February 5, 2026 // Memorial of Saint Agatha, Virgin and Martyr Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Mark 6:7-13 Reflect on the Word //  I was stunned by the size of the pile growing on the floor of my closet. Give away. I tossed another pair of pants into the heap. Never gonna fit into those again. Disappointed with myself, I wondered what had made me buy these clothes—many of them multiples, most barely worn. I had to do a major clean-out. Turns out, I also needed to root some things out of my heart.  In the Gospel today (see Mark 6:7-13), Jesus instructs His disciples to go out on their first mission trip without even a second tunic. They are to trust in God’s providence, travel lightly and swiftly, and carry the Gospel, not extra baggage. It was a practical decision, yes, but also a spiritual one. These were the men taught to pray for “daily bread.” Not just in case. Not one for the road.  Only enough for today.  I say that prayer—the Our Father— daily too.  But somehow I’m still in the habit of hoarding away extras, afraid of a tomorrow of not enough. If I’m honest, there’s a trace of fear in my wallet, my closet, my refrigerator. I pray for daily bread, but I squirrel away a little more just in case God doesn’t come through. Maybe not consciously, but how else can I explain the excess? Sometimes the daily bread is in abundance; sometimes it is just enough to get me to tomorrow. But it has never failed to arrive like His mercy, new and freshly baked every morning. If I can unclench my grasp of yesterday’s stale crumbs, I can pull up a seat at the breakfast table.  Likely, sister, you have known moments of fear that there will not be enough. And maybe you really have known cold, hunger, loneliness. There are very real moments in life that test our trust. But you are here now, proof that He has always come through. So see the invitation in today’s Gospel: Take only one tunic and trust Him with the rest.  Relate to the Lord // What have you been hoarding—just in case? Today share your heart with the Lord and your excess with others.  

February 4, 2026 // Wednesday of the Fourth Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Mark 6:1-6 Reflect on the Word // Every day felt like a roller coaster. Not physically, but mentally, emotionally. Nothing changed and that was sort of the problem. Because here in one hand I held the promises of God. Really one hand wouldn’t be enough. The Lord had directed my heart time and time again, reassuring me over and over that He had something beautiful planned for me—something my heart deeply desired. And, in the other hand, I weighed all of the evidence (or, more accurately, the lack thereof) to the contrary. Every day I considered the one hand as holding great authority and the other I scrutinized as highly  suspicious.  Can you guess which was which? I am not unlike the locals in Jesus’ synagogue from today’s Gospel (see Mark 6:1-6). They’ve heard His teaching, which is unlike any other in Israel. They marvel at His miracles. They’ve seen Him with their own eyes and heard Him with their own ears, but they’re unable to reconcile the Man they know with the Messiah they hope for. Despite the evidence, they choose not to believe.  We often do the same. Despite pages of promises in Scripture, His presence in the Sacraments, and His personal love in prayer, when we experience pain or trouble in our lives—whether that’s illness, financial strain, or relational pain—we tend to question the God we thought we knew.  When our experiences don’t line up with our idea of God, perhaps we’re being invited to draw nearer and look closer rather than pull away. What if, instead of questioning everything—questioning Him—we doubled down on trust? Oftentimes in the spiritual life we get stuck trying to figure it out ourselves. We demand that God’s timing and means should match up with the way we think it should go, insisting on our will instead of submitting to His.  So instead of scrutinizing the evidence in one hand or clinging to promises in the other, perhaps we should simply look at Jesus again (and again). Be astonished by His wisdom and His mighty deeds. Choose to believe, even when we can’t see, and we will amaze Him with our faith. Relate to the Lord // When doubt or discouragement comes, make an act of faith and choose to trust instead.

