You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. // Matthew 22:37 Snuggled on the couch, popcorn in hand, I was enjoying my annual viewing of The Lord of the Rings trilogy, specifically Return of the King. I was at the part when Frodo, after surviving many perilous obstacles, finally made it to Mount Doom and was about to throw Sauron's ring into the lake of fire. However, as he stared at the ring and his desire for it grew overwhelming, Frodo couldn’t let go of the ring, a ring that promised false happiness and power to whomever possessed it. This reminded me of a time I was in prayer during a retreat. As I was quietly praying, that scene unexpectedly popped into my mind. I thought, “What the heck? Why’d that come to mind?” Then Jesus spoke to my heart explaining that I was Frodo and I wasn’t letting go of the ring. I was baffled. What was Jesus talking about? What was my ring? Since that time at prayer, Jesus has slowly been showing me what I was holding onto and not letting go of.  It wasn’t a big mortal sin; rather, it was a combination of attitudes, mindsets, and habits that kept me from living today's Gospel completely: "You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind” (Matthew 22:37). Examine your heart. Sometimes seemingly innocent things can creep into the center and take over. It could be a dysfunctional relationship, the need to be in control, a negative self attitude, or the over-reliance on something (shopping, binge watching, food/alcohol, etc) to bring us comfort. Is there something Jesus wants to weed out or heal in order for you to live more fully in the love of God?  Holy Spirit, enlighten my mind. Show me those things that keep me from loving You with all of my heart, mind, and soul. Give me the grace to let them go so I can love You more deeply. Amen.

Nathanael said to him, "How do you know me?" Jesus answered and said to him, "Before Philip called you, I saw you under the fig tree." // John 1:48 Another flurry of excited children scurries past me as I step closer to the diagram in the dimly lit museum hall. By this point in my trip to the National Air and Space Museum, I am used to wonders stacked on wonders and the feeling of quiet astonishment that accompanies every interstellar discovery. But this one feels different.  I squint up at the illustration before me and read the caption: the planet Jupiter is so large, it claims, that it can fit more than eleven Earths inside of it.  Suddenly struck dumb by a sense of my own smallness in the face of the universe’s grandeur, I wonder how it could possibly be that the Lord Who created all of this knows me so intimately. And I imagine that I understand something of how Nathanael, also known as the Apostle Saint Bartholomew,  must have felt in today’s Gospel, in his first encounter with the Lord.  While another future Apostle, Saint Philip, has brought Nathanael to the Lord, Jesus’ reply reminds us of an essential truth: God sees us first. He sees us and draws us to Himself.  He sees us at our desks, scrambling to finish research papers with hours to spare. He sees us in our kitchens, cooking dinner for our families. He sees us grocery shopping, driving to work, exercising, playing the piano, vacuuming the floor, writing emails, reading books, sipping tea, chatting with friends.  Just like He saw Nathanael beneath the fig tree, the Lord sees each of us in the details of our ordinary lives. Nothing escapes the notice of our Creator, and the God Who made everything—including a Jupiter so big it could fit eleven Earths—calls you, right where you are today, into an intimate relationship with Him. Sister, won’t you “come and see” (John 1:46) what He has planned for you?

“These last ones worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us.” // Matthew 20:12 My daughter and I spent her junior year reading and discussing Dante Alighieri’s The Divine Comedy for her homeschool literature course. In this poetic trilogy, Dante journeys through hell, purgatory, and finally Heaven. He meets many souls, each sharing a lesson about how their lives led them to a final destination separated from or remaining in God’s love.  A major theme throughout is the soul’s search for God. As I think back on it, I think Dante also revealed—intentionally or not—something about the mystery of God’s love and mercy. (As an educated Catholic poet, his writing reflects his knowledge of the theology of his day and traditions of the Church.) Certain souls found God late in life, yet they (in Dante’s portrayal) progressed towards union with God quicker than others. One question my daughter and I grappled with in Dante’s poem was, “Why are some souls so close to God when much of their lives looked anything but holy?”  That question reminds me of the workers in the parable, who grumbled, “These last ones worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us” (Matthew 20:12). Apply that complaint to the spiritual life and it sounds like, “Lord, these people only turned to You in their last hours, and You have elevated them to a level of holiness like us who served You for our entire lives.” I think the answer lies in God’s abundant mercy. Mysterious to us but perfect in His plan, God distributes His mercy freely. While we still have breath, we have time to seek the Lord. He will welcome us with open arms and the fullness of His mercy. It is never too late, sister. Like the workers who wandered in for a job at day’s end and received full wages, any time we turn back to the Lord, His mercy will be complete. He will draw us nearer, as with the souls Dante met in The Divine Comedy. Today, let’s pray in gratitude for God’s abundant mercy. Holy Spirit, return our hearts to God. May we rejoice in others’ conversions and in God’s generous gift to us all.

