Every year, writer Heather Renshaw celebrates the gift of life in a special way. We hope her entry encourages you to celebrate the gift of your life. Today I celebrate and thank God yet again for the miracle of my life. Today I am glad that I did not become a statistic. You see, today, more than any other, I am grateful for a young woman’s courageous “yes,”—her fiat—to choose life in the face of adversity. Having now experienced the joys and struggles of five pregnancies, I cannot begin to imagine the agony, the pain, and the sacrificial courage it took to give a baby away—to never snuggle her neck, never kiss her toes, never breathe in her baby smell—all because this young woman knew she could not be the best steward of the gift of life God had given her. Make no mistake—at any time, this young woman could have said, “This is too hard. I can’t do it,” “This is my body, and I want it back,” “This is just a blob of tissue,” or, “I feel alone and unloved,” . . . but she didn’t. I believe she was able to persevere because she wasn’t alone in her courage. She had others—people who encouraged her, who supported her materially and spiritually, who prayed with and for her—so that she could, slowly but surely, minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day, month by month—choose life for the baby growing inside her. That growing baby, if you haven’t guessed yet, was me. My birth mother could have aborted me at any time. My time in the womb was post-1973, after Roe v. Wade, after thousands—if not millions—of babies had already died. I honestly don’t spend a whole lot of time dwelling on “what ifs;” that’s too much energy that needs to be expended elsewhere (did I mention that I have five children??). Yet, on this day, I still like to reflect on my circumstances and encourage others to consider their own lives. Do you know that your life is a gift, a miracle? It is! Do you thank God for *your* life and the lives of those around you? Take time today to do so! Do you—really and truly—foster a culture of life in your words *and* your deeds? Please pray about this. Your affirming comment—your loving touch—could make all the difference in the world to someone today. I invite you to go forth today, dear friends, being salt and light to those you meet, and encouraging our culture to become one that chooses life, no matter what. And, while you're at it, please enjoy my birthday. Because of a courageous young woman’s “fiat,” I know I will. Heather Renshaw. Learn more about her here.

By nature, I am a person who likes answers. I like to know the how and why of things, the plan, the directions. I appreciate situations in which I am holding all the cards and my next move is clear. The spiritual life doesn't work like that. Part of the spiritual journey is learning to trust. I have worked hard to lean into the uncertainty, to let myself linger in the unknown. One of the ways I have found that helps me embrace the inexplicable is by considering miracles. The little miracles in my day (the found object in a place where I was sure I had looked) to the providential circumstances that change lives (that story is too long for a parenthetical) to the healings of body and spirit that we hear from friends and acquaintances near and far. Miracles aren't just a thing of history. Miracles are happening here and now. Comment below with your thoughts: Have your eyes been opened to miracles in your life? How can you foster awareness to see where God is working? or, simply answer: Did you pray today?

