January 19, 2026 // Memorial of Saints Timothy and Titus, Bishops Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Mark 2:18-22  Reflect on the Word // My faded gray hiking shoes crunched the rocky dirt as my family and I rounded the switchback coming upon a grove of aspens, their perfectly round leaves rustling in the morning breeze. It felt as though we were timid guests on the heels of the homeowner, peeking through the scattered alpine trunks and admiring the grassy carpet below. I spotted a single white geranium poking through the blades of grass and wondered how long it had waited for the snow to melt and the clouds to break so that it could rear its head above the dirt. Maybe it was just the delicate white petals, but the little flower reminded me of a bride. It was a reminder that winter had passed and that spring even touches the mountainous corners of the earth. Weddings contain a formula of great joy. The bride floats about in her dazzling white dress—her dress that has been plucked from a dozen others and approved by her mother’s tearful nod. When she carefully zips the dress the morning of the wedding, she, like the geranium, knows her days of waiting are over. Her groom is right there, through the beckoning double doors. In today’s Gospel, Jesus addresses His curious followers, asking them, “Can the wedding guests fast while the bridegroom is with them?” (Mark 2:19) Time and time again in Scripture, Jesus reveals Himself as the ultimate, perfect Bridegroom. He is the One Who relieves our waiting, satisfies our hunger, melts the snow, extends His hand, and lifts our head up from the dirt. What great hands we are in!  Though we may have long winters in our lives that pull our heads down, we must remember to Whom we belong. We are invited into Christian joy, which does not mean we don’t feel our pain or forget the liturgical time for penance, but it does mean we bask in awe of God in every season of our lives. We remember the dust from which He lifted our heads and the glory to come. Relate to the Lord // Consider the flowers today—either in real life or in your imagination. Let yourself appreciate their beauty and God’s glory.

January 16, 2026 // Friday of the First Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Mark 2:1-12 Reflect on the Word //  I’d clung to it as a beacon of hope: a long-awaited appointment with a specialist who’d worked wonders for others. Yet he had no novel ideas or solutions for me, just the usual treatments. I left deflated and disoriented, bone-weary from my suffering. I sent a dejected text to my friend who had been praying, and she called immediately—grieving with me in my tears, gently consoling me, and carrying me back to the Heart of Jesus—just like the paralytic’s friends in today’s Gospel. Like the paralytic, I marvel at this Divine Physician Who triages health of the soul before physical health. “Child, your sins are forgiven,” Jesus declares to the paralytic upon his friends’ great show of faith (Mark 2:5). Then, to the doubting and indignant hearts in the crowd, Jesus says, “Which is easier, to say to the paralytic, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Rise, pick up your mat and walk’?” (Mark 2:9)  Why easier, Lord—of all the words You could choose?  Easier implies degrees of difficulty, a comparative challenge. I gradually grasp how the spiritual healing of forgiveness that Jesus offers takes more effort, is more rare—and therefore, is more precious even than physical healing. Physical healing can come through many means; the healing of forgiveness can only come through Him. This is the healing He knows we need most. How many times have I shuffled into the confessional, spiritually paralyzed by my sin—only to stroll out minutes later, restored and redeemed? How many times have I received this miraculous healing yet hardly acknowledged it, or considered it inferior to physical relief? Still, despite my ignorance and reluctance, the moment I cooperate, He continues to heal me in the most priceless way.   Lord, You desire this priceless gift for each of us. You offer us inexhaustible forgiveness and give us faithful community to carry us back to You, the Divine Physician. For our sake, You never take the easy way out.  Thank You for inviting us to the same. Thank You for prioritizing what’s eternally best for us, and always offering us first the healing we need most.  Relate to the Lord // Where have you been looking for the easiest way? Ask Jesus to reveal the most valuable way.