"Hail, full of grace! The Lord is with you." // Luke 1:28 Mary, our Blessed Mother, was never a hurdle I had to overcome as I began my journey into full communion with the Catholic Church. For my husband, the Marian dogmas were ones he wrestled with, but by the time we were being confirmed, he was well on his way to being a devoted aficionado. On my end, it was much slower. I could logically accept Church teaching on Mary as virgin, Mary as sinless, and even Mary as queen, but I was not drawn to her. While I could wrap my head around the concepts and believe them, Mary just wasn’t my go-to. Fast forward several years into my life as a Catholic and my own mother was diagnosed with cancer. As the reality hit that I could lose her, I realized I needed Mary. It was time to work on deepening my relationship with my second mama, Mary. Today we celebrate the Queenship of the Blessed Virgin Mary, fittingly just one week after her Assumption into Heaven. After she was brought into Heaven at the end of her earthly life, she was thus honored as befitting her humble and constant yes. Now established as queen, she is not overbearing and does not attempt control, but instead extends her motherhood to all. This grace-filled, gentle mothering was exactly what my heart needed in my time of fear and uncertainty. She was waiting, and she was ready. Ready to hear what lay heavy on my heart. Ready to remind me Satan was crushed under her own heel. Ready to illuminate the path to her Son. And ready to be a mother to me.  Mary, Mother of the King, signifies to us the true path to our own Heavenly crowns. A path of self-sacrifice and humbleness. Her allegiance to the King is not one of duty, but of pure unadulterated love. And each of us is held in her motherly gaze of love and protection. Celebrate Mary, our Queen and Mother, today by offering a Rosary of thanksgiving or singing along to a Marian hymn, and thank her for being your bonus mama. *See the Readings for the Memorial of the Queenship of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

Jesus said to him, “If you wish to be perfect, go, sell what you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.” // Matthew 19:21 Detach, detach, detach. I repeat these words to myself often. The things I cling to in this life are not necessarily the same earthly goods that the man in today’s Gospel could not let go of. They are probably simpler things. A sink free of dishes, the schedule going just as planned, a couch with no stains on the fabric, the house perfectly organized, and having the time to do it all. When I catch myself grumbling, that’s when I know I’m clinging. Clinging to some perception of perfection, and a vague sense of control that I can so easily convince myself that I have.  When I find myself in this space I can also feel the distance that I’ve wandered from Our Lord and His peace. He desires that I come to Him, so that He can fill me with the things that bring true serenity. But I cannot be filled if I am clinging, and I can’t drink deep of the well if I am full.  Let’s stop for a moment today to recognize what attachments are weighing us down. Are we stuffed to the gills with unreachable expectations? Are we satiating ourselves with an illusion of control? How tightly are we clinging? If we can pry open our fingers and let it go, we have nothing left to fill us but the only One who actually can. And we can follow Him then with abandon, knowing that the Living Water will quench us, and the Bread of Life will fill us. It’s only then that we are free to follow; it’s only then that we are free.  Lord, help me to see what it is I am holding onto, and detach. Detach, detach, detach.

