May 22, 2026 // Friday of the Seventh Week of Easter // Optional Memorial of Saint Rita of Cascia, Religious Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel for the Memorial of Saint Rita: Luke 6:27-38 As we made the Sign of the Cross and began to thank God for the day, my husband shifted the prayer to intercede for someone who had passed away. It was a person few would think to pray for; others might feel repulsion at the thought. Yet, at that moment, my husband’s heart was not filled with opinions, politics, prejudices, or judgment. His heart was filled with mercy. “Do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you” (Luke 6:27-28). This was not a recommendation. It was a command given by the One we proclaim is King and Lord. He asks me to love my enemy and do them good (see Luke 6:35).  The greatest good I have and could wish for another is the Lord. Therefore, to pray for my enemies, to beg for mercy for them, to intercede on their behalf is me giving the best gift I have (see Luke 6:38) and it returns in abundance to me. To pray for my enemy—to wish them good even when I don’t feel that they deserve it or when my emotions would have me do or say otherwise—this act of obedience to His call and the work of His grace in me, blesses them and changes me. I am transformed by His mercy to the measure that I can be merciful and forgiving to others, especially to the ones who are my “enemies.”  Yet, the “enemy” we are called to love (see Luke 6:27) is not always the big bad monster that first comes to mind. The enemy that needs loving is sometimes simply our neighbor who let her dog walk on our lawn, the stranger who drove past us drenching us with dirty rain water, or the colleague who made rude remarks about our efforts. Sometimes the enemy that needs loving, forgiving, prayers, and mercy looks a lot more like ourselves than we’d like to admit.  May we ask the Lord for strength to be kind and merciful as He is. So that in giving mercy radically, we might also receive it generously (Luke 6:35,48). Relate to the Lord // Today’s Saint, Saint Rita, forgave the men who killed her husband (source). Ask her to intercede for you to have a more forgiving heart. Saint Rita, pray for us.

April 10, 2026 // Friday in the Octave of Easter Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: John 21:1-14  Familiarity. In the middle of big moves, new plans, or scary situations, I have always found comfort in things that are familiar to me: the sound of church bells, my mother’s cooking, throwback worship songs from the early 2000s, etc. In the tension and uncertainty of what had just happened—the dying and rising of Jesus—Peter and some of the Apostles went back to what was familiar to them: fishing (see John 21:3).   The events that unfolded were truly familiar: they caught nothing all night (see John 21:3); Jesus instructed them to cast the net on the other side and they were then overwhelmed by the catch (see John 21:6). Lastly, they recognized Him as “Lord” (John 21:7). These four moments can be compared to the first call of Peter, Andrew, James, and John by Jesus to become fishers of men (see Luke 5:1-11).  Then we realize a difference: In the first encounter, the nets began to tear (see Luke 5:6). But after the Resurrection, during this encounter on a very familiar sea, with the same band of friends and probably a boat and net similar to their old ones, something different happened: “the net was not torn” (John 21:11). There’s a sense of completion, of fullness. This time for Peter and the others, the encounter was different. This time, it clicked. They were filled with a certainty that had escaped them before. Now, on those shores by the charcoal fire, no one had to question anything; they knew it was the Lord (see John 21:12).  This encounter with the living God—with Jesus Christ Who was dead and was now alive again in their midst—emboldened them to go out in faith and preach and heal in His name after His Ascension.  Sister, in difficult seasons may we go running to what is familiar: to our first encounter with the Lord.  When we encounter Him alive in our lives, we will be filled little by little (or all at once!) with the boldness of the Apostles. Their net didn’t tear and neither will ours.  Relate to the Lord // Recall your first encounter with the Lord. Describe it, savor it, remember Who He is.

