St. Gianna Beretta Molla is my homegirl. As a woman quickly approaching her late 20s who is Catholic, called to marriage, and gasp! still single, I find the fact that she met her husband later in life and married him at the ripe “old” age of 33 oddly comforting. And she was days away from 34. In 1955! She was probably harassed by well-intentioned family and friends much sooner and more persistently than I have been! But St. Gianna is my homegirl not for fact that she married older. Saints are forged in trial, and her faithful persistence made her a saint. Whenever God presented her a trial, she answered, “Whatever God wants.” Gianna Beretta was born in late 1922, the tenth of thirteen children. Only nine survived to adulthood. With any suffering, especially the death of a loved one, it is easy to blame God and turn away from Him. Like many health care providers I know, deaths early in life tend to drive our passion to heal others. A cousin dying of leukemia most poignantly remains a primary reason I became a nurse, and I bet her siblings’ deaths were part of Gianna’s motivation to become a doctor. Surely, Gianna suffered when her siblings died so young. Yet Gianna answered, “Whatever God wants.” After graduating medical school, Gianna wanted to join her brother Alberto in Brazil. A missionary priest, he established a hospital, and Gianna greatly desired to assist the women with her gynecology background. But Gianna’s chronic health issues kept her home in Italy. Struggling with my own diagnosis of a chronic gynecologic health issue, I have wept bitterly for the children I might not be able to have. Surely, Gianna wept as well over the loss of her missionary life abroad. Yet, when Gianna could not join Alberto in Brazil, she answered, “Whatever God wants.” Gianna established a clinic in Mesero, outside of Milan. She viewed her work as a physician to the mothers, babies, elderly, and poor she served to be her own “mission.” She considered religious life but felt called to marriage. Instead of fixating on her vocational state, Gianna worked diligently, caring for her patients as the Divine Physician cares for His children. I work hard to view my job as an ER nurse as God’s mission for me, but sometimes I believe that lie that my life has no purpose until I fulfill my vocation to marriage. Surely, Gianna must have ached to fulfill her vocation to marriage. Yet, she poured herself into her mission as a doctor and also served in Catholic Action and other organizations. In her enduring single state, Gianna answered, “Whatever God wants.” Gianna met her future husband Pietro Molla late 1954, and they married in September 1955. They quickly had three children: Pierluigi in 1956, Mariolina in 1957, and Laura in 1959. Helping my sister and brother-in-law take care of their two boys who are less than two years apart, I am sometimes frightened to be so open to life! Surely, Gianna must have been overwhelmed at the many changes in her life. Yet, she was a very happy wife and mother. In her family life, Gianna answered, “Whatever God wants.” After her third child, Gianna suffered two miscarriages and was pregnant once again in 1961. In the second month of her pregnancy, her doctors found a fibroma on her uterus that needed to be removed. Her doctors offered her an abortion and fibroma removal that would ensure her ability to become pregnant again, a hysterectomy, and removing only the fibroma. According to the principle of double effect and Catholic teaching, Gianna could have licitly select for her doctors to remove her uterus which included the fibroma and her unborn child. But Gianna elect for only the fibroma removal, saying her child’s life was more important that her own. When wrestling with ethical issues at work or moral issues in my personal life, I often look for the easiest solution. Surely, Gianna with her background in gynecology knew the risks of carrying her child to term. Yet, Gianna answered, “Whatever God wants.” Gianna was able to carry her daughter to term and gave birth to her via C-section on Holy Saturday, 1962. Gianna Emanuela was born healthy, but Gianna continued to have severe pain after the surgery. She developed an infection in her abdomen and died seven days after giving birth at age 39. Surely, Gianna gave her life for her child, modeling how Christ died for His children. In the last moments of her life, Gianna answered, “Whatever God wants.” St. Gianna was canonized in May, 2004, with her 91-year-old husband Pietro and children present. Gianna Emanuela is now a doctor herself, specializing in the care of the elderly As God allows various trials in my life, I tend to answer, “But this isn’t what I want.” Yet, St. Gianna and her example is teaching me to say, “Whatever God wants.” Through her intersession, I am teaching to embrace each trial, each difficulty, each cross with confident love, saying with imperfect trust, “Whatever You want, God.” [bctt tweet="Whatever You want, God."] Marissa is a registered nurse in her mid-twenties who works in a busy Emergency Department in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. She is a cradle Catholic who marvels at how the Good Lord has been cradling her throughout her life.

