From this time many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him. “You do not want to leave too, do you?” Jesus asked the Twelve. Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and to know that you are the Holy One of God.” // John 6:66-69 Many years ago, after almost a year of seeking, my search for truth culminated in a dramatic encounter with Jesus. My heart and mind resounded with an all-out yes, a forsaking-it-all response to the invitation to follow Him. It was glorious; I was filled with the Spirit and new life, and I walked in freedom and joy. It was also extremely difficult; my Jewish family was horrified (to say the least), my friends left me, and my future plans were upended. Through it all, with God’s grace, I was able to say to Jesus: “I will never leave You. You have the words of eternal life.” Seven years later, as a dedicated disciple stirred by a desire for more, I began to investigate the claims of the Catholic Church. I discovered magnificent treasures, but the hard teachings of the Church (in particular the Eucharist) also confounded my human understanding and challenged my will. Despite doubts, and some fear and trepidation, with God’s grace as I entered the Church, I sincerely professed, “Jesus, I will never leave You. You have the words of eternal life.” For almost forty years, my life has been marked by the triumphs and joys, suffering and trials of marriage, family life, ministry, and the daily call to take up my cross and follow Jesus. Although the world is changing with alarming speed and the Church is undergoing testing and purification, I can still proclaim, “Jesus, I will never leave You. You have the words of eternal life.” Sister, despite discouragement, doubt, or weariness, in joy and sorrow, please join me in proclaiming with renewed clarity and conviction, “Jesus, we will never leave You. You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and to know that You are the Holy One of God.” Where else would we go? Listen to Today's Devotion

“Whoever eats my Flesh and drinks my Blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day. For my Flesh is true food, and my Blood is true drink.” // John 6:54 Saint Gianna Berretta was born just over one hundred years ago in Milan into a faithful Catholic family. She embraced her Catholic heritage fully and saw life for the beautiful gift that it is. Upon obtaining a medical degree, she generously poured back into her community, serving mothers, babies, the elderly, and the poor with a special focus on pediatrics. Her marriage to Pietro Molla was a happy one, and they strove to urge one another towards the ultimate good: Heaven. It is said, “With simplicity and equilibrium she harmonized the demands of mother, wife, doctor and her passion for life” (source). When Gianna was pregnant with their fourth child, it was discovered that she had a fibroma in her uterus. Rather than go forward with an abortion or a hysterectomy (both of which would have led to the end of the life of her child), Gianna chose the path of love, having the surgeon solely remove the tumor, but putting her own life a risk.* Fully trusting in the Providence of God, Gianna chose to protect her little girl. The baby was born healthy and strong, and Gianna passed away one week later. Today we celebrate this modern Saint’s life and entry into the Church Triumphant. Our Gospel reading from John 6 tells of Jesus’ rebuttal to the Jews queries regarding eating His Flesh. As Catholics, this is a promise and source of great hope. At each Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, we are literally invited to receive Jesus within us. His promise is one of life, one that Gianna trusted in completely when she chose love knowing God’s plan extended past this life on earth. Today I challenge you to get out your planner, and write down a date and time this coming week you will attend an extra Daily Mass to partake in this greatest of gifts. And maybe eat some gelato to celebrate this Milanese Saint. *For more information on the Church’s teaching on the principle of double effect and the circumstances of Saint Gianna’s death see here. Listen to Today's Devotion