February 3, 2026 // Optional Memorial of Saint Blaise, Bishop and Martyr; Optional Memorial of Saint Ansgar, Bishop Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Mark 5:21-43 Reflect on the Word // I sat silently and with great intent before the Blessed Sacrament. Within my heart hung prayer request upon prayer request, the majority of which—at present—seemed ignored and dismissed. The dull ache I felt in my chest was a physical reminder of how long these intentions had sat heavily within—still without an obvious response. Tired yet filled with peace, I looked intently at Jesus. The unwavering conviction I felt in my heart tangled with my exhaustion as I adjusted my posture and leaned in, resting my elbows on my knees. I believe that He is Who He says He is, and so I entrusted myself to Him once more. I chose to lean in. In today's Gospel, we see the juxtaposition of God's timing and our preferred timelines. We witness the tension between waiting well in the midst of crisis and challenge, and persevering with faith and inexhaustible hope. Both Jairus, the leader of the synagogue, and the hemorrhaging woman hold great faith in their own ways. Jairus, about to lose his daughter, falls at Jesus' feet and begs him to heal her. How often do I feel I'm in the same position? Begging the Lord to come, to heal, to be close? Jairus' humility reminds me to continue to run to the Lord, in every season and for everything. To ask and request and persevere with expectation. Perhaps begging is a holy endeavor: It is perseverance—an outward sign of the belief I hold within.  Just like the hemorrhaging woman, may we continue to reach for the Lord’s cloak. Though we endure much, may we believe that He can and He will according to His will, and entrust ourselves freely and confidently into His care. May we move toward Him with great faith. Jesus cannot be rushed and He is at work within our hearts as we wait (or learn to wait!). Though at times it feels as if Jesus is delayed, healing happens especially in our waiting, for it presents an opportunity to bolster our belief and align ourselves with His great will. His care for us is always on time. Relate to the Lord // Make a visit to Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament today (or this week). Entrust yourself and your intentions to Him once more.

February 2, 2026 // Feast of the Presentation of the Lord Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: Malachi 3:1-4  Reflect on the Word //  The sky was crystal clear, and the stars were the brightest I’d ever seen. The full moon illuminated our path through the field. I was among a hundred young women gazing up at the heavens, asking, seeking— some even begging—to know the Lord’s will. Raising my eyes toward “Our Lady’s Window,” as the vocation director called the moon, I prayed deep within, Blessed Mother, what does your Son want for me?  Suddenly, I was on the ground, flat on my back, looking up at the stars; and I knew. The Lord does not always answer prayers in such a disorienting—and in my case, literal—way, but He often comes suddenly (see Malachi 3:1). He prepares the way, leads us, guides us, and before we know it, there He is, revealing the answer to our deepest questions and fulfilling the deepest desires of our hearts. It can seem sudden, jarring even. For centuries the Lord slowly, deliberately, prepared the way for His Son to enter the story of humanity. He refined, purified, perfected, and molded His chosen people (see Malachi 3:3). Throughout the covenant promises to Adam, Noah, Abraham, Moses, and David, He readied the world to receive the ultimate promise, His Son, “the messenger of the covenant whom [they desired]” (Malachi 3:1). Today the Church celebrates the fulfilment of those covenant promises; Jesus is presented in the temple, and due sacrifice is offered to the Lord as Mary hands her infant to the prophet Simeon. A greater sacrifice is foretold, and Mary’s fiat is renewed. Yes, He comes suddenly, but the Lord does not leave us unprepared for His coming. In our seeking we recognize He is coming to us. It may seem sudden in the moment, but since then He has sought us and drawn us to Himself, purifying, refining, and preparing us to offer the due sacrifice of ourselves to Him, wherever He may call us. I will caution you, though, if you ask for a sign, it may come suddenly, and you might just find yourself on your back, with a shockingly certain knowledge of your vocation!* *To learn more about Sister’s vocation story and her love for Confession, take a listen to The Gathering Place bonus episode. Relate to the Lord // Make Sister’s prayer your own today: Blessed Mother, what does your Son want for me? 

January 31, 2026  // Memorial of Saint John Bosco, Priest Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: 2 Samuel 12:1-7a, 10-17 Reflect on the Word // The bitter, accusing words rolled off my lips. Instead of winning the argument for me, however, they sank into my heart. I only recognized these failings in my neighbor—and likely wrongly so—because I had these sins and bad habits myself. This situation has occurred countless times in my life (usually in conversations with members of my family). When I judge others, the judgment turns back on me. King David had a similar experience in today’s First Reading. The prophet Nathan came to him with a case for the king to judge, which turned out to be a parable. A rich man took the possession of a poor man, when the rich man had no need of the possession. David had taken another man’s wife and had the man strategically placed to be killed in battle, even though, as the king, David had many wives already. Nathan’s words, “You are the man!” (2 Samuel 12:7) struck David to the core, and they should strike us as well.  I am the sinner who acts without thinking. I am the sister and daughter who acts selfishly, the wife who holds back from the call to love, the mother who complains. Nathan tells David that the child born of his sin “must surely die” (2 Samuel 12:14), and David does penance in reparation for his sin. The Lord forgave David, and the Lord forgives us. But the fruit of our bad habits and sin must die in our lives. We must offer them to the Lord to root out. My habits of selfishness and failure to love must die and be replaced with a grateful self-gift to God by loving those in my daily life.  Sister, the Sacrament of Confession is the gift Jesus gave us as a means to heal us of our sins. Jesus does not want to condemn us, but to forgive us and make us whole. We must go to the Sacrament again and again to let Him root out the sin in our lives. While the realization of our failures is painful and repentance takes courage and humility, restoration in God’s love is better than anything.  Relate to the Lord // Ask the Lord to reveal to you the places you need deeper healing, a more pure heart, or His fortifying love. Let His love restore you.