March 2, 2026 // Monday of the Second Week in Lent Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Luke 6:36-38 Reflect on the Word // Our seventh-grade teacher was infamous. Students feared her. She ripped notebooks apart if the penmanship was unacceptable. I can still remember her stiff hand slamming against the chalkboard as she reiterated something we didn’t understand. For a long time my siblings and I wondered why she treated her students so harshly. As time passed and we grew older, as did she, we began to see her with more tender eyes and laugh at these moments instead of lamenting them. As I read today’s Gospel passage from Luke, I think about this teacher and wonder with what measuring rod she was measured. I think about what her own life might have been like, her childhood, her teenage years. Was she treated very strictly? Perhaps she was raised with more justice than mercy? When Jesus says “Be merciful [. . .] For the measure with which you measure will in return be measured out to you” (Luke 6: 36, 38), I think about the many times that I have been strict with others, demanding from them behavior or attitudes that I could not even muster myself. Judging and looking down on others for not being the form of holiness I thought they ought to be. How wrong I have been—yet, the Lord has mercy with me as He always does.  As the Lord treats me kindly, allowing me to know this mercy deep in my bones, I am able to extend mercy to others. To measure others by the standards of His love and mercy, not my own standards of justice or piety. He Who sees the heart and still has mercy has become my only teacher in this school of love. Sister, pray with me today that you and I can begin again as students in this school of His and allow Him to teach us His ways, to be merciful as He is merciful (see Luke 6:36), forgive as He forgives, and love as He loves—radically, generously, with all we’ve got.  Relate to the Lord // How has the Lord been merciful to you? How can you share that mercy with others? 

February 11, 2026 // Optional Memorial of Our Lady of Lourdes Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel for the Memorial of Our Lady of Lourdes: John 2:1-11 Reflect on the Word // I have heard of many instantaneous miracles in the waters of the grotto at Lourdes or the many Marian shrines throughout the world. I also know that sometimes the miracles are slow, arriving months or even years after the pilgrimage, the tears, and the prayers.  More than the miracles, today’s Gospel reading highlights the greatest gift that those who pray for the Blessed Mother’s intercession as they visit the sanctuary of Our Lady of Lourdes or other holy places receive—the gift of deeper faith. They might receive the gift of physical healing, but more often than not, the person leaves with a deepened awareness of God’s faithfulness resulting in greater trust, joy, and faith.  The waiters in today’s Gospel stepped forward in faith to do what they were commanded to do. When they took the jars and “filled them to the brim” (John 2:7), it was an act of trust. They did not begin to explain to Jesus how this was a ridiculous request or ask for the reason why they should fill them. They simply understood in their depths, I can imagine, that the Man Who was speaking to them meant what He said. He had a plan and they chose to cooperate. The Lord commands us to trust Him, to surrender to His will instead of ours, to accept His plans and the ways in which He wants to redeem our stories more than how we’d like to shape them. As we step out in faith to trust when it is difficult and to hope when we are tempted to despair, we may not see the water changed into wine immediately. Yet, we know, as did the waiters, that the Lord is trustworthy. That is something we can put our faith in and bet our bottom dollar on. He is already changing our water into wine, transforming our great lack into a marvelous blessing. Because in His Heart, Christ is affected by our Lady’s intercession for us when she whispers to Him in the throne room of Heaven, “She has no wine” (see John 2:3-5).  Relate to the Lord // Do not grow weary is asking the Lord for a miracle. Entrust your intentions to Our Lady of Lourdes and persevere in prayer and hope.

January 27, 2026 // Optional Memorial of Saint Angela Merici, Virgin Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Mark 3:31-35  Reflect on the Word //  The Jeep rumbled over the bumpy, dirt road that led us to the regional hospital in the south of Ethiopia. The Sister brought us to the room of a woman suffering from meningitis who had no family to bathe, feed, or dress her. Sometimes the families lived too far away and could not stay for long, while others saw blood and bodily fluids as something frightening. In the end, we became like family for this woman and for many others we had the blessing to serve in this intimate way. In today’s Gospel passage, Jesus refers to the disciples seated around him, listening to His every word, as family. He says, “Here are my mother and my brothers” (Mark 3:34), explaining that those who do the Lord’s will are His family. “Family” can be a loaded word at times because of the wounds that have been caused within our own families.  Yet, we Christians are called to join a family—the Church. In this family, like in our own nuclear families, we experience hardship, pruning, misunderstandings, and difficulties. Still, we are meant to strive together to know and love God and His holy will (see Mark 3:35). To serve one another in our vulnerabilities and needs; to be for the other a vessel of the love of God. The Lord wants us to grow in intimacy with Him since we are family, so that we can become more bonded to our brothers and sisters. We are called to love not just those whom we like or can tolerate, but also the person who most gets on our nerves or makes life difficult. Even this person deserves to be welcomed into the family of God and loved well therein.  Let us say with Jesus as we look around at those in the pews at Mass, around our table at home, or even on the bus while heading to work, “Here are my mother and my brothers” (Mark 3:34), and let us love and serve them well.  Relate to the Lord // Stop by a Catholic Church today—your home—and visit Jesus, then share Him with your family.