As they traveled along the road they came to some water, and the eunuch said, "Look, there is water. What is to prevent my being baptized?" Then he ordered the chariot to stop, and Philip and the eunuch both went down into the water, and he baptized him. // Acts 8:36-38 The alarm clock jolted me awake at 4:30 a.m. on that cold Tuesday morning. I call this nauseously early. Nestled under a thick layer of warm blankets, I felt my body rebelling against the thought of standing up. Then I remembered, “I’m going to see my Lord.” Peace began to fill my heart. It was the first scheduled shift for Adoration I had signed up for in over a year, one of my weekly devotions that had fallen by the wayside during the pandemic. My husband and I drove to our parish in the dark and entered the silent sanctuary. The pink dated carpet and its musty incense greeted us. My Lord was waiting for me there. Towards the end of our time slot, I moved to the singular kneeler positioned in front and center of the altar. I found myself face-to-face with Jesus. With misty eyes and a lump in my throat, I let His gaze penetrate my heart. The Purest Love was looking at me. Why had I waited for so long to come and spend time with Him? As I read about the eunuch who couldn’t wait another moment to become a baptized child of God, I found myself wondering why I don’t pursue the Lord with the same urgency? I am struck by this hard truth—love doesn’t put things off. How many times do I wait another week to get to Confession, to sign up for that volunteer job, to begin fasting, to start working on that bad habit? At the end of the day, I realize I’m putting off love. When we realize that it’s His love we are putting off, the excuses start to melt away. He’s not waiting to condemn us or hurt us. He’s waiting to pierce us with His burning love. Sister, if there’s something you’ve been putting off, ask the Lord to show you His heart for you.

“And this is the will of the one who sent me, that I should not lose anything of what he gave me.” // John 6:35-40 My Aunt Stella sat in her wheelchair, her face radiant with joy as she listened to the musician sing her favorite song in Spanish. His beautiful tenor voice flowed effortlessly as he strummed his guitar. She loved music, and she loved rain, so it was only right that on her last birthday here on earth, she would get both. As heavy rain fell and lightning blazed across the night sky, my dear Aunt Stella reached for my hand and smiled. In her lovely voice, quiet and sweet, she said, “I want you all to be like the Apostles and tell everyone about Jesus. Family is so beautiful. You see?” I nodded and hugged her. My Aunt Stella loved the Faith. She deeply desired for all to know the goodness of Christ and His Holy Church. Through times of deep suffering and times of joy, she kept her eyes fixed on Jesus. When her heart was overwhelmed, she rested in the tender and motherly embrace of Our Lady. She was deeply grateful for the gift of grace. Grateful for all the Lord had given her. Grateful for everything. Sister, I invite you to keep your eyes fixed on the goodness of Christ and His Holy Church. I encourage you to rejoice today in the beauty and richness of our Faith. The graces that Holy Mother Church pours into our lives through the Sacraments. The life of grace offered to us as a precious gift. Listen to Today's Devotion

Clothe yourselves with humility in your dealings with one another. // 1 Peter 5:5b “I just don’t want to see her. I don’t want to be in the same room with her.” I was hashing through a relationship struggle in my prayer, trying to get to the bottom of what exactly was bothering me and how I could fix it. There had been conflict. Intense, biting words had been spoken on both sides. Voices were raised and feelings were hurt. Months had passed, and I had made a few attempts at reconciliation, at a fresh start. Every attempt had been rebuffed, and now there was an unavoidable encounter on the horizon. I would have to see her, to try and pretend that nothing had ever happened. I felt trapped. “I need to get everything out in the open. I can’t move forward until we’ve dealt with these issues honestly. I can’t forgive her until she apologizes.” In my heart, I heard Jesus say, Can’t you? Lately I’ve noticed a lot of talk in the mental health arena about boundaries. People seem all too willing to cut people off, to label relationships as “toxic,” to give up when it gets hard. Obviously we all need boundaries. We cannot allow abuse, and we are capable of breaking damaging generational patterns of behavior with intention. But we mustn’t be lazy in love. Jesus calls us to humility in all our relationships. “Blessed are you when they insult you” (Matthew 5:11). “Love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you” (5:44). “If you forgive others their transgressions, your heavenly Father will forgive you” (6:14). When asked how often we should forgive one who sins against us, Jesus says, “Not seven times but seventy-seven times,” (18:22) a number that symbolizes perfection. We may not see an earthly reward for our humility and our commitment to forgiveness. But the treasure that awaits us in our heavenly home is well worth the effort. And I bet that the peace you’ll experience when you forgive without waiting for an apology will be sweeter than you can imagine.