January 15, 2026 // Thursday of the First Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Mark 1:40-45 Reflect on the Word // I can still remember a season when I felt like I had to keep parts of myself hidden. I showed up to conversations smiling, doing fine on the outside, but inside I carried questions, grief, and doubts I wasn’t sure anyone could handle. What if I spoke honestly and people pulled away? What if my mess was too much? So I kept it in, and the silence grew heavier. I felt both present and absent at the same time—surrounded by people, but unsure if anyone really saw me. It wasn’t that others had rejected me; it was that I had already decided my struggles weren’t worth bringing into the light. In the Gospel of Mark today, a man with leprosy steps out of isolation and kneels before Jesus. With trembling honesty he says, “If you wish, you can make me clean” (Mark 1:40). He risks exposure, ridicule, even rejection—what he receives instead is compassion. Jesus doesn’t recoil or shame him. He reaches out His hand, touches the untouchable, and restores him to wholeness. That moment reveals something vital about God’s Heart. We don’t have to hide our wounds or pretend we’re cleaner than we are. The leper’s prayer is so simple—neither polished nor lengthy—and yet Jesus moves toward him. Healing begins not with perfection, but with honesty and trust. The God we meet in Christ is not repelled by our brokenness; He is moved with pity and eager to draw near. We may not carry leprosy, but we all carry burdens—questions, struggles, regrets—that tempt us to stay silent. This passage invites us to bring them into the open before God, believing that His willingness is greater than our fear. As a people, may we resist the urge to hide behind masks of strength. Instead, I pray this is an invitation to be a community where vulnerability is met with compassion, where no wound is too deep and no person too far gone to be touched by the healing mercy of Christ. Relate to the Lord // Are you tempted to hide parts of yourself from others or from the Lord? Tell Jesus about that tendency and consider sharing those parts with Him.

January 14, 2026 // Wednesday of the First Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: 1 Samuel 3:1-10, 19-20  Reflect on the Word // I called my son to come downstairs. We are in a new era of the pre-adolescent phase of parenting. I remember a time not too long ago when I would call his name and he would come down quickly. Recently, whenever I call his name to help watch the toddler, take his clean folded laundry upstairs, or remind him that it's trash day I am met with grumbling and multiple delays unless the aroma of freshly baked brownies fills the air and reaches his room.  In today’s First Reading Samuel runs to Eli and says, “Here I am. You called me” (1 Samuel 3:8). Oh how I would love to hear my children say that!  I’m tickled with delight just imagining it. The reality is that my kids would probably enjoy me verbalizing this too: “Here I am. It is me! Your mother!” Instead there are days I get overwhelmed at the volume and sheer number of times I have heard the word “mom” throughout the day.  I come to Jesus in a pre-adolescent mood at times too. I delay in responding to His voice. I delay in being confident in what He is calling me to do. In my own brokenness I often need an incentive to be obedient in prayer (brownies would be nice). In his wisdom Eli instructs Samuel to answer God, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening” (1 Samuel 3:9). I would like to think that I am coming ready to serve the Lord in prayer, but the demands of life turn me toward wanting merely to be served.   Samuel’s obedience reveals to us that strengthening our relationship with God begins with listening. It may seem too simple, but prayer is always drawing us back to listen to the voice of God whether it's through Scripture, a book on the life of a Saint, or a song that lifts our hearts to the truth of Who God is. The Lord wants us to come to Him with hearts open to His voice, wills ready to assent to His, and ready to receive the grace and inspiration He offers us. Relate to the Lord // As we continue to settle into the new year can we pray in humility, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening,” and mean it with the same eagerness Samuel did? 