January 30, 2026 // Friday of the Third Week of Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Psalm: Psalm 51:3-4, 5-6a, 6bcd-7, 10-11 Reflect on the Word // Growing up, I judged harshly Edmund Pevensie from The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis. In the 1950 classic, Edmund gave the impression of someone who would never be a hero. Making fun of his youngest sister, lying often, and eventually abandoning his family and betraying the Christ figure, Aslan the lion, Edmund had almost sealed his fate. Yet Edmund finally chooses meekness, asks for forgiveness, and finds himself a hero. But he almost got everyone hurt and denounced Aslan in front of everyone! These were my arguments throughout my childhood. Did he really deserve to change the narrative?  Of course he didn’t deserve it. But as an adult now I see it differently. The Lord gives us, too—undeserving yet so loved by Him—the chance to change our stories, if we want to take it. Edmund personally asks Aslan for mercy and to rewrite his fate; his plea is like Psalm 51, “Turn away your face from my sins, and blot out all my guilt” (Psalm 51:11). And he is accepted with open arms, and able to act heroically afterwards. Today’s Psalm is an image of the conversation God wants us to have with Him. Psalm 51 shows how asking for mercy requires meekness and courage, however sinful and undeserving we may feel: “For I acknowledge my offense and my sin is before me always” (Psalm 51:5). The Psalmist beseeches forgiveness without denying what they had done, and shows us that acknowledging our own wrongdoing leads to the Lord’s mercy— and with His help, rewrites your soul’s narrative for the better. Sister, you are not your sins or your failures. Meek humility and courage before the Lord—alongside His accompanied mercy—can change our stories for the best even if we never truly feel like we deserve it. Let us all trust in God’s forgiveness and use our fallenness as an opportunity to begin anew and heroically choose Him each day. Relate to the Lord // Make a plan to receive the Sacrament of Confession. His mercy is waiting for you.  

January 29, 2026 // Thursday of the Third Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Mark 4:21-25 Reflect on the Word //  From time to time, an invisible, impassable chasm opens up between my husband and me, a rift in connection that feels impossible to mend. Sometimes it can take us days to repair. It usually begins with a small miscommunication, then hurt feelings, then botched attempts to repair, and bewildered silence or smoldering anger at being misunderstood or feeling unloved.  It takes time and humility to build reliable bridges of reconciliation after a conflict. There are differences in love languages and communication styles. And it takes a lot of vulnerability to let go of the fear that if I choose to love humbly and sacrificially, my husband might not respond in kind. I worry that I will disappear, that my needs won't be met, that I might run out of love. When I act this way, I forget that the Source of love is not my husband, but Jesus. When I fear that the sacrifice of loving my husband and children well and abundantly might use me up, I can look at the Cross. My Savior poured out his life for love, and I can’t outdo Him in generosity. I can also trust His promises. Jesus says in today’s Gospel that “the measure with which you measure will be measured out to you, and still more will be given” (Mark 4:24). When we fear that we won’t have enough love to give to our families and others in our lives, instead of rationing it carefully, we need to grab a bigger bucket and head to the Cross. We need to pour and give more freely, trusting that God will provide for us and them.  Relate to the Lord // Where have you been battling fear? Share it honestly with Jesus today so He can give you His peace.

