January 19, 2025 // Second Sunday in Ordinary Time Dear Sister, I remember the first time I realized I was a new creation. I was sixteen years old at a conference and was invited by a presiding priest to call to mind my sins that had a suffocating grip over my life. Lying, drinking, fornicating, masturbation, gossip, and more came flooding to my mind in an instant. I was overwhelmed by the amount of sin brought in front of my mind.  The priest invited us to imagine where Jesus was in all of these instances. Quickly my memory discovered where He was—next to me as I lied to my parents, sitting with me as I cried on the bathroom floor out of guilt for my alcohol and drug consumption, within earshot as I gossiped about a friend, waiting for me with His hand outstretched as I chose another over Him. I cried mounds and mounds of tears as these memories flooded back into my mind; my breath caught in my chest as I saw Jesus in every single picture.  You were always there. Every tear that rolled down my cheeks was a tear for every sin I had committed for years and years and years, knowingly entering into these transgressions and never stopping to realize how much they hurt me, my relationships, and most importantly, my union with Christ. I went to Confession to tell the Lord of my sorrow and repentance and to receive His forgiveness. And I walked out a new creation. I was no longer a girl with great sin on her shoulders; I was a girl washed by the blood of Jesus. I’m so grateful that the sin in my life then and now is not what defines me. I’m so grateful that what I’ve done (or not done) and how I’ve hurt myself or others has been washed away by the blood of Jesus Christ. And the same is true for you, Sister.  We are made new by Jesus Christ’s saving power on the Cross, and we get to enter into that tangible truth every single time we receive His sacramental grace. God rejoices in you and in me. He is our Bridegroom, waiting like a patient Lover for us to put Him first, for us to love Him first, for us to look to Him first.  He was always there, and He always will be. Love, Jenna

Dear Sister, I hung up the phone and looked up at the sky.  Lord, help me, I interiorly said in my heart. I’m so sad. I don’t know what to do. I want to fix this and I don’t know how.  We can oftentimes articulate prayers with lofty words, saying them as if we’re far away from the One we’re speaking to. And yes, of course, God is on His throne in Heaven, and we haven’t yet entered into the eternal glory of His presence. But the God of the Universe entered into our human existence. He put on flesh. He understands humanity, not even just through creating us, but by becoming one of us. And through doing so, He opened the gates of Heaven for us. If you have ever had a moment where you don’t know what to say to the Creator and Author of all, I’ll offer you my favorite prayer: Jesus, help. Tell Him everything. You don’t have to say it eloquently with beautiful words. You just have to offer one thing: honesty. He wants your honesty. He wants your heart. He wants you. Today, give Him just that. Give Him your heart, your attention, your cries. He can handle it all. He made you, and He knows you better than you’ll ever know yourself.  Heaven is open. And it’s waiting for you. Love, Jenna  P.S. Our Lent Devotional, Under the Olive Tree, is available now for you. It is a beautiful invitation to sit with Him in the Garden of Gethsemane at the olive tree with Jesus, to hear His prayer, to lean on His Heart, and to console Him throughout this Lenten season.

January 5, 2025 // Solemnity of Epiphany of the Lord  Dear Sister, A new year is upon us, and everything in us wants to turn the page, start a new chapter, live a new, fabulous version of our mundane, tired lives. And there is something so good about this pursuit. It is good to have goals. It is beautiful to have dreams and pursue them. But I want to propose to you and to me: What if our goal for this year, nay, this moment, this day, this week, was to actually live our one beautiful, marvelous life?  What if instead of looking for new goals and new endeavors and new heights, we soared the heights of the day we’re living right here, right now? But what does that look like? It means looking up while you’re surrounded by a pile of laundry and thanking God for the clothes He provided, offering one fold at a time for each family member’s salvation. It means reading a child a book for the hundredth time but this time listening to the story like it was the very first time. It means driving to work and looking at the sunrise with hope and joy about the coming day simply because God is in it and He will surprise you with His extravagant love. I propose that this is where our goals are reached—here in this place of living our one magnificently ordinary and beautiful life.  What if we found ourselves here? What if we found God?  What if we woke up to our very lives? If we looked up at the sky and saw the birds who are cared for by God, looked into our spouse’s eyes and made the choice to love him, looked at our friend and chose to let our hearts be softened toward her, looked at ordinary bread on an extraordinary altar be transformed into the Son of the Living God? What if we looked? What if we noticed? What if we really lived?  I’m not saying for tomorrow or next week or for an entire year, because that can feel incredibly overwhelming. (Just me?) I just mean for today. What if we closed our phones and took a walk, read a book, looked at the snowfall, folded the laundry, paid the bills, did an art project, painted our dining room chairs, just lived—really lived—our lives fully awake to God’s presence? A turn of the page. A new chapter. A new lease on an ordinary life made extraordinary by the transforming love of God.  To living our lives, Jenna