The March for Life will take place in Washington DC today. Tens of thousands of people, young and old, will descend on our Nation’s Capital and march in peaceful protest to raise one voice in defense of life. We will march against abortion, euthanasia, and physician assisted suicide because ALL life is precious, no matter one’s abilities or disabilities. No matter one’s political beliefs. As Catholics, we believe the scientific truth that life begins at conception and ends with a natural death. The holocaust of abortion has been a legal scourge on our land for more than four decades. Now we’re facing a battle on a second front with eight states and the District of Columbia legally approving a person’s right to die with a physician’s help. In today’s pro-choice conversation I’m told the reason so many woman abort their unborn children, or so many adults take their own life, is because the “quality of life” of the sick and potentially sick/disabled would be diminished. My question has always been: What does "quality of life" mean? Whenever people ask me about this, my answer is always “Look to Redemptive Suffering.” Those are nice words the Church uses to help us understand why bad things happen to good people. And those words helped me at the darkest moments of my own life. But what do they really mean? For me, the answer is found within the extraordinary life of our daughter, Courtney. When Courtney was five weeks old, she was diagnosed with a seizure disorder. For the remainder of her life she had multiple grand-mal seizures daily. She was hospitalized more than 50 times in her 22 years of life and often we weren’t sure if she’d make it home. Although she was a joy-filled girl who loved to laugh, she never once said “I love you,” took a single step, or threw her arms around me to give me hug. Many people told me that because she couldn’t see, couldn’t feed herself, or even roll over in bed, she had no quality of life. Some even suggested that if I’d known how physically hard her life would be that I would’ve considered an abortion. Meaning, despite her loud guffaws, her brilliant smile, and reddish-blonde curls, her life had no meaning. No meaning? Tell that to her father who danced with her in his arms and sang “You are My Sunshine” for hours at a time as she smiled and giggled. Tell that to her brother who did the best Grinch impersonation every time he read her “How the Grinch Stole Christmas.” Tell that to the people at her funeral mass, a gathering of several hundred attendees and eight priests on the altar. Tell that to the healthcare professionals who witnessed her life and admitted she had a profound effect on how they treated other patients. Tell that to the strangers who took the time to speak to her and learned that the disabled, with a smile or by leaning in, can be a witness to other people’s pain. My daughter knew nothing but the love and devotion of her family. She took it all in and gave back more love than we could ever put into words. She taught us to love without condition and to never give up. I would not be who I am today without the lessons learned from my child who never spoke a word. What a privilege to be her mother. God does not make mistakes. The Gospel of John 9:3 says—“Neither this man nor his parents sinned,” said Jesus, “but this happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him.” There is nothing Courtney could do to earn our love. She was love. She taught us, as Victor Hugo wrote in Les Miserables that “to love another person is to see the face of God.” If we eliminate those people in this world who need witnessing, then we lose our own path to redemption. If we cannot love and care for the most vulnerable among us, then how can we call ourselves Christians and Catholics? That is the worth of people like Courtney—to witness that all of God’s children have worth and dignity and deserve our love, because I know my daughter was a powerful witness and prayer warrior, and continues to be in Heaven. [bctt tweet="If we cannot love the most vulnerable among us, how can we call ourselves Christians?"] Mary Lenaburg. Learn more about her here.

It felt like a punch to the gut. A woman walked past with an empty stroller, save a black cloth draped across the top and a sign that read “I regret my abortion.” The tears fell instantly. The emptiness. That soul that should have been here, but was returned too soon to God instead. All the souls that have left us too soon. The weight of it was oppressive and I wept for all those mothers missing their little ones’, those who never had a chance to live on this earth. ****** This was, I believe, my eighth opportunity to take a stand in a peaceful protest that occurs each January in major cities across the United States. My first few I attended in the place where it all started—Washington, DC. I walked with my college, Christendom College. My school shut down for the day, as it does every year, so that students would be able to attend the March for Life with no penalty to their report card. It’s the only “free” day during the school year. And, you know what? Nearly every student attends. I can think of a million other ways that would probably be more enjoyable than marching in the freezing cold of January through the streets of DC. But our generation, it feels deeply the loss of brothers, sisters, classmates, colleagues—millions of souls who never had a chance to take a breath and make a go at life—and we want to stand witness to this atrocity. When I returned home to California, I began working as a youth minister at a local parish. Another opportunity to Walk for Life had begun in San Francisco. I invited my teens to join me and the response was astounding. Again, nearly every teen attended. Despite the stereotype that teens are lazy and don’t care, it is not what I witnessed amongst this wonderful group. They pulled themselves out of bed before dawn and prayerfully marched along, reciting the Rosary together and lifting their voices in song in remembrance of those lost too early. Since then, every Walk I have attended has been as a mother. My layer of grief has gone deeper as I connect better now to the parents of those children lost. The encounter I described at the beginning, with the parents pushing the empty stroller, even as I write these words, makes my stomach hurt and brings tears to my eyes to think of their pain, their grief. ****** I hate the lies that have spread so pervasively making a woman or man believe that ending another’s life will make their life better. It never will. It makes me sad that parents head into the clinics with the thought that this action will help them live a better life with no regrets. It won’t. It grieves me so deeply that one life after another is being destroyed—my co-worker, my teammate, my friend. I feel their absence. The Walk for Life is about more than just a demand for an end to abortion. {Oh, it is definitely that.} But it is also a chance to grieve for and remember all those beautiful souls that have been lost to us through this atrocious procedure, harming the very souls it claims to save. [bctt tweet="The Walk for Life is a chance to remember all the beautiful souls that have been lost to us."] It is both a privilege and devastating to March/Walk for Life. We must remember and we must continue fight for an end to this destruction. Laurel Muff. Learn more about her here.