December 16, 2025 // Tuesday of the Third Week of Advent Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Psalm: Psalm 34:2-3, 6-7, 17-18, 19 and 23 Reflect on the Word // I can still remember a dream I had almost ten years ago. There was a bridge, tsunami-like waves crashing down, chaos and destruction all around, and as anxiety lurked by, I perceived in my heart these words from the Lord: No matter what your eyes see, never doubt My goodness. The words have stayed with me until today.  Praying aloud Psalm 34, which begins with the proclamation that the psalmist will bless the Lord’s name at all times, can be difficult in those hard seasons when everything around us looks bleak, hopeless even. Our hearts are threatened to be overcome by the waves of chaos and grief or the weight of evil and sin. As I think about world events from this past year, I am reminded that the Lord has the final say. Evil does not have the last word but God’s goodness does. The Lord redeems everything when we give our lives and hearts to Him (see Psalm 34:23).  We know and serve a loving God Who is close to the brokenhearted (Psalm 34:19) and Who mends them. He remains our refuge and safe place even when the world around us crumbles. Our hope is in Him in every season and so we praise and bless His name at all times—even when we do not understand or when it is difficult.  As we will soon come to the end of this year and are now approaching the holy solemnity of the Birth of our Lord in a quiet stable—for the lowly, those crushed in spirit, for the poor ones, and the brokenhearted—may we pray this psalm with confidence. Our God comes for us. In every season, in each tsunami-like storm, in the good times and in the bad ones, He is making a way. He will save us and make us radiant with joy (see Psalm 34:6).  Relate to the Lord // Reflect on the Lord’s goodness today. How has He been good to you?

November 24, 2025 // Memorial of Saint Andrew Dŭng-Lạc, Priest, and Companions, Martyrs Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: Daniel 1:1-6, 8-20  Reflect on the Word //  I once had the blessing of working alongside a religious sister who received a call to live among the poor. Sister was different from the aid workers supplied by secular organizations. She gained the people’s trust and became like one of them. The people knew if they needed help or hope, they could call her. She was always ready to respond and give her very best because she was holding herself to God’s standards, not the world’s. When I imagine Daniel and the other three men of Judah taken into training in this foreign king’s palace in today’s First Reading, I think there must have been trepidation about being different. And yet, they were different. These men were committed to being faithful to the Jewish law and  loyal to no other God or king but the God of Israel. When they were presented with food and drink from the king’s table, I wonder why they did not just grab a bite, set their consciences aside, and “live a little.” Yet Daniel spoke with resolve and bravery, “Please test your servants [ . . . ] see how we look in comparison with the other young men” (Daniel 1:12-13). Daniel placed his confidence not in the power of food to change his appearance but in the power of his God. Being faithful to the Lord would be for him and his companions enough sustenance to get through the days of training and to far exceed expectations (see Daniel 1:20). When we think about our lives in this world, it can be easy to follow along with what others are doing so that we are not considered different. However, in our hearts we know the living Word and what He asks of us, how He challenges us to be better. To forgive when it would be easier to fester a grudge, to carry our crosses when it would be easier to walk away, to choose love when it would be easier and even understandable to perpetuate hate. In our here and now, Christ is calling us, sister, to be different, to stand bravely like Daniel and his companions and be faithful. Relate to the Lord // Consider how your life looks different from the world. In what ways is God setting you apart?

