 8:10 Reflect on the Word //  “Emmanuel.” This word rolls off my tongue in a prayerful refrain. Whispered in the early morning hours as I reach for my Bible and resist the desire to scroll on my phone. Repeated in the afternoon, as I love, correct, feed, and clean up after my children. Sung in the quiet of the night, as I nurse a baby and listen to the soft sounds of a home finally at rest. Throughout the day, I am consoled and restored by “Emmanuel.” I am reminded of His love for me, and His deep thirst for my soul. I am made aware of His constant gaze, and His steadfast pursuit of my heart. “Emmanuel” sets my feet on firm foundation.  “Therefore the Lord Himself will give you this sign: the virgin shall be with child, and bear a son, and shall name him Emmanuel, which means ‘God is with us!’” (Isaiah 7:14) The prophet Isaiah proclaimed the glory of the Incarnation, which was to come 700 years after he wrote those words. God made flesh. God with us. The Solemnity of the Annunciation, when Mary became the Mother of God, is a day when we can honor and reflect on our Lady’s fiat. Her glorious role in Salvation History as the model of faithful obedience to the will of God.  We are never alone, because the Blessed Mother gave her fiat. And because He became Man, our beloved Lord is immersed in and has redeemed every moment of our lives. He desires an incomprehensible intimacy with us, so much so that He allows Himself to be consumed in the Eucharist. He is Emmanuel, God with us.  We need this reminder. We live in a time that is rife with shallow connections, and from that has emerged a multitude of souls tormented with loneliness. In this fallen world, we will encounter suffering and will feel alone. But we do not belong to the world. We belong to the Savior, and He is Emmanuel.  Relate to the Lord // Make Emmanuel your prayer today, too. Whisper, sing, or say it—and, just as the Blessed Mother experienced, remember that He is with you.  

Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Luke 10:21-24 Reflect on the Word//  I rushed around the house, my mind racing through the list of tasks for the day. The all too familiar habit of hurrying grabbed hold of my heart and convinced me that I was bound by its demands. With tense shoulders I pressed forward. I allowed anxiety to build and coil itself around my body. Then the tender voice of the Lord broke in through the noise: I am here. Do you not perceive it? Jesus has a steady stream of grace to pour into my soul. Grace that would open my eyes and remind me to slow down and recollect myself. I cannot see the blessings of ordinary life if I go about spiritually blind. And I, instead, see them as burdens. After rejoicing in the Holy Spirit in Luke 10 and proclaiming that all things have been handed over to Him, Jesus turns to His disciples and says, “Blessed are the eyes that see what you see” (Luke 10:23). He shares with them that many would desire to see but would be unable.  Throughout this life, even in the simplest moments, Christ the Lord holds out His hand and invites us to see. He invites us to see that the very same tasks that we anxiously rush through can be made holy. This life is unbelievably beautiful. Every single moment. The moments we rejoice, and the moments when our breath catches and sorrowful tears roll down our cheeks. He is there. His Heart is exposed and offers to us unimaginable love, incomprehensible union, all within regular minutes of our day. We have the freedom to see, or the freedom to remain blind. Our free will allows us to live like children of God or to continue to live as though we are slaves. Jesus desires that we see. Jesus desires that we live out our belovedness and embrace this life. Behold Him as He stands before us, offering us the grace to see every blessing.  Relate to the Lord // Pause and breathe today. Practice becoming aware of the Lord Who is already with you. 

“And in His name the Gentiles will hope.” //  Matthew 12:21 I stood at the edge of the swimming pool. The pavement was warm beneath my feet, and the sun beat against my back as I stared into the deep, glistening water. At nine years old, I was not a strong swimmer. In fact, the only thing I could do was swim back and forth underwater in the shallow end. When I ran out of breath, I could easily put my feet down and pop up for air.  But on this particular day I was feeling brave and adventurous. I thought I would try to swim underwater from the deep end to the shallow end. It didn’t look far, and all I had to do was stay close to the pool wall and pull myself out if I got tired. I took a deep breath and jumped, and while I confidently swam for a few feet, there came a moment when I lost track of the wall and came up in an area too deep to stand. Panic seized my little body, and I began to thrash around, trying to kick with all my strength but failing to get any closer to safety. I was paralyzed by fear, and kept my eyes and mouth shut tight.  Until I remembered that my stepfather was close by. He would hear me if I cried out, and between choking gulps of water I yelled his name, then felt myself lifted out of the water. Felt myself safe again. All I had to do was call his name.  Today’s Gospel refers to the fulfillment of the words spoken by the prophet Isaiah: “And in His name the Gentiles will hope” (Matthew 12:21). Hope. I know that I often forget to speak the name of Jesus with the hope that He will come.  Sister, sometimes we try to face the anxieties of life without the help of the Lord. We feel ourselves drowning in our circumstances, afraid to cry out to Jesus. But I pray that you remember that the name of Jesus has power. He is our Savior. All you have to do is call His name. 

