July 28, 2026 // Tuesday of the Seventeenth Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: Jeremiah 14:17–22 Reflect on the Word //  I walked into my small group on a Wednesday afternoon and burst into tears as soon as someone asked me if I was doing okay. I had just come out of my first doctor appointment in over a year, and I felt so discouraged. In 2024, I suffered two miscarriages and had a surgery to treat endometriosis. I had high hopes that my chances of getting pregnant would improve that year, yet eighteen months later, it felt like nothing had changed.  In our first months of infertility, I remember naively thinking how I couldn’t imagine making it to two whole years without getting pregnant. Six long years later, I have slowly learned that God will in fact carry you every single day of the cross He has allowed you to endure.  Sometimes our seasons of drought feel endless and incurable. It feels like our tears of desperation and disappointment will never dry up. Jeremiah is one prophet in the Bible who became intimately familiar with the long road of trusting God when absolutely nothing made sense.  In today’s First Reading, he pleads with God on behalf of the people of Judah, who were indulging in idolatry. Jeremiah begs God to remember His covenant with them (Jeremiah 14:21). He even wishes he had never been born.  So how did Jeremiah survive his prolonged season in the desert? How do we press on when we feel like we can’t go any longer?  In his book Run with the Horses, Eugene Peterson credits Jeremiah’s persistence to the unfailing persistence of God toward him. Jeremiah expresses this in his own words elsewhere in Scripture, in Lamentations: “The LORD’s acts of mercy are not exhausted, his compassion is not spent; They are renewed each morning—great is your faithfulness!” (Lamentations 3:22-23) Sister, even when we are in the driest of deserts, God’s faithfulness never dries up. He chooses us, every morning, with unfailing love. He asks us in return to keep choosing His love, one day at a time. Slowly and steadily, His grace will carry us further than we ever thought possible.  Relate to the Lord // Pray with Lamentations 3:22-23. What does this verse stir in your heart?

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

January 1, 2026 // Solemnity of Mary, the Holy Mother of God // The Octave Day of the Nativity of the Lord Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Luke 2:16-21 Reflect on the Word // My husband and I took a mini pilgrimage to the Notre Dame de Chartres Cathedral in France this summer. As we ventured deeper into the church, we came across a panelled wall, covered in detailed limestone sculptures containing forty scenes of the life of Mary and Jesus in chronological order. In the very beginning of this long stretch of art, I was struck by the depiction of Saints Joachim and Anne as they discover Mary’s conception. A daughter miraculously conceived for a plan more glorious than they could imagine.  These stunning sculptures come to mind on this Solemnity of Mary as the Mother of God. These forty scenes offer a bird’s-eye view of God’s fidelity in Mary’s life story, but they also remind me of His fidelity to each one of us within our personal stories. I find deep assurance in the glory weaved through it all. The scene of Mary standing at the foot of the Cross isn’t too far from the joy of Christ’s Nativity, or the fulfillment of His Resurrection. Glory hidden, and glory revealed.  Our Blessed Mother lived her entire life with a posture of both anticipation and remembrance of God’s glory. Today’s Gospel recalls how the shepherds arrived at the manger, confirming the Lord’s promise of a Savior. One translation of Scripture says that “Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart” (Luke 2:19, NRSV). She clung to these treasures of grace in moments of speechless joy and suffocating sorrow.  As we look into the face of a fresh new year, what do we find ourselves clinging to? Maybe there are moments from this last year that have pierced us or moments when beauty brought us to tears.  From her conception to her coronation, Mary’s life is a complete testimony of the glory and fidelity of God Almighty. No matter where we find ourselves today, let’s look for a treasured moment of grace from our year, and cling to the deep knowledge that God’s glory is not yet finished being revealed. His plan is always more brilliant than we can imagine. Relate to the Lord // What have you been clinging to? Share your past year with the Lord. 