September 25, 2025 // Thursday of the Twenty-fifth Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Psalm: Psalm 149:1b-2, 3-4, 5-6a and 9b Reflect on the Word //  I walked through the doors of the convent and embraced my friend, a religious sister. She looked at me with a big smile and gave me another hug. We were so happy to see each other. I sat down to tell her all about what the Lord was doing in my life and what was bringing me joy. She was not only delighted with me at what the Lord was doing but also delighted in me, joy pouring through her eyes and smile.  I have to admit that when I read the Scripture passages of the day, I usually do not spend much time with the Responsorial Psalm. I think as though I should go to the “meat”—the dense stuff, the heart of the matter, if you will. Yet, as I prayed and asked the Lord to speak to my heart today through the Readings, I was brought back to the Psalm.  “The Lord takes delight in His people” (Psalm 149:4) turned into “The Lord takes delight in His daughter, Rocio.” I began replacing my name with the names of those who surround me on a daily basis, my husband, my family. But then I also felt the tug to add the names of those who I find difficult to understand or relate to. “The Lord takes delight in . . .” It may be an easy thing to skip over, but this truth is one that is worth pondering over. The Lord delights in us. He not only loves us but likes us. He is devoted to our good. The Lord shares in our joy and we in His.  When we accept and reflect on this truth—that the Lord loves us and delights in us—we can more easily believe this truth about others and live accordingly. I want to grow in the knowledge of His love for me and I pray you do too, sister. May we experience His delight over us—and over every person we meet. Let us praise Him and sing for joy because we are loved (see Psalm 149-1, 3-5). Relate to the Lord // Pray this verse from today’s Psalm with your own name. What stirs in your heart as you do? Share it with the Lord.  

August 19, 2025 // Optional Memorial of Saint John Eudes, priest Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 19:23-30 Reflect on the Word // The smiling friar with a patchwork of different grays on his habit approached me and gave me a fatherly hug. He whispered, “I’m proud of you m’hija”—I was like a daughter to him and he was like a father to me. I wasn’t the only one. There were many “children” of this kind, fiery priest all around.  When I think about Jesus’ consoling yet challenging words in today’s Gospel, my mind goes immediately to all of the religious sisters and brothers I have been blessed to meet in my life. They have given up so much for Him and yet, they would be the first to tell others how much they have received in return. They vowed a life of poverty and have become truly rich in what matters before the Lord—rich in peace, devotion, love, repentance, selflessness. In leaving their comforts, their countries, families, and everything else, they gained hearts of singular devotion to Christ. They became poor to the things of the world so that they might “pass through the eye of the needle” (Matthew 19:24) and enter the Kingdom of God, which begins in this life. I think of these dear religious friends of mine with a bit of jealousy, if I am honest. Because I want more of their devotion, more of their time spent with Jesus in the Eucharist, more of their silence during prayer times, more of their fraternal correction to grow in virtue. Yet, in my life, I can see how the Lord has made me poor also; He has stripped me of comforts, of status, of relationships, of my own plans through my ordinary day-to-day. And in those moments, I can testify that the Lord truly gives us back a hundredfold.  Sister, we can ask Him today to make us more like them who have “given up everything and followed” Him (Matthew 19:27)—rich in love and poor in what matters to the world—that we may be under the sweetness of His yoke and enter into the goodness of His Kingdom which is His holy will—on earth, as in Heaven. Relate to the Lord // How have you experienced the richness of the Lord’s love and will?

July 16, 2025 // Optional Memorial of Our Lady of Mount Carmel Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: Exodus 3:1-6, 9-12 Reflect on the Word //  The blue, metal doors of the orphanage opened for me and I walked over to the chapel that was bursting with songs of praise to the Lord. The children had left their sandals out in the corridor before entering the chapel for Adoration and so I bent over, unstrapped my sandals, and left them at the door too.   “Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place where you stand is holy ground” (Exodus 3:5). Why must Moses remove his sandals? Why must he come before the presence of the Lord barefoot, laying aside something so seemingly insignificant and unassuming as sandals?  Intimacy. Here, in the closeness of the Lord to Moses’ whole being, the sandals act as an impediment to experiencing the fullness of the glory of that moment. As he stretched down to loosen his sandals and slip them off his feet, perhaps Moses had a moment to breathe and realize what was at hand—he was about to meet the living God. As he obeyed the command to remove his sandals, what else did Moses remove? Perhaps his expectations, his fear, his doubts, his shame. Leaving aside the sandals and walking forward toward the burning bush, Moses was able to enter into conversation with the Lord, “the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob” (Exodus 3:6).  As Moses listened to the Lord in this place of intimacy, he also received a call, a commissioning to go out to Pharaoh and plead for his people, to lead them into freedom. When you and I, sister, spend time in the innermost place of our hearts, where we have laid aside our own “sandals”—our expectations, fears, doubts, and shame—we find that we, too, are being sent out to the world, to the needy, to our own families and friends, to speak to them of the Love that has astounded us, that has amazed us because it burns but does not consume (see Exodus 3:3). May we take off our sandals and walk in greater intimacy with the Lord—let us, too, burn for Him.  Relate to the Lord // When was the last time you burned for the Lord? Ask Him to rekindle your love.  