“Please, Lord, for even the dogs eat the scraps that fall from the table of their masters." // Matthew 15:27 Surrounded by bags of candy and chips, we stood behind the concession stand counter, chatting while we waited for our next customer. The humidity gave extra strength to her blonde curls, which she pushed aside as she told me about her life, the way it had fallen apart and the way it had become whole again. She told me about her alcoholism, being a single mother, going to rehab, and watching her daughter die. She talked about becoming the guardian to her granddaughter, her conversion to Catholicism, and all the years she had been sober.  She spoke with humility and gratitude so deep and wide I have rarely encountered the like since. God had saved her in big, big ways, but she also knew that His greatness was far, far bigger. Listening to her was like reading a Life of a Saint.  Her life showed me the reality of how in the awesome eternity of God’s love, mercy, and power we have received just drops of His saving grace, “like scraps that fall from the table of the master” (Matthew 15:27). But the scraps—those drops—are powerful enough to save someone from alcoholism, to heal a person tormented by a demon, to restore a relationship, to redeem you and me.  Sister, how have these scraps of grace reached you? When have you received the drop you desperately needed? May we never shy away from sharing our faith and our stories. May we always tell of the greatness of our God.

Children were brought to Jesus that he might lay his hands on them and pray. // Matthew 19:13 I have to be honest with you, sister. As I read today’s Gospel, I could not think of a nice story to share that might be of some inspiration. Instead, my thoughts went elsewhere.  How many times in the past and even now in our churches and schools have our children undergone hurt and abuse at the hands of priests, religious, teachers, and laypeople? The stories we hear are countless. The children were supposed to be brought to the Lord, that He might lay His hand of blessing upon them. But instead, by hands impure these children were wounded. And so, I ask you to join me, sister, in praying for them with intention today, that Our Lord’s pure and healing hands would hold them and make them whole and healed and restored.  Please pray with me: Lord Jesus, the little children were brought to You and You laid your holy and precious hands on them to pray for them and bless them. We ask for Your mercy for the innumerable times that children have undergone deep hurt and abuse within the Church, Your Bride. In Your great goodness and love, won’t You bring healing and restore the places of ruin within Her?  Lord Jesus, lay Your healing hands upon us and make all things new. May each person affected by physical, spiritual, or mental abuse within the Church experience abundant, profound, and lasting healing. Let there be true conversion and repentance in the hearts of those who have hurt your most precious ones. Redress and redeem, dear Lord, the wounds inflicted by Your ministers and people. We ask this by the merits You won for us on the Cross, since it is by Your stripes that we are healed (see Isaiah 53:5). Jesus, we trust in You. Amen.

“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. 

Moved with compassion the master of that servant let him go . . . // Matthew 18:27 I was moved while watching the news clip, a video of a long string of farmers driving their equipment down the street. One after the other. They were responding to another farmer in their area who was sick and not able to work. So many others in the community came together to volunteer their time and their equipment to help work his land. It was inspiring to watch. They must have been working those hours after their own very long days, sacrificing what they had to offer help, and in a way entering into this other farmer's suffering. It was a beautiful effort. Their hearts were moved with compassion, and they acted on it. In today's Gospel, Jesus tells us this parable about the master who had compassion for the servant. It reminds me of another passage Matthew wrote about where Jesus' Heart was similarly moved with compassion for a crowd because they were "like sheep without a shepherd" (Matthew 9:36). Jesus' Heart was moved for what this crowd needed at that time, and He likewise responded. Jesus is tender and moved by what we need—by what you need—and our hearts were made in His image. So this week, let’s try to be tender and loving as He is. Let’s respond with compassion to those closest to us. Let us turn to the Lord our compassionate Father, in prayer, asking for our hearts to be made like His own, and remember that He cares about what we need too.

Amen, I say to you, whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven. // Matthew 18:18 I wish I could recount to you a lovely, touching story of one of the many instances where there had been a rupture in friendship and relationship between me and another person that ended up in my freely giving forgiveness which was received with love and gratitude.  But I’m coming up short on these stories, and that is why today’s Gospel is a difficult and challenging read for me. I hold grudges. I intellectually know that I can and should forgive, but it really proves to be a difficult, uphill climb for me. I will spend years having to consciously choose to forgive someone instead of replaying their faults again and again in my mind on some tragic loop. Even after I have genuinely forgiven someone, I still need to continue to choose forgiveness instead of holding onto my arrogance of being right or my need for them to experience “justice.” My good opinion once lost is indeed lost forever.  Over the years I do feel as if I have made progress in forgiveness, especially when it comes to those closest to me. The bonds of family require and demand that any discord and bitterness be addressed, even if it is addressed only within myself. It is difficult to forgive someone, to speak the words “I forgive you,” but in many ways it is even more painful to forgive when it is only your choice and internal movement. You know that you will not receive closure or healing in a relationship, so you have to make your own choice to forgive, to receive Christ’s healing, and for the bonds of pain, betrayal, and hurt to be loosed from your life.  While Christ’s words are definite and direct about the ramifications of holding onto ill will and refusing forgiveness to people in our lives, He doesn’t put a timeline on forgiveness. Jesus gives us the steps of dealing directly with others in our lives, but He doesn’t say that it will instantly or magically become fixed. It is the internal choice that matters, not a happy ending.  Forgiveness begins with small choices. Ask Jesus in prayer today for the grace to choose forgiveness for the injury you’ve received. We cannot forgive with only our own willpower; it requires the grace of our Savior.