June 18, 2025 // Wednesday of the Eleventh Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: 2 Corinthians 9:6-11 Reflect on the Word //  I found myself crying in a coffee shop, moved to tears by a story of hope. The bustling sounds of the crowd disappeared into the background as I read a gripping account of an atomic bomb survivor and blurted out impressive facts about him to my sister as she worked across the table. “This guy was a radiologist in Japan, a convert from atheism to Catholicism, and lost his wife in the Nagasaki bombing.” I continued, “He already had leukemia, and spent the rest of his life serving the victims of the bombings and writing about God’s providence and forgiveness.”  His name was Takashi Nagai, a man who managed to harvest an abundance of faith, hope, and peace from seeds sown into the lifeless ashes covering his hometown, including the burned body of his beloved wife.  I doubt he could imagine anything bountiful coming from the horrendous catastrophe that destroyed the lives of 8,000 people instantaneously. You see, when he walked through the sea of his deceased neighbors and friends he chose to forgive, he chose to keep loving, and he ultimately chose to turn his suffering into a sacrifice of praise. He spent the rest of his life helping bomb victims as a physician, writing and speaking about the importance of forgiveness, sowing lasting peace and healing into the hearts of a severely wounded country.  Yet, in today’s First Reading, Saint Paul reminds us that those who sow seeds bountifully “will also reap bountifully” (2 Corinthians 9:6). The Lord calls us all to a generosity with the gifts He has given us, especially in the face of trials. It may be hard to see or believe at times, but God can and will make something beautiful out of the seeds we choose to bravely offer Him. Seeds like humility and faith when we’re tempted to believe that our ways are better than God’s. Seeds of peace and mercy when we would rather hold on to bitterness and anger.  Is this not the vocation of every Christian? To lay down our life, one seed at a time, until God masterfully redeems each one, harvesting beauty for ashes. Relate to the Lord // What seeds is the Lord calling you to sow in this season? Entrust them to Him.  

April 1, 2025 // Tuesday of the Fourth Week of Lent Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: John 5:1-16 Reflect on the Word //  The makeshift chapel was dim and the crowds of people had dwindled down to a few stragglers. It was Holy Week and this was my favorite night of the year. The night when the Garden of Gethsemane is recreated through the altar of repose.  As I prayed in the back of the room, looking up toward the tabernacle, I felt an intense need to be closer to Him. Approaching the altar, my heart started to race. I knelt down just a few feet from Jesus in the Eucharist, and pain started welling up in my chest.  I brought Him the most sorrowful mysteries of my life, and He looked at me with the most sorrowful eyes of His pierced Heart. They were His knowing eyes. The ones that deeply understood the grief of my recent miscarriage. The eyes that saw the depth of my disappointment every month my prayer for a child wasn’t answered. The eyes that knew exactly what my suffering looked like, and just how long I had been there, desperately waiting to be healed.  The sick man in today’s Gospel encountered these eyes too.  We don’t just witness Jesus healing him from thirty-eight years of illness. We witness His Heart for this man, and just how familiar He is with his mat.  “When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had been there a long time, he said to him, ‘Do you want to be made well?’” (John 5:6, emphasis added) Sister, you know what your mat looks like. That place in your life where you feel sick, stuck, paralyzed, broken, or forgotten by God.  You know how long your “thirty-eight years” has felt. You know how many times you’ve asked the Lord for healing and answers. You know how much pain it has caused you. You know how many sacrifices you’ve made.  Are we willing to trust that our Divine Healer knows this too? Are we ready to believe that the Lord, Who is intimately familiar with the most sorrowful mysteries of our lives, desperately wants to make us well?  Jesus sees you, and He knows.  Relate to the Lord // Pause right now, look to Jesus interiorly, and receive His understanding gaze.  

When he brought her to the man, the man said: "This one, at last, is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; this one shall be called 'woman,' for out of 'her man’ this one has been taken." // Genesis 2:23 I sat there in my pajamas, propped up by pillows in my living room armchair. It was two days after I came home from surgery, and I was physically unable to attend Mass. To my great relief, a dear friend offered to bring me Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament that morning.  I was unable to sit up, stand, or walk on my own during those days. Stabbing pains flared all over my abdomen from the stitches, but the most painful wound was just below my right rib cage.  As the Eucharist touched my tongue, the stinging pain in my side overwhelmed my heart with gratitude. A tiny reminder of the lance that pierced my Savior’s rib cage, breaking open the dam of sin and releasing a flood of mercy and redemption in its place (see John 19:34). I remember thinking:  You gave me every last drop of Your blood just to be with me in this moment.  The Lord came to me that day in my helplessness, and touched me with His healing Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity. As I read about Adam’s first encounter with Eve in today’s First Reading, I imagine Jesus echoing the same words when He sees me approaching the Eucharist at Mass.  This one . . . at last.  Oh, how Jesus aches to be fully united to us in Holy Communion. Eve was given her bodily life through the substance of Adam’s side. You are offered new life through the Sacraments of Baptism and the Eucharist, and become part of the Church, the bride of Christ our Heavenly Bridegroom. Let the Blood and water spill over you from the opening in the side of Jesus, the new Adam, from the depths of His Heart. An act of complete and total self-giving, so that we may never question His love for us.  I can hear Jesus gasping for air as He hangs upon the Cross, looking at me with these words in His eyes:  My Heart has spared nothing for you.  My Heart has always longed for you.  At last . . . will you give me your whole heart in return?