As they walked on conversing, a flaming chariot and flaming horses came between them, and Elijah went up to heaven in a whirlwind. // 1 Kings 2:11 I watched as the smoke from the incense curled up toward the crucifix. It is a moment in the Mass that always draws my heart toward the Lord. I imagine each prayer floating up to the attentive ear of Jesus, the Lover of our souls, so close that every whisper is heard by Him, every hope-filled plea and utterance of praise given to the One who is all powerful. I could trust Him. I could have the courage to hope in His promises. Hope in His goodness. Hope in His most perfect will. This gave me the comfort I had been longing for during a time of great change in our family.  The Lord had been calling us to new places and new adventures, and inviting us to work in His vineyard with radical love and surrender. With this came a whirlwind of job changes for my husband, school changes for my children, and saying yes to Jesus even when it seemed as if everything was being swiftly uprooted.  I take comfort in today’s First Reading about two Old Testament prophets Elijah and Elisha, “[w]hen the Lord was about to take Elijah up to heaven in a whirlwind” (see 2 Kings 2:1, 6-14). They walked together guided by the Holy Spirit, and Elijah was about to leave Elisha to prophesy on his own. I think of how walking with the Lord is yielding to the movements of the Spirit. Parting from what once was, and entering into the new places the Lord is calling us to. Knowing that we are being given an abundance of grace, greater than all our expectations. Trusting that, like He did for Elisha, the Lord will give us the portion of the Spirit that we need to follow Him. Sister, where is the Lord calling you? What fears are holding you back from giving Him your complete and total trust? Tell Him all your troubles, all your apprehensions, and step forward. Step forward and let Him lead you. This life of following the Lord is a pilgrimage to everlasting love.

Lent starts February 14, and so does the RESCUED Blessed is She Lent devotional. This year, you’ll be receiving an excerpt from the Lent devotional every day in your inbox (in lieu of our regular daily devo). We want to pray with one heart and one mind as the BIS sisterhood. If you prefer to have the book, purchase the 2024 Blessed is She Lent devotional RESCUED right here. Right upon purchase, you’ll receive a link to come into the free Blessed is She app to walk through the Lenten season with us in daily live prayer, small groups, and more. Together let’s look to the Lamb of God who came to rescue each one of us.   “The Kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the Gospel.”  // Mark 1:15 There is a small lake near our home, and on certain days, the water glistens beneath the light of the sun. Gentle waves ripple across the surface. Ducks dive for fish, shaking their wings and sending droplets of water into the air. I love going to the lake on those days. However, there are other days when the water is murky and stagnant.  Recently, on one of those not-so-beautiful days, I sat on a grassy hill noticing the water frothing with impurities against the wooden dock, feeling exceedingly annoyed with this reality. While my five-year-old daughter ran through the grass, and shouted gleefully in her charming, raspy voice, I brooded. I brooded because the murky, churning lake reflected the disposition of my heart perfectly. I felt frustrated by a struggle I was having with a multitude of venial sins. Habits that I recognized were hurting those around me. I was bringing the same sins to Confession again and again. The reality of all of this left me feeling discouraged and ashamed.  As I thought of all that was going on in my heart, my daughter ran up to me with a smile on her face. She pointed to an old scrape she had on her knee and said, “It’s getting better.” I nodded in agreement. She continued, “It hurt when it was getting better. But I think sometimes getting better hurts.” After she ran off, I sat there completely in awe of her words and how they had struck my heart.  Sometimes when we let the Lord pour His mercy into our stagnant and sinful souls it is painful. We fear the exposure of our brokenness. Will the Lord love us here? Will He ever heal us from this? Jesus says, “The Kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the Gospel” (Mark 1:15). If you are struggling, go to Confession. Go to the Sacrament of mercy, and do not grow weary. His love poured out for sinners like you and me. His love conquers all, and He offers you that reality today.

“Not as man sees does God see, because he sees the appearance but the LORD looks into the heart.” // 1 Samuel 16:7  I had an image come to me in prayer of an empty cell. An austere place with cold stone walls and not a single window to let in the sunlight. Amid the silence of this lonely cell, I called out to Jesus: Lord, can You be with me here?  With these words came a flicker of light, and soon the room was filled with the warm flames of candlelight. Jesus was present, adorning the cell, and transforming it into a beautiful room. A place where I would find rest. A place where I would find peace. A place where I would find Him.  In prayer I asked the Lord what this place was. And He answered: Your heart, daughter. This is your heart.  This all happened after a particularly dry season in prayer. I was feeling overwhelmed, distracted, and alone. Restlessness crept in and prayer became a daily struggle. The Lord felt far away. But of course, as the lover of my soul, He was never far away. Jesus was so very close. He was in the darkest depths of my heart.  He is in the places that I am afraid to go. The places that I hide from. Places that have grown cold and lonely. Places surrounded by thick stone walls. Places that I would rather pretend do not exist. Yet, my Savior was waiting for me there. Waiting for me to welcome Him, and allow Him to bring warmth. Allow Him to bring beauty. Allow Him to bring love.  For a long time I ran and hid, and He continued to wait with such tenderness. Then into the darkest depths, He brought the light of grace.  “Not as man sees does God see, because he sees the appearance but the Lord looks into the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7). Maybe your heart feels lonely and abandoned, devoid of beauty and light. But the Lord is with you. Welcome Him in. He sees a place to abide and adorn. You are not alone. You are not forgotten. From the depths of your soul, you are loved.

