August 5, 2026 // Wednesday of the Eighteenth Week in Ordinary Time // Optional Memorial of the Dedication of the Basilica of Saint Mary Major in Rome Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: Jeremiah 31:1-7 Reflect on the Word //  The joyful voices rang out amid joyful splashing in Grandma and Papa’s pool. I’d made the rookie mistake of tossing one of my younger cousins across the pool to his great delight. Now, not only was he lining up to “do it again” but so were his siblings and our other cousins. It was getting old, fast! But, at the same time, I just couldn’t say no to those squinty-eyed smiles and the angelic sing-song refrain of “pleeeeeease?” every single time!  So, on it went to the great delight of my cousins and the immense fatigue of my arms! I sometimes forget that the cry of “again” from the heart of a child can have such a heart-softening impact on one who loves him. I especially forget that when it comes to my relationship with the Father. How many times have I asked Him to do something and He comes through with shocking generosity only for me to forget, the next time things get difficult, to ask Him for help. I’m like the Israelites, who need to be reminded that the Lord continues His faithfulness to me (see Jeremiah 31:3). How often have I found myself torn down by mistakes, regrets, or sins, forgetting that His desire is to build me back up, to lead me back to grace in the wilderness, to belong, once again, to Him? (see Jeremiah 31:1-2, 4) He sees me and says, Again you will bear fruit in my vineyard when I have restored you, again shall you go forth rejoicing, when I have saved you, again, you will sing My praise, when I bring you back to Myself (see Jeremiah 31:4-7). We need not be afraid to ask the Lord to work again in our lives. As we don’t tire of heeding the cries of little children in our lives who ask us for more, the Lord delights in responding to our cry of “again” over and over. May we never tire of calling out to Him and awaiting His “I will” in joyful expectation.  Relate to the Lord // Is there an intention or desire you’ve already prayed for but still need? Ask again in faith.

August 4, 2026  // Memorial of Saint John Vianney, Priest Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 14:22-36 Reflect on the Word // Sitting down in my family room, hot coffee in one hand, my Bible in the other, I was finally taking some necessary time with God. But within minutes, my mind started to wander: mentally composing an email, thinking about my twins’ upcoming graduation, wondering how I would get to two baseball games in one afternoon, and reviewing the budget (or lack thereof). Beneath it all was a constant hum of anxiety. Although I knew prayer would help, I kept putting it off until life felt more manageable—but that season never came. In today’s Gospel, Jesus takes a different approach. Surrounded by needs and demands, He makes time for prayer first. Between miracles, He dismisses the crowds, sends the Apostles ahead of Him, and goes “up on the mountain by himself to pray” (Matthew 14:23). What a stunning realization: If Jesus, the Son of God, needed prayer, how much more do I? The Gospel then turns to Peter, who walks steadily on water when his eyes remain on Jesus, but begins to sink when he notices the storm. I often do the same, letting life’s pressures capture my attention rather than keeping my gaze fixed on Christ. When Jesus asks Peter why he doubted, it isn’t a rebuke but an invitation to trust in the power of prayer. Too often, I doubt that time with Him is worth protecting or that He can handle the very things that distract me during prayer. The truth is, my sisters, that all of us experience “storms” in our lives—not always crises but the steady accumulation of responsibilities, worries, and challenges that slowly pull our attention away from Christ. Will we keep our eyes on Jesus amid life’s competing demands? Today’s Gospel reminds us that prayer keeps our focus where it belongs. The winds and waves of life are real but so is the One Who says, “Take courage, it is I; do not be afraid” (Matthew 14:27). Relate to the Lord // Make a plan for prayer today. Where can you block out twenty minutes to be with the Lord?

August 3, 2026 // Monday of the Eighteenth Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 14:22-36 Reflect on the Word //  The smell of fresh rain began to fill the air as I watched the tall palm trees near my home sway to and fro, as gusts of wind began to increase. The sky was painted with thick, dark clouds, which reflected the darkness that was forming in my heart. Confusion and anguish were the relentless winds that refused to die down. This storm was crushing me and an even bigger blanket of darkness wrapped around my heart. I presumed that the Lord was distant from my agony and nowhere to be found. What deeply struck my heart in today’s Gospel was that when the disciples saw Jesus walking on the sea, they were terrified.“‘It is a ghost,’ they said, and they cried out in fear” (Matthew 14:26). I was confused. How could the disciples not recognize their Savior, the Man with Whom they spent so much time, Whom they knew so intimately? I came to realize that in my own storm, I wasn't able to recognize Jesus. Like Peter, how easy it was for me to take my eyes off of Him, and be engulfed by my fear—to give more attention to my coping mechanisms and doubts, instead of going to Him.  It’s been five years since that storm took place in my heart, and I still find myself grieving and doubting in certain areas—but  Jesus is still there. To be with me, to listen, to allow the areas of my heart that are still “stormy” to be vulnerably exposed. Not for Him to hurt, but to heal.  This is true for you too sister. Allow His voice saying, “Take courage, it is I; do not be afraid” (Matthew 14:26), to penetrate your heart. It is He Who remains with you when the storms of life take place. And when the storm’s impact rises up in your heart unexpectedly, He’s still there. Keep going back to His gaze. Even if it takes a lifetime to shift into this rhythm of returning to Him, He remains. Always and forever.  Relate to the Lord // Spend five minutes turning your attention back to His gaze. Do not be afraid to look at Him–or let Him look at you.