Today is the feast day of St. Timothy, a saint who grew in holiness alongside his close friend, St. Paul. When I think about the friendship of saints -- Sts. Brigid and Patrick, Sts. Perpetua and Felicity, Sts. Jane de Chantal and Francis de Sales -- I think about my own relationships. Do my friendships help me grow in holiness? Is knowing me helping others grow in their own holiness? How can we support each other in this world on our journey to the next? Comment below with your thoughts: When has a relationship helped guide you toward holiness? or, simply answer: Did you pray today?

It was May 26th, and I woke up feeling sick. My husband, Sean, had already left for work. I took the dollar store pregnancy test, hopped in the shower, then peaked at it 3 minutes later. I never thought two lines could cause such a panic. I got back in the shower to finish washing my hair and tried to do the math: 9 months meant December, no wait um February, no January . . . I gave up. Counting to 9 seemed just too impossible. I didn’t wait to tell him in some cute way; there were no cakes, no balloons, no romantic dinners, no surprise presents with the positive test inside, but instead Sean got a panicked phone call. He was excited, scared, but excited. We didn’t plan Elijah John. Sean had just gotten into grad school for psychology. We planned that he would pay for schooling with his job and we would have to pay the rest of the bills on my teacher salary. But sometimes your cycles are irregular and being extra cautious isn’t your thing, so you get a baby and you change all of your plans. I’m not claiming to know what it’s like to be an unwed mother or to have a child conceived from rape or to have a husband or boyfriend who wants me to get rid of the baby, or to still be in high school or even trying to finish my doctorate. But I do know what it’s like to have your plans changed suddenly. I do know what it’s like to be living with little money and working 12 hour days when this hidden blessing enters your life and to see your husband give up his dreams for the good of the family. I know what it’s like to throw up in the morning and then again after work, to have constant headaches, and heartburn so bad you want to tear out your insides. Mostly importantly I know what it’s like to be pregnant and scared. But now, I also know what it’s like to love a child. I know what it’s like to have life growing inside me. I know what it’s like to put my hope, my future, my love into a child who is no bigger than a lemon. I know what it’s like to have good compassionate friends who want to help. And I think I finally understand why exactly I’m pro-life. Before pregnancy, I was pro-life because I was Catholic. And before that, I was pro-choice because my family was. (And before that I was like 12.) And though I think it was good for me to be pro-life, whatever my reasons were, I was never passionate about the issue. Sure I would argue that a person’s life begins at conception. I’d also always figured that aborting babies had nothing to do with women’s rights. And I was always extremely compassionate towards friends or stories of women who have had an abortion. But I had never understood just how interconnected the babies life and the mother’s life really are. I never understood that being pro-life really means being pro-pregnancy as a whole, but also pro-person as a whole. [bctt tweet="I never understood that being pro-life means being pro-pregnancy but also pro-person as a whole."] The laws surrounding abortion won’t change until our society can learn to genuinely love one another and care for one another as we would care for ourselves. Until I care about the education of children living in the ghetto as much I care about my child’s education, abortion will remain legal. Until I share my food with those who have none, Planned Parenthood will win. Until I seek to comfort the mourning the way I would comfort my mourning husband, babies will die. Until I clean the house of an overworked, underpaid mom of three, we will continue to live in the culture of death. When I found out I was pregnant, I felt an intense need to serve in the same way that the Blessed Virgin Mary served her cousin, Elizabeth. So I’d drive an hour each summer morning to a trailer park in the ghetto of Atlanta where I’d play with the street kids and pray with the Missionaries of Charity. It is there that I myself found hope. I firmly believe that just because you are in the pro-life movement, it does not mean that you are living the authentic “culture of life” that Pope Saint John Paul II calls us to live. If I who have faith and support and health care struggled to trust that everything will work out for my family and my unborn child, how then can I expect the trust that it takes to carry a child for 9 months from a mother who has lacked those three essentials? I cannot. Abortion will win until we all live out a culture of life, where the death of the innocent is an inconceivable horror. Today, let's choose to live a compassionate life of service and prayer dedicated to the unborn child, the mother, and the father who face hard decisions and scary and uncomfortable futures. Katherine Mitchell. Learn more about her here. This blog post was original published here and reprinted with permission from the author.