Dear Sister, Every year when the calendar comes to a close, I am shocked. I truly can’t believe that another year has come and gone. I feel like I was just the same person on January 1, 2024, as I am today. And that slightly terrifies me.  “Never change!” the signatures on my high school yearbook called out in Sharpie and scribbled writing.  But . . . I want to change. I want to be purified by the God of the universe Who is the Holy One above all else. I want to be completely free from all my vices, my attachments, my fears, and the strongholds in my life. I want to live a life free. And freedom, to me, looks like a life without fear. It looks like a life without doubt. It looks like a life without attachments to social media and to Youtube and to food and drinking and to work and to all the things that confine me. Freedom looks like a bird soaring above it all, liberated from the weight of the world to fly into the arms of her Savior, to fall into the arms of her Redeemer, to dance with the Lover of her soul. Freedom looks like living. And I want to live.  How about you? So Lord, for all the times that You’ve asked us to change and we’ve been hesitant, afraid, or outright disobedient, we repent. And we ask You, Lord, to come into our hearts and to light up all the dark places, so that we can live (and fly) into Your marvelous light. To flying, Jenna

Dear Sister, Sometimes I have a hard time believing. Some things just feel impossible. Will I ever be freed of doubt? Will he ever be healed from his suffering? Will she ever find the answers she’s looking for?  Are You as good as they say You are?  I look at Mary, and I can’t believe she believed so well. She was a young girl who simply believed. She took our Lord at His word. She believed Him when He said it would happen in this way. She knew He was faithful to His word. Oh, to live with trust like that. Pope Benedict XVI says this of Mary’s faith: “It is the profound humility of the obedient faith of Mary, who welcomes within her even what she does not understand in God’s action, leaving it to God to open her mind and heart.”* Phew, do I struggle to understand so many things! I’m confused, I don’t have the whole picture, I just wish I knew how all the puzzle pieces will fall into place. Mary didn’t understand, yet she trusted that God would open her mind and heart to the whole story. To reveal it to her according to His plan for her good. To each one of us who doesn’t understand, here is the formula: We must leave it to God to open our minds and hearts. We must trust. Even when. Even if. Even there. Even in that place. Even in that situation. Even in that problem. Even everything. We must make an act of trust in our Lord’s presence and providence, right now, today. Say with me: Jesus, I trust in You. You are a good, good Father. And we place our trust in You. Love, Jenna O Antiphon: O King of all nations and keystone of the Church: come and save man, whom you formed from the dust! * Benedict  XVI, General Audience. Wednesday, 19 December 2012. 