January 28, 2026 // Memorial of Saint Thomas Aquinas, Priest and Doctor of the Church Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Mark 4:1-20 Reflect on the Word //  I ended the call dejectedly. I had hoped she would understand all that the Lord was doing and saying, how clear and generous all of the words in prayer had been, but instead I felt misunderstood and self-conscious.  Maybe I’m making too much of it? Maybe my confidence is misplaced? After all, my prayer isn’t infallible, I thought. This is between you and Me, the Lord responded. Even though He had been overwhelmingly affirming and consistent in His direction and desires, I was still seeking someone else to confirm them. But not everyone was going to understand what He was asking of me. And no one else was going to discern this with the same time or care that I had. I had to keep my eyes on Jesus and choose to believe what He was saying. While it’s important to share our prayer with a spiritual mentor or holy friend, at times we can be tempted to rely on human wisdom more than God’s voice. (Of course, we do have to measure what we believe we hear in prayer against the truth preserved for us in the Church through Scripture and teaching passed down from the Apostles.) In the process of growing up as disciples of Jesus, we have to learn to trust Him in prayer. To be obedient to His promptings and trust that He is at work even when we can’t see.  We must cherish the words the Lord has spoken to us, planting and protecting them in rich soil, letting them take root and grow within us. Watering them with the Word and faith. When we wait and trust, that single seed can “bear fruit thirty and sixty and a hundredfold” (Mark 4:8).  Maybe the Lord has given you a promise in prayer or the Scriptures, a word that you knew was uniquely for you. Take Him at His word, dear sister. Keep hoping and waiting. Remember that roots grow down before the shoot springs up. Your breakthrough is on the way. The faithful Sower will bring forth the bloom, no matter how long it takes. Relate to the Lord // What word from Jesus will you cherish in your heart today?

January 27, 2026 // Optional Memorial of Saint Angela Merici, Virgin Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Mark 3:31-35  Reflect on the Word //  The Jeep rumbled over the bumpy, dirt road that led us to the regional hospital in the south of Ethiopia. The Sister brought us to the room of a woman suffering from meningitis who had no family to bathe, feed, or dress her. Sometimes the families lived too far away and could not stay for long, while others saw blood and bodily fluids as something frightening. In the end, we became like family for this woman and for many others we had the blessing to serve in this intimate way. In today’s Gospel passage, Jesus refers to the disciples seated around him, listening to His every word, as family. He says, “Here are my mother and my brothers” (Mark 3:34), explaining that those who do the Lord’s will are His family. “Family” can be a loaded word at times because of the wounds that have been caused within our own families.  Yet, we Christians are called to join a family—the Church. In this family, like in our own nuclear families, we experience hardship, pruning, misunderstandings, and difficulties. Still, we are meant to strive together to know and love God and His holy will (see Mark 3:35). To serve one another in our vulnerabilities and needs; to be for the other a vessel of the love of God. The Lord wants us to grow in intimacy with Him since we are family, so that we can become more bonded to our brothers and sisters. We are called to love not just those whom we like or can tolerate, but also the person who most gets on our nerves or makes life difficult. Even this person deserves to be welcomed into the family of God and loved well therein.  Let us say with Jesus as we look around at those in the pews at Mass, around our table at home, or even on the bus while heading to work, “Here are my mother and my brothers” (Mark 3:34), and let us love and serve them well.  Relate to the Lord // Stop by a Catholic Church today—your home—and visit Jesus, then share Him with your family.

January 26, 2026 // Memorial of Saints Timothy and Titus, Bishops Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Luke 10:1-9 Reflect on the Word //  I had stopped in various Catholic churches before, but this time I was determined to stay for the entire Mass. As a Jewish believer in Jesus, to me the Mass was both intriguing and foreign. Such as when the priest pronounced, “Go forth, the Mass is ended,” and everyone responded, “Thanks be to God.” I thought Catholics were thankful that the Mass was over and the priest had dismissed them! Later, as I learned the meaning of the closing words in Latin, "Ite, missa est," I understood that the faithful are sent from the Mass, on mission to spread the Gospel and act as God's presence in the world. In today’s Gospel we see Jesus, the master of the harvest, sending His disciples to gather others into His kingdom. His words aren’t sugarcoated with promises of welcoming crowds, comfortable lodgings, or sumptuous feasts. Instead, they will go into hostile territory, like defenseless lambs among wolves. Jesus’ instructions are clear and direct, and His urgent mission must not be marked by delays, distractions, or encumbrances. They must travel light, trust in God’s providence for all their needs, and be ready to do His works. We don’t hear how these disciples responded to their assignment. What were their facial expressions and body language? Did Jesus leave time for Q & A? They were most likely honored and excited to represent their master. Yet perhaps they also felt afraid and unprepared to venture away from the comfort of Jesus’ presence, into unfavorable conditions and possible rejection. They weren’t professionally trained in ministry; they were devoted followers of the Messiah, willing to sacrifice comfort, reputation, security, and even their own lives. It can be easy for us to want to stay put, comfortable and content, nourished by the Eucharist and our Catholic community. But at the end of each Mass, Jesus also sends us out to bring the Good News to all—even those who may be hostile or indifferent. Thanks be to God that we have been called, sent, and equipped to take up our mission to bring God’s love to a world that so desperately needs it!  Relate to the Lord // What would it look like for you to live on mission right where you are?

