“For behold, some are last who will be first, and some are first who will be last.” // Luke 13:30 I don’t know when it began, but there was a time when so many of us started to look at our lives like a timeline where we hoped we could check off certain boxes by certain dates. Discerning a career. Getting a job. Then getting married and having a family. So much striving—and for good and beautiful things—but it can be exhausting. And I think a large part of that is because you can all too easily feel behind on the timeline when it doesn’t look like what you had hoped. Or when it looks differently than those of your peers.   But you’re not the only one who feels like that, and I hope that in time you’ll be able to see that God’s timeline for you is good and worth trusting and pursuing. His timeline may be confusing at times, but one of the best pieces of advice I’ve heard and like to re-share is to look at all things through the lens of eternity. Eternity has a way of sorting out what really matters and giving consolation in times of disappointment and loss.  Saint Claire of Assisi wrote something similar in one of her letters. She said, “Place your mind before the mirror of eternity! Place your soul in the brilliance of glory! Place your heart in the figure of the divine substance and through contemplation, transform your entire being into the image of the Godhead itself.” (source) Your vocation and your prayers matter so much to God. He’s using each day to bring you further into the fulfillment of His plan for you. The timeline may not easily add up, and the things you hoped may not happen at the times you would have liked, but trust in the Lord Who fed the five thousand with a few loaves of bread and fish. Trust in the Lord’s timeline, which is based on the logic of today’s Gospel, which says, “[S]ome are last who will be first, and some are first who will be last” (Luke 13:30). What matters is seeking and following Him.

Again he said, “To what shall I compare the Kingdom of God? It is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of wheat flour until the whole batch of dough was leavened.” // Luke 13:20-21 Before the start of the pandemic (this is a very important fact I would like you to remember), I decided that I wanted to start baking sourdough bread. I didn’t simply want to bake it; I wanted to develop and grow my own sourdough starter because I had read about the miraculous way simple wild yeast and bacteria in the air can become your own unique form of rising agent. It felt all at once extremely scientific but also completely magical.  It was supposed to be a simple week-long process. Unfortunately, it took me the entire summer to develop a starter that actually rose and fell like all the cookbooks and websites said it should and would actually make bread dough rise!  The most frustrating part of the process was that even though I measured the flour and water precisely, there was no human way for me to force the yeast to multiply itself in the ingredients sitting on my kitchen counter. It was a completely invisible (to my eyes) process I couldn’t control. To this day I don’t know why it finally started working, since I did the exact same steps every day all summer long. When I hear Jesus compare the Kingdom of God to the yeast a woman uses to make bread, I think of my painstaking experience trying to outwit unseen wild yeast that summer. The Kingdom of God is even more miraculous than the process of creating sourdough—a process I remain in awe of, but it is most assuredly one completely outside of our human control. It takes our human efforts and natural existence and transforms them into a supernatural process that can change the entire world. We measure and mix the flour and water of our lives and God implants the faith that makes the Kingdom grow. It’s unseen and unheard. A molecular change that we don’t control, a miracle that the natural world gives us small glimpses into.  In the quiet of your heart today, pray for God to grow and transform your faith—all He needs is your offering of yourself and the belief that He can.

When day came, he called his disciples to himself, and from them he chose Twelve, whom he also named Apostles. // Luke 6:13 When transitioning into a new school, I had high hopes about maintaining the friendships I had at my previous school. I was excited to begin a new chapter of my life—alongside them. Some time had passed and an ache in my heart began to develop as I watched my previous friends choose other people besides me, which eventually led to the parting of our ways. My heart was deeply confused. Did I do something wrong? Am I not cool enough for them? Why didn’t they choose me?  In today’s Gospel, we hear of when Jesus called His disciples: “When day came, he called his disciples to himself, and from them he chose Twelve, whom he also named Apostles” (Luke 6:13). Despite their weaknesses and unworthiness, Jesus still invited them to follow Him.  As Jesus chose the Twelve, He also chooses you. He calls you by name. You belong to Him, and He will never move on from your friendship with Him. No matter what you do, He will always desire your love and attention. It’s easy to be conflicted inside over this truth, especially when the lies of the enemy take deep root in our hearts. But Jesus calls you to Himself, to draw near to His Most Sacred Heart that burns for you.  Sister, I want to gently invite you to stay close to His Sacred Heart in prayer and throughout your day. His Heart is where you’ll discover the truth about yourself. You don’t have to “fix” yourself in order to approach His Heart. He doesn’t want another version of you. His Heart desires to embrace you exactly where you are. Allow His burning love to reveal to you that you are chosen by Him. He chooses you every day.  Jesus, we love You. Thank You for choosing us every day of our lives. Help us to bask in the warmth of Your love that burns from Your Most Sacred Heart. May we have the courage and grace to choose You every day, just as You choose us. Amen. 