“What can we do to accomplish the works of God?” // John 6:28 My sister was trying to make a difficult decision. She went back and forth, weighing the consequences of her yes or no as we talked things through. What was God asking of her? One day she sent me a quote someone posted on social media. It read: “Does anyone else just wish that Jesus would walk into your kitchen, sit down next to you with a cup of coffee, look at you and say, ‘Ok, here’s what we’re going to do.’” I get that. How often I have begged earnestly for clarity in my decision-making. And the Lord, in His wisdom, didn’t always spell things out. The Apostles understood this all too well. In today’s Gospel, they ask the Lord point-blank, “What can we do to accomplish the works of God?” (John 6:28). God loved them for their practicality! They were looking for direction, perhaps even a to-do list, something they could run down and check off with satisfaction and a sense of completion. Their hearts were earnest. Jesus’ reply was a touch more nebulous that they may have liked. He said that the Father has set His seal upon Him; He said the work of God is to believe in Him (6:27, 29). Sometimes we are given lists that directly express the work of God: feed the hungry, visit the imprisoned, tend to the poor. But sometimes the Lord allows us to grow through the wrestling match of decision-making, to embrace with joy and confidence the incredible gift of free will and what it means to live with choices. Jesus invites us to operate our best judgment and prudence and to live with—and learn from—the consequences. I want the Father to set His seal upon me, too. And this begins, first, not with a list of tasks, but with a disposition of heart. Are you in the middle of making a decision? Ask the Lord to renew His seal upon your heart and thank Him for the loving gift of free will. Then trust that He is with you, guiding you in wisdom and charity. Listen to Today's Devotion

But we were hoping that He would be the one to redeem Israel[.] // Luke 24:21 I prayed. Oh how my little heart prayed! And not just me, but thousands of people around the world offered up the same intention: my friend would recover from her sickness, rejoin her family, and live a long and joy-filled life. We prayed through the intercessions of Saints, through the patronage of Mary, and in the name of Jesus. We prayed with expectancy, confidence, and courage. And yet, on January 8, 2021, her soul departed from her body, and we who loved her were devastated. Disappointment cannot begin to describe how my heart was feeling, and yet, I turned to Jesus with just that. Why didn’t He do what I know He could, what I have read in Scripture and believed? I was hoping that He would bring her back to health. The disappointment of the disciples on their way to Emmaus is relatable. They’ve walked with Jesus and know what He is capable of doing. They believed that “He would be the one to redeem Israel” and bring His Kingdom to earth. But then He was crucified, and their hope seemed to die along with Him. But here comes Jesus, unrecognizable to their eyes until He breaks Bread with them. The Eucharist changes everything. From downcast gazes and restless wanderings to hearts on fire and an intentional destination, the disciples’ eyes are opened to see that it was Jesus walking with them the whole time: the same Jesus they thought was dead, the same Jesus they thought would overthrow the regime, the same Jesus they thought would be what they wanted, but in turn, was so much more. Disappointment, devastation, and disillusionment would still be my disposition if I didn’t believe in the Risen Lord Who still opens the Scriptures and breaks Bread through the person of the priest. When I pray for my friend’s soul, I acknowledge my disappointment, but I’m also reminded that God has always had a plan to use death for our gain, and I’m comforted by the wisdom of the Church that acknowledges that it is “by the Eucharistic celebration we already unite ourselves with the heavenly liturgy and anticipate eternal life, when God will be all in all” (Catechism of the Catholic Church § 1326). Listen to Today's Devotion

Brothers, select from among you seven reputable men, filled with the Spirit and wisdom, whom we shall appoint to this task, whereas we shall devote ourselves to prayer and to the ministry of the word. // Acts 6:3-4 The Body of Christ has many disciples, along with many different roles that must be filled. There are many members and needs and many jobs for these members to do. I love the image of the early followers realizing that new roles were needed to meet all the different needs. Even when the numbers were smaller, there were a variety of tasks that had to be performed. It wasn’t just one type of service that would solve all of the Church’s problems. And so it is today, all these years later. The Body of Christ still has a range of needs, still requires a range of gifts and abilities so that God’s people (all His people) can be cared for physically and spiritually. In those early days, the Apostles recognized that some leaders could meet specific needs, which would free up other leaders to meet other needs. In order to get the whole of the job done, each person would do what he must. It’s very easy to compare, to look around and see what someone else is doing and feel threatened by the difference. But like the earliest Apostles, we are each armed with different skills that will meet different needs. There is so much freedom and joy in being who God created each one of us to be, in using the gifts He has given us and in recognizing with delight what He has given those around us. If we see ourselves as a part of the Body—and not the whole thing on our own—we can truly celebrate not just our differences, but the beauty in those around us. Thank You Lord for Your diverse Body. Give us the wisdom to use the gifts You have given us. Give us a deep security in who You have created each one of us to be, and a love for those You have called us to serve.