June 6, 2025 // Friday of the Seventh Week of Easter // Optional Memorial of Saint Norbert, Bishop Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: John 21:15-19 Reflect on the Word // Walter laid on his bed waiting for the day nurse to come and dress him before letting us enter the room. I was accompanying my mom on a very holy visit—she was entrusted with bringing our Eucharistic Lord to some parishioners who were homebound. Walter was one of our unique “sheep” whom we came to “feed” with the Living Bread. He had a very rough exterior and barely spoke a word to us most days. I was convinced he didn’t like us very much. But I also knew that he really loved Jesus and wanted to be fed by Him, no matter the hand that brought Him to his bedside.  In today’s Gospel, I can see both realities of being the shepherd: he is called to both feed and tend the sheep while also remembering that, one day, he too will need to be cared for, that he himself will be shepherded, and taken where he does not want to go (see John 21:18). While speaking to Saint Peter, our Lord also speaks to all of us. As His disciples we are partakers in His shepherding of souls, the call to tend to them and feed them. “Feed my sheep” the Lord says to us (John 21:17)—but what do we feed them with? With His Word and presence, with His truth and love—through a kind word, a warm meal, an attentive phone call, a passing smile, a tender correction, the list goes on.  You and I are called, sister, to be like Peter, to bring Jesus to others—especially to the most estranged, to the prodigals, to the ones who can no longer dress themselves and go where they would like. And as we feed them and care for them with the love of Christ Himself working through us, may we remember that we, too, need to be shepherded, tended to, fed, and led by the hand.  In all of life’s circumstances and trials, let us see His hand guiding us. May we keep walking, following close behind our Shepherd Who whispers to us daily, “Follow me” (John 21:19). Relate to the Lord // Consider going to daily Mass one day this week and let the Shepherd feed you. 

May 6, 2025 // Tuesday of the Third Week of Easter Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: Acts 7:51—8:1a Reflect on the Word //  In a course some years ago, I learned that the word for “martyr” in Greek means “witness” (source). And it sunk into my heart that for the early Christians, to be a witness to Jesus’ identity as God and Messiah was inextricably connected to the possibility of martyrdom. To give witness doesn’t just mean to speak up and give a testimony in front of an auditorium of teenagers or the person sitting next to me on the plane—as meaningful and brave as that may be nowadays.  It also means that I would be willing to lay down my life for Him in the process of professing Him as Lord. That thought scares me a little—even a lot. I realize that sometimes I am more afraid of dying than of truly living. So I beg for more of the Holy Spirit, to fill me and work in me, as He did in Stephen (see Acts 7:55). That the Holy Spirit would soften my “stiff neck” and break open my heart (Acts 7:51).  And before I am overcome by my weaknesses, I remember someone else who was there that day. There were the “witnesses” to the stoning of Stephen (Acts 7:58), who laid their cloaks down in front of none other than Saul—the persistent persecutor of the early church. The same man at whose feet the blood of Stephen was poured out, who condoned that death and sought out the death of more Christians, became the faithful Apostle Paul. The witness of Stephen reverberated into eternity for Saul, as seen in his conversion, his transformation, his mission, and his own martyrdom.  The stories in Scripture of the Saints, their witness, their prayers, their lives and deaths, are for our benefit, for our greater conversion and devotion. If the Lord was able to transform Stephen and Paul into witnesses of grace and the resurrection, He can also do the same in us. May we be brave enough to give witness to the Lord, Who died and rose for us, and is  “the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God” (Acts 7:56).  Relate to the Lord // Whose saintly witness inspires you? Ask for their intercession today.  