"Take courage; get up, Jesus is calling you." // Mark 10:49 “Take Courage. You are not alone,” I said to each woman as we said farewell. I've been in full-time parish and Catholic non-profit ministry for over twenty-eight years and have often felt alone in the Church—as if my gifts and talents were hidden or my leadership skills should remain unseen and seldom fully used. So, suddenly, to be in a space with lay and religious women living into our giftedness and helping future generations of women live into their giftedness, I felt courageous and alive as if my heart were beating at a different rhythm.   This had been one of the most astonishing weeks for women in the Church when I attended a forum of the Given Institute. Three hundred young adult women from all over the world were brought together to recognize the gifts God gave us and respond with the gift that only we can give. I realized during this week that it takes courage to step into our gifts and use them for the Church.  That is why my heart is awakened when Jesus says, "Take courage," in today's Gospel (Mark 10:49). In scripture, Jesus says, "Take heart," or "Take courage," multiple times, to the paralytic (see Matthew 9:2) and the hemorrhaging woman (see Matthew 9:22) and to Peter when he walks on water toward Christ (see Matthew 14:27, Mark 6:50). It is a wake-up call we all need to adhere to. So take courage, dear sister. Christ is calling us to take courage, to believe that all things are possible through Him, to have hope in healing, and to do what appears impossible because, in Christ, all things are possible. Call out to Him like the blind man in today's Gospel! Reach out to Him in the crowd! Step out of the boat and share the gifts inside you that only you can give to the world. Take courage; you are not alone.

Grace was given to each of us according to the measure of Christ’s gift. // Ephesians 4:7 I peered out over the deluge of dishes that were dripping with droppings from dinner. The sun was setting into our tiny kitchen as our guests began to migrate toward the door. With full bellies and contented hearts, we said our goodbyes after our long conversation spent huddled around the table.    That night I began the task of tidying up as I always do. And as I washed the soapy suds off of each plate, I felt God calling me to do this again, to break open our little home as a small offering to others.  In today’s First Reading, we are reminded of the unique call that God has placed on each of us to use our gifts for the purpose of “building up the Body of Christ” (Ephesians 4:12).  Much of the time, we think of those gifts in big, grandiose ways—in the preaching or the teaching or the doing. But sometimes the sweetest gift we have to give others is in the being, in offering our attention in a world that has become so distracted. Sometimes it looks like turning off your phone to be more present or opening your door for friends to find refuge and conversation.  I wonder, dear sister, in what ways is God calling you to build up the Body of Christ? You may not be up on a stage preaching to thousands, but your gifts can still be used in small, quiet ways. Let us each find those tiny moments to live out His truth in love.

“I, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to live in a manner worthy of the call you have received, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another through love, striving to preserve the unity of the spirit through the bond of peace; “ // Ephesians 4:2 I’ve been pondering the different seasons of conversion God has so gently led me through over the years. From understanding God was real, but feeling that He was simply some distant being. To hearing for the first time in middle school that I could have a personal relationship with Him. To choosing to go my own way and eventually being led back by His grace in college. To consistently making prayer a priority in my early adult years. And all of the seasons that have followed since: every season has led, in some way, to this truth: I was created by Love, for Love, with intention and purpose. As are you. You were created with intention and purpose. In His mind’s eye, He sees you always and walks with you always too. You were brought forth by the Creator of all creation, and He invites you today to enter into the call for which you were created. But let us not become lofty in our thoughts or ideas pertaining to this call. Because perhaps, today, your call is lived out in the little things. While you’re at work from 9-5. While you tend to your littles underfoot. While you’re running errands or stuck in traffic. While you make the difficult phone call. While you stand again at the kitchen sink with a mountain of dishes piled high once more. While you put your phone down, look into the eyes of a stranger, and smile. While you pause what you’re doing and hug your spouse as he walks in the door. While you grab your rosary instead of that other distraction. While you run another load of wash and make another list of groceries. While you study. While you apologize. While you listen. While you slow down. While you allow yourself a moment of grace . . . Perhaps your call today is to simply love—with humility and gentleness, with patience and perseverance, with a heart filled with peace that pours forth into the world that surrounds you. Sweet Jesus, I love You. Reveal to me today the moments in which You call me to love more deeply. Give me the grace to surrender my way for Your own. Remind me to actively receive it. Take my to-dos and infuse Your love into each one. I give You permission to surprise me with Your love today too. Come be with me, Jesus. I give You my all—love me into being more like You.

