July 13, 2026 // Monday of the Fifteenth Week in Ordinary Time // Optional Memorial of Saint Henry Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 10:34–11:1 Reflect on the Word //  I opened the email. “This isn’t going to work out,” I read. “ I need someone who is willing to help with all of my current projects. Based on what you’ve shared, I’m going to have to look for another writer.”  I closed the computer and sat back, processing what had just happened.  I’d been invited to work with and learn from a well-known writer, helping him interview some of his top clients. It was a good opportunity. But in our initial meeting, he’d mentioned a project I was not willing to be a part of. It would have required what I saw as a compromise of the Gospel’s pro-life message.  Reading his email, one part of me was indignant. Another part of me was relieved—no more wondering if this was my best use of my time and talents. Another part realized humbly that in standing for one aspect of the Gospel, I was experiencing another:  “Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it” (Matthew 10:39).   This verse from today’s Gospel reflects the paradox of martyrdom. The resurrected life of a Christian has a requirement: that we die to ourselves in union with Jesus Christ.  This was a small death, to be sure—but it was a death.  A loss. A dead end. God, I knew, would bring life and flourishing out of this tiny crucifixion. I took a deep breath, opened the computer again, and began working on my book on a Catholic martyr who’d given her very life for the truth of the Gospel.   Sister, we may be asked to make massive sacrifices for the sake of truth, like the martyrs in the canon of Saints. Or we’ll make dozens of daily decisions—little martyrdoms—that allow us to die to ourselves over and over, becoming more like Christ each time.  But martyrdom is never the end.  It makes possible true freedom, capacity for love, and the promise of eternity. And even in this life, God will bring goodness and abundance out of each small sacrifice for His sake.  Relate to the Lord // What sacrifice or death to self can you offer to the Lord today? 

July 11, 2026 // Memorial of Saint Benedict, Abbot Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 10:24–33 Reflect on the Word //   My mentor at work is a phenomenal woman—smart, kind, gentle, accomplished—and yet, being the soft-spoken one out of the two of us, she is the last person to boast of her greatness. So, when she received a well-deserved promotion in our office, I knew I wanted to use my boisterous voice to support her. Even though she was hesitant about her future in the position, I never was. I always knew she would do great, and I practically shouted her amazing accomplishment from the rooftops, wanting everyone to hear about the wonderful work she has done—and will continue to do.  Looking at today’s Gospel, I pondered how I use my voice to speak of my faith. Do I confidently proclaim the goodness of the Lord in the same way? With the same amount of pride and volume? Do I want everyone to hear Him?  Matthew shares Jesus’ request: “What I say to you in the darkness, speak in the light; what you hear whispered, proclaim on the housetops” (Matthew 10:27). Sometimes the voice of Jesus on earth is like that of my mentor: quiet and humble in its greatness. The Lord saves lives, loves us deeply, and rescues us from sin, yet He does these things in gentle, subtle ways. Jesus does not force His love onto humanity; He whispers it. It is our voice that amplifies His love for others. I believe in Him, we should all firmly believe in Him, and together, we can proclaim His saving goodness from the rooftops for all to hear!  Where is God calling you in your life to speak up and out for Him? What do you want the world to hear about Jesus and His goodness? Each of us can be a confident and proud amplifier of the One Who loves us most, using the voice He gave us. Relate to the Lord // Use your voice today to share Jesus’ love with someone.