Dear Sister, I walked outside of the building during free time at a weekend retreat without any plans of where to go. Should I head to the open fields? Should I go smell the roses in the garden? Should I take a nap in my room? Should I chat with the other women? I interiorly asked the Lord, Where do You want me to go? I felt prompted to head to the little chapel just down the hallway. I walked into the chapel and sat on a chair, opened up my prayer journal, and wrote the date. “Thank You for making this happen, Lord,” I wrote. Gratitude overwhelmed me at the thought of all the things that aligned just right for me to have this sweet little weekend getaway at a retreat center in California. I struggled with what to pray about next. I heard some shuffling beside me and a few minutes later, Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament was placed in a monstrance on the altar. There He was. The Lord our God, Who is in our “midst, a mighty savior” (Zephaniah 3:17). I breathed out a sigh of relief that I didn’t have to conjure up my own image of Him, but instead I could just be in His midst, I could just be in His presence. No work required here, only presence. And that’s just what I needed. Presence. Not production. He invites you into this as well, Beth. He invites you into union with Him right in His presence.  Even if there isn’t an adoration chapel nearby, I encourage you, if you’re able this week, to get to the church for prayer time in front of the tabernacle. He’s there. He’s there waiting to pour out His Presence, His love, His kindness onto you and to me.  You (and I) don’t have to travel out of state to have intimacy with the God of the universe. We can receive that gift at every Mass when we consume Him in the Eucharist, and we can sit in His Eucharistic Presence at every Catholic church all around the world. No work required, no special books or prayers needed. Just you. He wants you. He wants your presence so He can pour out His. Let Him love you, dear Sister. Let our mighty savior save you from the overwhelm of your life and from the anxieties that choke you. Hand all of that over to Him so you can breathe in His Presence, His perfect peace, His mighty power. Presence, my friend. Presence and not production. Love, Jenna

My three year old bounds onto my bed, yelling loudly, “Mom! Can I cuddle you??” an inch from my face. I smile and nod. She slips under the covers and looks up at me, “I love you, Mom. You’re my best friend.” My heart melts right into the floor, every worry flying away as I look at the pure love of my child who finds comfort in my presence. It’s a dream I hadn’t even known to dream: to be a resting place and refuge for my family. I didn’t know that God could grow me in all of the ways He has, softening my heart into a landing place for others. And yet, here I am—a tree whose branches my family and friends dwell in—a tiny reflection of God’s presence, a place of home. As I read today’s readings, I think of the times in my life I’ve felt like a withered tree, a tree who’s been insulted, abandoned, misunderstood—not by the Lord, of course—but by others. I know what it is to feel shriveled up inside and as though there isn’t much to offer, let alone be a place of refuge. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that is just the Evil One’s intentions: for us to feel withered, shriveled, unnoticed, and alone. He doesn’t want us to know the reality of the Kingdom of Heaven right here; he wants us to think we are not enough, we aren’t doing enough, we aren’t holy enough, we aren’t inspired enough, we aren’t ______ enough. But God says even the smallest of seeds, when sown in the ground (of faith), springs up and becomes the largest of plants so that others will find refuge inside. Even you, my friend, you will spring up and be a reflection of the Kingdom of Heaven, right here on earth. You will be a place of refuge. And no one can take away the mighty tree you will become. Let God sow seeds of life in your heart. Let His Word take root . . . for it’s time to bloom. [bctt tweet="It’s time to bloom. // @jennaguizar" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion  

I remember the first time I helped save a patient’s life. Okay, maybe I’m being dramatic, maybe it wasn’t their life, but I remember the first time I helped a patient who was on a ventilator greatly improve and eventually get better and better and better. There is no greater feeling than seeing someone’s life change right in front of your eyes as they heal and get better physically, knowing that you were a participant in that journey. I got to be just one tiny player in someone’s story of healing. Today on the Feast of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary, I can’t even imagine what Mary experiences. She didn’t just have a hand in the physical restoration of our bodies, she has a hand in our interior restoration and salvation. She’s not just here to save a life from pneumonia and asthma like I was as a respiratory therapist, she is here to help us get to eternal life with her Son, Jesus Christ. She birthed something beautiful, day in and day out as the Mother of Christ. She birthed the Son of God Who changed the world and continues to change it every single day. And she helped to save our lives and continues to do so by praying for us and interceding for us. So next time we may wonder about Mary’s hand in our salvation, let’s remember she’s in the business of saving more than some lungs, she’s in the business of saving lives. Mother Mary, thank you for loving us so much that you chose to say yes. I am so glad you were born. listen to today’s devotion [bctt tweet="She chose to say yes. // @jennaguizar" username="blessedisshe__"] Learn more about the Marian titles: "Mediatrix and Co-Redemptrix."