For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named . . . // Ephesians 3:14-15 While I sit in the hallway of my childhood home, my parents argue behind a closed door. Why are they not getting along? I miss our time spent together, and I worry that our little family of three will soon be torn apart. Living in a home with parents divided on many things is hard on any child. Experiencing it as an only child, without a sibling to turn to and share the pain with, makes it even harder. During that time in my life, I felt lonely and isolated; my heart ached for companionship. While I could not always name it, eventually I learned that I suffered from wounds of abandonment and helplessness. Slowly, however, God showed me the reality of my adoption in Christ through Baptism. He helped me recognize myself as His daughter, who is “rooted and grounded in love” in order “to know the love of Christ” (Ephesians 3:17, 19). With confidence, I began to see myself as part of “the people he has chosen for his own inheritance” (Psalm 33:12).  I love my parents, and I am so grateful for them. I am especially grateful for their decision to bring me to the waters of Baptism, where I became a daughter of God. I cherish the good memories we shared together. As for that painful memory of me sitting in the hallway, now when I recall it, I cannot help but see Jesus sitting next to me, His arm around me, and my head resting on His shoulder. While I felt alone, I realize that I never was. The Lord was always with me, and He always will be. My dear sister in Christ, I imagine you have experienced your own sense of loneliness at some point in your life. Maybe it was years ago, but the scars still remain. Or perhaps you are in a season of loneliness right now. My prayer for you today is that you may know your true belonging, your true place in God’s family, your true part of “the design of his heart” (Psalm 33:11).

“Much will be required of the person entrusted with much, and still more will be demanded of the person entrusted with more.” // Luke 12:48 Growing up close with my younger brother, I have many fond memories of companionship and joy. However, it also brought some of my earliest memories of feeling annoyed. Adorable as my brother is, naturally, I heard the following phrase often: “He’s younger than you; he doesn’t know better yet!”  I call it my “first pet peeve”—when my brother was held to a different standard than I was. Usually it was a small thing, like how to clean up after dinner. Other times it was bigger things, like kindness and generosity.  The truth was, my brother didn’t know better yet. He was being formed by my parents, but he was little. He had room to make mistakes and learn from them as he got older, just as I had. I couldn’t just do whatever I wanted anymore and claim ignorance as the reason. I had been taught how to do my chores, how to share, and how to forgive. Unfortunately, I often did it all with a bitter heart. The same feeling finds me today as a disciple of Jesus. He has entrusted me with much; I’ve been chosen to follow Him and live in relationship with Him. That’s a very sweet thing! But honestly, I still grow weary when I look around at a world that doesn’t care about prayer and virtue, which are so hard for me. I am tempted to envy how they have it much “easier,” even though I know how much they lack without Jesus. I know how much I lack without Him. In this bittersweet tension, my need for Jesus is so clear. I do not want a resentful heart, so I need His much stronger love. I love this quote from Saint Thérèse of Lisieux about learning to love an annoying fellow Sister: “What attracted me was Jesus hidden in the depths of her soul; Jesus who makes sweet what is most bitter” (source). Pray with me: Jesus, continually pour out Your sweetness over my weaknesses. When You do, I promise to receive it. I will joyfully follow You, even when it’s hard. Your love is worth it.