July 10, 2026 // Friday of the Fourteenth Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 10:16-23  Reflect on the Word //  My brother called me in a panic. “I hate it here,” he said with desperation in his voice. For a man prone to depression, moving clear across the country and living in near isolation was taking its toll. For the better part of an hour, I let him sob into the phone without the slightest clue as to how I could help.  “Pray with him,” my husband gently whispered to me.  But I couldn’t. He was an atheist, after all. I was certain that my request would be immediately denied.  Still, I followed the nudge.  “Would you like to pray?” I sheepishly asked. To my surprise, he agreed, but not without making his atheistic beliefs clear to me first.  The truth is that this story doesn’t conclude with cinematic fireworks. My brother didn’t have a spiritual awakening or “come to Jesus” moment. He simply said yes to my invitation, and that was enough.  We are warned in today’s Gospel that we “will be hated by all because of [His] name” (Matthew 10:22). Rejection is part of the Christian life, and that truth can be scary—so much so that we often end up ignoring the little nudges God places on our heart. We slink back when we know we should be bold in prayer or stay silent in the face of wrongdoing.  Though scary, the beauty of leaning into God’s prompting is that we will never do it alone. The Holy Spirit, Who dwells within us, will guide us along the way. We see this in Matthew 10:19, when Jesus says, “Do not worry about how you are to speak or what you are to say. You will be given at that moment what you are to say.” In those moments when we are willing to speak up, God takes our fear of rejection and replaces it with His presence.  I wonder, sister, what nudges have you been ignoring in your life for fear of rejection? Lean into them.  He will guide your way.  Relate to the Lord // Pray for courage to respond to the little promptings of the Holy Spirit today.

July 9, 2026 // Thursday of the Fourteenth Week in Ordinary Time // Optional Memorial of Saint Augustine Zhao Rong, Priest, and Companions, Martyrs Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: Hosea 11:1-4, 8e-9 Reflect on the Word //  I left the confessional and dropped to my knees in my choir stall. Gazing at the monstrance, my heart was pouring out gratitude for the beautiful mercy flowing from the Sacrament I had just received. Then the question surfaced in my heart: Lord, how can You be so patient with me? Time after time I have gone to Him with the same sins, the same weaknesses, the same failures, and again and again His grace has flooded my soul. His forgiveness brings peace as the words of absolution wash over me. Sure, I’m not sacrificing to the Baals and burning incense to idols as we read in today’s First Reading. Or am I? How often has the Lord called to me, and I have responded by running farther from Him? There are so many areas of my heart where I run from Him and reject my identity as His daughter, though He “[draws me] with human cords, with bands of love”(Hosea 11:4). I  have known His love—I know His love even now—and I have heard His call, not out of Egypt, but out of the world, to belong to Him. And yet, like Israel I sometimes still rebel. He has fed me, He has healed me, and still my heart desires to direct itself and fails to surrender. But His love is patient, it is unending, “[His] heart is overwhelmed, [His] pity is stirred” (Hosea 11:8). It is His heart that is so patient, His Divine Love that draws us, fosters us, and raises us to His cheeks again and again (see Hosea 11:3). Daughter, no matter how far we wander, no matter how often we fall or turn our hearts from Him, He welcomes us back. He is a patient Father, a Divine Lover, for “[He] is God and not man . . . [He] will not let the flames consume you” (Hosea 11:8).  Relate to the Lord // Make a plan to go to the Sacrament of Reconciliation this week. Receive His patient love. 

July 8, 2026 // Wednesday of the Fourteenth Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Responsorial Psalm: Psalm 105:2-3, 4-5, 6-7  Reflect on the Word //  Her gaze was penetrating as she held my face with her hard-earned wrinkling hands. We were in public, yet I felt no discomfort. She wanted to communicate something to me, a message beyond the ability of words. She had just finished telling me a story from an earlier chapter of her life, sharing about an experience that deeply shaped her and moved the trajectory of her future years. Her look’s intent was to transmit a lesson that she wanted to be sure I comprehended. Her final words to me were, “There’s always more. We have a great deal to look forward to after this life.” In that moment, this woman imparted a word of hope to me, a reminder of the end for which I was created. Her intent gaze revealed to me that the Father’s gaze constantly invites me into “the ever-more.” We are called to respond, just as we hear David exclaim in today’s Psalm: “Seek always the face of the Lord” (105:4). God’s look of love beckons, and He desires to receive a response of love from each soul He created, each soul whom He knows. Each one of us is awaited in the gaze of Christ—the icon of the Father, the second Person of the Trinity, true God and true Man.  Saint Thérèse of Lisieux was known for her devotion to the Holy Face of Jesus, a devotion she learned from  her own beloved sister. In her Canticle of the Holy Face, Thérèse prays, “Your Face is my only Homeland.” May this be the constant prayer of my own heart.  We are all invited each day to recall the wonders of the Lord and to live our lives glorifying Him. The gaze of Christ invites each of us to reorient our own gaze to the fundamental call of our lives: union with Him, the One Who thirsts for us to enter into the eternal Presence of the Holy Trinity. Relate to the Lord // Pray Saint Thérèse’s Canticle of the Holy Face today. 