Good Friday…the day that started it all…our salvation and our great hope that one day we will be with Christ again in Heaven. How odd is it that every Good Friday I can remember has been a gloomy day? Today, the fog prevents me from seeing past our front gate, and mist drizzles in the air, reminding me that today, Jesus died for us. As the soldiers beat him and jeered, he never conceded to their demands. He never renounced His Father or relieved Himself of His suffering (something he could have easily done, being God). Instead, he prayed. He prayed for them…for those who were taking his very life. In essence, He prayed for us…we are the Roman soldiers; we are Judas; we are the very ones who nailed him to the cross. As we are called to fast and abstain from meat this last Friday of Lent, we cannot help but be reminded (as each hunger pain hits) of the ultimate sacrifice made this day so many years ago…for us. Did we deserve it? No. Do we ever? No. But, thank God for His mercy, for His grace offers us another chance at eternity with Him, every time we fail. And, now, as a mom, I have a tiny bit better understanding of Mary’s perspective. She watched in horror as others humiliated her Son, as they ripped into His skin with every whip, as the blood poured from His brow when they mockingly placed a crown of thorns on His head. She knew that this was the purpose of His life, yet it did not take away the pain…the greatest pain as a parent…losing a child. Helpless, she had to trust in God’s plan. Looking to Mary and Jesus today I am reminded of God’s incredible work in our lives. Sure, there are times when it feels as if He isn’t there. Times when we do not understand our suffering. Times when the world gets us down and our thoughts quickly turn to what others may think. If we are true to ourselves, those are not the times when God is far away. He never is. Those are the times in which He is strengthening our resolve…allowing us doubt, questioning, and suffering to share in the cross of Christ. And when we are at our worst, He gently reminds us of those who have come before, leaving an example for every generation…Mary and Jesus. Having been “one of those weeks,” I can easily get bogged down in my own “pain.” Never, though, does my pain entail watching my son suffer and die, as Mary did. Never do I have to physically carry a cross and be nailed to it in order to save someone else’s life. My pain is almost comical comparatively. However, when I pull myself from my worry and anxiety, I can clearly see what this Good Friday is all about…a love that is anything but selfish, a total commitment to God, and a humble acceptance of His will for our lives. Mary and Jesus knew that their ways were not of the world and that the world would not understand; they knew His will would come at great cost; they knew that suffering would rip them apart. However, they also knew that to choose anything less than His total will for their lives would cost more. Good Friday is not good in the sense of a happy, giddy celebration. It is Good because it has forever changed the world, reminding us that unconditional love doesn’t stop with wishing others well and offering an indifferent smile as we pass them by. It is Good because it reminds us that the Good is often painful; that God’s will for our lives demands that we love until it hurts; that in order to spend eternity with Him, we often have to deny ourselves a “Good” life in the eyes of society. Good Friday is not the end. It is the beginning. Will I look to the sufferings of this world and wallow in self-pity? Or, will I look past my self long enough to see Mary and her complete acceptance of a life of suffering? Will I allow the ideas of the world to shape my own, hoping that I fit into the mold? Or will I look to the King of the World, breathing His last breath on the cross, not trying to convince the crowd of His royalty, but instead praying for those who persecuted him while so fervently living God’s call. He gave everything so that we might have life. Good Friday reminds me that my very life must be completely His. Feel the Nails They tell me Jesus died For my transgressions That he paid that price a long, long time ago When he gave his life for me On a hill called Calvary But there’s something else I want to know Chorus Does he still feel the nails Every time I fail Can he hear the crowd cry “Crucify” again Am I causing him pain Then I know I’ve got to change I just can’t bear the thought of hurting him. 2nd verse It seems that I’m so good at breaking promises And I treat his precious grace so carelessly But each time he forgives What if he re-lives The agony He felt on that tree Chorus 1x Holy, holy Holy is the Lord Holy Holy Holy is the Lord Do you still feel the nails Every time I fail Have I crucified you Jesus with my sins Oh I’m tired of playing games I really want to change I never want to hurt you again Holy, Holy Holy is the Lord Holy, Holy Holy is the Lord [bctt tweet="He gave everything so that we might have life."] Britt is a momma to four and a wife to one, raising cattle on the grasslands of New Mexico. photo credit This post originally appeared on The Fisk Files and was also posted on Good Friday 2015.

He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, "Master, are you going to wash my feet?" Jesus answered and said to him, "What I am doing, you do not understand now, but you will understand later." John 13:6-7 What I am doing now, you do not understand now, but you will understand later... The cross - suffering - is not something I understand in my life right now. To be honest, sometimes I hate it. It's scary and uncertain. I ask questions and wrestle with God. I beg, plead, and cry, wondering what possible good can come from deep pain and suffering. It feels lonely and dark. It is so easy to ask, "What's the point? What could possibly come from this in my life?" And yet, what is most painful and awful in life is what saves us - suffering. Jesus didn't redeem us by his miracles or teachings but by his suffering. And in doing this, He has radically transformed all my sufferings. They have a place to go: on the cross. In my broken humanity, I see the answer as I look at Jesus. The answer? To actively unite whatever my suffering to the cross, even if I never understand or see the fruit from it in this life. What can possibly come from my sufferings? A chance to participate with Him in the salvation of the human race. At a glance, that can sound like an overly romantic, fuzzy idea, but it certainly doesn't feel warm and fuzzy as you walk through it. But the challenge is to hold on, persevere, and believe that the most painful moments in life have a great, mysterious purpose. I have been devouring a new book over the past two evenings, and it has been an insightful read on so many levels. God's way out of the mess sometimes leads us further into the mess. He draws us in deeper, because He wants to take us deeper. Suffering brings repentance, and the greatest lessons in life often do come in the hardest of ways. Tonight, Christians around the world will enter the three most sacred days of the liturgical year, the Triduum. We enter Jesus's most active moments of His life, when He was hanging there. And in the darkest, most difficult moments in life, that is when we are most alive, most active; when uniting it to Jesus hanging there on Calvary. What God is allowing in life now, I do not understand... but someday I will. I'm just trusting in Your promise, all will be used for Your purposes and plans. [bctt tweet="What God is allowing in life now, I do not understand... but someday I will."] Patty is a runner, big dreamer, writer, and youth minister ordinaire. She loves all things John Wayne, a tasty mimosa, and is learning to find grace in all things. This post originally appeared on A Modern Grace.

