Today we are talking about GOODBYE. As summer comes to a close, there may be the occasion for goodbyes in our lives. (At the very least, a goodbye to the season.) How do you deal with the goodbyes in your life? You can find all the themes here. Welcome to the #BISsisterhood link-up. Every Thursday, we get together as one community to share our hearts. Here's how you can participate: Link-up a post that goes with the weekly theme. Share your thoughts of the theme on Instagram/Twitter/Facebook using #BISsisterhood so we can see each other's posts. Comment below with your thoughts on the prompt. Basically, let's talk to each other. Remember to use #BISsisterhood so we can all communicate well with each other out in the social media world. [bctt tweet="The #BISsisterhood link-up is where it's at. I just added my post here:"] Here is the button to our link-up that you are more than welcome to place on your blog, share on your social media, and/or save for a rainy day. An InLinkz Link-up

Goodbyes are hard. Tonight, I had to say goodbye to a priest who has become a father to me. This is the fourth time that I’ve had to say goodbye to him in the last year, but instead of getting easier, I find that each goodbye does more damage to my heart than the last. This goodbye is made especially hard by the fact that this time, there is no time frame for when I will see him again in this life. I don’t know when I will see him again, and so this goodbye has a finality to it that the others have not. In two months, I have to say goodbye to another man who has become a friend, confidant, and brother to me. Like his brother priest, this man has been reassigned. As I sat on a set of steps outdoors and wept after my goodbye tonight (realizing that another would be coming much sooner than I’d like), crying out in anguish to the Father in Heaven who sees each tear and feels my heartbreak, something occurred to me. Goodbyes are hard for a reason, sisters. Goodbyes remind us that we were not made for this world. [bctt tweet="Goodbyes remind us that we were not made for this world."] So often I forget how temporary this world is. I allow myself to become satisfied with the material, with the perishable, rather than holding out for the eternal. And that, sisters, is when goodbyes become difficult. In this world, all things must pass, including our relationships. Whether it’s the move of a best friend, the death of a spouse, the growing up of a child, the ending of a friendship, or the reassignment of a priest or religious we have grown close to, goodbyes will come, and they will hurt. So let them, sisters. Let them hurt. Let them reawaken the ache in your souls for the eternal. For when we come to heaven’s shore, we will be reunited with all those that we loved and lost, and we will never, ever have to say goodbye again. So I’m going to lean into this pain, sisters. I’m going to embrace these goodbyes, as hard as they are. I’m going to rejoice in the tears. I’m going to turn to our loving Father with an ache in my soul that only He can fill. I pray that the next time you have a tough goodbye, you do the same. Catie Destatte is a 21 year old daughter of Christ and lover of life. She is a student at Franciscan University of Steubenville studying Theology and Catechetics. She loves Mary, tea, and white wine.

What a summer beauty for your devices this week made by Kristin Foss from Vine of Plenty! The verse comes from today's psalm, Psalm 34: Taste and see the goodness in the Lord. She is working on the project #summerofpsalmsproject, which you must check out! This week be on the lookout to taste and see His goodness. Download the free phone and desktop wallpapers belbow: Phone wallpaper Desktop wallpaper

Today we are talking about TRANSFIGURATION. Today we celebrate the feast of the Transfiguration of Our Lord. His glory is revealed! Are there places in your life where you have felt His glory revealed? You can find all the themes here. We're happy to announce the themes for September! September 3: LABOR September 10: DAILY September 17: EXPECTATIONS September 24: CHANGED Welcome to the #BISsisterhood link-up. Every Thursday, we get together as one community to share our hearts. Here's how you can participate: Link-up a post that goes with the weekly theme. Share your thoughts of the theme on Instagram/Twitter/Facebook using #BISsisterhood so we can see each other's posts. Comment below with your thoughts on the prompt. Basically, let's talk to each other. Remember to use #BISsisterhood so we can all communicate well with each other out in the social media world. [bctt tweet="The #BISsisterhood link-up is where it's at. I just added my post here:"] Here is the button to our link-up that you are more than welcome to place on your blog, share on your social media, and/or save for a rainy day. An InLinkz Link-up