March 12, 2025 // Wednesday of the First Week in Lent Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: Jonah 3:1-10 For one year, I knelt before our Eucharistic Lord every day just before six o’clock in the morning. Some mornings I was barely awake but I had to be there anyway. I was a postulant with cloistered Carmelites and my world was being rocked. I was deeply aware of my need for Him. I thought I knew what humility was. I thought I knew what it meant to rely solely on the Lord, until I realized that I did not. Every fiber in my being grew tired from hard labor, silence, prayer—some fun times too—yet I had to keep showing up. Bowing low before Him, I would ask Him to change me, to heal me, to help me on this new journey. He was the sign I was looking towards. When I read today’s account of the king rising from his throne, setting aside his robes, and putting on sackcloth to sit in ashes (see Jonah 3:6), I know that this awareness of my sin and repentance is something I must repeat daily. Not only while in Carmel discerning religious life, but also here and now in my daily tasks as wife, mother, sister, and daughter. I must look to the sign and change my ways to live differently (see Jonah 3:10). While I look upon Him, Jesus lovingly invites me to repent and rise from the throne of self-reliance. He helps me to take off the robe of shame, pride, and false humility, in order to put on His heart, His humility, His disposition.  I want to put on a spiritual sackcloth of repentance and sit in His presence, allowing Him to transform me in the Eucharist, through His Word, in the Sacraments, through day-to-day encounters, and in seasons of penance and fasting. I want to allow Him to be the sign, the One that changes the trajectory of my life—from halfway living to becoming fully alive—a Nineveh, repented and restored.  Relate to the Lord // Take time before bed tonight to talk to Jesus about when you were close to Him and when you chose to sin. Tell Him you are sorry and thank Him for His love. Consider making an examen at the end of the day as part of your daily routine.  

January 23, 2025 // Optional Memorial of Saint Vincent, Deacon and Martyr (in USA); Optional Memorial of Saint Marianne Cope, Virgin (in USA) Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Mark 7:3-12 Reflect on the Word //  My mom sat in her chair in the big theater hall in New York City, filled with thousands of people gathered to know Jesus better and to worship Him. As they began to pray, our Eucharistic Lord was brought out to a makeshift altar at the center of the hall and from there, a priest began to process the monstrance throughout the aisles. People stretched out their arms and tried to touch the monstrance where our Lord was held or the humeral veil that encompassed the priest’s hands as he held it.  During the time of the Eucharistic Procession, when our Lord passed by close to my mother, a woman who had previously been wheelchair bound, stood up and began to walk, praising the Lord for His miracle. My mother was stunned. She was never the same after that day when she witnessed the power of God in such a massive way and in such close proximity. When I remember my mom’s enthusiasm after this event,  I can understand better the large crowds that followed and gathered around our Lord. He had “cured many” (Mark 3:10), and perhaps many of those now pressing in on Jesus had been witnesses of those miracles or maybe they only heard about it through word of mouth. However, what is clear is that Jesus was the source of the crowds’ amazement and desire. The sick dared to press forward against the strong barricade of bodies in order to just touch Jesus—only a touch. Maybe even a glance from Him would be enough.  Is He enough for me? To touch Him, to extend my hand and run my fingers on the edges of His garment, would that be enough to heal me? To cleanse me? To change me? Yes. As I long and stretch out my hands to touch the Holy One, He comes to me. He stretches out His hand and heals me, tends to my wounds, and delivers me from all that has me bound. Another miracle. Another reason to follow Him, to tell others about Him, to bring Him praise. May we let Him astound us! Relate to the Lord // What miracles have you witnessed? What miracle do you need? Ask Jesus.