No one has ever seen God. Yet, if we love one another, God remains in us, and his love is brought to perfection in us. // John 4:12 (from the Gospel for the Memorial of Saint Augustine) My grandma sat across from me at her kitchen table, eating her toast and sipping her black coffee, both placed on a colorful crocheted placemat. She didn’t say much unless she needed a coffee refill or became curious about who I was. She had developed Alzheimer's disease many years prior to that year where I found myself living in her town for a summer job.  She was a large, stubborn, and witty Mexican mother to thirteen children, and several of them still lived nearby. I spent a lot of time with her in those couple of months, and got a front row seat to the tender love poured out to her by her sons and daughters.  My aunts would take turns coming over after their nine-to-five jobs to make her dinner, bathe her, get her dressed, administer medications, comb her hair, paint her nails, and love her with the utmost devotion.  This was their daily life for nearly a decade, and very few people ever witnessed it. I remember thinking in those days, This is what true love looks like. The kind of love that is quiet, faithful, mostly unseen by anyone else, and utterly selfless. This is perfect love. This is God’s love made manifest in our world.  We know it when we see it, don’t we?  The sleepless mother spoon feeding her disabled son. The engaged man fasting for his future wife. The woman who drops off a meal for her grieving friend. The husband who learns how to help his wife through a mental health crisis.  I think it’s easy to think we are failures in loving others, but God has given us an incredible capacity for it. As John reminds us in today’s Gospel for the Memorial of Saint Augustine (see John 4:7-16), this is the manner in which God calls us to be His very Heart here on earth.  Do we know how powerful this is? The power to make God visible in this world, through perfect love? Today, reflect on your greatest experiences of God’s love in your life. How can we keep pouring out this love, so freely given to us?

The LORD himself will give his benefits; our land shall yield its increase. // Psalm 85:13 It was the beginning of our first summer in our new home. We had been gone on vacation for ten days, and pulled up to a backyard full of exploding rose bushes. Petals of soft pinks, magentas, and crimson reds, dripping with fresh rain drops. I couldn’t believe the abundance of beauty before my eyes. Beauty that someone else’s hands sowed the seeds for, and I was reaping the rewards.  As the summer months unfolded, so did many more blossoms of all kinds. Cascades of golden yarrow in July, dainty pink cosmos in August, and bright wildflowers through September. Many of them were my personal favorite varieties, and each of them were a complete surprise as they emerged from the soil.  Although I had high hopes of planting my own flowers earlier that spring after we moved in, God decided to gift me more flowers than I ever imagined that season. In fact, it was the second wettest year Colorado Springs had recorded in history. I did absolutely nothing, and yet the Master Gardener increased a little desire I had. He let glory bud and burst forth on my land. Is this not the way the Lord chooses to work in our lives? We have our own ideas and plans of how we can bring our desires and dreams to fruition, but God is always in the background, plowing the soil, preparing something completely new and unexpected. As Psalm 85 reminds us in today’s Responsorial, He is the giver of good things, and He is the God Who increases.  Sister, do you believe that God is planting the seeds of glory in your life? Do you believe that He hears your desires, and does more than you could ever possibly do on your own? Today, ask for the grace to believe in the God Who increases. 