It was a Thursday evening when I pulled up to the Grand Canyon for the first time, the sun just setting over the rim. As I walked down onto an overlook and soaked in the awe-inspiring beauty of this rocky landscape, I felt overwhelmed with a sense of my own littleness in the midst of something much greater; I breathed in the presence of God in the still desert air. Inspired, I pulled off my Rosary bracelet and began running the beads through my hand. Thursday means Luminous Mysteries: the Baptism of the Lord. Reflecting on that moment long ago in the Jordan River, I looked down at what the mighty little Colorado River had wrought. Throughout the world, the power of water washes over the earth and wears down its edges; it guts out a gaping hole in the landscape, rips the rocks and mountains right out of their places and carries them away, dissolves them into a memory. Christ who was more powerful even than the water submitted Himself to its power, not for His sake but for our own. For when He lowered Himself into the Jordan River and allowed the powerful streams to wash over Him, He broke the mold. His act imbued the water with a much greater power, a much greater role in the world. For millennia, water had been shaping the earth and fostering life, gently sculpting dramatic landscapes through the slow passage of time and quenching the thirst of generations upon generations. It came from God and was an integral part of creation. And now that God Himself—who was stronger than the water He created—submitted Himself to it by His own choice through His Baptism in the Jordan, the water, when it is invoked in His name, has the power to shape men’s hearts and nourish new life within us, to quench the deep thirst within our souls and wash away the dust inside. It molds us in a long, slow, painful process, in which our sin and pride are gradually and lovingly stripped away like layers of rock to reveal breathtaking canyons underneath. It seems incredible that such large masses of hardened rock could be softened and overtaken by the little river at its core, but love is always more powerful than sin. And what is left behind when our sin is stripped away? We are left open, vulnerable, with wide, open spaces taking the place of the solid ground we once clung to, laying aside our own selfish plans and wants in exchange for the wide unknowns, for adventure, for the risk of following God’s will without seeing the entirety of the path ahead. And in this broken, raw, carved-out state, we become bathed in His mesmerizing beauty; we are far more beautiful than we ever could have been without His flowing grace. Our emptiness is more beautiful than our strength. [bctt tweet="Our emptiness is more beautiful than our strength."] We each carry canyons within us; they point to a gaping need that can only be filled by God’s love. That day at the Grand Canyon, I was at the beginning of a long journey: a cross-country move from California to New York. I was taking a leap of faith in pursuing something new, and while I hoped that I would land on steady ground, I was very much still up in the air. That in-between place required me to be patient and trust in God even when I couldn’t see or understand how things would work out. I was giving up a sense of security for something greater: to follow the path He was laying out for me. He was carving it out as I went, so that there were only a few steps ahead within my view, and He was carving me out, too, sculpting me more and more into who He created me to be. It was far from an easy process, this emptying of self, but it was leading me towards where I needed to be. He meets us right in the middle of that ache, that wide-open longing for fulfillment, and while we are there, He brings out new shades of beauty within us. His light shines upon the ridges and rocks that we bear to create sunsets more stunning than we could have imagined. Erin Cain is a twenty-something living in New York City, working in publishing, drinking lots of Earl Grey tea, and attempting to grow in virtue and love. photo by Corynne Olivia

I, Erica, have to apologize because in my hectic week, I looked at the wrong readings and created the weekly wallpaper based on a verse from July 5th. We'll just go with it. It's quite ironic the verse that I picked. It comes from 2 Corinthians 12:10 - For when I am weak, then I am strong. We can be so hard on ourselves when we feel weak--when we're tired from a long week of work, when I can't seem to battle that constant temptation, when it all seems too much. But then we're reminded that it is precisely in that weakness that we are made strong. In him, through him. Let's remember this week to turn to the one who makes us strong in those moments of weakness. Grab the free wallpaper below for your computer and desktop! And please excuse my weakness!! Phone wallpaper Desktop wallpaper

Today we are talking about FORGIVENESS. “The joy of God is the joy of forgiveness. It is the joy of the shepherd who finds his lost sheep; the joy of the woman who finds her lost coin; the joy of the father who welcomes home his lost son.” // Pope Francis You can find all the themes here. Welcome to the #BISsisterhood link-up. Every Thursday, we get together as one community to share our hearts. Here's how you can participate: Link-up a post that goes with the weekly theme. Share your thoughts of the theme on Instagram/Twitter/Facebook using #BISsisterhood so we can see each other's posts. Comment below with your thoughts on the prompt. Basically, let's talk to each other. Remember to use #BISsisterhood so we can all communicate well with each other out in the social media world. photo by Corynne Olivia [bctt tweet="The #BISsisterhood link-up is where it's at. I just added my post here:"] Here is the button to our link-up that you are more than welcome to place on your blog, share on your social media, and/or save for a rainy day.   An InLinkz Link-up