January 24, 2026 // Memorial of Saint Francis de Sales, Bishop and Doctor of the Church Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel for the Memorial of Saint Francis de Sales: John 15:9-17 Reflect on the Word //  Utterly entranced by the lights and sounds issuing from his new toy DJ turntable, my ten-month-old nephew pressed each button with joyful abandon. He then drew back and sank to the ground, babbling delightedly and clapping his adorably pudgy little hands. As I watched him, smiling, unable to remember what our family had been like before the arrival of this littlest addition, I marveled at how, two years prior, he had not yet existed.  And then I began to marvel at God’s goodness. While he may not have been born into our family yet, God had eternally known of my nephew’s existence and creation in this time and place. God had chosen him for us—and for His great purposes—from before all time.  “It was not you who chose me, but I who chose you,” the Lord reminds us in today’s Gospel for the Memorial of Saint Francis de Sales (John 15:16). Difficult as it is to realize in a world where we can often feel overlooked, left out, or rejected, the Lord chose each of us long before we were conceived in our mother’s wombs. Nothing about our existence is accidental or random. Our lives have been willed from the beginning, meticulously anticipated by God through generations, prepared for by our grandparents and great-grandparents, for such a time as this (see Esther 4:14), “to go and bear fruit that will remain” (John 15:16). All we have to do to fulfill His will for us, sister? Remain in His love (see John 15:19).  Then our joy will be complete (see John 15:11)—as complete as that of an infant playing with a new toy, dazzled by the gifts of each new day.  Relate to the Lord // Allow the truth of this statement, “It was not you who chose me, but I who chose you,” to wash over your heart. What rises to the top as you ponder your chosenness? 

January 23, 2026 // Optional Memorial of Saint Marianne Cope, Virgin [in USA] // Optional Memorial of Saint Vincent, Deacon and Martyr [in USA] Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: 1 Samuel 24:3-21  Reflect on the Word //  A car veers in front of me, causing me to slam on my brakes, narrowly missing a collision that threatened disaster. I bite my tongue, holding in the words I want to spew, and stay my hand from blasting the horn. Does that guy not understand physics?  Not even a mile down the road, my van pulls up alongside the other driver as our two lanes merge due to a construction project. Rather than speed up and maneuver into a spot in front of him, I pause, ask Jesus for strength in this moment, and let the other driver go first. Small steps of mercy. Often I find myself in the small moments of life where I am tempted to get back at someone who has hurt me or my family.  In today’s First Reading, David has an opportunity to get back at King Saul in a big way. Saul has been hunting David with an army of three thousand men. But then Saul chooses the very cave to relieve himself in which David so happens to be hiding. David very well could have murdered the king right then, but instead he just cuts off a corner of Saul’s cloak, and even that he later regrets.  While I don’t have anyone seeking to kill me, I do encounter times I can insert a biting word into a conversation or a revengeful thought rears up. David’s words to Saul remind me that “The LORD will judge between me and you, and the LORD will exact justice from you in my case” (1 Samuel 24:16). The desire for payback can be strong, but I ask the Lord to teach me surrender, to allow Him to be the judge and not me. He gives me the desire for mercy and true justice. True justice always comes from God. While it may feel satisfying in the moment, in retrospect, revenge mars our soul. Let us walk in the freedom of forgiveness, releasing judgment and offering it back to the Lord for Him to deal with.   Relate to the Lord // What small steps of mercy can you take today, with others or with yourself?

January 22, 2026 // Day of Prayer for the Legal Protection of Unborn Children [in USA] Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Mark 3:7-12 Reflect on the Word // The life of Jesus Christ was a continuous giveaway. Time, love, healing, helping. When He saw the multitudes, He saw their needs. When He saw just one soul, He saw his need. He saw the need and He responded—with a word, with love, with redemption. This is shown so clearly in today’s Gospel. I think this is the way we ought to approach the culture on the day-to-day. Like Jesus—see the need and respond. Our faith is made to ignite a continuous ripple outward, and grace gives us the ability to see it through. God changes us, then we change the world. Beginning with our families, our workplace, our friendships, and beyond. Even into the mainstream and into the culture itself.  On this day of Prayer for the Unborn, let’s remind ourselves that this is our time and place to start that ripple. Our sphere of influence, however small, has been given to us by a God Who can do anything. His grace is here to fill us to the brim—through prayer, through the Mass and the Sacraments, so that we are fit to be poured out for the world. It’s no mistake that we are here now; it’s no mistake that it is you and me.  On the way to school, we have a habit of saying the Morning Offering together. Inspired by a parenting book I read years ago—we add on the little tagline, “Jesus, I love You. Help me to be a saint.” The kids in my carpool learned to scream it: “Help me to be a saint!” I pray that the memory of our carpool tradition never leaves them. I pray it also never leaves me. This is how the tides of the culture will change, on the backs of the faithful. These crises are still the crises of saints. It’s up to us to be them.  Relate to the Lord // Pray the Morning Offering today and close with: Jesus, help me to be a Saint!