Philip answered him, “Two hundred days’ wages worth of food would not be enough for each of them to have a little [bit].”. . . Jesus said, “Have the people recline.” Then Jesus took the loaves, gave thanks, and distributed them to those who were reclining, and also as much of the fish as they wanted. // John 6:7-11 I’ve told the story a hundred times, but my wonder only grows. The doctors had grimly warned that I probably couldn’t have more children. Two back-to-back losses confirmed their bleak prognosis. I’d whispered a numb request to our family patron, Saint Jude: pray that we can raise just one more child? A month later I held a positive test—but fear of more loss ruled over any thought of a miracle. Our precious son was due, then gloriously born, on Saint Jude’s feast day!—but I was initially ignorant to the date’s significance. The realization that we had witnessed—nay, participated in—a legitimate miracle would take months. Yet as those months turned to years and our miracle son grew, so did my understanding, my belief, my awe-filled gratitude. More trials came, but I could face them with more firmly-rooted faith. These days, recalling our overwhelmingly obvious miracle of unlikely life heightens my awareness of every miracle, big or small—and helps me more confidently share God’s love and hope. Thousands of people experienced Christ’s miraculous multiplication of the loaves. Yet the more I pray with this incredible miracle, the more I see how Christ’s heart was tenderly and attentively turned first toward His beloved disciples. He knew their faith was young and weak. He knew how often they would fall and fail and doubt. Still, He invited them to participate in His miraculous work—to build in them a foundation of belief that would persevere to the end and invite others to salvation. They didn’t fully get it at first, but the truth of God’s presence and provision gradually worked its way into His disciples’ hearts—ultimately forged into immovable fortitude as they faced the birth of Christianity, persecution, and martyrdom. Whether you’ve noticed it or not, your life is brimming with His miracles, too—each detail tenderly worked for love of you. Miracles of life, breath, provision, seemingly unanswered prayers that turn out to be mercies of protection. Countless miracles that He’s invited you to participate in. Today, take notice—and let the miraculous truth root your belief in His unfailing love. Listen to Today's Devotion

“He does not ration his gift of the Spirit.” // John 3:34 My then-fiancé was curious: what does it mean to be “charismatic”? All he could imagine were some weird hand gestures and swaying back and forth to cheesy songs. That, of course, was not attractive to him. His image of what it meant to be “charismatic,” or full of the charisms and gifts of the Spirit, determined his disposition towards it altogether. He was wary, rightly so, of something overly emotional and ungrounded. He agreed to come with me to his first praise and worship night of Eucharistic Adoration—that is, a night before Our Eucharistic Lord filled with silence, vocal praise, music, and communal worship. Often there are also moments of sharing with the community the gifts of the Spirit that have been bestowed on us. Saint Paul says some have the gift of prophecy, others of healing, and words of knowledge, etc (see 1 Corinthians 12:4-11). These gifts are meant for the building up of the Church. And so there we were at this night of praise and worship in a sketchy part of New Jersey. I had no idea how my German, never-exposed-to-praise-and-worship fiancé would respond to the whole experience. I stepped out of the chapel for some time for my turn to help babysit participants' kids. As the kids ran wild, I wondered if it was a mistake to leave my fiancé alone in the chapel for so long during his first “charismatic” experience. I thought I should be there to slowly ease him into everything and provide explanations if he had questions. I snuck back into the chapel to have a quick peek. What I saw set my heart at ease: there he was, eyes closed, hands lifted up in worship, voice singing out a song of praise to our Eucharistic Lord. I planned to ease him in slowly, but the Lord had other plans. When the Lord gives us His Holy Spirit—which we already received at our Baptism—He gives His Spirit freely and generously. The Lord does not hold back because of our fears and apprehensions. He does not ration His Spirit (John 3:34), but pours out His gifts extravagantly. Lord, You are generous. Give me more of Your Spirit; let me not be wary of His gifts, but open my heart wide to all that You wish to give me. Amen.