I was happily married at age 24 to my college sweetheart, Nathan Trapuzzano, on May 11, 2013. We met through FOCUS at Ball State University and our faith was always a stronghold in our relationship. Three months after our wedding, we found we were expecting our first child--a daughter--who was due May 7, 2014. On the morning of April 1st, 2014, I found myself suddenly widowed when my husband went out for his daily morning walk and never came home. He had been shot and killed just blocks from our home. I buried him on April 5th and, then, three weeks later gave birth to our daughter, Cecilia Marie Trapuzzano, on April 25th. The loss of my husband at the hands of another man has caused emotional devastation, yet God has been my anchor. Through my faith and the support of many family, friends, and even strangers, I have found the courage and strength to find joy in my daughter and help my heart heal and find forgiveness. The following is my Victim Impact Statement given at Nathan's murderer's trial: Your Honor, I am Jennifer Ann Trapuzzano, the widow of Nathan Benjamin Trapuzzano, and mother to his only child, Cecilia Marie Trapuzzano. I stand before you today representing the multitude of lives that have been effected due to the events of April 1st, 2014. On that day, we lost a wonderful man who was a husband, brother, son, grandson, uncle, nephew, friend, and soon to be daddy. Although I cannot address every person’s life who was affected due to the poor choices made that morning, I want to express the effects that I have personally witnessed and felt in my own life. There is no way that one can ever prepare themselves for this. Most believe that it will never happen to them. I was one of those people until Simeon Adams murdered my husband. Nathan was the greatest person. He was not a perfect person and never claimed to be, but you always knew where he stood, what was right, and what he believed. I never went a day doubting his love. He would always tell me he loved me every night before bed, every morning, and every time we went separate ways. He believed in helping others and often would get up early on Saturday, his only day to sleep in, to pray outside the abortion clinic. He was the greatest of persons. And there will always be a Nathan-sized hole in my heart and life. I stand before you today, a broken person, who has lost every sense of normality— A person who grieves the loss of Nathan, not only for myself, but for our daughter Cecilia, our unborn children, and for the world that has no idea what a wonderful person they are missing. Simeon stole not only the life of Nathan, but the normalcy, peace, stability, sanity, and ability to sleep, of an entire family and community. I expected to live my entire life with Nathan, we loved each other so, and we were truly soul mates. Now every day and every night I cannot escape the reality and accompanying grief that my happy, caring, and loving husband, the father of our daughter, is gone. The impact of his death on our family is profound. He was the family caretaker and leader, and I have felt less than adequate in trying somehow to fill his role. Just prior to his murder there was great excitement in our family. We were preparing for the birth of our daughter, Cecilia Marie, due May 7, 2014, just over a month away. We were also to celebrate our first wedding anniversary on May 11, 2014. I had just celebrated my 25th birthday on March 17th and still remember blowing out the candles, wishing this would be the best year, yet all the while knowing I didn’t even have to wish it because I knew it was going to be great. Only two short weeks later, Nathan’s death devastated our family. The fact that he never lived to enjoy and feel the excitement of becoming a father has added to our emotional stress and devastation. I cannot find the words (if there are any) to explain the devastation and mixture of feelings that I felt when I knew he hadn’t come home from his morning walk. I recall running outside, desperately calling his name, and walking the same route he always took. The memories still rush at me— the disbelief— and then the sudden reality of pain that shook me to my core and crushed my heart. It constantly haunts me that at the time of Nathan’s death, I was not there to comfort him or share last goodbyes— to at least be sure he did not feel alone. The horrific drive to the hospital was filled with feelings of disbelief mixed with pleading to God to save my loving spouse. My worst fears were realized when they told me they were bringing in the coroner and needed someone to identify the body. I was incapable of doing so, and had my father and friend act in my place. My worst fear was confirmed by my crying father. My mind did not want to believe this; I was confused and numb. My life was shattered. My thoughts immediately went to our unborn child. I needed to do everything in my power to keep our Cecilia safe and healthy. She instantly became my lifeline, my reason for surviving. But I now had to face the world without the love and care of my devoted husband and Cecilia without her father’s care, guidance, protection and love, a love that can never be replaced – a totally unconditional love which is so precious today. I will never forget that first night. There was not much sleep that night and for a number of nights thereafter. I continue to have sleeping problems and lie awake many nights. I continually wake hoping that this tragedy has been a very bad dream, not wanting to accept the reality that we have lost him forever. The days following his death feel like a blur. His mother organized the funeral and service and helped me in the decisions that had to be made. I was not capable of organizing everything myself as I was still in a state of shock, numbness and confusion. Following the funeral, as the visits of family and friends became fewer, I had more time to think about the specific circumstances and consider how best to come to terms with this enormous tragedy. I realized that my life, had changed forever. I now had to face the world without the love and care of my devoted husband, and Cecilia had to face it without her father’s care, guidance, protection and love, a love that can never be replaced – a totally unconditional love which is so precious today. Three short weeks later I would deliver our baby girl into this world, this same world that took her father away from us. I cannot express how bitter I feel that what was supposed to be the most joyful day of my life was tainted with such pain and grief because he was not there to share it with me. I found myself as the sole parent which was not something I had ever prepared myself for. He and I had made these plans together. We had chosen her name, decorated her nursery, and prepared ourselves to become parents – together. Since his death, I find myself so often feeling incredibly lost and unable to readjust to a new plan, a plan that he cannot be a part of any longer. I no longer can enjoy our long and meaningful talks that we both enjoyed immensely, and enjoy together the plans we had made for the future. The impact is only deepened as I realize so many other aspects of life Cecilia and I will miss sharing with Nathan and things she will not have the joy of experiencing with her beloved father such as her baptism, her first words, her first steps, her first day of school, her first school dances, her first dates, sporting events, and his walking her down the aisle on her wedding day. I still recall him telling her in the womb every night “I love you baby girl”— words she will never hear again. She will never know his voice, or see his face in a crowd watching over her. She will only know him through stories and photographs. This is often the most devastating thing of all, that my darling daughter lost her father before she ever got the chance to know him. She calls out “dada” when she sees his picture and she kisses his face in a frame; this is the only version of him she will ever know. He will never get to teach her the worth of a true Godly man. He told me over and over again how important fathers are in the family unit. What a cruel twist of fate that his own child should have to grow up without hers. I have realized that we are all privileged to have had Nathan for the short time we had him. I tell my Cecilia every day that her father loves her. I know even when we miss Nathan that we are lucky – lucky that he was such a wonderful and a God-filled example to us. We are lucky that we are able to miss him so much because we knew his love and loved him in return. But this also highlights the impact of our loss. My life stopped on April 1st, 2014. I have been shocked to the core of my being. I feel battered and bruised, never whole again without him. I can no longer live an ordinary life and my heart suffers from the deepest wound— a wound from which, it will never recover. I was his wife for just over 10 months and then he was taken so suddenly from my life. The impact of Nate’s murder has been catastrophic. The loneliness and sadness I feel is enormous. Nathan embodied everything I could ever ask for in a spouse. He had an unshakeable sense of faith and family and unquenchable love for life. Now, as I go through the worst time in my life, the person whose passion, intelligence and strength got me through all my trials before is no longer there to help me with this struggle. What was stolen from me on April 1st 2014 was love, my best friend and my entire word. What was stolen from us was our future, our unborn children, and our lives together. The emotional impact is huge. I suffer from insomnia, anxiety, panic attacks, and I now look at the world differently. I have nightmares of his terror that morning and all that he would have gone through. I wake up petrified and uncertain if my loved ones are still breathing. I hesitate to leave my home because home is where I feel safe, the rest of the world has become a foreign battleground, with evil around every corner, waiting to take its next victim. I have had to move from the home we shared, given its proximity to where his death occurred and the sudden nature of finding myself a single parent. The pain of not being able to tell Nathan that I loved him in his final moments, the knowledge that those last moments were terrifying and painful, and the knowledge that with his final walk he had crossed paths with evil haunts me every day. Most of all, I miss Nathan. I miss waking to him making me breakfast in bed. I miss lazy afternoons in the sunshine, making plans, laughing with him, and sharing my life with him. I miss his insight, fun and wit, his huge smile and warm embrace. I think of him every second of every day and I think of the pain of never being able to laugh with him again. I think of the waste of a brilliant mind and a beautiful soul at the hands of another human being. I think of how in love we were and of how much I’ve lost and how much of my life and dreams were built around him. I am half a person because of this crime. I can never forget what was done to him. I come across ordinary young couples or young families and they are so happy and normal. It’s what we should have had. Seeing them is like so many stab wounds as they remind me of the life we would have shared together, but which, has been so cruelly taken away. I now have to try and rebuild a new life and even the thought of that just makes me so sad. I have been given a life sentence. Simeon Adams has been sentenced to 55 years. 55 years will never give Nathan back to us. It will never mend my broken heart. It will never give Cecilia the chance to know her father. However, I come here today not to plead for more time, but to speak of forgiveness. These next few words were spoken by Father Roberts at Nathan’s funeral. But they are words that I full-heartedly stand by and mean when I say: I forgive, because Nathan Trapuzzano was a man who knew from his head to his toes that he was a sinner who was loved and forgiven by God. He wanted everyone he met to know the same love and forgiveness. I believe that he still does. Nathan would have wanted everyone here to know something in our bones. Each one of us here is loved with an infinite, personal and unconditional love by a merciful God. There is nothing that we can do that God will not forgive. We can refuse to accept that mercy, but God will never stop extending it. God loves each one of us more than we can ever know. He wants nothing more than for us to return to Him and let Him fix His merciful eyes on us and say, “You are my beloved son, you are my beloved daughter, in whom I am well-pleased.” He wants to run out to meet us just as we decide to come back to Him, to embrace us and to shower us with kisses. This is true no matter how grievous our sins are. We cannot be certain exactly what was going through Nathan’s mind in the last moments of his life. But as his wife, his soul mate, his beloved, I believe that he would have desired to do God’s will with all his heart, just as he sought to do throughout the entire time that I knew him. For myself, I have little doubt that as his soul drew near to his particular judgment on Tuesday morning, perhaps even after he had passed out of consciousness, Nathan forgave his murderer. That was the kind of man that I knew him to be. And while 55 years will never give us back Nathan, forgiveness is what I offer Simeon today. - Jennifer Trapuzzano With special thanks to Father Roberts for delivering such an open and beautiful message on forgiveness that I hope to embody and we all can learn from. Jennifer Trapuzzano is a 26-year old widow and mother to 15-month old Cecilia. She is working hard to complete her Masters as a Physician Assistant. She has found healing after the murder of her husband in her Catholic faith and through writing at her blog, A Love So Strong.