January 13, 2026 // Optional Memorial of Saint Hilary, Bishop and Doctor of the Church Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: 1 Samuel 1:9-20 Reflect on the Word //  Songs of sorrow and hope play on repeat as I draw pictures and overwrite them in large black letters taken from the Bible. Other verses I pen onto stark blank pages, crumpling and tossing away all but a few. I go for long silent walks and cry my way through the Liturgy of the Hours, sitting beside my husband who reads the prayers for us both. I attend daily Mass when I am able, acutely aware of my lack of ability to concentrate, yet trusting that the Mass is still efficacious. Grief’s intrusion drastically changes the way we pray, but because it’s lacking in pretenses, I’d argue that what I’ve termed “messy prayer” changes us for the better. Hannah in today’s First Reading is loved by her husband yet knows grief. She pours out her troubles to the Lord, offering Him, incoherently, the deep sorrow and misery she can no longer contain (see 1 Samuel 1: 15-16). I’ve not been maligned nor misunderstood like Hannah. Neither have I known the empty pain of infertility. Yet, like Hannah, I’ve prayed in ways that could be mistaken for drunkenness. I’ve also bargained with God:  If You answer my plea, I’ll  give You everything! Please, please, please grant my desire! But God does not answer my prayer the way I desire. I’m dismayed, and ask, Why hasn’t Jesus granted my plea?   Jesus’ clear answer jolts me: “Are you envious because I am generous?” (Matthew 20:15b) The question lays bare an uncomfortable truth that when I hear of His goodness toward others, envy sometimes crowds out the loving response of joy He desires for me. Humbled and contrite, I pray. I’m so sorry! How desperately I need You! Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God, have mercy on me, a sinner. I see now that Hannah and her Samuel are gifts to me too, teaching me humility and trust. Dear sister, our loving God desires our open hearts. He wants us just as we are, and loves us too much to leave us sick and wounded. It’s God’s prerogative to heal us in His way and in His time. We can trust Him with everything, including our  messy prayers. Relate to the Lord // Where do you feel messy? Can you share those parts with a friend today? Will you show them to God in prayer?

January 12, 2026 // Monday of the First Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: 1 Samuel 1:1-8 Reflect on the Word //  The silence in the room where I was praying was so strong that it gave me no other choice than to break open my heart to the Lord. For so long I tried to remain positive about a painful situation. I refused to bring my anguish to the Lord, because I assumed it meant that I was lacking faith in His promises. I assumed He was tired of hearing me talk about the same situation, the same issue, again and again. I was struck that shoving my pain down wasn’t helpful, but dangerous. It caused me more pain to pretend it didn’t hurt, than to allow it to hurt.  In today’s First Reading we see Hannah, being open and vulnerable as she weeps and refuses to eat,  grieving her barrenness. She was constantly brought down by her husband’s second wife, who “turned it into a constant reproach to her that the Lord ha[d] left her barren” (1 Samuel 1:6). Is this not what the enemy does to us? I was convinced and shut down by his lies, as I thought the Lord would receive my recurring pain with great annoyance. Tomorrow’s First Reading will show us how Hannah eventually does conceive a child. However, it was not Hannah’s pain and sadness that determined whether God would fulfill what He promised, but the truth that He is faithful. We are allowed to both have confidence in His providence and also grieve what hasn’t been fulfilled (or what we thought would be fulfilled). The Lord wasn’t asking me to put on a mask of happiness; He was prompting me to be honest with Him.  Sister, shoving your emotions down is not healthy, nor does it bear fruit in your personal relationship with Jesus. He’s not tired of your honesty or neediness. To be in intimacy with the Lord requires us to be vulnerable. Jesus doesn’t fear vulnerability; He receives it to the fullest. He receives you, and the entirety of your heart.   Relate to the Lord // Tell Jesus how you really are in this moment, for better or for worse. Practice talking to Him honestly and vulnerably.

January 10, 2026 // Saturday After Epiphany Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: John 3:22-30 Reflect on the Word // “I feel like I am going a little crazy in deciding to do all of these things,” I said to my priest friend as we chatted after daily Mass about my plans for the following year. I was beginning a new career path in the last year of my thirties by taking evening graduate classes and spending my days student teaching—all while being a wife and mom to four children—and, additionally, we had been surprised with a new baby on the way after ten years of secondary infertility. “Maybe that is a good sign,” Father replied with a grin on his face. A good sign. Is doing the crazy thing in my own eyes and the eyes of others sometimes a good sign? Saint John the Baptist in today’s Gospel was considered a bit crazy by the world—a man dressed in skins and living on locusts and wild honey while proclaiming the coming of the Messiah. His life was one of complete submission to God’s call. His words are a reminder of how God’s grace operates in our lives: “No one can receive anything except what has been given from heaven” (John 3:27). Every call from God, every moment of our lives is a gift. The Lord offers grace, gives direction, and asks us to follow Him into the wilderness of the unknown. By trusting Him in the unknown and surrendering ourselves in love to His will, we make room for the joy of the Lord in our hearts. It may seem crazy to the world to go out of our way to go to Sunday Mass, to choose to stay at home with kids, to cut back on work to help an ailing parent, or to take on more than seems feasible. If the Lord calls us, He will provide.  Sister, the Lord wants us to give up our own will and embrace His will each day. He wants us to strive to live John’s words: “He must increase; I must decrease” (John 3:30). When we put the Lord first and trust Him enough to do what seems crazy, our joy will be complete, even if we can’t see the final outcome. Relate to the Lord // Ask the Lord to give you the grace to put Him first, to increase your trust in Him and to transform your will to match His.