So many BIS sisters have beautiful practices in their prayer rooted in our shared Catholic tradition. I am so, so often inspired by the devotions shared in our regional Facebook groups, and women's commitment to them. Our faith is rich in devotions, and we all grow when we practice them as a community. The Rosary, saints, the Liturgy of the Hours, novenas -- all of these tools help us grow in holiness as spiritual beings. Comment below with your thoughts: Do you have a favorite devotion or saint, one you turn to again and again? or, simply answer: Did you pray today?

I'm not marching today. The big boys will go off, bundled against the cold. But I will stay home with the wee ones and read stories and sip hot chocolate. Snuggled next to me with Katie on the couch will be a little girl with golden-red curls. Her name is Grace. And Grace is a living, breathing testimony to the power of prayer and love over the culture of death. Three years ago, Gracie was safe inside her very young mother, Emily. She was what the media call "a crisis pregnancy." And while there is no doubt that when an unmarried sixteen-year-old is pregnant it is a crisis, Gracie was never in danger. Emily was living in a culture of love. She sacrificed her senior year in high school, her last chance to be a dancer, her waning days of youthful irresponsibility. And she became the mother of Grace. Gracie was born hours after I miscarried. I was with Emily in the delivery room and I heard God tell me quite emphatically that there are many ways a child can be born into my life. I had no idea at the time how much I'd grow to love that baby. On that day, I could barely look at her, my own wound was so raw. Emily chose to raise her baby, with the constant and devoted help of her parents. I chose to play a very active role. Emily goes to college locally. Gracie spends her days with me. It's not all roses. Emily continues to sacrifice. She works really hard and is a stellar student. She tries mightily to spend a quantity of quality time with her daughter. She has given up the carefree innocence of unencumbered youth that most teenagers take for granted. (And she's pretty much given up sleep, too.) But she has given those of us who love this little girl an incredible gift. What a privilege it is to watch her grow! What a miracle it is to know how easily she could have been in peril before we even knew her. Emily has talked about how easily and how often other girls in her Catholic high school chose abortion. It looked like the easy choice. But what we know is that Emily's courageous choice saved Gracie's life but it also saved Emily's life. Whatever sacrifices Emily makes, whatever real and heavy burdens she will bear, she will never carry the cross of having had an abortion. She never even considered an abortion. I think that that is because she grew up in a culture of absolute unconditional love. She was never confused about what a gift a child is, what a gift she is. God had big plans for Emily and He spoke them plainly. I think she was saved by Grace. How can we create a culture of love? How can we make sure that the young women in our lives know that they are loved despite their frailties, despite their sins? How can we change the world, change the culture, reclaim life in the darkness of death? [bctt tweet="How can we change the world, reclaim life in the darkness of death? // @elizabethfoss"] For each of us, this answer will look a little different. For some of us, it will be obvious. We will be given the gift of a great opportunity, a chance to be a tangible blessing to a young mother and baby. Gracie is a joy to me. But, sometimes it is a bittersweet joy. She is not mine. These days of holding her close are not forever. There will be sorrow. I won't even let myself think of the deep pain it will cause my children when the "Gracie Days" at our house will be over. But I know that born of that pain will be the indelible lesson that every life, every child is precious. Born of that pain will be the powerful witness of Emily's example. Because we know Grace, we know the child in the slogan "It's a child, not a choice." And, oh my, is she beautiful! We can reclaim the culture for love. We can reclaim it one child, one choice at a time. I pray for the day when we can all know the love that comes from curling up inside on a cold January day, when there are no more marches to march, when the fight has been won, when we all have the privilege of holding Grace. [bctt tweet="We can reclaim the culture for love. We can reclaim it one child at a time. // @elizabethfoss"] Elizabeth Foss. Learn more about her here. "Holding Grace" was originally published here and reprinted with permission.