I cringed when I saw her wiggling in her chair in the restaurant. “Hey,” I whispered, “do you need to go to the bathroom?” She wrinkled up her nose, as I knew she would. “I already go-ed.” I tried to subdue the growing frustration in my head. I bit my lip and sternly and coolly said, “Let’s go to the potty... right now.” Cue the dramatic crying, the stomping, the protesting. She knew she did something wrong, and I probably embarrassed her. Of course, a four-year-old can’t really process those emotions that well. Thus, tears. Back in the car, I buckled her baby brother first. The lateness of the day was made apparent by his tired whining. Let’s just get everyone home and in bed as soon as possible, I thought. By the time I had coaxed little baby’s flailing arms through the straps of his car seat, she still had not buckled herself. “You have to the count of three to buckle yourself, and then I will do it for you.” The annoyance from her “accident” was quite evident in my voice. Finally my impatience, coupled with her grand frustration, bubbled over. I tugged at the car seat straps while she swatted my hands and wiggled her legs, trying to prevent me from reaching the buckle. I gritted my teeth, trying not to completely lose it. I put my face right into hers, holding her wrist, all the while repeating, “Stop it, stop it, stop it.” Customers in the parking lot witnessed everything. I was so embarrassed. Somehow, she gave up the fight. I finished buckling her and drove home, fuming. I was mad at her for causing a scene, and at myself for not being able to handle it. No one said a word, whether it was out of the tension, exasperation, maybe even mere tiredness, or a combination of the three. Nevertheless, the car ride gave us each some time to calm down. When we got home, I unbuckled her and mustered up a much warmer and approachable voice, “Look. You made two mistakes tonight. Now is your chance to make them right. Your first mistake was not using the bathroom when you should have. We can make that right with a quick tubby. The second mistake was to scream and hit me when I tried to buckle you in. You can make that right by saying sorry. So what do you say?” She had her tear-smeared face down while I gave my explanation, but when I put the question out there, she seemed a little surprised and perked up a bit, as if she realized that a simple apology was all there was to fixing a wrong. “Sorry,” she mumbled and sobbed. I helped her out of the car after a great bear hug and encouraged her to head upstairs for the bath. The rest of the night she was quick to respond to the bedtime routine and more than happy to help with her baby brother. Forgiveness had released her and she beamed in her freedom. And her willingness to help and take care of her bedtime obligations was her affirmation to me that she had forgiven me for my impatience and shortness. Kids need to know that they are loved, and demonstrating forgiveness confirms that love. Without a forgiving hug, a child will wallow in their own self-pity until they start to believe that somehow, they became “a bad kid”. Forgiveness gives a child closure. I doubt her misbehavior would have magically ended had I maintained the stern face and cold demeanor. Give kids a way to make it right, because the freedom of forgiveness is incomplete without it. A punishment alone teaches a child that the mistake is bad. But no consequence at all dismisses the misbehavior and eliminates the responsibility. The “making it right” strategy gave my daughter an exit for the shame of her mistake. It channeled her stubborn independence so that she could take care of what she could control. In short, she knew she was forgiven, and she was able to move on. Getting a kid to say “I’m sorry” is not all that difficult, but having them appreciate the meaning behind the words is the tricky part. For them to fully comprehend their responsibility and take control of the mistake, they have to know forgiveness. Where there is love, they will be more willing and eager to “make it right”. Do you know you are forgiven, or do you still hold on to your guilt, like the child who continues to commit the same misbehaviors? Do you assume responsibility for your actions, or do you avoid thinking about it, uttering a meaningless “sorry” as a jaded and aloof kid? In our own grappling with sin, let us never forget, the battle has been won. Our sins were nailed to a cross. Let us serve Him then, and “make it right”, not because His sacrifice was insufficient, but because our love and gratitude for Him is abundant. For when we start to comprehend the immense love and forgiveness of Christ, the “make it right” desire bubbles over, and we beam like a preschooler eager to show her mom how well she brushed her teeth. [bctt tweet="In our own grappling with sin, let us never forget, the battle has been won."] photo by Corynne Olivia Kim is a former marathon runner and high school French teacher turned a Catholic wife and stay-at-home mother of four littles all under the age of 5.