January 21, 2026 // Memorial of Saint Agnes, Virgin and Martyr Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel for the Memorial of Saint Agnes: Matthew 13:44-46 Reflect on the Word //  The classroom pulsed with noise. I could feel the chaos ripple outward as their voices rose and ricocheted. My silence was not strength but surrender to the pressure pressing in on every side. I took a deep breath, trying to regulate like I constantly taught my students. After dismissal the tension clung to me. I stayed at my desk, still and silent. I have nothing left to give. Even this, Lord. I give You this too. That night, I returned to the Gospel: “The Kingdom of heaven is like a treasure buried in a field, which a person finds and hides again, and out of joy goes and sells all that he has and buys that field” (Matthew 13:44). Out of joy sparkled like a hidden treasure beneath the weight of fatigue. There was an invitation to reach deeper and surrender everything. The person knows the treasure’s true worth. The treasure is hidden again, not to keep it secret but to claim it as their own. Everything is sold, not out of duty, but with a joyful heart.  Jesus continues: “When he finds a pearl of great price, he goes and sells all that he has and buys it” (Matthew 13:46). Again, the response is complete. Everything is given because something far better has been found. We may not be merchants, but we are women who carry costly things. We give time, energy, plans, security. The Lord does not demand these. He invites us to surrender them, out of joy, for something infinitely greater. Saint Agnes, whose name is written across the entrance of my school, gave everything for Christ. She chose Him over comfort, over safety, over fear. She gave all, and in doing so, gained everything. Her witness still echoes. The treasure remains. The pearl is still worth the price. Joy carries us when we choose Him. When we discover the true treasure, we will not be afraid to let go. We are not left empty when we give Christ everything. We are filled with joy that cannot fade. Relate to the Lord // Keep joy at the center of your heart today. Ask God to fill you with His joy.

January 20, 2026 // Optional Memorial of Saint Fabian, Pope and Martyr // Optional Memorial of Saint Sebastian, Martyr Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: 1 Samuel 16:1-13  Reflect on the Word //  Cleaning out my garage, I unearthed a relic from my past: a dusty high school trophy. Was it for volleyball? Track? Softball? Maybe the sport all my kids have excelled at—basketball?  Nope. My single skill back then (and arguably now) was creative writing.  What’s interesting is that for a long time after high school, that gift remained dormant. Sure, I wrote papers in college. I journaled and dabbled in poetry as a young mom. But writing with intention, for others, in obedience to what I began to realize was a calling? That came much later. And when I stepped fully into that vocation of writer, I found the fulfillment of what had been hinted at years before. Sometimes, the anointing comes before the appointing.  It was that way for David in today’s First Reading: “Then Samuel, with the horn of oil in hand, anointed him in the midst of his brothers; and from that day on, the Spirit of the LORD rushed upon David” (1 Samuel 16:13).  David was just a teenager when Samuel’s anointing set him apart for God’s sacred purpose. But what did he do after Samuel left that day?  He went back to tending sheep.  It would be a full fifteen years before he became king of all of Israel. In that time, he would mature as a leader, be tested and trained, and step into the role of king, ready to lead a newly unified kingdom.  I still marvel when I read that story—how God lavishly anoints us with a full “horn of oil” even when the appointment isn’t ready. Our gifts and charisms emerge fully only when the opportunity is right. Before then, they glimmer and flicker beneath the surface, dropping hints about our future place in the courts of Christ.  Sometimes we grow impatient, wanting to grasp at an appointment before our time. The problem is, whatever we try to possess—especially when it is not ours to have—ends up possessing us.  Sister, let’s allow God to choose the timing for the fullness of our personal calling. Until then, we’ll be obedient to the moment at hand, whether it be laundry, dinner—or herding sheep.  Relate to the Lord // Where have you been anointed by God? Ask for the grace to step into your calling.

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.