Once upon a time, I planned ahead and decorated so nicely for changes in seasons. Now, it feels more like a scramble, but even now as we are in Holy Week, you and I can still create a liturgically-themed space in our homes. Yes, even you who swears she does not have a crafty bone in her body. First, remember that our focus is on the sacrifice of Christ and his Resurrection. Second, Martha Stewart we are not. With that cleared up, I start with a prayer space. The idea is for Holy Week to be simple, meaningful, and prayerful. It is a perfect week to focus on the Gospel stories, the Old Testament history and lamentations, and quiet, personal prayer. This is why a special prayer space is meaningful and my first priority over other things. We have a little table my husband built, and it placed it in our family room with our couches. This is where we gather every night as a family to pray, and it is my starting and focal point for decorating. You can be as elaborate or simple as you want! The basics: a crucifix. Simple as that. Extras: statues, candles, cloths, other holy images. What I have is gathered from around the house. This morning I grabbed a red piece of fabric from my quilting stash. See how simple? I didn't even iron it, because I'm lazy and last-minute. Ironing would nicer. If you have time to swing by a craft store (not Michael's, since they don't carry fabric), you can purchase a fat quarter of fabric for your table. They look like this at JoAnn's. Buy a few! White for Holy Thursday and Easter, red for Good Friday, and plan ahead for ordinary time and get green, if you like. You do not have to sew anything. Take it up a notch and sew the edges if you want a more finished look (and if you have time). We are still using purple votives this week. It will be so beautiful to bring out a white pillar for Easter! I am going to use a jar scented candle, because I already have it, and wrap it in burlap and lace. For Holy Week, our palms adorn the table. On Good Friday, all we will have out will be the red cloth, a rustic (hand-tied) cross made from branches from the yard, and the crucifix on the wall. I set out this children's Way of the Cross for us to read and pray with each day, especially on Good Friday. For Easter, the red table cloth is replaced by white, the purple votives disappear, and flowers grace my table. Fresh or silk or paper, it does not matter! Adding the color and sign of life makes the table so joyful! I also plan on painting "alleluia" onto this paper banner I grabbed from the clearance section at Target. It will hang across our mantle. Now you've gathered a few ideas for a Holy Week prayer space...what next? The Triduum. Oh, how I love the Triduum. It's been years since I was able to celebrate from Holy Thursday all the way through the Easter Vigil (the vigil is just so hard on my kids!)...but I do bring the family to Veneration of the Cross on Good Friday. This year, we are going to also celebrate the Holy Thursday Mass! My son will be in the children's choir, and since he also makes his First Communion this year, I think it will be a very special time. Truly, the best way to live this week is in prayer and celebrating the liturgy at church! Whatever else you choose to do, do it because it helps you enter more deeply into your devotion to our Risen Jesus, and not because any blogger or Pinterest pin made you feel like you had to. One year, I went all-out with a themed meal for Holy Thursday...but now, I skip it. I literally do not have time for all the things. Instead, I choose to focus on the story, the prayers, and the liturgy with my family. We do enjoy baking hot cross buns together on Good Friday. Beyond that, our time is spent decorating eggs, baking for Easter (if I'm hosting), and enjoying each others company. One neat recipe that seems simple--and I've always wanted to give it a try--is for Easter Story Cookies. These come with a story to tell with your children as you prepare and bake, for another way to teach and help them appreciate what Jesus did for us. Other resources and ideas: Downloadable and printable Holy Week prayer Fr. Mike Schmitz on how to pray through Holy Week For recipes, Catholic Cuisine always has great ideas

As I sit here tonight thinking over the past few weeks of Lent, it's the first time I've ever wondered where it went. When Easter is so early in the year, it seems that Lent passes very quickly. It's hard for me to believe that my little ones were doing everything in their power to suppress the urge to have a fencing battle right in the middle of the consecration this morning during Mass when it feels as if they were dodging Father with the ashes just yesterday. As I do every year, I began this Lent thinking I would do it all differently. I wouldn't care if I didn't lose any weight from my fasting (because I would remind myself that wasn't the point). I wouldn't be so set on fixing all of me with twelve different things I needed to work on this year... instead I would choose one and really focus, not giving up under the weight of being overwhelmed. I wouldn't get so caught up in it all that my end focus would be me, me, me instead of Him, Him, Him as it had typically ended in the past. But, you now what? I sit here tonight three pounds heavier even after giving up sugar, breakfast and fasting on Fridays. What started with a deeper commitment to prayer ended up as reciting two prayers every morning, reading a devotion to His Diving Mercy, a parenting book, a daily devotional and my Bible. My desire to think about others more and offer my days for their intentions became a complete focus on myself, how I was failing and a reversion back into the world of social media when I teetered with giving that up as well. I failed, again. But, He didn't. See, after thirty-four years you would think that I might see the results of this year after year and finally do something different. But, I'm stubborn. And, I don't always learn. This year, however, I think I have. I'm heavier. I'm no more patient. I'm no less selfish. I'm no more well-read. And, I still need a world of help in the area of prayer. But, there is one thing I finally am...aware. God didn't necessarily want the extra food I didn't eat. He didn't care that I wanted to become a prayer expert by today when I wasn't even that great of a beginner forty days ago. And, I don't really