“[F]or he has looked with favor on his lowly servant. From this day all generations will call me blessed.” // Luke 1:48 Recently, I was sharing with a friend about a complicated and messy situation in my life, full of contradictions. It feels like I should have known better, yet I’d probably do it just the same if faced with the same circumstances again. There is little reason to expect a positive resolution, yet I can’t see how I could give up hope. It is less important than other things I have going on in my life, but it’s the thing I think about the most. She asked if I have been praying about it, and I told her yes, as long as asking-God-to-conform-my-will-to-His-while-simultaneously-really-just-wanting-God-to-do-what-I-say counts as “praying” (note: I think it does).  My friend passed on some advice she had received. She told me to take the whole big mess of feelings and complications and contradictions and hurt and hope and regret and embarrassment and upset and give it to Mary. She said Mary will take all the tangles, all the thorns, arrange them like flowers in a bouquet, and present them to God for me. She told me: give it to Mary, because Mary makes all things beautiful for God, and God makes all things beautiful for her.  Today, on the Solemnity of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the advice to give it to Mary feels even more true than on the day I received it. Even her passing was made beautiful by her and for her. Mary is our hope in all things, but especially in contradiction, as we see expressed in this hymn from the Byzantine Liturgy for the Dormition (the Eastern Catholic name for the Assumption):   In giving birth you kept your virginity;  in your Dormition you did not leave the world, O Mother of God, but were joined to the source of Life. You conceived the living God and, by your prayers, will deliver our souls from death. (Catechism of the Catholic Church § 966)    Do you have a mess of contradictions that needs sorting out? Ask Mary to make it beautiful for you.

“For the LORD, your God, is the God of gods, the LORD of lords, the great God, mighty and awesome, who has no favorites, accepts no bribes; who executes justice for the orphan and the widow, and befriends the alien, feeding and clothing him.”  // Deuteronomy 10:17-18 Sometimes I can forget just how much God has done for me.  Not because I am ungrateful, or because I don’t understand the magnitude of all that God has given to me. But because it is easy to just get into a rhythm of day-to-day tasks in times of comfort. It’s easy to rest in contentment and forget about the difficult moments that once brought me to my knees—not by choice, but because I could not stand under their weight. There’s a paradox in looking back at God’s work in our lives. The memories of times of struggle often fade the further we move from those trials, lessening the pain, but risking forgetting them entirely. And yet, holding onto the memory of the events as they were (pain included), is often what reminds us of the goodness of God. Hindsight is a gift in which we can look back and see more clearly the Divine at work during even the most trying moments of our lives, but we can forget to use that gift too—forget to continually thank and praise God for the blessings we’ve received, the prayers that have been answered, the unconditional love that’s been given.  And with that forgetfulness, often comes the failure to share the stories of praise and pass along the immeasurable generosity that has been bestowed upon us. I was reminded of this by today’s First Reading when Moses instructed the Israelites: “So you too must befriend the alien, for you were once aliens yourselves . . . ” (Deuteronomy 10:19). We love because God loved us first. We share what we have because we recognize all is gift. We care for the widow, the orphan, and the stranger because we can relate to their suffering, and in those instances we struggle to relate, we show compassion because the God Who has done great things for us commands it (see Deuteronomy 10:17-21).  Sisters, may we be encouraged to honor that commandment with every memory of the lavish love, generosity, and mercy that has been showered upon each of us by our amazing Creator. And in doing so, continue to praise God for all that we have been given—yesterday, today, and for eternity. 