The Corporal Works of Mercy can feel intimidating, but they don't have to be. Reflect today on how simple acts can be acts of mercy. Feed the hungry: make a meal with what's already in your pantry, avoiding food waste. Clothe the naked: deliver a few items to a shelter or Goodwill. Don't only choose the most threadbare items. Give drink to the thirsty: mind your water use and turn off the tap when it doesn't need to be running. Comment below with your thoughts: What are some ways you can do Corporal Works of Mercy every day? or, simply answer: Did you pray today?

I just want to check in... How are you feeling? How are you doing? I am praying for you. What are your intentions? Comment below with your thoughts: How has this month been going for you? How can I pray for you? or, simply answer: Did you pray today?

I have been a youth minister for almost nine years. I’ve made my share of mistakes along the way and learned a lot. One of my favorite things is taking of groups of teens to conferences, retreats, or pilgrimages. I have become a professional when it comes to really long bus rides with groups of lively, energetic teenagers. Between the bus stops for late night McDonald’s and little sleep, they hold for me some of the dearest memories and ministry opportunities. I have taken groups of teens to the March for Life six times now. When I have led groups we usually build in a day or two for some sight seeing in the city and do all the tourist-y things. One thing I always build into our plans is to visit the Holocaust museum. I think the connection of the Holocaust to the scourge of abortion is a powerful image. We all know what the Holocaust represents and means. It was the intentional destruction and murder of a whole population of people. A particular group(s) were deemed sub-human, were told they were less than. These people had no rights and no voice. Today many Holocausts are going on. The Holocaust of refugees. The Holocaust of women and children trafficked and sold into sexual slavery. The Holocaust of the death penalty. And especially we know the Holocaust of unborn children sadly continues. So many people in our world are treated as sub-human. And the unborn are still a population treated less than. The annual March for Life is more than a really long bus trip. It represents the desire of our generation that seeks a to create a world where all God’s people have a voice and are treated with dignity. It reminds us of all the hard work, prayer, and fasting that lies ahead of us. It reminds us that all human life has worth, dignity, and value. Our common humanity calls us to work to give others that with which we have been blessed with. [bctt tweet="March for Life reminds us that all human life has worth, dignity, and value. // @amoderngrace"] There is much hard work ahead of us. As the pro-life generation, may we continue the work that will respect all human life, all God’s people. May we be old and courageous to give ourselves to the causes that honor our common humanity. And whether you go to the March for Life one or five times, may we remember that it is so much more than a long bus trip. 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. Find her blogging it all at A Modern Grace.

St. Paul's command to pray without ceasing has always terrified me. How could I possibly do that and continue to live my life out here in the world? A few weeks ago, the daily Henri Nouwen meditation shared words of wisdom that have stuck with me since: "Our minds are always active. We analyze, reflect, daydream, or dream. There is not a moment during the day or night when we are not thinking. You might say our thinking is "unceasing." Sometimes we wish that we could stop thinking for a while; that would save us from many worries, guilt feelings, and fears. Our ability to think is our greatest gift, but it is also the source of our greatest pain. Do we have to become victims of our unceasing thoughts? No, we can convert our unceasing thinking into unceasing prayer by making our inner monologue into a continuing dialogue with our God, who is the source of all love. Let's break out of our isolation and realize that Someone who dwells in the center of our beings wants to listen with love to all that occupies and preoccupies our minds." I do think constantly. I aspire to move into this "continuing dialogue" in a way that redeems my constant thought. Comment below with your thoughts: Have you found ways to be in dialogue with the Lord throughout your day? How do you understand the command to pray always? or, simply answer: Did you pray today?