think He was too impressed with my failed attempt to limit my social media presence. Instead, I think He just might have a smirk on His face as he shakes His head wondering what took me so long to truly admit that I. Need. Him. Truly, I have never doubted it. I've always known that I would be nowhere without Him. What I haven't let myself fully admit is that He doesn't need me. He doesn't need my attempts to control everything. He doesn't need my busyness that I like to call productivity. He doesn't need my sacrifices that I give with the ulterior motive of shedding the final pounds of baby weight. What He needs is for me to let him have everything...my heart and my soul for His will. So, this week, I will make sacrifices, but finally (with much grace and prayer) they won't be for me. I will shut it off in order to focus on the Passion of His only Son. I will let it all go, offering what I can in hopes of growing closer to Him, and doing that alone. Because, I do believe that our sacrifices matter. I know we can unite our suffering to His. And, I think He rewards our attempts to belong ever more to Him, even if we fail as often as we succeed. I will retreat from the world and what I convince myself to be important to focus on what truly is... my vocation as a wife, mother and daughter of His. Then, and only then, will I be able to see this week for what it is...an offering of a parent's child, one who knew no sin...His life for ours...lives saturated with stain upon stain of sin. This Holy Week, this way of the Cross, can serve to open our eyes and hearts to His unending mercy if we let it. He allowed the death of his only Son, his innocent Son, for our guilt. He allowed the mocking, the torture, and the nails to pierce His hands and feet as a crown of thorns sent blood running down his face for one thing...our salvation. He did it out of love for us. Let what you do this week be out of love for Him. For it is all that matters. [bctt tweet="He did it out of love for us. Let what you do this week be out of love for Him."] Britt is a momma to four and a wife to one, raising cattle on the grasslands of New Mexico. This post originally appeared on The Fisk Files.

We offer a place to come together as a community and document how this Lent is going. Every week, we will open up a link-up for your blog posts, your instagram posts, your thoughts to share with each other as sisters. We will offer a prompt that goes with our On the Way: Lenten Workbook in these to get your mind thinking. This is an open link-up to your progress in faith and your personal prayer life this Lent, so this is YOURS to be creative with in terms of your blog posts or instagram posts. Pray on this: There’s something about Holy Thursday that completely saturates my heart with pangs of sorrow, and I concede to it. I concede to it with bulky tears in my eyes and an ache in my heart . . . each and every year. It’s the palpable realization of the darkness that is to come that does me in. So, just like the women on the side of the road, I weep for the light. It is quite beautiful, really. Because it is not the light we should be weeping for—it’s the darkness. For darkness begets more darkness, and only light will penetrate it. So, dear sisters, may we weep for those stuck in the darkness of their sins, and may we weep for the sins we, ourselves, harbor. May we pray and trust and reach . . . for light, for hope, for Him. written by Brittany Calavitta Or contemplate this verse this week: Look to him and be radiant, and your faces may not blush for shame. Psalm 34:6 How is your Lent going, sister? Share with us below. [bctt tweet="Linking up with @blessedisshe__ for the Lenten season. #BISLent"] photo credit An InLinkz Link-up

Jesus does not seek only to satisfy us; He wants to fill us to overflowing. He wants His Fullness, the company of the Holy Trinity, to dwell in you. This is why we can “come with joy into the Lord’s presence,” as the Psalms say. The road has been paved by His Blood, His invitations have been sent, and now, the pilgrims, the bride, must make her way towards her bridegroom. Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati was a man who particularly embodied this joy in participating in the fullness of God's invitation, walking his road with full conviction of his identity as “bride,” a pilgrim guided by the joyful promise of the wedding feast. One of my favorite quotes from him speaks to this truth: "The end for which we are created invites us to walk a road that is surely sown with a lot of thorns, but it is not sad; through even the sorrow, it is illuminated by joy." Frassati would have definitely been part of the Christ-followers that ticked off the Pharisees who asked Jesus why his disciples eat and drink and make merry all the time. (They were jealous! And bored! ...probably.) Jesus, speaking as the Bridegroom, basically says, “I am the life of the party. And when I go, the party goes with me” (My own rough translation). In other words, where Jesus is, the life of the party is also, and Frassati was definitely the life of every party he went to, and whomever he was partying with. He knew the joys of life as well as the sorrows of life because he was living in the fullness of Christ, where even sorrows are “illuminated by joy,” the joy of the ultimate party: the heavenly wedding feast of Christ and the Church, the bridegroom and the bride. The summit of the wedding feast, the Divine Marriage of God and His Church, calls for change out of the bride and the bridegroom, and this change was initiated by Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection. Now, we must accept His change by allowing Him to change us. Bl. Pier Giorgio, please pray for the Holy Spirit to inspire uncompromising attitudes within us towards the new life of Christ. We pray that your life, illuminated by joy, would inspire our faith in the way God works through hungry, eager hearts. Jesus, we are all your Bride. Help us prepare our hearts for the newness of each moment. And may we be grateful. [bctt tweet="Jesus, we are all your Bride. Help us prepare our hearts for the newness of each moment."] photo credit Alyssa I. Pintar Breen is a wife, a daughter, and a student of the Holy Spirit firstly, but also, a doctoral student of developmental psychology at NYU. She blogs weekly at forthechurchmilitant.wordpress.com.