I wait for the Lord; my soul waits for his word. // Psalm 130:5 My heart dropped when I saw the name in the email, a name of a dear friend, one with whom I spent many hours discussing ideas and books at our homeschool co-op. She lived nearly an hour away on the other side of the Twin Cities, but on occasion we would get our families together, such as when my husband and I stood as godparents to her baby last year. It was her baby I first thought of, an eleven-month-old at the time, when I learned that she was suffering from a horrible case of toxic shock syndrome; with only hours to live, the doctors predicted. So, I prayed continually. She was on my mind and in my heart for the ten excruciating days she remained on the cusp of life and death. My soul in that time waited for the Lord, for His Word to bring her healing, to bring her life, to bring her back to her five kids and her loving husband. But her soul also waited for the Lord, for she had been learning before her illness about the grace of redemptive suffering. And in the silence of her heart, in her unconscious state, He accepted her offering and brought her to Himself. We all wondered at the Lord’s will in allowing her to be taken so suddenly from her family. We all did what we could for her husband in his grief. And in our confusion at her death, the Lord speaks to us, “O you of little faith, why do you doubt?” (Matthew 14:31) He will bring good out of her passing; He can use it to bring her whole family and those who loved her into eternal life with Him and with her. For this is why we exist. Sister, we cannot always understand why the Lord allows the heavy winds, the earthquakes, and the fires of our lives. But we can trust that if we wait for Him, He will come to us with His still small voice (see 1 Kings 19:11-13) and prepare us to live forever with Him.

And from that hour the boy was cured. Then the disciples approached Jesus in private and said, "Why could we not drive it out?" He said to them, "Because of your little faith. Amen, I say to you, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.” // Matthew 17:18-20 One new message. It was a message from my son’s teacher in the parent-teacher app. My stomach dropped. Earlier in the academic year, I had been receiving a lot of these messages. Our son’s first-grade teacher alerted us to episodes of big feelings causing disruptions, difficulties following instructions, and—most pressing—his struggles with early reading and writing, causing low self-esteem.  Last fall, I felt like a failure as a mother. I hadn’t gotten him enough help as a toddler. I chastised myself and wept for his struggles. But with encouragement from our loved ones, we requested an evaluation by the school. He was given extra classroom support and tools to help him manage those big feelings. Fast-forward, I opened the message from his teacher and it was a picture of our son holding up a sentence he wrote.  If I had googly eyes for eyes I will take them off my eyes so I can see. It would be funny because I will laugh. It would be bad because I couldn’t see. Our son had written this independently and earned a special lunch due to his hard work.  I broke down in happy tears. I had been praying that something would “click” for him this year in his language arts. But mostly, I prayed that he’d find his confidence in himself. He got home later that day and told us all about his special lunch with the teacher, and I just sat in awe at his progress. I had googly eyes for him.  I spent so much time doubting my abilities to support my son’s needs. But I know that doubt is not of the Lord. Nothing is impossible with Him. When I finally laid it all down, told others of my concerns, and let the professionals do their jobs, we were surrounded by support, resources, and love.  Our son’s academic and behavioral road will be long, but I know I can lay my concerns, worries, and heartache at the foot of the Cross.  Sister, what have you been holding close to your heart? What worries can you share with the Lord? Invite Him into your struggles as the perfect Comforter.

“For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. What profit would there be for one to gain the whole world and forfeit his life?” // Matthew 16:25-26 A few years ago I was invited to travel with a group of writers to observe the impact of a particular charity group and how it empowers those people it helps. During my week in El Salvador, I met women and children whose lives had been transformed by the generosity of donors willing to sponsor children and the elderly. I spent my days writing about what I saw and feeling like I was an important part of changing lives. One afternoon, after spending the day observing, we headed back to base camp. I was packed in the back of a pickup truck going down a washed-out mountain road and everyone had to lean together so the truck wouldn’t flip. In the distance was a volcano.  My life felt amazing and important. A few days after my return, I was back in my laundry room handling crusty basketball socks and dirty underwear.  “This,” I said to the Lord, “is not the best use of my gifts.” I was embarrassed immediately after and instead of feeling reproached, I felt as if God smiled at me. I felt His love and I also knew I had something life-changing to learn.  In today’s Gospel we hear the importance of giving our lives over to the Lord, as Jesus tells us, “[W]hoever loses his life for my sake will find it (Matthew 16:25).” It’s tempting (and easy!) to want more, to think life is passing us by and there are better and more exciting tasks out there for us to tackle. But unless we give over every detail of our lives to the Lord, we won’t gain a thing. Is the thing I am doing right now the thing God is asking of me? If we really want to save our lives—to live a life that feels like something special—then we need to let God into all of it.  Lord, keep me in the center of Your will for me. And help me see that the thing I’m doing right now can only be truly glamorous when I do it for you. 

“Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows bountifully will also reap bountifully.” // 2 Corinthians 9:6 I always thought I had a bit of a “brown thumb.” I couldn’t grow anything. House plants died. Strawberry bushes shriveled. I even managed to kill a 20-year-old fig tree at my Aunt Mimi’s house. But then, last summer, we were given a peace lily, and it somehow became my responsibility. I repotted it, set it by the window, put calendar alerts in my phone to remember to water it twice a week, and that “we’re so sorry for your loss” peace lily is thriving.  It just took a little effort. Some attention. And a willingness to let it be. I’d killed the fig tree by over watering it. I drowned the poor thing. And my strawberry bushes in college shriveled up because I didn’t stop a friend from tossing cigarette butts into the dirt. And the house plants had always died because I’d forgotten about them. Without effort, there was no growth. Without tending, there was no fruit. Without proper care, there was no chance for survival.  Sowing does not happen by accident, and reaping doesn’t just occur whenever we feel like it. We are called to put intention and effort into the life we live, the faith we cling to, with a cheerfulness that comes from a joy that is rooted in God’s promises. His promise is that if we show up, ready to tend, and care, and put forth effort, the Lord will increase the harvest. He will tend to us, care for us, and show us how great the effort is that He makes for us, the ones He loves and delights in. Our effort is not merely for its own sake. It is a response to the effort God has made for us. Our love of Him is a response to the love He’s poured out for us, which will produce much fruit.  We don’t necessarily have brown thumbs that kill whatever we touch. We sometimes just have darkened hearts unable to receive the tender care of the Lord. How is the Lord tending to your heart? And what is the Lord calling you to tend to and care for? 

[The woman] said, "Please Lord, for even the dogs eat the scraps that fall from the table of their masters." Then Jesus said to her in reply, "O woman, great is your faith!” // Matthew 15:27 I sat riveted in the noisy church hall as he recounted his story. He was a former Protestant pastor who’d felt the call to explore Catholicism and left everything to become Catholic. Now he was pursuing a new call to become a permanent deacon. So many moments of gratuitous grace had brought him to this place.  Suddenly, I saw the same trail of grace in my own life: parents who’d passed down the Faith,  countless priests, mentors, and friends who had encouraged me in difficulty—even the grace God gave me to respond to His grace. All had led me to this place of deep encounter with His healing love. I deserved none of it, but still He wanted me to have it. Gratitude overwhelmed me.  The woman in today’s Gospel (see Matthew 15:21-28) recognized and accepted the crumbs of God’s grace in her life, too. She came to Him expectantly—not from a place of entitlement, but in genuine humility and bold faith. In response, the Lord praised her and brought deep healing.  The Lord has scattered a trail of His sustenance through each of our lives, but often we miss His divine crumbs because we’re chasing after worldly feasts. Our pride gets in the way, convincing us that God owes us the best that this passing world has to offer. Meanwhile, God works through every moment of our lives to give us the best that all eternity has to offer.  Just one of His divine crumbs is infinitely greater than the most sumptuous earthly feast. All the riches, pleasures, and rewards of this world together cannot equal a fraction of the satisfaction contained in a single crumb of God’s love. These divine crumbs in your life might be beautiful consolations, desolations that lead to growth, or difficulties that detach you from desires that endanger your soul.  With the eyes of faith and a heart of humility, you can begin to recognize these crumbs of soul-deep nourishment from the Lord. Today, ask the Lord for the faith and humility to see His trail of grace in your life—then ask for the grace to really receive it.