While writing yesterday's prayer pledge post, I kept thinking of one of my favorite quotations from Thomas Merton. And today, I want to leave it with you. (I've bolded some of my most favorite passages.) In his book Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander, Merton writes: "In Louisville, at the corner of Fourth and Walnut, in the center of the shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all these people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It was like waking from a dream of separateness, of spurious self-isolation in a special world... This sense of liberation from an illusory difference was such a relief and such a joy to me that I almost laughed out loud... I have the immense joy of being man, a member of a race in which God Himself became incarnate. As if the sorrows and stupidities of the human condition could overwhelm me, now that I realize what we all are. And if only everybody could realize this! But it cannot be explained. There is no way of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun. Then it was as if I suddenly saw the secret beauty of their hearts, the depths of their hearts where neither sin nor desire nor self-knowledge can reach, the core of their reality, the person that each one is in God’s eyes. If only they could all see themselves as they really are. If only we could see each other that way all the time. There would be no more war, no more hatred, no more cruelty, no more greed... But this cannot be seen, only believed and ‘understood’ by a peculiar gift." Comment below with your thoughts: Is there a quote that you carry in your heart as you pray? Does the Holy Spirit speak to you through someone's words over and over again? or, simply answer: Did you pray today?

I'm traveling today, which always has the same effect on my prayer life. In airports bustling with people I've never met, on trains full of strangers, on the highway watching other cars go by, I find myself wondering about the people that are so physically close to me, even though I know nothing about them. Over time, I have started to pray for strangers. Praying that each person I see has their burdens lifted a little today, that their travels are easy, that they are on the way to someone who loves them. This practice has started to extend to the people I meet briefly in the world, at the post office or the grocery store. Today, I have one prayer for those I encounter: that they will each encounter God in some small way. Comment below with your thoughts: Who can you pray for today? What do you pray for them? or, simply answer: Did you pray today?

Another of the blog posts shared last year was Patty Hubbard's reflection on Ignatian spirituality. One of Patty's thoughts has stuck with me all year: "So the answer? The power of gratitude. The power it has no matter the pain or suffering we encounter in this life. The power it has to ease the heavy crosses we carry. The power it has to bring about that peace Jesus spoke of that surpasses all understanding. Gratitude, thankfulness is spiritual dynamite. To thank God in all things, for all things is medicine the weary world needs to live life with purpose." Gratitude is such an integral part of building a healing prayer life. Thanking God for all the good in my life is an easy way to slip into prayer and recognize everything He has given to me. Comment below with your thoughts: What are you grateful for today? or, simply answer: Did you pray today?

Last year during the Prayer Pledge, many BIS writers shared personal stories of their own prayer life. Colleen Mitchell wrote a moving reflection about her relationship with Franciscan spirituality. One section spoke to me today in particular: "And I feel like I have been in a dark room and suddenly stepped into the sun. It feels good and warm, but it hurts my eyes, and I am squinting in the glare. And then I am bowing my head and accepting forgiveness for the things I said that were not really the thing at all and trying to breathe through to the other side of the fact that He is right, and He is waiting, and I won’t get off of this one easily." Revisit Colleen's post today and reflect on words that may speak to you, as well. Comment below with your thoughts: Where can you seek humility in your life? Are you putting your guard up in your prayer? How can you seek Him honestly? or, simply answer: Did you pray today?

Something about the New Year always gets me feeling like I need to be a new me with new stuff. My wish list grows and grows -- new workout clothes for that new regime, new kitchen gadgets for that new diet, new office supplies to get my work done more quickly, new skincare solutions for that chin acne I just can't manage to eliminate. There is so much that I want. Today, I'm working on channeling that desire to desiring the Lord. I want His grace more than I want any more stuff. But do I live that way? How can I live my desire for grace more deeply? Comment below with your thoughts: What do you truly desire most deeply? Can you express these desires in prayer? or, simply answer: Did you pray today?