I am the rich man, having more than I could ever possibly need. What a help to the temple I am, because I have so much money, and I can give so much, I have thought proudly so many times in my life, whether it be about money, or time, or talents. I don’t have much to worry about. I am safe. I can give only a portion and still be secure, still be seen as generous. Lord, I’ve given you so much! No, I hear Him say back to me, I need you to give me your entire livelihood. I need the surplus you keep hidden away. I need the pieces you’re not willing to part with. He knows. He knows there is more to be given away. Where is my surplus? Do I offer some of myself because I have the assurance I will still be safe, secure? Wanting to stay safe, I wait for the other shoe to drop. I live on edge, anxious about when I will lose out on the Lord and His abundance. I am walking around wondering when my children will be taken from me, when my husband will be gone, when I will lose everything I’ve worked hard to create here in my little bubble of a life. This is what I am holding on to, for dear life. I refuse to give this away to the Lord. I refuse to give away my anxieties for what’s to come in life. I refuse to offer up my children and the future He has in mind for them. I refuse to give up my fear of rejection, my fear of failure, my fear of the future. I am so far from being the woman who comes to the treasury giving everything. Sitting here in my fear, I only give away my time when it’s convenient for me; I only give away my money when I think I have excess; I only give away pieces of my life while I cling tightly to the rest. I am the wealthy, giving from a surplus. We all are, in one way or another. We are all holding on to something we refuse to give away to the Lord. He says, “She, from her poverty, has offered her whole livelihood.” (Luke 21:4) Let us join her today. Give it all to Him and trust, sisters. [bctt tweet="Give it all to Him and trust, sisters." username="jennaguizar"] Which part of your livelihood are you afraid to let go of? Which anxiety are you afraid to turn to Him? Give from deep inside, sisters.

In today’s Gospel when Jesus talks about hypocrites, He is referring to the self-righteous Pharisees and Sadducees of His day. I wonder if I would have been a Pharisee back in Jesus’ time. I am not much of a rule follower, so I don’t know if I would, but I do have a deep sense and love for tradition, for routines, for ways to check off on a list that I was “good” today. Did I wash the dishes? Did I clean the house? Did I complete my tasks for my businesses? Did I do Good-Mom duties like homework and a peaceful bedtime? Check, check, check, check. Phew. I am “good.” I did the right things, I completed the right tasks. Yes, I assure myself, I am “good.” Yes, I would have been a Pharisee. Not only am I realizing that I love to check off my list of guiding principles that tell me I am “good,” but I LOVE being recognized for it. I did a great job sacrificing today by cleaning the whole house even when it wasn’t “my turn.” I deserve a pat on the back for that to-do list I just conquered for my job. I think Jesus is proud of me for doing so many good things today. This desire to be acknowledged, to be praised, to be thanked, to be seen for my hard work is insatiable. It can never be quenched. I always want more: more praise, more love, more adoring. But He calls me out. He says: “Take care not to perform righteous deeds in order that people may see them; otherwise, you will have no recompense from your heavenly Father.” (Matthew 6:1) He calls out the hypocrites like me. The hypocrite in me who closes my eyes and asks for a humble heart, while at the same time, opens one eye to see if anyone is watching. The hypocrite in me who fasts yet complains the whole time. The hypocrite in me who wants the recognition for all my small and large tasks I complete day in and day out. The hypocrite in me who swells in pride when I am recognized and admired. I am the Pharisees; I am the hypocrites; I am the one working for a pat on the back. “But when you pray, go to your inner room, close the door, and pray to your Father in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will repay you.” (Matthew 6:6) Lord, I close my eyes and ask for the humility and the love to serve you in quiet, to love on others in silence, to lay my hypocrisy down and seek not to be recognized, but to be closer and closer to you. And this time, I keep my eyes closed. [bctt tweet="The Lord calls out the hypocrites like me." username="jennaguizar"] Can you close your eyes and pray for humility today?