August 1, 2026 // Memorial of Saint Alphonsus Liguori, Bishop and Doctor of the Church Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel from Matthew 14:1-12 My sister sat me down. She was my oldest sister, wiser, and had been in the world a bit. She seemed wildly accomplished working for a U.S. senator in Washington, D.C., on the Hill; living in a sophisticated, complex city; rubbing elbows with some of the most powerful people in the country; and completely holding her own. She was tall—I’m short. She was absolutely drop dead gorgeous—I’m rather average. She towered over me, it felt, in stature, in beauty, in gravitas. I was lamenting to her my most recent doctor appointment. I was twenty and the doctor railed that I was not on birth control. I further lamented that the girls in the dorm were torturous, rolling their eyes and mocking me, saying things like, “Yeah, sure, you’re a virgin!” As though it was a dirty word. I seemed so out of step with the world around me for hoping to remain chaste until my wedding day. Even my doctor was in utter disbelief that such a thing was possible, much less desirable. My sister said something I’ll never forget. She said, “They can’t believe it of you because they can’t believe it for themselves.” That is, don’t ever let someone else’s low self-opinion determine who you are. Amen, sister! Her thought stayed with me. How useless and even pitiful it was to spend one ounce of energy worrying what other people think. Herod should have met my sister, for he “feared the people” (Matthew 14:5). If she’d stepped into today’s Gospel from Matthew, my sister would have told him, “You’re Herod! Why do you care what people think if you don’t behead John the Baptist? Have a little courage and self-respect, man!” I can see this confrontation in my mind—my sister towering and beautiful over this quivering, insecure king. The image fills me with delight and fervor to serve the Lord with greater fearlessness. When we are afraid of what others think, we must remember who we are: daughters of the King. He will give us the strength to do what is right—no matter the mocking crowds. Relate to the Lord // Ponder this truth all day: you are a daughter of the King.

July 31, 2026 // Memorial of Saint Ignatius of Loyola, Priest Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 13:54-58 Reflect on the Word //  On our usual morning walk and in the middle of a long conversation, I asked my friend, half-jokingly, “Why do you always have to be the bad girl?”  “I don’t know,” she fired back,“why do you always have to be the good girl?”  Her words caught me off guard, lodging in my mind like an arrow. I felt exposed. There was an uncomfortable truth in her question, and it stung to hear it, especially from someone I knew so well.  I place myself in the scene of today’s Gospel and soon recognize my tendency to take offense at the prophet or “truth-speaker” (see Matthew 13:57), especially when it’s someone I think I know well. Who are the prophets I am tempted to dismiss because I know all about them and presume they could have nothing to teach me? Am I missing out on the mighty works God wants to do in me because I don’t believe He speaks through those closest to me?  When I bring my questions to Jesus, He assures me that as I keep coming to Him, he will help me to receive His truth always. I need not hide. He sees every part of me. Under the gaze of His love, I can admit to Him my failings and weaknesses. His love burns away the false ideal of  “good girl”  that I’ve tried to portray. What remains is a woman with both strengths and weaknesses, one who, having received God’s mercy anew, is more free to live as a beloved child of God and hear the truth from whomever He sends. Sister, we are not so different from the residents of Jesus’ native place. And just as He wanted to teach and heal them, Jesus wants to transform our hearts. Are we willing to ask Him for the grace to receive it when someone close to us speaks a truth that stings? Relate to the Lord // Ask Jesus to help you be open to the truth about yourself. When you feel ready, ask Him to give you the grace to receive it.

July 30, 2026 // Thursday of the Seventeenth Week in Ordinary Time // Optional Memorial of Saint Peter Chrysologus, Bishop and Doctor of the Church Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Responsorial Psalm: Psalm 146:1B-2, 3-4, 5-6ab Reflect on the Word //  It’s one of my very earliest memories—sobbing my heart out to the whirring sounds of the power screwdriver, and above it all, my father’s repeated words of consolation: “Don’t worry, Monica, I’m coming, I’m here.” I was just a little girl, maybe two or three, who had locked herself in the bathroom. In my terror and longing for safety, it felt like an eternity until I was in my dad’s arms on the other side. In a way, I am still that little girl: longing and panicking in the face of her own weakness. At times, I am tempted to grasp for anything that seems as though it would help. Yet today’s Responsorial Psalm reminds me of the reality that ultimately, no one can satisfy or save me except God: “Put not your trust in princes, in the sons of men, in whom there is no salvation. When his spirit departs he returns to his earth; on that day his plans perish” (Psalm 146:3-4). With the fall of Adam and Eve, humanity went from walking in the garden, satisfied and safe in friendship with God, to walking in a world full of broken and fleeting things. And yet the Church joyfully declares each year at the Easter Vigil Mass that this is a “happy fault” (see The Proclamation of Easter).  Happy because, in our littleness and sinfulness, God Himself came to help. In the person of Jesus, He came to bring us into His arms. “Blessed is he whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the Lord his God . . . who keeps faith forever” (Psalm 146:5-6). This same God Who parted the sea for His people and fed them manna in the desert comes to rescue us too—in the confessional, in the Eucharist, in the Scriptures. Our Father hears the cries of our hearts, and they break His as He says: “Don’t worry, sweet girl, I’m here.” Relate to the Lord // Where do you find rest in the Father—the Confessional, the Eucharist, the Scriptures? Spend time with Him today.