The Light came into the world, but people preferred darkness to light. // John 3:19 The wooden pews creaked as people shifted to watch us. Some chuckled, but they all smiled before turning back to the Lord. It was a cold, slushy night, and my five children gallumped to a back pew in their snow boots and coats. My husband and I kneeled in Adoration, trying to pray in between shushing our kids and breaking up fights. It began to feel like a near occasion of sin to stay, our frustrations with our kids boiling up into anger, so after twenty minutes we gallumped back out. It wasn’t easy, taking our young children to Adoration on a cold night, so close to bedtime, but our pastor had asked us to attend, and so we did. Before coming to our town and parish, Monsignor P. had served as a military chaplain for over twenty years. A “paratrooping priest,” he had jumped out of airplanes fifty-five times to reach the men and women God called him to serve. He had also served in various parishes around our Midwestern diocese. Throughout the decades of priestly service, he realized that a majority of the sins he heard in Confession happened after 7:00 p.m. He explained to the parish that he would be praying before the Blessed Sacrament each night, and he asked us to join him. People prefer the darkness, something our pastor knew well (see John 3:19). He wanted to be a light and to pray for those who were tempted, struggling, alone, and hurting. Our family was honored to respond to his witness and invitation. How can you use the light of Christ to help others?

“Amen, amen, I say to you, we speak of what we know and we testify to what we have seen, but you people do not accept our testimony. If I tell you about earthly things and you do not believe, how will you believe if I tell you about heavenly things?” // John 3:11-12 “I’m just so embarrassed, I’m so sorry you have to see this,” my patient softly admits, eyes downcast. Sitting my patient up, I take off my gloves and turn to face her. I’ve heard this more times than I’d like: patients being self-conscious or embarrassed about the states of their mouths. It breaks my heart every time someone apologizes to me as if I’d judge them for the state of their oral health. Placing a reassuring hand on her arm, I let her know that there is no need to apologize and that I was here to work alongside her to improve her oral health. Her shoulders relaxed a bit, and we started talking about her treatment plan. Over multiple appointments, I got to know her. She shared that she was the primary caregiver for her aging mother for the past ten years and that her mother had recently passed. And now she started making healthcare appointments for herself. She told me stories of helping her mother draw in her eyebrows and painting on lipstick just to watch her mother light up and feel human again. She told me about how there’d be days she would forget to shower, but she made sure that her mother was always fresh and clean. I’ve heard countless stories over the years. With each patient, I hold the space for them as they share hardships, joys, and sorrows. With each story, my own unconscious and internalized biases are chipped away. I am humbled and honored to serve them in this small way. It’s easier to make assumptions about others than to see the human beneath the circumstances and to see the face of Jesus in those we meet and from those who honor us with their stories. From the teen mother, to the individual experiencing homelessness, to the person with substance abuse disorder, and to the imprisoned: listen to their stories. To the curmudgeonly neighbor, to the trouble-making teen, to those estranged from family: listen to their stories. Sister, ask the Lord to open your heart to their stories and to help us radically love one another.