January 9, 2026 // Friday After Epiphany Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Luke 5:12-16 Reflect on the Word //  I don’t like to ask for help. There’s a long list of reasons for this, including being the oldest daughter, adhering strongly to the personal motto of “I am a strong, capable, adult woman!” and, most commonly, wanting things done my way. I run my life most of the time by these beliefs, but what they fundamentally boil down to is plain old pride.  When I hear the words of the man with leprosy, “Lord, if you wish, you can make me clean” (Luke 5:12), what rings loudest in my ears is this man placing the desires and wishes of Christ ahead of his own, even ahead of his own suffering! This man who was suffering so profoundly was willing to let go of his desire to be healed because he knew the desires of Christ for him to be more important.  Unfortunately, in my own prayer life I so often fall into only praying for what I want, or what I have anxiety about, begging the Lord for my will and my way to be done. As I pour out my problems to Jesus in prayer I easily give Him my laundry list of problems, but also I tell Him the exact way I would like these problems solved. I am not asking Jesus if He desires the solutions I’m offering, or to ponder and ask Him what it is He wishes for the problems I face daily.  Perhaps you, friend, do the same. Today’s Gospel prompts us to consider: How can we hear the voice of God if we spend all our time in prayer telling Him what to do? But even more importantly, how can we grow closer to God if we view our desires as more important than His? We are reminded by the suffering man in the Gospel to seek what Christ wishes for us today. The first step is to ask for our will to be transformed by His will for us. It may seem like a simple thing, but switching our perspective from asking Jesus for what we want to asking what He wants is an essential step toward being fully united to Him. Relate to the Lord // Where do you need help? Who can you ask for help today?

January 8, 2026 // Thursday After Epiphany Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Luke 4:14-22 Reflect on the Word //  “I hope you feel better!” “I hope you have a great day!” “I hope I pass my exam!” “I hope I don’t get stuck in traffic!” “I hope  ______ works!” Hope. What do we really mean when we say we “hope”? Do we just want everything to work out, go our way, end well? I often think that’s what I’m saying; then I have to remind myself that’s not Christian hope. True hope, in the end, isn’t a reliance on ourselves, on luck or fortune. Christian hope is the heart’s desire for God to grant us what we need to reach our end, eternal life in heaven. Christian hope is not ours naturally speaking. It is a gift we receive, a theological virtue that enables us to trust that God is Who He says He is, and will fulfill His every promise, trusting Jesus accomplished our salvation and provides strength for the journey here and now. This hope, this promise, this call to trust, is what Christ proclaims in today’s Gospel. Do you want freedom from captivity, from slavery to sin? Christ is your hope. He was sent to proclaim liberty to captive hearts (see Luke 4:18). Do you want to see? Do you long to recognize His providence in your trials? Do you desire to see what He sees when He looks at you? Have you become blind to the true good that is within and around us? He has come to restore sight to the blind (see Luke 4:18)! Christ proclaims hope that this new year can be a year of favor, a year acceptable to the Lord (see Luke 4:19). The Jubilee of Hope ended on the feast of the Epiphany, but Hope reigns forever in the hearts of those who believe. Sister, the Lord invites us to hope in the One Who was sent to bring us freedom, to restore our sight that we might see and hope for the good things of Heaven, to obtain for us every grace, blessing, and healing we need to obtain the best end of all, eternal life in Heaven.  Relate to the Lord // How can you practice Christian hope today?