July 7, 2026 // Tuesday of the Fourteenth Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 9:32-38 Reflect on the Word //  We drove home in tense silence, Jesus and I. The Gospel at daily Mass had proclaimed “the harvest is abundant” but mine was nowhere in sight (Matthew 9:37). It had been two years since God gave harvest as my word for the year, but as far as I could tell, there was no abundance in sight.  Frustrated, I turned to the Lord and vented my anger and disappointment. Did I misunderstand? Why do You promise good things if You’re not going to deliver? How much longer, Lord? Like me, I’m sure you have many needs and desires. Intentions you’ve been praying for for years, hopes you have yet to see realized. But as seasons change and years go by without the precious fruit you’ve been waiting for, it’s natural for resentment to build or trust to wane.  It is here, in the wilderness of faith, that Jesus’ heart is “moved with pity,” not only for the crowds in today’s Gospel, but for us. Like them, we so often feel “troubled and abandoned” (Matthew 9:36).  But when Jesus speaks of a harvest, He means what He says. There is a field to be cultivated and abundant fruit to be borne, in the world, in the Church, and in our souls. The harvest Jesus is bringing about is more plentiful than we can imagine—and that kind of yield takes time.  From our limited perspective, we expect the harvest to happen in a moment—a positive pregnancy test, a job offer, the remission of an illness. But harvest is a process, not an event. And that process is unfolding in every season. We’re so far removed from an agrarian society that we forget: different plants yield fruit in different seasons, but something is always in bloom.  The evidence of harvest is all around, both now and not yet, because His love and provision are always in season—if only we have eyes to see it. Relate to the Lord // Where is the harvest at hand in your life today?

July 6, 2026 // Optional Memorial of Saint Maria Goretti, Virgin and Martyr // Monday of the Fourteenth Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 9:18–26 Reflect on the Word //  It had been nearly fifteen years since we’d been in the same room, and I could hardly wait to see my dear friend—this friend who taught me to love God’s Word. A lot happened in those fifteen years, a lot of life, big life. In her case, she’d lost her only son when he was murdered by a homeless drug addict. Some years before that, her husband fell, broke his neck, and was now a quadriplegic. My dear friend is his caretaker, even as she continues to work a full-time job. As I was waiting for her, I texted and asked her what she was driving so I’d know what car to look for. She replied that she had planned on buying herself a nice luxury vehicle but instead, she was driving a wheelchair-accessible minivan. This was followed by many laughing emojis. At dinner, we sat and laughed and cried and laughed some more through a delightful three hours, trying to cram fifteen years of living into our conversation. Her sincere Christian witness, her love for the Lord, her trust in His plans was deeply moving. She even beamed as she told me the story of how the Lord had provided the ugly but necessary minivan. Through the whole dinner, I kept thinking, This is a woman who knows how to reach for Jesus. And keep reaching. Twelve long years, the unnamed woman in our Gospel reading bled (see Matthew 9:20). Twelve long years she sought treatment, spending everything she had to no avail. Still, she reached out for the Lord. She reached for Jesus and was met with His healing power. I saw that so clearly in my friend. Despite all she had suffered and lost, she continued to reach for Jesus, and He was so willing and able to fill her up to the brim with trust in Him and sincere joy. This being human, living among other broken humans, living in a broken world—it’s not easy. But if we keep reaching for the Lord, He will unleash grace upon grace, and occasionally, an ugly minivan.   Relate to the Lord // Where do you need to reach out for Jesus—again or for the first time? 