[I]n him you also are being built together into a dwelling place of God in the Spirit. // Ephesians 2:22 I like to think I can do quite a few things on my own. In reality, I rely upon my family, friends, and strangers for nearly everything. I can’t even cook a meal without the farmers who grew the food, the truckers who delivered it, the electricians who wired my home . . . you get the idea. My spiritual life is no different. I can attend Mass, pray daily, offer up my sufferings, and still not create a perfect dwelling place in my life for God. I need Jesus’ help. I don’t even know what the “finished” me should look like, for “what we will be has not yet been revealed” (see 1 John 3:2); how would I even begin to build this dwelling place? Saint Paul wrote of the dwelling place as a temple (see 1 Corinthians 3:16). Another traditional image is that of a garden of the heart. I’ve prayed with garden imagery before; mine is a little messy and definitely a work in progress.  Lately I’ve imagined a deeper, almost hidden part of a garden, like the garden where Jesus was buried. In my prayer, I imagine my heart as a tomb. Let me explain. Beautiful old Italian Stations of the Cross line the walls of my parish. Every Sunday as I approach to receive the Precious Blood of Christ, the final Station—Jesus is Laid in the Tomb—captures my gaze. I can’t help but think of the depths of my heart being like the tomb in which Jesus’ battered and bloody body was laid.  Just as Jesus’ Resurrection brought new life, when He descends into the abyss of my heart (as Saint Elizabeth of the Trinity calls it), reaching further into the dark corners that need His Light, He brings new life to my soul. He recreates me into a beautiful dwelling place for God. I can’t see what Jesus is tending to in the depths of my heart, but I trust that He is nurturing new life. It’s only with Him that I can become holy and my heart can be a dwelling place for God.

“Thus it will be for the one who stores up treasure for himself but is not rich in what matters to God.” // Luke 12:21 Stores are always finding reasons for sales. Even if I try to avoid them, the consumption somehow finds me. I’m reminded in my inbox and on social media sites. Then I’m offered complete lists of favorite products categorized into family, home, kitchen, outdoor, fitness, and toys. Somehow I end up feeling a sense of urgency that maybe I’m missing something if I don't partake.  I convince myself that taking the time to look for deals is important because it will save our family some money in the long run. While there is merit to that, there is also a temptation to add more than what we actually need.  This happens in our spiritual life too. I can inundate myself with all of the abundant Catholic resources that are available via podcasts, videos, apps, online courses, books, etc. I get immersed in the video of the homily I am watching and then switch to the podcast I was listening to. My intention to pursue holiness becomes a spiritual buffet that is too much for my simplicity-desiring heart.  In today’s Gospel we see the rich man storing up his bountiful harvest (Luke 12:16-21). But Jesus shows us through His example of self-giving love on the Cross that we aren’t meant to hold on to what we have been given. Our life and everything we are blessed with are gifts to us, meant to be given back to the Father.  The world will always encourage us to store and continue adding to our carts, but excess counters the goodness of God. Overconsumption leads to a loss of self-control that distracts us from holiness. Sister, we will be bombarded with deals once again before we even sit down to enjoy our Thanksgiving meals. Will we continue to operate out of a false hunger towards worldly goods each time these sales repeat? Will we commit to more spiritual resources than we could ever read or listen to? Ask the Lord to help you practice obedience to “what matters to God” (Luke 12:21).  Let’s add items to our cart that will take us Heaven bound.

The Son of Man came to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many. // Mark 10:45 (Alleluia verse) Are you okay? There are several emails left unanswered.  My stomach lurched as I read her text and realized I had forgotten to do my part—again.  I quickly typed out an apology and then allowed the words that had been squeezing my heart to surface on my phone screen: I don’t know how much longer I can do this.  The honesty of that text was a long time coming. For nearly three years, it had been my joy to help my home parish in this particular ministry, but lately, it was becoming harder and harder to offer my gifts. More times than not, I found myself irritated and burdened by the tasks delegated to me, straining to give “timely help” to the rest of the team (see Hebrews 4:16). I knew I wasn’t showing up wholeheartedly; however, the guilt of letting others down, loyalty to my church community, and the noble words of Jesus from today’s Gospel (see Mark 10:35-45) prevented me from admitting defeat. Then I recalled what my vocation director had once said: “Whenever we give of ourselves, it has to come from a free space.”  Sister, our lives are meant to be icons of loving service in imitation of Christ, but we cannot serve from a place of forced or impoverished love. As disciples, we must be cognizant of how and where we are using our time, our talents, and our energies. We need to prayerfully discern when to detach from exterior demands in order to make room for the Lord to fill—and refill—us. We can’t do it all, my friend, but our Savior, Who sympathizes with our weaknesses (see Hebrews 4:15), will see the precious fruit in what we offer and breathe life into our smallest acts of love.     Take some time to examine your commitments today. Are they misaligned with where Jesus is desiring to make room in your heart? Ask Him to help you surrender the cluttered spaces and unnecessary yeses so that you can give more freely and humbly of yourself elsewhere—your marriage, your family, your home, and to Him.