“I gave you a land that you had not tilled and cities that you had not built, to dwell in; you have eaten of the vineyards and olive groves which you did not plant.” // Joshua 24:13 I wiped sweat from my forehead, grumbling under my breath as I eyed the chipped paint on our walls, and the worn baseboards. The cracks and imperfections of an old, well-loved house, that on this particular day felt far more irritating than charming. A multitude of complaints burst from my mouth as I walked from room to room, pointing out everything that was wrong with our house. My words spilled out carelessly, until I came upon an art project that my daughter made from an old piece of foil. She created a colorful rose and placed it beneath the statue of Our Blessed Mother. Sunlight poured through the window, reflecting the vibrant colors throughout the room. I paused as I realized that my complaining had done the exact opposite. My acid tongue brought bitterness instead of beauty. I was surrounded by the provision of the Lord, worthy of all my praise. In that moment, my heart was filled with repentance and deep gratitude. Do you find yourself struggling with needless complaining? Do you often overlook the blessings in your life?  Sisters, our words are powerful. With our words, we can bring blessing and honor to the Lord, as well as those around us, but we can also drag people down and forsake our God and Creator. May we praise and glorify the Lord with our words. When we are tempted to speak with bitterness and contempt to those around us, let us instead call upon the Holy Spirit to sanctify our words. 

“I am the light of the world, says the Lord; whoever follows me will have the light of life.” //John 8:12 Her soft whimpers interrupt the quiet of the night. I hold her close and sing hymns, swaying gently until she settles. Sleep does not come easy for this little one. Night after night, she seeks comfort in my arms, restless until she hears the familiar hum of my voice. Moonlight spills through the window, and she presses her cheek to mine, stirring and then drifting to sleep. In these hidden moments, with bleary eyes and a contented heart, I heed the call of the Lord—the call to love whomever is before me. I serve, wearily and joyfully, much like Saint Martha of today’s Gospel. Welcoming the Lord and offering Him my works, my worries, and my love. Throughout the day and night, I follow Him, sometimes with stumbling steps and sometimes with steady ones. I follow Him as I soothe my crying baby, as I cook for my family, and as I greet my neighbor. I follow Him as I pray, “Lord everything I have is Yours,” and by His mercy the seemingly mundane is made holy. Sister, Jesus invites us to follow Him every moment of our day; no matter what we are doing, He is calling us to Him. I encourage you to simply recognize the Lord’s call throughout your day. What is He calling you to offer? Who is He calling you to love? When is He calling you to prayer? Seek Him and find comfort in His familiar voice. He is the Light of the World. Follow Him and have the light of life. 

Why do you notice the splinter in your brother’s eye, but do not perceive the wooden beam in your own eye? // Matthew 7:3 I rushed through the living room, gathering miscellaneous items from the steadily growing piles around the house. Everything had to be cleaned today, for no particular reason, other than I had determined that we had gone long enough with a messy house. I ignored my achy body, feverish from a flu virus that had slowed me down for an entire week. “Just push through . . . ” I whispered as I scrubbed and swept with prideful indignation—determined to prove I was capable of productivity, even when I was sick. Surely, I could show how tough I was, and wasn’t that admirable? Therefore, as my husband and children looked on, offering to help, offering me rest, I pushed the dampened strands of hair from my face and said I was fine. With arrogance and shimmering resentment, I leaned into the hurried state of my heart. Then the Lord in His mercy revealed to me that this was not of Him. My oldest daughter came down with the same virus, and I saw her hunched over the dining room table, bleary-eyed and exhausted, working on homework. I told her she had to rest and she said, “But Mom, I can push through . . . just like you do.”  This is the witness I was giving her. This was the false Gospel that I was preaching without a single spoken word, and Jesus was calling me to repentance, to see how I had harmed myself and my daughter with my pride. In the Gospel for today, Jesus says, “Why do you notice the splinter in your brother’s eye, but do not perceive the wooden beam in your own eye?” (Matthew 7:3)  My dear sister, Jesus is meek and humble of heart. I lovingly encourage you to contemplate how you witness this truth to those around you. How do you witness this beautiful truth to your family? To your friends? To the stranger online who disagrees with you? Let us not be consumed by our pride, but rather let our pride be consumed by the flames of His most Sacred Heart. Let us be loved by our merciful Lover and find rest.