January 7, 2026 // Optional Memorial of Saint Raymond of Penyafort, priest Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Mark 6:45-52  Reflect on the Word //  Tears welled in my eyes when I realized I’d hurt a loved one with a snap judgment, assuming—wrongly—that they were about to do something I didn’t like. I had jumped to prevent what I expected was coming, only to find I was so wrong about their intentions. I felt awful.  There are countless times that I thought I knew what was going on around me, made a quick assessment, and settled on a negative perception of a person or event. From those negative perceptions, I’ve made sweeping judgements, said critical things, and acted on false assumptions. I repeatedly confess these things, waiting for God’s grace to finally make a swift change in my heart.  Perhaps my heart isn’t too different from the disciples’ hearts in today’s Gospel. These men were devoted followers of Jesus. Yet something about fearing the wind and not understanding the incident of the loaves indicates their hardened hearts. I found this curious; fearing strong wind doesn’t seem to be hard-hearted, not at all like rejecting Jesus’ teaching about the Eucharist (see John 6) or Judas’ betrayal (see Matthew 26:47-50).  As I pondered this, I realized that fear and misunderstanding could point to a deeper issue: lack of trust in the goodness and providence of the Lord. When Jesus multiplied the loaves and fish for the five thousand, He provided for the crowd’s bodily needs. Hours later, the disciples let fear of the winds overcome them, lost sight of the Lord’s providence (doubting that He would protect them), and even failed to recognize Jesus, believing Him to be a ghost. They weren’t trusting in Him. Who sees their Beloved and thinks it’s a ghost? Someone who lets doubts and fears lead their thoughts towards negativity, someone who lacks trust. My own heart isn’t too different; it’s hardened by mistrust in my loved ones (and Jesus).   Sister, we need to look to Jesus again with trust, and ask Him to soften our hearts. No matter the storms we face, challenges with loved ones, or fears we may feel burdened by, He tells us to take courage.  Relate to the Lord // Where do you need courage? Share your need with the Lord and ask Him to provide.

January 6, 2026 // Optional Memorial of Saint André Bessette, religious [In the Dioceses of the United States]  Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Mark 6:34-44  Reflect on the Word //   “We didn’t know it at the time, but God was using everything to prepare him for eternity.” Tears pricked my eyes as I texted my friend about the news of our pastor’s recent passing.  Just a month prior, she had championed my idea to start a spiritual bouquet at our parish for Father’s healing, even pledging ten Holy Hours herself to kick off the cause.  An outpouring of promised intercession followed as my parish community collectively joined in the prayer effort for Jesus to touch this suffering shepherd and restore him to health. Hundreds of Masses and Rosaries, numerous novenas, and countless hours spent before the Blessed Sacrament were added to the bouquet, in hopes that we would be able to present our faithful priest with a beautiful gift of prayer when he recovered.   But his recovery wasn't part of the divine plan. And when I learned from two tearful parishioners that he had died, my heart, like our Lord’s in today’s Gospel, “was moved with pity for them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd” (Mark 6:34).   In my role as consecrated virgin and spiritual mother, Christ invited me to hold the mournful hearts of my parish family, as well as the questions that flowed from their grief: “Why did God let Father hang on for weeks just to take him away from us? Were our prayers even heard?”   Oh, sister, our gifts seem like meager offerings when the miracle doesn’t come, don’t they? But the One Who multiplied bread and fish for the hungry (see Mark 6:38-44) can, without question, use our earthly fragments for glory. Every sacrifice, every prayer, and every whispered plea is a sacred offering that feeds and strengthens the soul, ours and the ones for whom we pour ourselves out. I am certain that one very sick priest was able to bear the crushing burden of his affliction because he was being filled by a powerful bouquet of prayer.  And just like the overflowing baskets of leftover food from Jesus' miracle (see Mark 6:43), our offerings made in love are always enough for Jesus to work His miracles.  Relate to the Lord // What will you offer to Jesus today, whether spiritually in prayer or materially through service to others?