May the eyes of your hearts be enlightened, that you may know what is the hope that belongs to his call, what are the riches of glory in his inheritance among the holy ones, and what is the surpassing greatness of his power. // Ephesians 1:18-19 I hadn’t opened that journal in nine years. It was buried away in a box, full of words with painful memories. I kept those words safely tucked away in a place where I could simply ignore them. It was just easier that way. But there was something I couldn’t quite remember. I had courage to dust off that box and to get the details straight. A flood of emotions came as I read page after page. I recalled those years of suffering when I felt so hopeless, confused, poor, and forgotten. How does Jesus see this situation? These are the words my spiritual director often asks me. In the midst of intense suffering, confusion, and weakness, it can be difficult to see the next steps. When we see our life from Jesus’ perspective, He floods our hearts with the light of truth. And here I was, nine years later, finally reading this journal. Jesus has slowly and faithfully led me to a place of deeper surrender, trust, and peace. As I read that journal, I could finally see myself with Jesus’ eyes. And He allowed me to feel immense compassion for my younger self.  My daughter, may the eyes of your heart be enlightened. Have hope. Listen to My call. Receive My riches. Radiate My glory. Know your inheritance. The greatness of My power is victorious in your life. This is the freedom Christ desires for our hearts. This is the Easter joy that comes when you experience the Passion and the Cross. This is the fullness of life in Christ.

Your friends make known, O Lord, the glorious splendor of your Kingdom. // Psalm 145:12 I was meeting with my spiritual director recently and as he always does, he opened our session with a short prayer. As I calmed my heart for prayer, he spoke, “Jesus, You are our Friend.” His prayer was so simple and profound that I continued to reflect on it for days after we had met. Jesus is our Friend. What a gift a good friend is! Years ago when I was pregnant with my son Henry, I was in the habit of meeting a few friends for lunch at a local Mexican restaurant. My normal favorite menu item became something I could no longer tolerate while pregnant. I would order it, eat it, and then feel sick for hours afterward. I remember telling my friend Susie, “Please don’t let me get this next time!” And lo and behold, a few weeks later, there we sat once again. As I started to order that same item, forgetting once again the price I would pay, I looked up to see Susie shaking her head, ever so slightly.  She had remembered! I changed my order on the spot, and this time I didn’t get sick. What a gift a good friend is.  The Alleluia acclamation today emphasizes how we are Jesus’ chosen friends:,  “I chose you from the world, to go and bear fruit that will last, says the Lord” (John 15:16). Jesus is our Savior and our Redeemer – and he is also our Friend. He guides us and loves us and supports us. He is the gentle healer, always ready to offer love and direction because He wants every good thing for us.  And He chose us, set apart from the world, to share this love with those around us, which is how we bear fruit that lasts. Jesus is our Friend! With Him at our side, we have everything we need.

In Christ we have redemption by his Blood, the forgiveness of transgressions, in accord with the riches of his grace that he lavished upon us. // Ephesians 1:7 It had been a long, noisy week. Our family of nine had been crammed into an 1100-square-foot apartment during a big time of transition, and I had spent days trying to remain calm while soothing bruised emotions, breaking up fights, and cooking in a too-small kitchen. I decided to go to church for a little breather. The smell of incense, the cool pew, and the quiet rhythm of liturgy began to restore my heart, mind, and soul to order. I stayed for Adoration afterward, feeling my deep need for silence and communion with Jesus. After journaling for a while, pouring out my heart to Him, I turned to listen. I felt Him say, firmly but gently, My daughter, when will you obey? No, Jesus, I said. Let’s talk about something else. That persistent, habitual sin that I’m just not ready to let go of yet? I’d rather not discuss it. But He wouldn’t leave me alone. I heard my own voice—spoken daily to my children—echoing in my head: Delayed obedience is disobedience. I went to Confession that day. It wasn’t the last time I confessed that particular sin, but in that moment, I surrendered. The Christian life is a series of conversions, some large, some small. It is a calling, every day, to allow ourselves to be changed by encounter with the One Who made us, Jesus Christ Himself. Each time we turn, we become more like Him. Where is our loving Father calling you to return to Him today? Remember that He is waiting, watching for you to return. He will run to meet you as soon as He sees you coming.