Every week, we will open up a link-up for your blog posts, your instagram posts, your thoughts to share with each other as sisters. We will offer a prompt that goes with our On the Way: Lenten Workbook in these to get your mind thinking. This is an open link-up to your progress in faith and your personal prayer life this Lent, so this is YOURS to be creative with in terms of your blog posts or instagram posts. Contemplate Imagine the women who are suffering directly from the darkness that our world is in today. Maybe the women suffering form the violence in the Middle East, maybe the women who stand on the street corners are night, maybe the women who desperately search each day for enough food for their children. Connect yourself with them. You see, we are not alone in this. This week, lift up your sacrifices for all the women suffering from the darkness of the world. When something seems difficult, make it a prayer for them. Lord, make me a woman of the Light. Or contemplate this verse this week: Bless the LORD, my soul; all my being, bless his holy name! Psalm 103:1 [bctt tweet="Linking up with @blessedisshe__ for the Lenten season. #BISLent"] photo credit An InLinkz Link-up

On this second Sunday of Lent, we want to offer a place to come together as a community and document how this Lent is going. Every week, we will open up a link-up for your blog posts, your instagram posts, your thoughts to share with each other as sisters. We will offer a prompt that goes with our On the Way: Lenten Workbook in these to get your mind thinking. This is an open link-up to your progress in faith and your personal prayer life this Lent, so this is YOURS to be creative with in terms of your blog posts or instagram posts. Week 2 This week stay attentive to the manner in which you go about your day in passing other people. Instead of looking at your phone at the grocery store check out, look at the woman who is ringing up your items. Look into her eyes when you speak, smile, and engage with her. She is Christ. Look at your husband's face, your roommate's face, your friend's face when they walk in the door after work rather than muttering hello as you continue your task at hand. See his expression and inquire about his day. He is Christ. Oh Lord, open our eyes to see you in the other as Veronica saw you. Or contemplate this verse this week: The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom should I fear? The LORD is my life’s refuge; of whom should I be afraid? Psalm 27:1 [bctt tweet="Linking up with @blessedisshe__ for the Lenten season. #BISLent"] photo credit An InLinkz Link-up

On this first Sunday of Lent, we want to offer a place to come together as a community and document how this Lent is going. Every week, we will open up a link-up for your blog posts, your instagram posts, your thoughts to share with each other as sisters. We will offer a prompt that goes with our On the Way: Lenten Workbook in these to get your mind thinking. This is an open link-up to your progress in faith and your personal prayer life this Lent, so this is YOURS to be creative with in terms of your blog posts or instagram posts. Week 1 Find a place you choose to spend with Jesus this Lenten season. Whether it be your bed, your kitchen table, your outside patio. This it the place I devote to you, my God. This is the place I dive on the way with you. This is the place I will physically go to for prayer. This is where my hypocrisy ends, and my journey with the cross begins. Where is your designated prayer space? Why did you pick that space? Or contemplate this verse this week: You who dwell in the shelter of the Most High, who abide in the shade of the Almighty, say to the LORD, "My refuge and fortress, my God in whom I trust." Psalm 91:1-2 [bctt tweet="Linking up with @blessedisshe__ for the Lenten season. #BISLent"] photo credit An InLinkz Link-up

Molly said it so well in today's devotion, so it's hard to reiterate any more than what she said, other than to be able to share with you some of the testimonies that have come from women who have incredibly beautiful things to say about this ministry, this community, and their relationship with God. Take it away, sisters. I LOVE being a part of Blessed is She. The readings and life-piercing reflections fill me up on the daily! -- Hannah --- I stumbled upon Blessed is She several months ago on a friend's Facebook page and was intrigued by the daily devotion pictures. Eventually, after browsing your website rather frequently, I signed up for the daily devotion email, and I can say with my entire being that I am exponentially thankful for the way our Lord is working through you ladies. It seems as if every single day the devotion is written specifically for me, straight from the Father to my heart... I pray that you will continue to share the beauty of the Gospel and the perfect love our Father has for us, His daughters. -- Ashley --- I just wanted to say thank you for starting this community! It is such a unique setup and I love the idea of it! I really really love the daily readings and reflections that are sent out, as it is hard to set aside time to reflect and think and having them sent to email is wonderful. Thank you!! Know of my prayers for you and the whole community. -- Michaela --- Attending the Blessed Brunch was a true joy. It was a morning filled with engaging conversations, infectious laughter, delicious food, and of course, wonderful, faith-filled women. Some of us came from near, others from far, but we all shared a common Catholic identity, which created an immediate sense of connection and community among us. I am so grateful to have met these other Blessed Is She sisters in person, and I would encourage everyone who is able to attend a Blessed Brunch near them. -- Ashley --- We had a very special day celebrating the baptism of my children! BIS has helped me grow in faith and I can honestly say this wouldn't have happened if it wasn't in my life the past few months. Very thankful. -- Anne Now we want to hear what you have to say. Write up your own post, Instagram picture, Facebook post, tweet, whatever is your favorite method of social communication, about this community, what it is to you, and your thoughts on it, and link it up by clicking "Add your link" below. Let's share our hearts with each other about Blessed is She. An InLinkz Link-up --- And now for something SUPER FUN. We have insanely talented writers and women in this community. They've come together to offer you the most beautiful and incredible prize package to one kind reader. Let me tell you all that you'll receive when YOU win: Beautiful embroidery hoop jewelry from Call Her Happy // writer Jenna Hines Gratitude Notepad from Be a Heart // creative manager Erica Tighe Blessed is She Print from With Joy Calligraphy // writer Elise Howe Woven Wall Hanging from Kent Heartstrings // writer Cassie Kent A $50 Credit to Whole Parenting Goods // Chief Content Editor + writer Nell O'Leary Two Blessed is She I Found Him Journals Enter to win below. a Rafflecopter giveaway