And now, Lord, take note of their threats, and enable your servants to speak your word with all boldness[.] // Acts 4:29 We sat across the table from one another on our weekly lunch date as I filled him in on my newest recording with excitement. As thrilled as I was that I had landed a high-profile guest for my podcast episode, I could tell from the hesitation in his look that his enthusiasm was not the same. As the chatter around us continued and the servers bustled behind the counter, he gave me a loving warning: “Be careful.” After carefully tiptoeing around the tough topics, this fifth season I was jumping into potential controversy with almost every episode. Boldness and the controversy it can bring do not come naturally to me. Growing up a middle child, I was always the peace keeper of the family, retaining that role still as I find myself firmly in middle age. I have very thin skin when it comes to receiving criticism, yet I felt called this season to speak the truth in all things with that boldness that comes from above. The gift to act boldly without fear can only be received when one trusts deeply in the Lord and His power to protect and heal. This trust must be cultivated. Perhaps my reluctance to cover controversial topics earlier was grounded in a lack of trust, or perhaps the timing lay in my need to cultivate the trust of my listeners. Boldness does not mean one acts rashly or without careful thought. It means that we act guided by prudence with confidence and strength in our word and deed. How can you open your heart to trust more deeply in the Lord? I invite you to ask for a posture of openness so that you can receive the gift of boldness in speech and action both, that you may witness daily a life filled with trust and surrender.

His mercy endures forever. // Psalm 136:1 Accepting the gift of Jesus’ mercy has been something that I’ve struggled with for years, especially after my personal reversion that took place four years ago. I would come in and out of Confession feeling numb. The shame was easier to cling to than the forgiveness. However, the Redeemer has constantly restored my mind from the lies of the enemy that say that I’m not forgiven. I specifically remember one moment in Eucharistic Adoration when God gently whispered in my heart, You are not your sins; you are My daughter. During a homily, I heard that one of the most dangerous things we could do was to be resilient towards forgiveness. Not only towards each other, but mostly Jesus’ everlasting mercy. In today’s Responsorial Psalm, we read, “His mercy endures forever” (Psalm 136:1). Sister Faustina, a Polish nun, was asked by Jesus to spread the truth about His deep desire for us to receive His forgiveness, His Divine Mercy. Written in Saint Faustina’s diary, Jesus told her, “Let no soul fear to draw near to Me, even though its sins be as a scarlet. My mercy is so great that no mind, be it of man or of angel, will be able to fathom it throughout eternity” (notebook 2, section 699). Friend, He wants to enter your heart. Every part of it. Not only the beautiful parts, but also the areas where we might be afraid for Him to see. It’s difficult, especially when we are under the heavy weight of our sin, but we have a loving Father Who yearns to lift the weight off our shoulders. When our souls are cleansed in the Sacrament of Confession, our hearts become closer to Him, and there we are re-rooted to our identities as beloved daughters. There’s not a single heart that the Lord doesn’t desire to cleanse in His merciful love. Jesus, we love You and praise You. Thank You for the gift of Your Divine Mercy. Help us to root ourselves in the truth of Your merciful and everlasting love. Amen. {formbuilder:MTAxMDY1}

[A]nd perceiving them to be uneducated, ordinary men, the leaders, elders, and scribes were amazed. // Acts 4:13 My brother and sister were straight A-students, in the “enrichment program” during elementary school, and in accelerated honors classes in middle and high school. I was not. It was like we were running a marathon and they were effortlessly sprinting toward the finish while I breathlessly panted behind the pack. Math was a particular bane of my educational experience. Fast forward several years, and there I was, in a fifth grade classroom, teaching math. I felt completely inadequate and unprepared. The wounds surrounding my history with math were very much exposed, and I doubted my ability to educate the little minds sitting before me. It turns out, I was a decent math teacher. My difficulties in comprehending the subject helped me to be more compassionate and patient with my students as they struggled to grasp the concepts. I didn’t need to be perfect to be able to teach my students, many of whom ended up being better at math than I was. I just had to be willing to try! Our Lord did not call the “straight A” students of His time to proclaim His message. Instead, He caused amazement among them by choosing “uneducated, ordinary men,” and He does the same today (see Acts 4:13). Sister, He calls us to follow Him and share the good news of salvation with the world. As He called “Mary Magdalene, out of whom he had driven seven demons” (Mark 16:9), He calls us despite our wounds, inadequacies, and failings to proclaim, “what we have seen and heard” (Acts 4:20). He calls us not because we know about Him, but because we know Him. Regardless of where your academic journey has taken you, or what kind of student you were, He simply asks for your desire to share Him with the world. It is not academic knowledge that gives us boldness in proclaiming the Christ, it is our love for Him and desire to make Him known in the world. When we offer that in simplicity, He says to us as He said to the Apostles, “Go into the whole world and proclaim the Gospel to every creature” (Mark 16:15). {formbuilder:MTAxMDY1}