July 4, 2026 // Saturday of the Thirteenth Week in Ordinary Time // Independence Day [In the Dioceses of the United States] Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 9:14–17 Reflect on the Word //  This birthday was different. Familiar joy didn’t bubble up; instead I felt uncertainty, bittersweetness, even a pang of regret. Were my forties all they could have been? Why didn’t I feel I had anything to show for the last ten years? As I turn fifty, instead of a house full of six children, my nest is quickly emptying. How I spend my time and what I focus on are all new. Facing a new decade brings a whole new experience of life. Roles that once fit comfortably no longer do. And I can’t help but wonder: Who am I? Who am I becoming? It can be tempting to ignore the tension, to keep stretching myself to fit what has always been. But Jesus reminds me in today’s Gospel that new wine cannot be poured into old wineskins. If it is, both are lost: “the skins burst, the wine spills out, and the skins are ruined” (Matthew 9:17). Instead, new wine requires “fresh wineskins”—space that can expand, stretch, and hold what is being created. The image of the wineskins reminds us that new seasons are not meant to be forced into old patterns, identities, or expectations. The tension does not indicate failure, nor is it something to resist. Rather, we are invited to take the next step into a new season of life. While many women feel this most acutely in midlife, this truth is not limited to that season. A young woman finding her voice, a new bride adjusting to her vocation, or someone beginning again after loss—all experience moments when the old wineskins no longer fit the new wine. Today’s Gospel reminds us that in every season, God is always doing something new, inviting us forward, not backward. My sister, Jesus does not ask us to preserve what has already been stretched beyond its limits. Instead, He invites us to trust the new life unfolding within us. Let us not cling to who we have been, but become who we are being made to be—trusting that God will provide the space, grace, and courage we need to receive all that is new. Relate to the Lord // What new thing is God doing in this season? Ask for the grace to receive all that He has for you.

July 3, 2026 // Feast of Saint Thomas, Apostle Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: John 20:24–29 Reflect on the Word //  One of the most painful experiences for the human heart is to feel left behind in one’s sorrow.  There have been seasons of my life in which it seemed that everyone around me was being blessed in ways I had long desired. I wanted those joys for them; I just also wanted them for myself. In these moments, my temptation was to believe that God had forgotten me. That He had found others more worthy of His time, attention, and blessing. But God never forgets us, not for a moment.  And Saint Thomas the Apostle holds the most moving proof. Today’s Gospel places us in the Upper Room with the Apostles after Jesus’ Resurrection. The Apostles were in deep pain, confusion, and fear. Then, the Risen Jesus appeared to them and they rejoiced!  Except Thomas. Because he wasn’t there during that time. Thomas, who was undergoing the same trauma and guilt as the others, was the one Apostle who was not present at the Lord’s first appearance. At the news of Christ’s Resurrection, Thomas may have felt forgotten and left behind. All he wanted was Jesus. And everyone else seemed to get Him—but not Thomas. I can relate to the possible spiraling of Thomas’s heart and mind. Why would Jesus do this? Am I not important to Him? Am I disposable in this mission? Did He not want to see me? Then, we receive Jesus’ response. Thomas was far from forgotten, far from disposable.  Jesus, in fact, wanted something even more special and more intimate for him. When He appears again, Jesus invites Thomas to place his hands in the very wounds that would heal his wounded heart.  What Thomas most desired was to be close to the Risen Jesus. Thomas received what he most desired—it just looked different than what he thought. It was an even grander expression of love. If we desire this closeness to the Lord, should we not expect the same merciful love as well?  Saint Thomas shows us that we are never left behind, never inconsequential, and never unimportant to the Lord. On the contrary, He chooses us to come even closer, every single day. Relate to the Lord // Is there a wound that’s been coming up lately? Show it to Jesus. Tell Him about it.