A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to be silent, and a time to speak. // Ecclesiastes 3:7 My mind wandered off thinking of all of the possible responses I could give this friend. Her text message hurt me. She informed me that we could no longer be friends as it seemed to her that I did not have time to nourish our friendship. My first response was anger: did I not have a say in this? Why had she made these assumptions? Life was in its busiest season for me and I was trying to navigate so many things, including long-distance friendships. I wanted to react in my frustration. But instead, thanks to the light of grace and the movement of the Holy Spirit, I humbled myself. I asked the Lord for wisdom to know what to say. I waited. I was silent until I knew my heart was softened, filled with compassion for this friend who was also hurting, and I listened to what the Lord wanted to say to her . . . and to me.  Then came the time to speak: I apologized for how I had made her feel. I shared with her that she was never a burden to me but that I valued her friendship. I told her my door would always be open and that if she wanted to be friends again, I’d be right here. Time passed and she remained silent. When she would come to mind, I could only say a prayer for her. Then, one day, she finally wrote again, apologizing for what she had done. A friendship that had been broken was coming together again.  I pray that the Lord would help me time and again to grow in the art of knowing when to be silent and when to speak, that I would be “quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger” (James 1:19). Pray with me, sister, that the Lord would teach us in His school of wisdom, especially through the intercession of the Saint the Church honors today.  Saint Vincent de Paul, lover of the poor and of charity, pray for us, that we serve the Lord through loving others with the willingness, patience, and zeal you modeled for us. Amen.

“Father, they are your gift to me.” // John 17: 24 (From Gospel for the Memorial of St. Bernard) I quickly opened the envelope addressed with my name and began reading the contents of the letter right there in the chapel. I was going to enter a Carmelite Monastery very soon and any amount of spiritual encouragement was like balm to my soul. This friend shared a quote that a priest mentioned in a homily: “The Lord gives back to us the gift of ourselves.” I only realized afterwards, while listening to the audio version of Saint Bernard of Clairvaux’s writings while in the convent—the Saint whom the Church honors today—that this quote was based on his writings.  In Chapter Five of his work On Loving God, he writes, “In the first creation He gave me myself; but in His new creation He gave me Himself, and by that gift restored to me the self that I had lost” (source). Before entering the convent I thought I knew who I was, that I had so much to give, that I had found what I was looking for. However, upon entering the enclosure of Carmel, all of my securities fell to the ground and only the Lord could restore what had been shattered in me: my dreams, my longings, myself. During that year in the convent, the Lord remade me and gave me back to myself.  The Father takes us and remakes us through the merits of His Son, restoring to us our giftedness, our dignity, the truth of who we are. Our identity as gift—as one meant to be given and received in love—takes on an even deeper meaning when we understand that Christ not only gained this for us through His sacrifice on the Cross, but that He did this as the Father’s will. The Father wanted to give us as a gift to the Son, but first gave the Son as a gift to us. And in the beautiful mystery and exchange of love that is the Trinity, Christ wants to give us right back as gifts to the Father. Sister, you and I were created on purpose, with care, as gifts to be treasured. 

“[ . . . ] and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son wishes to reveal him.” // Matthew 11:27 I couldn’t wrap my mind around it: I knew Jesus, I knew the Holy Spirit, but the Father? He was “out of sight, out of mind” for me. After my conversion, it was easy for me to pray to Jesus since I came to know His true presence in the Eucharist. After Holy Communion or while in Eucharistic Adoration, I could really talk to Him.  I grew up in the charismatic movement of the Catholic Church and had my conversion within this context, so the Holy Spirit was not foreign to me. I knew that the Spirit was real and at work in my life personally. Yet still, this First Person of the Godhead was missing in my conscious prayer life somehow. I didn’t avoid the Father on purpose, but I just did not know how to pray to the Father specifically—what to say or what to think.  I see now that I had so much pride and self-reliance keeping me from knowing the Lord better. As Jesus says in today’s Gospel, these things are hidden from the “wise and learned” but revealed to the childlike (Matthew 11:25). The Lord was patient with me and tenderly guided my heart from its pompous ways to an understanding of true humility.  And as I descended from my throne, as I became more dependent on Him instead of myself, as I was sobered by the reality of my sinfulness and my need for the Lord, Jesus began revealing the Father to me. In my heart, I began to know better this Person of the Trinity that had once seemed to evade me. I could perceive the Father’s knowledge of me, His love for me, and that He cared for me.  Sister, I invite you today to pray with me for the full revelation of the Father’s love in your heart. That Jesus would lead you to the Father, as the Holy Spirit purifies your heart, so there may be a kindling of love and devotion “like the kindling of fire” (Isaiah 10:16).