Forever I will maintain my kindness toward him, and my covenant with him stands firm. // Psalm 89:29 The phone started ringing as I wept in silence on my bed. My body froze as I waited to hear the doctor confirm what we feared most. “Are you and your husband together right now?” were the words that took my breath away completely.  They couldn’t find a heartbeat. The child we so desperately prayed and longed for did not survive. The miracle pregnancy we celebrated and claimed as a victory had suddenly ended.  Where are You, God?  What were You thinking?  How could You be asking this of us? Can You save me from the face of despair?  These questions haunted me in the coming weeks, but God’s responses to them were much louder. They emerged out of the deafening silence accompanied by grief and loss. They grew out of the empty space so severely carved out by our first miscarriage of our first baby.   My daughter, do not worry about your life (see Matthew 6:25). Is your life not more important to me than the entire created world? (see Matthew 6:26) Does your Heavenly Father not see exactly what you need at every moment of your life? (see Matthew 6:32) My steadfast love for you endures forever (see Psalm 89:28). Even in your darkest pit, I will not withhold my steadfast love for you (see Psalm 89:33). Even when you have every reason to lose hope, I could never betray you (see Psalm 89:34). My covenant with you is firmer than heaven itself (see Psalm 89:3). I don’t know where you feel abandoned by God, and I don’t know where you feel like you can’t be saved. All I know is that when the Son of Man asked God why He had forsaken Him from the Cross, God chose to save the entire world (see Matthew 27:46).  Joash in today’s First Reading perished because he forgot the Lord’s fidelity to Him (see 2 Chronicles 24:17-25). Do not forget God's fidelity to you. Do not abandon God because you’ve convinced yourself that He has abandoned you. Surrender your emptiness to the One Who left the tomb empty for the redemption of your soul. He has not forgotten you.

The Scripture says, No one who believes in him will be put to shame. // Romans 10:11 I stood over a small saucepan at my stove, warming up my morning cup of coffee, noticing tiny bubbles forming on the edges. Sizzling sounds erupted as my wooden spoon prodded through the black liquid. I watched for the steam rising as it caught the window light. The sprinkles of cinnamon released their aroma, reaching for my nose.  I was reheating my coffee this way because we don’t own a microwave anymore. The morning brew from our coffee maker had grown cold because I had spent the morning getting my blood drawn. I was getting my blood drawn because my husband and I are in our fourth year of infertility, and we recently started a new round of testing.  So while I stood over my stove, waiting for my coffee, I began contemplating the art of waiting on God’s fidelity. The kind of waiting that involves hope and surrender. Oh, how this virtue pushes and stretches us, doesn’t it?  My mind drifted to the birth of Jesus.  Having recently heard the genealogy of Jesus during Mass, I thought about the long line of generations that preceded His birth. I recalled how much waiting was involved in the Old Testament. How many thousands of faithful Israelites died before they saw the fulfillment of God’s promise of a Savior? Yet, as we hear in the First Reading, no one who believes in Him has ever been put to shame (see Romans 10:11). As we approach this liturgical season of waiting, God invites us to believe in His promises to us over and over again. The first sentence of Saint Andrew’s Christmas Novena provides an eloquent reminder of this:  Hail and blessed be the hour and moment in which the Son of God was born Of the most pure Virgin Mary, at midnight, in Bethlehem, in the piercing cold.  Sister, do not be afraid to bring your heart full of hope to the edge of the wooden manger. Gaze upon the miracle that took thousands of years for God to reveal. Let the blessed moment of your Savior’s birth constantly remind you of God’s fidelity made flesh.

He answered, "The one who treated him with mercy." Jesus said to him, "Go and do likewise." // Luke 10:37 I let out an obvious exhale of frustration and said, “Babe . . . that’s not how I told you to do it.” It was one of those late nights of packing orders in my cramped little red-carpeted office. My husband had graciously volunteered to help me finish some work for my small business and made a relatively minor mistake. I tried to sheepishly justify my rude response before realizing that I was clearly the one at fault. Instead of extending grace, I let my emotions respond with a biting edge.  Once again, I was failing to love the person I claim to love the most.   When I read today’s Gospel passage about “loving your neighbor,” I was deeply struck by the one word Saint Luke chose to distinguish the Good Samaritan from the others: mercy.  I began to think about the other “neighbors” in my life I have failed to love—the people who have been robbed of my mercy. Not just the predictable roadside beggars, but the people I rub elbows with throughout my day.  Maybe it’s your spouse or your children. Maybe it’s that roommate who leaves dirty dishes in the sink. That girl in your Bible study who talks too much. That coworker who gets away with showing up late every day.  Chances are, your little ordinary life is imploding with opportunities to respond with mercy over judgment, mercy over annoyance, and mercy over fairness. You don’t have to go searching in the streets—more likely you just need to look up from your couch or your dining room table.  Let’s beg the Lord to drown our hearts in the ocean of His mercy today, that it may spill over towards every person we touch. Come Holy Spirit, wash over us!