January 5, 2026 // Memorial of St. John Neumann, Bishop Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: 1 John 3:22-4-6.  Reflect on the Word // Preserved lemons?  My daughter erupted in laughter as she took the jar out of the gift bag. The jar of cloudy liquid and softened lemons was the same shape as the candle her brother had ordered, but definitely not the right gift. I was the only one not laughing in the room, as I racked my brain in an attempt to remember the circumstances of that particular purchase. Bought online and picked up in store, he must have put the paper-wrapped item in the gift bag without checking. It wasn’t a gag gift; it was a mistake, and definitely not the gift she had asked for.  We don’t always get what we ask for. Sometimes it is human error, but sometimes it is because we aren’t asking for the right things. In the First Letter of Saint John today we read the words, “We receive from him whatever we ask, because we keep his commandments and do what pleases him” (1 John 3:22).   What happens when we don’t keep His commandments or do what pleases Him? While I strive for holiness, I often simply ask for what I think I need at the moment. Heal this, solve that—I don’t ask so much as plead when I feel overwhelmed. Drowning in my commitments, bills, or worries, my focus is less on His commandments and what pleases Him, than on what I think I need in order to escape the current situation. Rather than trying to fix it, what if I could recognize His presence with me in the struggle, practicing gratitude for that unity with Him and the opportunity to grow through it all?   God wants to walk the journey with us. A sure companion as we travel a road with twists and turns and hills and valleys, He wants to accompany us along the way. When we keep His commandments and fix our focus on what pleases Him, all we want is what He wants for us. When we are finally able to search our hearts, we discover that we desire unity to His will—not a solution according to our will.  Relate to the Lord // Have you felt disappointed? Tell Jesus about it and allow Him to comfort you.

January 3, 2026 // Optional Memorial of the Most Holy Name of Jesus Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel:  Luke 2:21-24 Reflect on the Word //  I sat across from a new doctor and described my symptoms. “Jesus Christ,” he exhaled, shaking his head. My heart squeezed within me.  While I appreciated that he was taking my pain seriously, it took me a minute to regain my footing. It was jarring to hear someone take the Lord’s name in vain.  In the past fews years, I’ve adopted the pious practice of bowing my head at Mass when the name of Jesus is said. It’s a subtle, simple gesture that reminds me, both body and soul, of the reality that the name of Jesus is different from other words, other names, for His name alone is a prayer. Today we celebrate the Optional Memorial of the Most Holy Name of Jesus. The name of our precious baby Messiah is pronounced in today’s Gospel when Mary and Joseph brought Him to the temple to be circumcised. There “the child was named Jesus, the name given him by the angel before he was conceived in the womb” (Luke 2:21).  The name of the Lord entrusted to Moses, a Hebrew name which means “I AM,” is too sacred for the Jews to even pronounce, for His presence and power are contained in His Name. The same is true when we speak the name of Jesus. We have been given a name to call upon—a name full of power and presence. That name reveals identity and mission, for Jesus means “God Saves.” And that name belongs to a Baby, a Man, a Savior we can know personally and love intimately.  We’ve all had the experience of someone using our name (usually our full name) in frustration or anger. In such moments, our own names can feel like a curse. May we strive never to pronounce our precious Savior’s name in vain, but to only ever invoke Jesus with a heart full of love and confidence.  Relate to the Lord // Make the name of Jesus your prayer today. Pray Jesus in your heart or aloud throughout the day with love and gratitude.