July 2, 2026  // Thursday of the Thirteenth Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 9:1-8  Reflect on the Word //  The kids’ bedroom door closes behind me with a soft “click,” and I let out a long sigh. The boys are asleep at last, and now it’s time for all the day’s mistakes to begin clamoring for my attention.  The nightly self-accusations are wearyingly similar: I lost my temper too many times to count.  I said unkind things I can’t take back.  I whined and complained instead of thanking God for His countless blessings.   There are so many wrongs I can’t right, and some nights the weight of my failings presses down so heavily, I feel spiritually paralyzed.  Then I hear Jesus’ words to the paralytic in today’s Gospel: “Courage, child, your sins are forgiven” (Matthew 9:2).  I know God’s mercy is infinite, an “abyss” as He described it to Saint Faustina (Diary 1777). Yet somehow, deep down, I’m always afraid that I will eventually run out of chances. My own spiritual paralysis terrifies me, and instead of throwing myself on His mercy, I beat myself up: I should be better by now; I should have conquered these habits.  But here, laid out on my stretcher and unable to move, I see the Lord gazing down at me with love. And I know that I do not have to be afraid.  Courage. We have only to look at Him, not at ourselves. We are helpless, laid low by our sins, but He “has authority on earth to forgive sins” (Matthew 9:6). The only thing that keeps Him from working miracles in and through us is our fear—the fear that says, God can’t possibly keep forgiving me . . . He must be so disappointed in me. We can have complete confidence in this: Jesus is not afraid of our sin. He’s not scandalized by our weaknesses and daily failings. He only wants us to let Him come close and lift us to our feet. And He will happily do so again and again and again, as long as we do not lose courage—the courage that comes from trust in Him.  Relate to the Lord // Spend a moment in imaginative prayer as the paralytic on the mat. Look up at Jesus and ask Him for what you need.

July 1, 2026 // Wednesday of the Thirteenth Week in Ordinary Time // Optional Memorial of Saint Junipero Serra, Priest [In the Dioceses of the United States] Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 8:28-34 Reflect on the Word //  I sat anxiously in the wooden pew, gently swaying back and forth, taking deep breaths—anything to calm my nerves as I waited my turn for Confession. I was deeply overwhelmed by my sinfulness, my heart and thoughts swarming with discontent. I had begun to confess regularly, but my heart had yet to receive the truth of Love and Mercy Himself. The enemy’s taunts overcame my heart and mind, causing me to doubt and question. What if my sins are the exception to His compassion? What if my mistakes are too much for Him?   As I read today’s Gospel, I was struck by the words “he came” (Matthew 8:28). Jesus willingly entered the place where two demoniacs resided. It was a place to be avoided, as the demoniacs made it dangerous for anyone to pass. Jesus went where no one else was willing to go, and He entered into this area of darkness without any fear or hesitation.  As I ponder this in light of my Confession experience, I understand that His desire was never to condemn or hurt me, but to cast out the darkness that separates me from Him. He doesn’t enter into these places only to wipe away my sins, but also to give, to pour out His abundant love and mercy.  Dear sister, He’ll never tire of driving out the darkness from our hearts with His tender yet powerful healing. He’s never afraid to enter into the parts of our hearts that pain us, even the places where we don’t dare to go. We worship a King Whose mercy and loving pursuit remain inexhaustible for all eternity. There is no darkness, sin, or affliction that He isn’t willing to enter and redeem. May we allow this truth to sink deep into our souls, and continue to return to Him.  Relate to the Lord // Make time this week to receive the Sacrament of Confession. Jesus’ love and mercy are waiting for you.

June 30, 2026 // Tuesday of the Thirteenth Week in Ordinary Time // Optional Memorial of the First Holy Martyrs of the Holy Roman Church Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 8:23-27  Reflect on the Word //  Just as suddenly as I noticed the casual tone of the crowd of tourists filling the little European church, I felt Him say to me, Will you help Me? It was an answer to a prayer I had made earlier: Please fill Your beautiful churches with people who cherish You. His answer came in what should have been silence after Communion. I struggled to understand how such a church could be such a lonely place for Him, echoing not with prayers but with street-level voices, not speaking to Him. He knew well how I longed for any of these tiny, forgotten European sanctuaries to be lifted and brought back home. I felt His similar tone in the Gospel today: “Why are you terrified, O you of little faith?” (Matthew 8:26) I could sense His compassion in the ache of my heart amid those embattled waters that dare to terrify me.  His question cut me to the core, for it was a reminder of Who He is: the One Who is worthy of my complete confidence. And just as His voice brought calm to the chaos of the waters, it healed me even as it rebuked. The constancy of His Voice reminds us that even when He seems to be sleeping, He is still in the boat—and that is not far.  The Gospel proclaims a “great calm” at His voice (Matthew 8:26). Do we ask Jesus to come to us as the Lord and Prince of Peace—in His total freedom—and to act and speak into our lives as He wills? Do we recognize His presence within us, no matter what storms may rage around us?  Relate to the Lord // Give Jesus permission to speak to you, to speak into your life today. Pay attention for His practical and personal inspirations.