“And as for those who do not welcome you, when you leave that town, shake the dust from your feet in testimony against them." Then they set out and went from village to village proclaiming the good news and curing diseases everywhere. // Luke 9:5-6 A storm was rolling in from the east, paper bags and empty soda cans flying past our feet. The orange flaps of my tent violently whipped back and forth as haunting whistles curled around us. I was camping in the desert of Arizona with my friends, and it was clearly time to go home. Unlike the midwestern storms I grew up with, this one came with thick clouds of hazy dust. You could see it in the distance, and it covered everything in sight.  After a mad dash to break down camp and throw everything in our cars, I made it home safely and utterly filthy. A brown film coated all of my belongings. There were cakes of dust in my ears, between my toes, and in every crevice of my face. It clung to me, and I couldn’t wait to wash it all off.  Today, Jesus encourages us to shake off a different kind of dust, with a sense of urgency and detachment. The kind of dust that looks like rejection, unkind words, and persecution. An eye roll from a classmate or child, a passive-aggressive comment from a parent, or an employer who bullies you. Similar to the dust clouds of a looming storm in the desert, these things can cloud our vision, slow us down, and muddy the Truth.  We so easily forget that the news we have to share is actually so good and beautiful, it cures diseases, heals the brokenhearted, and brings lasting peace and joy! I find it comforting to know that our Lord knew we wouldn’t always be accepted or received, but still invites us to share the joy of the Gospel unapologetically and confidently. He never forgets how good His promises are.  Sister, let’s stop letting dust cling to our feet and cake up where it doesn’t belong. Even through the most ominous storms, Jesus is on our team, and He guarantees that we need nothing more.

Jesus said to his disciples: "The Kingdom of heaven is like a treasure buried in a field, which a person finds and hides again, and out of joy goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.” // Matthew 13:44 I can still imagine the scene perfectly. A row of men dressed in white, laying nose down on the cold marble floors of the cathedral. Every seat of every wooden pew was full, and all eyes were on the altar. I was witnessing over a dozen young men lay down their lives for the sake of their bride—the Church.  It was the first Ordination Mass I had ever attended, and the memory still brings tears to my eyes. As I watched each man get down on his knees and stretch his body prostrate on the floor, I thought of his sacrifice.  Every one of these men was willing to surrender all that he had—and joyfully.  It was the kind of joy you see bursting forth on a wedding day, a total outpouring of grace. These men had found their treasure, and it was worth everything.  While not all of us are called to receive Holy Orders and become priests, Christ calls each and every one of us to participate in the priesthood of all believers we entered at our Baptisms by laying down our lives for the Kingdom of Heaven—the greatest treasure our eyes will ever behold.  Maybe that’s not selling everything you have, but maybe it’s risking rejection, sacrificing your time, or stepping out of your comfort zone. Maybe it’s writing that check to that missionary or getting up for the 1,085th time to feed your crying baby. Maybe it’s silently bearing your roommate’s annoying habit or making time in your schedule to visit someone who’s lonely.  It won’t always look like a shiny ceremony in a marble Cathedral, but at the end of your life, all those moments will add up. Each and every sacrifice you have made will be a speck of gold in the Cathedral of Heaven.  And when you behold the face of God, you will know that it was worth it.