Simon Peter said to them, "I am going fishing." They said to him, "We also will come with you." // John 21:3 I have always found it puzzling that even after Jesus rose from the dead and revealed Himself to the Apostles, they still returned to their old ways. They were at such a loss that they didn’t know what to do, so they returned to their fishing trade. This was better than staying locked in the Upper Room, but it says a lot about our human nature. When things don’t go as planned or we are stuck at a crossroads, we often return to what is familiar and comfortable for us. In any of the Apostle’s cases, fishing was their comfort, and they appeared a little rusty until Jesus came on the scene. What do you turn to when life doesn’t appear to go your way or you are at a turning point in your life? Do you lean into the Lord or return to what is easy, comfortable, or habitual? When life switches up on me, I become like a roly-poly bug or turtle and just hunker in my cozy, safe shell. I could seek healing securities like Scripture, silence, healthy rest to discern, Adoration, and the Sacraments. This would open me to cast the net wide and catch all the Lord is providing me in times of confusion and distress. However, most of the time, I choose unhealthy comforts such as stress eating, excessive food, wine, and sleep, as well as an absence of exercise. I choose to do what comes easy to me versus opening myself to what God is stretching me to do through my challenges and roadblocks. One comfort breeds stress and anxiety from trying to control what was not mine to control. The other comfort brings me peace by surrendering to the Lord’s will in my life. You would think that I would have learned after all this time, but I still struggle. I can’t blame the Apostles for going fishing for a night. They had been through a lot watching Jesus, the Messiah, be tortured and crucified. We’ve all been known to take a down day after something traumatic and difficult happens. So if you are at a crossroad or facing uncertainty, visit a local church or adoration chapel and imagine yourself on the shoreline with the Resurrected Christ. This is a healthy comfort that will bring healing to your life. {formbuilder:MTAxMDY1}

Repent, therefore, and be converted, that your sins may be wiped away, and that the Lord may grant you times of refreshment. // Acts 3:19-20 Refreshment sounds invigorating, restful, and renewing. Refreshment sounds both extravagant, like a blissful vacation by a mountain lake, and necessary, like a glass of water on a hot Texas day. My soul yearns for it. Longing for refreshment, I keep going back to what doesn’t satisfy. I know Jesus saves, but I keep scrolling through social media looking for a dopamine rush. I know Jesus’ Sacred Heart burns with more love for me than I’ll ever know, but I keep putting too much emphasis on human relationships to feel loved and known. I know starting my day in prayer connects me with the Lord’s love and will, but I scramble to clean up kitchen messes or pay bills first. Every time I choose something or someone other than God, I turn away from Him. When my priorities are out of whack—a clean kitchen only lasts ten minutes with teenage boys in the house, how fleeting that satisfaction is!—my soul can’t truly be at peace. (Lest this train of thought become scrupulous, I don’t mean to say that any of us must live an austere contemplative life to seek God and avoid sin. On the contrary, I know that He pursues us and delights in us in our ordinary lives. The Carmelites I know will tell you that they, too, live rather ordinary lives, even in their contemplative vocation. Someone has to do the laundry and dishes, feed and walk the monastery dog, and work in the garden.) There’s no quick fix or human love to satisfy what my weak human will craves. The remedy to my cravings and the balm for my weary love-seeking soul is Jesus. Only and always Jesus. He is the one thing necessary. “Repent, therefore, and be converted.” The Sacrament of Confession offers us frequent opportunities for this repentance. I repent to renounce my ignorance once my eyes have been opened. To reject my self-centeredness when I see how empty social media (or any other dopamine-laced habit) truly is. To then return in humility to the Lord and be renewed in His forgiving graces. Once I do that, I find myself more free to gaze at Him and His Sacred Heart. To see beauty and goodness. To be filled with the fire of His love. Seek Him first with me this Easter season. The Risen Jesus has all we can ever ask for, and more. He alone will give our souls the refreshment they crave. {formbuilder:MTAxMDY1}