Converts to Catholicism have the reputation of being full of fire for God's Church. I am really no exception. I came to the faith in my late 20's after losing a baby through miscarriage. I was drawn to the Church both intellectually and emotionally. I was drawn intellectually because the Church takes a stand for the unborn. Unequivocally, it teaches that the life I was carrying was a real baby, not anything else. I was drawn emotionally because the Church validated my grief, and it had mechanisms to help me though that grief process. But underneath the emotions and the cognitions, there was something much richer that was calling to me. I was pulled by the Holy Spirit to come deeper into communion with Him. The relationship that started at my Baptism took on new meaning when I was in my darkest hour, as God wrapped me in His grace and pulled me into His church. I had been raised Christian, by two very Christian parents in a very Christian household. I was baptized as a baby by our Presbyterian pastor. We prayed before dinner every night and attended church every Sunday. From the third grade on, we attended a Congregational church. We did Sunday school, church camp and youth group. My mom and I sang in the choir, and my parents were active with stewardship, diaconate, and trustee boards. I loved getting dressed up for church each Sunday. When the weather was nice we would ride our bikes to church. As I got older, I increased my involvement. I directed the children's Christmas program one year. I took organ lessons and substituted once (it didn't go well). I got a job as the church secretary in graduate school and served on the search committee for a new pastor when our old pastor retired. I loved our the little traditions, like having church outside once a year. Rather than a normal service, it was a trivia day and I loved seeing how much these old people knew about the Bible! The church was more than a church -- it was a community. When I married a Catholic, many people thought he would start attending church with me and my family. The distance (and his proclivity to golf when he could on Sunday mornings) didn't make that realistic. We would go to Mass with his family or service with mine -- whatever fit with our schedules. We were mostly social Christians. In college, I didn't have much of a church life. I still saw my home church as 'my church', but I went to school in another state. I had a really rough patch that first year in college and I did a little church shopping. For the first time in my life, I attended a Catholic Mass. It was friendly, but not in the same way. There was no fellowship hour after service and considering the fact that it was across the street from a college, I was shocked by the lack of young folks at Mass. I was confused not knowing when to stand or sit or shake hands. Everyone seemed to know what to do but me. And yet, I felt a pull during the worship. It was the complete opposite of my home church. Here, it was all about the Mass and not about the people. I told myself that the draw I felt was in the depth of the tradition, the incense, the prayers. Knowing the worship had its roots in 2000 years of Church history was comforting to me. Summer came and I was happy to come home, get straightened up, and start dating my future husband. Fast forward about 10 years, and again, I was pulled to the Catholic Church. I wasn't Catholic. Oh, no. We just went to the Catholic church because it had the best sermons (I didn't call them homilies back then), a good selection of Mass times, it was close by, and my husband was Catholic. St. Matthew's was just our temporary church while we were out of state for my husband's work. And, then, the unthinkable happened. We lost a baby to miscarriage. Our little Lily. And for the second time in my life, I found myself in the darkness. I was lost and my husband brought me to our priest. I had shaken this man's hands after Mass. I had listened to his homilies. That was about all. I told him I wasn't Catholic, but he didn't care. We told him our story--Lily's story--and he listened. I cried, of course. Then, he asked me: "How do you feel right now?" My answer: "Like I am wrapped up in a warm blanket." The Holy Spirit was there, holding me, protecting me. I felt His presence. [bctt tweet="The Holy Spirit was there, holding me, protecting me. I felt His presence."] Why had I never before recognized that presence? In all my years of church attendance and worship and service, I had searched for that feeling, that comfort. It was what home should feel like. It was like my mom's hugs. It was like magic. No. It was the Holy Spirit welcoming me home. It was God's presence, in persona Christi. [bctt tweet="It was the Holy Spirit welcoming me home. It was God's presence, in persona Christi."] So I did what every nerd does, I started researching the Church. I stopped taking the Eucharist during Mass (yeah, I know I shouldn't have been taking it ever but I didn't really understand that), and started longing for it instead. Through Baptism, the Holy Spirit ignites a flame within each of us and that flame can be just a flicker or a raging fire. Sometime it is bright, sometimes it seems ready to extinguish. But for the baptized, that flame and God's grace is always there. The graces that are poured out in Baptism sustained me through my tough times even though