"The harvest is abundant but the laborers are few; so ask the master of the harvest to send out laborers for his harvest." // Matthew 9:38 It was so hot that day, you could smell the heat rising in the air. My husband and I were spending the summer in the heartland of America, the part of the country where they pray for good weather and safety for the farmers at Mass. Harvest season had just started, which meant over half the town was spending sunrise to sunset out in the fields. Tim was hired to help a farmer that year and always came home with stories to tell.  What I wasn’t expecting on this particular night, was the smell he brought home with him. He crawled into bed after taking a shower and still smelled like rotting wheat. Trust me, it’s not a smell you want to be familiar with.  He couldn't wash off the stink even if he tried, and he couldn’t hide the smile in his eyes either. He had fallen in love with the land he was caring for, even if it meant getting filthy in wheat mold from cleaning a grain bin. It was a small reflection of the love these seasoned farmers had for their fields and the crops that grew there. They gave their entire lives for it, and certain months of the year, they would smell like it too. In today’s Gospel passage, we receive a direct invitation from Jesus to harvest the land of lost souls. He’s not asking us to observe the crops from afar, comfortably safe in our cars as we speed by on the freeway. He’s asking us to get so close to the crops that their scent becomes our own. He’s asking us to give our very lives for them. So today, ask yourself what souls Jesus is asking you to smell like? Who is He asking you to spend more time with? Picture their faces and ask Jesus to give you His heart for them.  Don’t be afraid to smell like the harvest of Heaven.

He went down with them and came to Nazareth, and was obedient to them; and his mother kept all these things in her heart. // Luke 2:51 The change happened slowly. Month after month, my husband and I continued to face the stark reality of infertility, and my heart began to sink into dark places—places I had never been before.  Every pregnancy announcement and every comment about motherhood, whether it be good or bad, started to prod open a festering wound that had taken root within me. I started to think uncharitably, harboring bitterness and jealousy towards other women.  I confessed this to a priest one day, desperately needing a safe place to lament my struggles, and feeling guilty for having these ugly thoughts. I’ll never forget his response.  “When you experience a moment that’s painful for you, I want you to place your hand over your heart and silently say to yourself, ‘Jesus, I know you are here with me right now.’” I was totally taken aback by his tender suggestion.  I didn’t have to clench my fist and attempt to repel those moments of pain, but rather open my hand and invite Jesus into my heartache. They became opportunities to let His healing grace wash out the enemy's venom.  It still hurt—but Jesus was there. And it made all the difference.  As I reflect on the Immaculate Heart of Mary, our feast for today, I’m struck by the fact that her heart was human, too. She experienced all the female emotions, just like us. She says herself that she was filled with anxiety amidst the search for her lost Son (see Luke 2:48). Think of all the other moments of her life when she was likely filled with worry, fear, sorrow, and frustration.  Mary “kept all these things in her heart,” as women do best, but she let Jesus dwell in those painful places as well. She welcomed Him with total surrender.  Sister, are there things kept in your heart that are causing you pain? I invite you to put your hand over your heart right now, and ask your Divine Healer to meet you there, in the hidden places. Ask the Immaculate Heart of Mary to show you how. 

“Father, they are your gift to me.” // John 17:24 I decided to run a marathon one day in October. It had been on my bucket list after finishing my first half-marathon in college, and running had been my passion since my teen cross-country days. This race felt much different, though. I was making a decision at that point in my life to fight for my joy, and this race was going to push me through the tempting swamps of despair. When I woke up that morning to run twenty-six miles in the desert of Arizona, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for my life and the joy my Heavenly Father has for me. I started to imagine God watching me run this race on a big screen television in Heaven with all the angels and my favorite Saints. I imagined Him turning towards them, His eyes still on me, saying: “Look at my daughter! There she is!” with the overflowing pride of a Father. With a deep sense of my belovedness and worth, I ran that race as if I was truly flying. Sure, mile twenty was daunting and blazing hot by 10 a.m. on the asphalt streets of Phoenix, but I still felt like laughing and smiling every step of the way, with no thoughts of stopping. I could see Jesus smiling as He looked at me. His gaze felt like supernatural strength. In today’s Gospel, we hear that Jesus uttered a prayer to Heaven right before He went out and laid down on His deathbed under a full moon in a garden. The most raw outpouring of His heart spilled over for every child in the world to hear. In reality, you don’t have to run a marathon or have a triumphant moment to make Jesus overwhelmed with love and joy for you. He smiles big and wide at the very sight of you. “Father, she is your gift to me . . .” (see John 17:24). Sit with Jesus and listen to Him speak these words. You, dear one, are a precious gift to Him.

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.