He is like a tree planted near running water, That yields its fruit in due season, and whose leaves never fade. // Psalm 1:3 Zipping up my jacket, I step out the back door in my gardening shoes. I have my kitchen shears in one hand and a large bowl in another. It is late October in Minnesota and the first frost will be here soon. The tops of our carrots jut out of the ground—I pull them one by one by the base of their leafy greens. We love carrot cake made from our fresh garden carrots. My husband is picking the remnants of the green cherry tomatoes. If we have time, we will pickle them in jars. Our garden is finished yielding its fruit this year—that which it offers us in due season if we take the time to plant, weed, and water. Yet sometimes the work of the harvest is the hardest part of bearing the fruits. Saint Paul in the First Reading contrasts the “works of the flesh” with the “fruit of the Spirit” (Galatians 5:18-25). At our Baptisms we were planted near the running water of the Spirit, but we have to intentionally sink our roots into the river bed and drink. It takes regular weeding to clear away the works of the flesh in our own lives so that we can bear the fruit of the Spirit. We must “crucify our flesh,” or to use the gardening analogy, let ourselves be pruned in our sufferings. These sufferings may be great or small, voluntary mortifications or trials offered to us by life.  Sometimes as we tend to our spiritual lives, we strive so hard to follow the law, that we lose the fruit of living in the Spirit. We get so focused on the tending, like the Pharisees in today’s Gospel (see Luke 11:42-46), that we let the most precious fruits of “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control” slip through our fingers. Sister, what are the fruits you want to see in your life? Are your roots reaching towards the Spirit? Where do you need to let the Lord in to tend the garden of your heart? Ask Him to help you experience the fruits of your life in Him.

For freedom Christ set us free; so stand firm and do not submit again to the yoke of slavery. // Galatians 5:1 Every day was laborious, tiresome, and altogether just dry. It seemed as if I had been wandering in the desert for weeks, months, even years. Many days it felt as if I was trying to push an eighteen wheeler with a toothpick. Despite many attempts at solving the problems at hand, the weight of it all got heavier and heavier. Where was this abundant life that had been promised? Where was this freedom I have preached about time and time again? What about the easy yoke? What am I doing wrong? I kept asking myself.  As I sat in a chapel after another exhausting day, I asked the Lord that same question: What am I doing wrong, Jesus? His answer floored me as He responded by giving me a mental image. There I was under the yoke with Him, but trying to go at a way faster pace than His. I was choking. My yoke, My speed, He said to me. I knew what He meant. I needed to seriously slow down. Through my busyness and my good desire to serve in His Kingdom, I had taken my eyes off of Him and lost the pace and speed that He wanted for me. I had not heeded Christ’s offering of freedom, as Saint Paul talks about in today’s First Reading (Galatians 5:1), and I became a slave to my own timing and to my own pace.  Sister, even our good desires to serve the Lord can put us under a yoke of slavery when we don’t discern His will for us. If you are feeling burned out or tired, ask Him to show you where in the yoke you are with Him. Are you trying to head in the opposite direction? Are you going in the right way but perhaps too quickly? Are you digging your heels to not go forward? He wants your freedom. He knows the pace and the direction you need. Will you let Him show you what that looks like today?

“There is something greater than Jonah here.” // Luke 11:32 I’m considering deleting social media.  As I discern, I find myself wrestling with pros and cons, yearning for a clear-cut answer in prayer. But I know from past experience that clarity does not come in an instant, and God’s voice doesn’t arrive in a booming manner, but rather in a still, small voice.  And so, I will continue to pray about it.  Social media can be a powerful tool to bring people together, yet at the same time, I have seen too often its ability to rip us apart. And that is just what the enemy wants. Division, hatred, dehumanization. You don’t have to look hard to find it, and it can come from accounts and people you least expect.  As I read today’s Gospel and heard Jesus declare, “This generation is an evil generation” (Luke 11:29) my heart jumped to the hatred I see online, swelling like a balloon, expanding closer to the breaking point, and my shoulders clenched, waiting for the inevitable pop!  But as the reading continued, my heart softened, and my body relaxed. Jesus condemns the sin of those gathered, urging repentance and a return to God. But at the same time, He reminds them of His presence. “There is something greater than Solomon here [. . .] There is something greater than Jonah here” (Luke 11:31-32). Solomon and Jonah did great deeds for God, but they were not God. How much more magnificence, then, can Christ bring to our world? I don’t know what exactly God is calling me to do with my social media. What I do know is that Jesus is Lord, and He is here. And if I set my focus on that apart from the turmoil I see online, my heart will soften, and my body will relax. Christ is present with us today. Take some time today to notice Him. Go to His Real Presence in the Blessed Sacrament. Open your Bible. Look for the imago Dei in another. Admire the beauty of creation. (And maybe consider taking some time off of social media.)