January 2, 2026 // Memorial of Saints Basil the Great and Gregory Nazianzen, Bishops and Doctors of the Church Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: John 1:19-28 Reflect on the Word // I run up against it all the time: my desire for something more. I actually laugh a bit when I think of how I started out the year 2025 with a deep desire on my heart to go somewhere new, and how now— halfway across the country—I often want to go back. Somehow I am still surprised that nowhere is perfect, that nothing completely satisfies me. Saint John the Baptist reminds me today, right alongside the people of his time, that the something more that I am looking for is already on its way.  “There is one among you who you do not recognize” (John 1:26). It seems as though that should fix everything. If the Messiah is in my midst—what more could I want? However, I still see people in pain, still see sin, still see darkness. I still want something different, something more. But the verse continues: “There is one among you whom you do not recognize, the one who is coming after me” (John 1:26-27, emphasis mine). The One Who is greater than the prophets is still to come. The people whom John is addressing still haven’t met Him yet. It’s a strange both/and: the Messiah is here and He is also coming. But this is the very promise of Christmas. Precisely because God has become Man to live with us and die for us, it is now possible for us to go to live with Him. This is why He is still coming: first to draw our souls to Himself at our deaths and then to raise our bodies at the end of time. And meanwhile, He is coming to us each day in the Eucharist to encourage and console us on our way to Heaven. Because it is just as John tells us: the greatest things are still to come. Relate to the Lord // How is your hope? Share it with Jesus and ask for an increase in the virtue of hope.

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

December 31, 2025 // Optional Memorial of Saint Sylvester I, Pope Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: John 1:1-18 Reflect on the Word //  My family and I had just returned home from Christmas morning Mass and our annual Christmas Jack-in-the-Box food run. It was lunch time, but all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball. I quickly ate what I could and went to lay down while my husband and children sat at the table.  It was time.  My fourth child was giving all the signs of his arrival. I labored since the morning but convinced myself it would be long until it was time to meet him. After all, the finish line of pregnancy always seems so far away. But it was happening. The child we waited over forty weeks for was coming and all of the emotions rushed through me.  Within two hours from parking our car, we were holding our little Christmas boy. His arrival was nothing and everything like what we anticipated. Today’s Gospel shows how every new beginning is also an end of something else, which is fitting as we approach the new year. Maybe we are counting down the seconds until a difficult or painful year ends, or perhaps we are counting down in anticipation for something exciting that is taking place in the year to come. Regardless of whether we are focusing on the end or a new beginning, God is there and He has always been there. It is time. The God of the universe—the Alpha and Omega— the One Who holds time in His hands, allows us to know Him. He came into the world so He could call us His children. Whatever this year looked like for you, sister, may we be reminded of the perpetual pursuit that God has for us. He goes before us. He sets a place for us. He promised to return for us and take us to this place Himself.  God holds time in His hands, but He also holds you. He holds your desires and your dreams. He carries your burdens and your fears. He is the light in your darkness, and you will not be overcome.  Relate to the Lord // What are you holding? Prayerfully imagine placing all that you hold dear in the Father’s steady, gentle Hands.

December 30, 2025 // Sixth Day in Octave of Christmas Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: 1 John 2:12-17 I remember being mesmerized by the colorful twinkle lights on my family’s Christmas tree when I was a little girl. There’d be classic Christmas songs playing in the background, little silver bells ringing on our tree, and my mom making cookies. Meanwhile, I would lay underneath the tree and look up at all the lights and ornaments. Ever since then, there has always been something so beautiful to me about twinkle lights at Christmas time.  Sometimes, Advent (which we just finished) and Christmas are really some of the most wonderful times of the year. Other times, for many, it’s such a difficult season that might feel more like Lent, or even Holy Saturday, where you’re waiting and aching and praying, but still hurting. And that’s when I’m reminded that all the beauty in the decorations of this season isn’t for itself, looks, or just joy for joy’s sake, but it’s ultimately to console and bring lasting, true joy reminding us of the One Who came on Christmas Day.  Maybe this time of year brings up the nostalgia of a beautiful memory with your loved ones. In which case, it gives us a chance to thank God for them. Maybe it brings up a yearning for something that we hope will be fulfilled.  In which case, we have an opportunity to look back at the promises God has already fulfilled throughout history and be renewed with hope.  In either case, the “things of the world” that Saint John writes about in today’s First Reading (1 John 2:15) are all things that hopefully can lead us closer to the Lord if we see Him in them—rather than seeing them apart from Him. If we love Him more than them.  The One Who has come and is near right now created all these things that may bring you joy and consolation throughout this season. Let’s thank Him and enjoy them with His presence in mind. Relate to the Lord // How can you make thanksgiving a part of your Christmas season? Start today by making a list of God’s graces and blessings in your life.