I wasn't Catholic. The gift of Baptism helped me survive my more rebellious years and brought me back to His church when I was in my darkest hours. Baptism gives us an indelible mark--it wipes away the stain of original sin marking us as Christ's Beloved. Once we are His, He won't ever abandon us. I wonder what would have happened to me in the college years had I not been marked as Christ's Beloved. Being confronted with the evil I encountered, would I have been lost to drugs and drink? After the loss of Lily, would I have recognized the goodness around me or would I have hardened my heart? Would I have turned against my husband rather than allowing myself to lose my grief in his love? Recently, our dioceses started confirming children at the same time that they receive 1st Holy Communion. The change was in large part in response to the growing need our youth have for the Gifts of the Holy Spirit in such difficult times. These sacraments, that outsiders often see as pomp and circumstance, are more than symbols. They are nourishing, they are sustaining, they are life saving. And it all starts with Baptism. As parents, the best gift we can give our children is a foundation in our Faith. Baptism doesn't make our children spiritually bullet-proof, but it does provide them with certain armor. They will choose for themselves whether to follow Christ or not. They will decide if they agree with the truths of the Church. They will commit to the tough life of a follower or maybe fall away from the Faith. But baptizing them as babies gives them the initial relationship with our Lord. It gives them a start, an introduction, and a place to come home to when they are lost and afraid. I am eternally grateful to have found my way back home. Read more about my conversion here and Lily’s full story here. MaryRuth is a wife and mamma to four little saints in the making. She weaves together research on child development and practical Catholic parenting on her blog, Parenting with Peer Review.

“The sheer gratuitousness of the grace of salvation is particularly manifest in infant Baptism.” (CCC 1250) The priest did not simply sprinkle our sleeping daughter’s head. He cupped both hands and thoroughly baptized the little girl. She jumped with the first pile of water and slept through the rest. She did not give her consent. She did not make a profession of faith. She was barely even aware of what was happening to her. Forgiven of all sins. Made an adopted child of God, a “partaker of the divine nature.” Given the grace of justification. Enabled to believe and hope in God. Given the power of the Holy Spirit. Made a member of the Church, Christ’s body. Configured to Christ. Marked with the seal of the Lord. Reborn. According to the Catechism, all of these gifts of grace—and more—are bestowed on a person in baptism. They are given to a baby who is not even a month old, who sleeps through the entire liturgy, and who can not consciously ascent to the faith stated in the Apostle’s Creed. This is sheer gratuity. I grew up in a Protestant Evangelical church that practiced credo baptism and I was baptized around the age of nine after professing my faith in Jesus. Having come now to the Catholic Church, the magnanimity and the overwhelmingly generous nature of the sacraments—particularly that of Baptism—bring me often to quiet wonder. That God would choose to bestow upon a tiny baby the fullness of forgiveness and grace through the means of water doesn’t make sense to our rational human minds. But that is precisely who God is and I have never seen Him more than when I observe and participate in the sacraments. [bctt tweet="The generous nature of the sacraments bring me often to quiet wonder."] As I watched the priest baptize my daughter, I knew the grace of God in a new way. He welcomes us with open arms into His Church long before we can choose to know and to love and to obey Him. He first loves us and makes us fit to love Him. We are made children of God. We are given the fullness of divine life. We are united to Him. We are made able to love Him. I could never do this on my own. My daughter can never do this on her own. So God invites her to the waters. He welcomes her into His Church through the graces of the baptismal font and He calls her “daughter.” She simply exists. Her parents bring her to the Church and ask great things of God. In Baptism, we see the glory of our adoption. [bctt tweet="In Baptism, we see the glory of our adoption."] And in every Liturgy, He invites us to remember our own baptism. Remember your baptism. Those words run through my head often and I wonder what they mean. Our baptisms graft each of us to the vine of Christ, so remembering our baptism includes celebrating the glorious gift of adoption into the divine life. It also means living in a manner worthy of the grace we are given. As the baptismal liturgy so beautifully prays, we are to “walk as children of the light,” keeping the “flame of faith alive,” so that when the Lord comes, we may “go out to meet Him with all the saints in the heavenly kingdom.” Remembering our baptism means living fully in the life of the Church. It means taking hold of the graces offered as we face our daily crosses. It means claiming that grace for our walk and not despairing because of feelings of inadequacy or sinfulness. In baptism, we are gifted with every grace needed to take hold of the love of God so that we can grow and walk in holiness. [bctt tweet="Remembering our baptism means living fully in the life of the Church."] But it is not only up to us to remember our baptism. The beauty is this: our baptism also remember us. It follows us and marks us and claims us for Christ. It unrelentingly calls us back again and again to the graces offered there, when water washed away our sins and clothed us in Christ. It calls us and beckons us to return again to the blood and water that flowed from Christ’s side. It keeps us and holds us and asks us again to remember and celebrate the gratuitous gift of mercy. It calls, and we answer. Remember your baptism, for it remembers you. Shannon Lacy is a wife to a theology student and the mother of their first daughter. She is a recent convert to the Catholic faith.