We are so thrilled to have this weekly wallpaper from Katrina of Hatch Prints. It comes from today's second reading, Ephesians 4:6 One God and Father of us all who is above all and through all and in all. Where do you see him today? Take note of him as you go through your week, the One who is above all, through all and in all. Download the wallpapers for your daily reminder below! Phone wallpaper Desktop wallpaper

Today we are talking about THY WILL BE DONE. This is how Christ taught us to pray in the words of the Lord's Prayer and the example He gives throughout His entirely earthly ministry. Learning to abandon ourselves to God's will for our own lives, as Christ did in His earthly life, will surely move us all the more quickly on the path of sanctity. You can find all the themes here. photo by Corynne Olivia Photography Welcome to the #BISsisterhood link-up. Every Thursday, we get together as one community to share our hearts. Here's how you can participate: Link-up a post that goes with the weekly theme. Share your thoughts of the theme on Instagram/Twitter/Facebook using #BISsisterhood so we can see each other's posts. Comment below with your thoughts on the prompt. Basically, let's talk to each other. Remember to use #BISsisterhood so we can all communicate well with each other out in the social media world. [bctt tweet="The #BISsisterhood link-up is where it's at. I just added my post here:"] Here is the button to our link-up that you are more than welcome to place on your blog, share on your social media, and/or save for a rainy day. An InLinkz Link-up