June 29, 2026 //Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul, Apostles Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Psalm: Psalm 34:2-3, 4-5, 6-7, 8-9 Reflect on the Word //  Our three-year-old granddaughter, unable to speak or swallow due to mouth sores from cancer treatment, gave a thumbs up to her mom’s description of the fun visit they’d just experienced with her dad and siblings. They’d  returned home now, and I watched as our daughter positioned herself next to her child in the bed, settling in for a chat with me and my husband.  Our visit was restricted to a video call that day, but even so, it was impossible to miss the exhaustion and pain on their faces. A wave of discouragement swept over me as the call ended: Where is the evidence that God hears my prayers? Why must their suffering be prolonged? But reading today’s Responsorial Psalm, I wonder, could it be that the angel God promises to rescue us is delivering us from evils more threatening than cancer or the painful side effects of its treatment? I immerse myself further in the Psalm and discover that “the lowly” who “hear me” and are “glad” (Psalm 32:3) are the parts of me that doubt, resist, cower in fear, or hide in shame. I summon them out of hiding and declare, “The angel of the LORD encamps around those who fear him and delivers them” (Psalm 34:8). Then I invite all my parts to “glorify the LORD with me” (Psalm 32:4a). I receive grace to know the unchanging goodness of God even when I don’t understand His ways. Sister, the promises of today’s Psalm are not empty. When we choose to remember God’s glory and exalt His name, a real transformation takes place in us, no matter our circumstances. We  find courage  to let go of our doubts and fears and to entrust everything to Him. Relate to the Lord // Pray with Psalm 34 today. What verse or word does the Lord highlight for you?

June 27, 2026 // Saturday of the Twelfth Week in Ordinary Time // Optional Memorial of Saint Cyril of Alexandria, Bishop and Doctor of the Church Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 8:5-17 Reflect on the Word //  Unworthy. That is the word that resonated with me most in the season that led up to my Easter welcome into the Catholic Church. I came to the Catholic faith a little later in life, when I was in my early thirties. I had two little boys who had already been baptized into the faith, but for many years I thought I was fine keeping to my Protestant roots.  There was a hubris within me that for decades recognized that Jesus lived, suffered, and died for the salvation of my soul, and yet didn’t want to recognize the Church that He founded. I was happy to ignore the apostolic succession and honor instead the Protestant Christianity my parents had chosen for me. As an adult, I found myself free to choose the One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic faith, and I felt unworthy of it all. But there was a paradox in this unworthiness.  Like the centurion in today’s Gospel, I could see and acknowledge my own unworthiness and still accept the gift of grace and life He offered.  We recall the centurion during each Mass when we recite our supplication: “Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed.”  Jesus brings the necessary healing, and we need humility to implore not just His grace, but to answer His invitation to encounter Him in the Eucharist. We are all unworthy. And yet it is this very recognition that gives space in our hearts for greater union with Him.  Our unworthiness is not because we are horrible people. There is no shame in our unworthiness. Our unworthiness is simply because He is so good. No level of human perfection could ever make us worthy of Him—of His sacrifice, of His love. His love is not earned by the worthy; it is freely given to the contrite of heart who seek unity with His divine will. It is given to the soul that cries out to be healed.  Relate to the Lord // Ask for the grace to receive the gift of His love. 