Good Friday...the day that started it all...our salvation and our great hope that one day we will be with Christ again in Heaven. How odd is it that every Good Friday I can remember has been a gloomy day? Today, the fog prevents me from seeing past our front gate, and mist drizzles in the air, reminding me that today, Jesus died for us. As the soldiers beat him and jeered, he never conceded to their demands. He never renounced His Father or relieved Himself of His suffering (something he could have easily done, being God). Instead, he prayed. He prayed for them...for those who were taking his very life. In essence, He prayed for us...we are the Roman soldiers; we are Judas; we are the very ones who nailed him to the cross. As we are called to fast and abstain from meat this last Friday of Lent, we cannot help but be reminded (as each hunger pain hits) of the ultimate sacrifice made this day so many years ago...for us. Did we deserve it? No. Do we ever? No. But, thank God for His mercy, for His grace offers us another chance at eternity with Him, every time we fail. And, now, as a mom, I have a tiny bit better understanding of Mary's perspective. She watched in horror as others humiliated her Son, as they ripped into His skin with every whip, as the blood poured from His brow when they mockingly placed a crown of thorns on His head. She knew that this was the purpose of His life, yet it did not take away the pain...the greatest pain as a parent...losing a child. Helpless, she had to trust in God's plan. Looking to Mary and Jesus today I am reminded of God's incredible work in our lives. Sure, there are times when it feels as if He isn't there. Times when we do not understand our suffering. Times when the world gets us down and our thoughts quickly turn to what others may think. If we are true to ourselves, those are not the times when God is far away. He never is. Those are the times in which He is strengthening our resolve...allowing us doubt, questioning, and suffering to share in the cross of Christ. And when we are at our worst, He gently reminds us of those who have come before, leaving an example for every generation...Mary and Jesus. Having been "one of those weeks," I can easily get bogged down in my own "pain." Never, though, does my pain entail watching my son suffer and die, as Mary did. Never do I have to physically carry a cross and be nailed to it in order to save someone else's life. My pain is almost comical comparatively. However, when I pull myself from my worry and anxiety, I can clearly see what this Good Friday is all about...a love that is anything but selfish, a total commitment to God, and a humble acceptance of His will for our lives. Mary and Jesus knew that their ways were not of the world and that the world would not understand; they knew His will would come at great cost; they knew that suffering would rip them apart. However, they also knew that to choose anything less than His total will for their lives would cost more. Good Friday is not good in the sense of a happy, giddy celebration. It is Good because it has forever changed the world, reminding us that unconditional love doesn't stop with wishing others well and offering an indifferent smile as we pass them by. It is Good because it reminds us that the Good is often painful; that God's will for our lives demands that we love until it hurts; that in order to spend eternity with Him, we often have to deny ourselves a "Good" life in the eyes of society. Good Friday is not the end. It is the beginning. Will I look to the sufferings of this world and wallow in self-pity? Or, will I look past my self long enough to see Mary and her complete acceptance of a life of suffering? Will I allow the ideas of the world to shape my own, hoping that I fit into the mold? Or will I look to the King of the World, breathing His last breath on the cross, not trying to convince the crowd of His royalty, but instead praying for those who persecuted him while so fervently living God's call. He gave everything so that we might have life. Good Friday reminds me that my very life must be completely His. Feel the Nails They tell me Jesus died For my transgressions That he paid that price a long, long time ago When he gave his life for me On a hill called Calvary But there's something else I want to know Chorus Does he still feel the nails Every time I fail Can he hear the crowd cry "Crucify" again Am I causing him pain Then I know I've got to change I just can't bear the thought of hurting him. 2nd verse It seems that I'm so good at breaking promises And I treat his precious grace so carelessly But each time he forgives What if he re-lives The agony He felt on that tree Chorus 1x Holy, holy Holy is the Lord Holy Holy Holy is the Lord Do you still feel the nails Every time I fail Have I crucified you Jesus with my sins Oh I'm tired of playing games I really want to change I never want to hurt you again Holy, Holy Holy is the Lord Holy, Holy Holy is the Lord Britt is a momma to four and a wife to one, raising cattle on the grasslands of New Mexico. This post originally appeared on The Fisk Files.