Here we are halfway through the middle of July already, and I never made a single resolution for 2015. Truthfully, I'm not much for making resolutions at the start of a new year. Make 'em and break 'em is usually my mode of operation, and it gets to be a bit depressing. So why bother? But this year is different. This year, the Lord is tugging at my heart, ever so gently, to step out of my comfort zone and to move forward. Closer, just a little bit, to holiness and to Him. So, in lieu of resolutions, this year there will be small steps forward, toward virtue. First on the list: the virtue of abandonment. Sister Genevieve of the Holy Face, who was both the blood sister of St. Therese as well as her sister in the Carmel, wrote that their beautiful mother, who is now Blessed Zelie Martin, lived by the absolute, unwavering conviction that “God governs all things, that He has a particular love for us, and that whatever He does is well done.” The virtue of abandonment. This is the virtue that Sister Genevieve remarked was Blessed Zelie’s defining characteristic. This virtue of radical trust, of deep and desperate faithfulness, of clinging to the unshakable truth that God is good and that everything He wills or allows in my life – the beautiful and joyful along with the painful and the stretching beyond what I think I can bear – will work together for my salvation. It’s a virtue that I’ve never possessed, and what’s worse, one that I’ve never even really sought after. Just typing the word abandonment sends a little shudder through this strong-willed, plan-it-out, perfectionist-prone girl. What? Let go of my plans? Relinquish my dreams and ideals for the future? Lay aside my need to control every aspect of my life? And what about suffering? When I make plans for my life, I usually make it a rule to forego most major varieties of pain, woe, and hardship. But if I hand over control to God, if I open my heart to receive whatever He wants to give me, there will probably be a good amount of suffering. Just look at the lives of the Saints. All of that might be ok for Zelie – she was so holy and her daughter was St. Therese!– but it sounds way too demanding for a “normal” person like me, just trying to live out marriage and family life here in the trenches. Wait a minute. As much as I’d like to give myself a 'Get Out of Jail Free' card on this one, I don’t think that would go over well if I make it to Heaven. “Lord, I love You and I know that You’re God, but... I just didn’t trust You enough to give you control. Sorry, but I really didn’t ever master that annoying virtue of abandonment.” But the truth of the matter is, if anyone had reason to doubt the goodness of God’s will and to give herself a “pass” on practicing abandonment, it was Zelie. She bore nine children, three of whom died in infancy, and another at the age of five. She was continuously full of anxiety over the health of her five remaining children, who were often sick when they were young. In her prime, as she was raising her daughters and running her business and building her domestic church, she developed breast cancer. The progression of her illness was extremely painful and debilitating, and although she prayed for a miracle of healing for the sake of her family, she knew death was likely imminent. Yet through all of this suffering, she faithfully and patiently accepted God’s will for her life, and even sang His praises. Why? Because she knew beyond any doubt that God loved her. He loved her. As a father loves his children, so our God cares for us, deeply and intimately. Zelie wrote this in a letter to her brother: “When I think of what the good God, in whom I placed all my confidence... has done for me and my husband, I cannot doubt but that His divine Providence watches over His children in a particular way.” Sister Genevieve remarked that “it was this assurance of invincible, even audacious confidence towards our Father in Heaven, that sustained her in her many trials.” Blessed Zelie truly was extraordinary in this heroic confidence and holy abandonment with which she daily lived out her vocation (and consider how this heroism must have inspired holiness in her daughter Therese, who became the “greatest saint of modern times"). What if the same loving God to whom Zelie abandoned herself wants to make this heroic confidence a reality in my life as well – if only I would cast aside my desire to hold the reigns, and open myself up to Him? What if I were to place all of my plans – from the loftiest to the smallest, from how I want to change the world, to what I want to do with my “free” time while the kids nap today – into the hands of my loving Father, and let them go? What if I were to believe that He knows every fiber of my being, He knows the inner workings of my heart, He understands my longings even more than I do myself – and He is asking me to live by the conviction that His love is greater than my fears? What if I were to repeat, with every beat of my heart, “Whatever He does is well done,” until it became a truth ingrained in my soul, deep and unshakable, as God has always wanted it to be? [bctt tweet="Whatever He does is well done."] And what if, at the end of a life lived in holy abandonment, I can joyously enter Heaven and kneel before Him, and with a heart already full of Him and not of myself, I can hear Him say, “Well done”? Whatever He does is well done. photo by Corynne Olivia {Editor's note: The canonization of Blessed Zelie and her husband, Louis, will take place during the Synod on the Family in October this year. They are the first couple to be canonized together, and they have been chosen as they are an 'extraordinary witness of conjugal and familial spirituality’.} Lydia is a happy wife, a busy mama of three adorable littles, and a two-time overcomer of PPD. She is on a mission to offer solidarity and support to postpartum mamas. You can follow her at Flourish in Hope.