June 26, 2026 // Friday of the Twelfth Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 8:1-4 Reflect on the Word //  I stood in front of the mirror, frustrated again. My body felt foreign—sluggish, inflamed, unresponsive. I had tried the plans, followed the routines, done “all the right things,” and still, something wasn’t clicking. That familiar temptation crept in: fix it, control it, push harder. But beneath the noise was a quieter invitation—to come closer, not to a new plan, but to a Person. In that moment, I felt the tension between striving for a solution and surrendering to the One Who sees me fully. I didn’t need another answer. I needed to approach Him. In today’s Gospel, “a leper approached, did him homage, and said, ‘Lord, if you wish, you can make me clean’” (Matthew 8:2). The leper’s suffering is visible, undeniable. Yet what strikes me is not just his need for healing, but his clarity of faith. He knows Who Jesus is. He believes in His power. And so he draws near. Before any physical healing takes place, there is already a deeper restoration unfolding—a turning of the heart toward Christ. The leper’s condition becomes the very place of encounter. His suffering leads him not into isolation, but into relationship. Jesus stretches out His hand. He touches what others would avoid. The miracle that follows reveals something greater than healing alone: the heart of God, who is not distant from our wounds, but moved by them. The healing is real, but it is not the end. It is an invitation into communion. We, too, carry places of brokenness—visible or hidden—that ache for restoration. And yet, these very places can become the doorway to intimacy with Him. When we choose to approach Jesus in trust, we find that He is already reaching toward us, drawing us not only into healing, but into deeper relationship with Him. Relate to the Lord // Share your desire for healing with Jesus vulnerably. Allow Him to respond.

June 25, 2026 // Thursday of the Twelfth Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 7:21–29 Reflect on the Word //  “I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” my landlady said. “I have some bad news . . .” I stopped short in the driveway and listened as she announced that she would be moving out of state in a few months and needed to end my lease on her basement apartment early. I didn’t begrudge her a new job, of course, but I did feel a keen sting of disappointment, followed closely by tearful anxiety. It hadn’t even been nine months and I was hoping to stay there for at least another year: in that perfect space where the price was right and my commute was short and I lived within walking distance of the cutest independent bookstore. It had seemed like a small miracle when I found the place the previous summer, and now I wondered if I could trust the Lord to come through for me again.  It didn’t escape my notice when I prepared to write this devotion a little later that, in today’s Gospel, the Lord compares those who hear His word but don’t act on it to “a fool who has built his house on sand” (Matthew 7:26). On the other hand, those who do act on what the Lord has spoken have built their houses “solidly on rock” (Matthew 7:25).  I hear You, Lord, I thought with a smile and a shake of my head. The choice was clear: As I looked for a new literal house, would the house of my heart stand secure on the Lord’s promises? Would I act in accordance with God’s Word as revealed in Scripture—the persistent assurance that God is good and worthy of my trust? Or would I let doubt shatter what I knew to be true? I don’t know what secret storms your heart is currently weathering, sister. But I do know this: if we place our trust in the Lord, not just in word but with an act of the will, we, too, will build our houses on solid rock. The Lord is good, and His love is the firmest foundation. Relate to the Lord // “The Lord is good.” Do you believe this? What keeps you from believing this truth. Talk to the Lord about it. 

June 24, 2026 // Solemnity of the Nativity of Saint John the Baptist Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: Isaiah 49:1-6 Reflect on the Word //  A few months after my husband died, my kids and I went to visit our good friends to celebrate their daughter (my goddaughter) receiving her First Holy Communion. The loss was still extremely raw and painful. We had only survived one season, and as we embarked on another, the pain was near constant and so intense as to be almost unmanageable. I was barely hanging on. That weekend was Father’s Day, as well. I felt freshly broken, and I wept into the arms of my dead husband’s friend: “Why did this happen to me?” He held me tightly and said, “Because God wanted you to be a great Saint.” In today’s First Reading, the prophet Isaiah speaks of being made a “sharp-edged sword,” and a “polished arrow” (Isaiah 49:2). Think of what it takes to forge these weapons—being sharpened and polished is certainly not a pleasant experience. When I experience suffering and pain, my first response is often, “Why me?” The Lord is teaching me, patiently, repetitively, to surrender to the process of being made, being transformed. My efforts to participate in the redemptive work done on the Cross are not wasted, though I will have to wait to see the heavenly fruit of my labor. Isaiah’s prophecy applied in the short term to the Jews’ return from exile, and in the long term to Jesus, Who saved all people from bondage to sin. It also applies to each of us, called by our baptismal vocation to continue Christ’s redemptive work until He comes again. When we allow ourselves to be refashioned by the hands which made us, the God Who has a plan for our lives, we become ever more like Christ. Jesus gave up everything so that the world would be redeemed and bathed in His light. When we join our sufferings to His, Christ’s light within us shines brighter and spreads throughout the world. Relate to the Lord // Thank God for His good plan for your life, even if you can’t see it yet.