Well, hello there. My name is Siobhan, and I am a lifestyle and wedding photographer who has a heart for people and their stories. These days, in the midst of so much communication, I feel like many of us can feel oh-so-isolated. This is why the Blessed is She community is so amazing--it's a place where strong Catholic women can come together and share each other’s prayers, successes, sufferings, and joys. We can build each other up and continually remember that we are not doing this alone. That is why I decided to make it my mission to share the stories of YOU--the women who make up the kingdom of God. I am going to be sharing little peeks into the lives of Catholic women, who just like you, are trying to do their best. This is the Sisterhood Campaign. This is a reminder to you that we can do it together. [bctt tweet="This is the Sisterhood Campaign. This is a reminder to you that we can do it together."] Brigette Becker: New Orleans, Louisiana Oh my goodness. This woman is amazing. I was a little nervous to sit down and talk with her because this was my first official interview, but she immediately put me at ease. She is kind, warm-hearted, gentle, and full of laughs. We got to talk about Jesus over some coffee (her) and brownies (me). Could you describe your faith to me? I would say it’s a continual conversion of the heart through the Lord. It’s a part of your whole life with moments of conversion--both little and big--those change your heart in ways that make you stronger. The Lord knows my heart and definitely knows that those small moments of conversion are the areas in which I need him the most. How would you define beauty? One of those things that is so transcendental. Totally from the Lord and absolutely something that is within because look who we are made by; we are made by beauty himself. Beauty is ultimately grounded in the Lord. Three reasons why you think you’re beautiful: 1. Eyes: they are truly a gateway to the soul. 2. My personality: It makes me who I am. If I do not believe that about myself then I don’t really believe that I am beautiful. 3. My smile: Not just my smile in the physical sense, also what is conveyed by my smile--joy and happiness in my heart. What do you admire most in a friendship? Honesty. Because so much else flows from being vulnerable and open with another, and especially the gifts of understanding, loyalty, and, the realization that we are not struggling alone. What do you think it means to be in a sisterhood and why it is important? Well, I currently am a student at Franciscan University and live in a household with 40 other women. We have three tenants we live by: unity, prayer, humility and I really think that those virtues are the most important things to live by in a sisterhood. We must build each other up in a humble way, really communicate and speak openly and honestly with one another, and see Jesus in ourselves and everyone else on the good and the bad days. These bonds of Catholic sisterhood are almost inseparable because they are founded in the Lord. You must let these beautiful women that surround you change your life. Make sure you have amazing women in your life. To sit with someone and to automatically fall more in love with Christ because of their presence: body, mind, and spirit. These are the women that know your heart, can tell you like it is, and bring you closer to the Lord. What advice would you give to your younger self? I would say don’t worry and trust in the Lord. Take the time to take care of yourself and really care for yourself so you can better care for other people. What do you think is your biggest struggle with your faith? I think I am the biggest struggle sometimes. I have been and still am working on really giving my life over to the Lord and trusting in his plan. What do you think other women need to hear? Know where your beauty lies. Even more importantly, know that the women around you know where their beauty lies as well. Its easy to be jealous of other women, compare ourselves a lot, but we must be thankful for someone else’s beauty and praise the Lord for them instead of making judgments or speaking harshly. We must continually build each other up in a sisterhood. What are little things you do to continue building your faith? I find it a struggle to read scripture daily, so I signed up for the daily readings email for USCCB and read the reading for the day even before my feet hit the floor. It is a great way for me to start my day in a centered way. 5 random facts about you: 1. I was homecoming queen for the whole state of Louisiana 2. I am a size 9 in shoes. 3. I’ve been to Europe. 4. Food: anything southern. I don’t like celery. 5. I have hiked in the Italian and German Alps. 6. I can speak a little bit of a lot of languages. What about you? What do you think women need to hear? photos and brilliant idea courtesy of Siobhan Lorraine Photography

This weekly wallpaper was made by BISsister, Martina Bohnslav, of Martina Bonhslav Designs. She painted a verse from today's gospel, Mark 6:31: He said to them, “Come away by yourselves to a deserted place and rest a while.” I hope we can all rest in Him today, steal a moment away in a deserted place (even if it is for 60 seconds--the bathroom, anyone?) and be held in His arms where we can rest. Download this free wallpaper below! Phone wallpaper Desktop wallpaper

Today we are talking about REAL. Real. What a small word filled with so much depth. You can find all the themes here. Welcome to the #BISsisterhood link-up. Every Thursday, we get together as one community to share our hearts. Here's how you can participate: Link-up a post that goes with the weekly theme. Share your thoughts of the theme on Instagram/Twitter/Facebook using #BISsisterhood so we can see each other's posts. Comment below with your thoughts on the prompt. Basically, let's talk to each other. Remember to use #BISsisterhood so we can all communicate well with each other out in the social media world. [bctt tweet="The #BISsisterhood link-up is where it's at. I just added my post here:"] Here is the button to our link-up that you are more than welcome to place on your blog, share on your social media, and/or save for a rainy day.       An InLinkz Link-up

My Bible is a mess. Or Bibles, I should say. Each and every one highlighted and dog-eared, their margins fat and inky, smudged in thought. See, I’ve always believed that a thing must be used up hard to be made Real. Do you remember the story of The Velveteen Rabbit, the little plush bunny whom love and tragedy made Real? I can’t get enough of this bittersweet concept: a love that wears us down to lumpy, threadbare nakedness…and the transformation that follows. Nobody was ever transfigured through preservation. Not nobody, not no how. We were not meant to be museum pieces, our hearts kept under glass–that’s no way to grow Real. And yet how many times do we try to hold firm, petrified of stepping into the strip-down slip-stream of Love? That much? Do I really need to love that much–to be loved that much to be transformed? It was Blessed Mother Teresa who said it best. “I’m a little pencil in the hand of a writing God, who’s sending a love letter to the world.” Not a builder, not a high-power exec. Not even a starving artist. A worn-out, worn-down, used-up little pencil writing someone else’s love letter to the world. And is there irony that that’s a life lived well? That this is (in the end) the only thing that’s Real. All the rest of it, it’s only smoke and mirrors after all, gone in a final, bloodless heartbeat. The only thing we take when it’s all over is the Love that used us up. [bctt tweet="The only thing we take when it’s all over is the Love that used us up."] We do know something about that, don’t we? These hearts of ours, they’ve already known too much of being used. We know what it is to be worn ragged and tossed aside. The world tells us to “take care” of ourselves. To guard, protect. To turn the other cheek right round and bolt before it’s slapped yet again. Well, who can argue with the logic? We all need protection, after all. But not from Love. [bctt tweet="We all need protection, after all. But not from Love."] This is different. Dear heart, this is Love that wears down (yes), but He’ll never leave us lying in the dust. This Love reaches down to dust and draws it up in gentle hands so sure, to form us brand-new, sinless, perfect, flawless, and gives us the very breath of Heaven. This is the way to become human, this the only transcendence. There is nothing more Real. But can we trust the transformation? Can we love beyond the hurt? Could we courageously sacrifice ourselves to lumpy, threadbare nakedness? Love demands one crazy, death-defying Leap. [bctt tweet="Love demands one crazy, death-defying Leap."] Will you take it with me? It’s easier to jump holding hands. These weary feet, these calloused hands, the heart-scars we lay bare because we wouldn’t cauterize with bitterness–this is the beginning, and we’re making it together. This is how we get holy. This is magic. And even if it’s scary, isn’t this what we want? I know I want a faith that’s Real–that transcends my shabby, threadbare patches and turns me into beautiful right in the midst of rot. And if I’m terrified, well, isn’t it all part of the adventure? I’ll walk out on the tight-rope, knife-edge wire of hope and trust that, in the end, it all works out. This is why I take pen to paper, chicken-scratch the love letter to shreds. I highlight hope to help me through the hard times. I press the corners down to remind myself to stay strong. To let Him use me up and wear me out. I don’t want to curl up, content with a mummified heart too terrified to break. Nobody wants to be broken, but I know that I need to be sharpened, cracked open, and spilled out in all my imperfection. The dog-eared love letter says it over and over: this–this sharpened pencil-life worn down to the barest of threadbare nubs–this is the only way to holy. Holy is you and me, unafraid and unprotected by any shield but faith. [bctt tweet="Holy is you and me, unafraid and unprotected by any shield but faith."] It’s holding tight to promises we dog-eared in the dark with questions still ringing in between our ears. It’s the wild, whirlwind leap into the blackness to love beyond the rational, beyond what we were capable of being because somewhere, somehow in this uncertain wearing-out to dust, we trust we’ll feel His hands reshaping, remaking us into something Real. photo by Corynne Olivia Bethany is a mama to 4 sweet blessings + smitten wife to one amazing man. By God's good grace, she's striving for sane just east of Seattle. She homeschools, home births, and homebakes humble pie year-round. She's a little crunchy around the edges, but it's all good. She writes left-handed + types with a babe-in-arms.

This week's weekly wallpaper depicts the Gospel acclamation, Ephesians 1:18 May the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ enlighten the eyes of our hearts, that we may know what is the hope that belongs to our call. Sometimes we just need a simple reminder in our every day to ask God to enlighten our hearts to hope. It may be about a situation at hand--Oh Lord, enlighten the eyes of my heart to see beyond the face value of what is in front of me. This brings more compassion to our our days, helps us see the other and what she may be going through and provides us with a continual connection to the One who guides us. Grab the wallpaper for your phone and desktop. Made by Be A Heart. Phone wallpaper Desktop wallpaper