July 29, 2026 // Memorial of Saints Martha, Mary, and Lazarus Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Luke 10:38-42 Reflect on the Word //  It had been bubbling up throughout the Mass. All the sadness, the disappointment, the fear simmered just below the surface. Nothing new, but somehow the pain felt fresh, different. So I poured out my heart to Jesus. Still, by the time Father stood for the final blessing, I didn’t feel much better.  Gently, I heard the Lord in my heart: We can keep talking about it. Tears of relief flooded my eyes. Not because I had answers, but because He cared.  Martha’s exasperated words in today’s Gospel reveal many a heart’s cry. Something hard is happening, Jesus is there and He sees it, so why isn’t He doing anything about it? We too may wonder, “Lord, do you not care?” (Luke 10:40) It’s a common temptation in times of pain or confusion. When your marriage is struggling or a loved one is ill, Lord, do You not care? When depression weighs you down both physically and mentally, Lord, do You not care?  When you’ve been praying for a friend or a job or a breakthrough and it doesn’t come, Lord, do You not care? Martha’s question isn’t wrong; it’s honest. But that honesty is only the beginning of prayer. If we want to know that He cares, we have to know Him. And we can only know Jesus when we spend time with Him. Sit at His feet like Mary and soak in His presence through daily prayer. Look at His face in Adoration or mental prayer. Listen to His words in Scripture. Being with Jesus is the one thing needed, the better part (Luke 10:42).  If you’re wondering today if Jesus cares, the answer is always and unequivocally yes. He cares for you. He cares for the people you care about. And He is taking care of everything. We need only to spend time with Him to remember.  Relate to the Lord // Make a visit to the Blessed Sacrament this week. Sit at His feet. 

July 28, 2026 // Tuesday of the Seventeenth Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: Jeremiah 14:17–22 Reflect on the Word //  I walked into my small group on a Wednesday afternoon and burst into tears as soon as someone asked me if I was doing okay. I had just come out of my first doctor appointment in over a year, and I felt so discouraged. In 2024, I suffered two miscarriages and had a surgery to treat endometriosis. I had high hopes that my chances of getting pregnant would improve that year, yet eighteen months later, it felt like nothing had changed.  In our first months of infertility, I remember naively thinking how I couldn’t imagine making it to two whole years without getting pregnant. Six long years later, I have slowly learned that God will in fact carry you every single day of the cross He has allowed you to endure.  Sometimes our seasons of drought feel endless and incurable. It feels like our tears of desperation and disappointment will never dry up. Jeremiah is one prophet in the Bible who became intimately familiar with the long road of trusting God when absolutely nothing made sense.  In today’s First Reading, he pleads with God on behalf of the people of Judah, who were indulging in idolatry. Jeremiah begs God to remember His covenant with them (Jeremiah 14:21). He even wishes he had never been born.  So how did Jeremiah survive his prolonged season in the desert? How do we press on when we feel like we can’t go any longer?  In his book Run with the Horses, Eugene Peterson credits Jeremiah’s persistence to the unfailing persistence of God toward him. Jeremiah expresses this in his own words elsewhere in Scripture, in Lamentations: “The LORD’s acts of mercy are not exhausted, his compassion is not spent; They are renewed each morning—great is your faithfulness!” (Lamentations 3:22-23) Sister, even when we are in the driest of deserts, God’s faithfulness never dries up. He chooses us, every morning, with unfailing love. He asks us in return to keep choosing His love, one day at a time. Slowly and steadily, His grace will carry us further than we ever thought possible.  Relate to the Lord // Pray with Lamentations 3:22-23. What does this verse stir in your heart?

July 27, 2026 // Monday of the Seventeenth Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 13:31-35  Reflect on the Word //  Several times I’ve tried to become a habitual bread baker. Nothing beats the aroma filling the house, nor the taste of a home-baked loaf of bread. I’ve bought sourdough starters, specialty flours, and even tried a wild sourdough starter method. The results were always delicious and a huge hit with my family. But baking consistently while keeping up with the demands of my family proves time and again to be more than I can handle. I forget to keep enough yeast or flour on hand, I run out of time to feed the starter, or I don’t have time to keep baking. After my baking escapades, Jesus’ parable about the yeast fascinates me. I buy my flour and yeast in small amounts at the store, ready to go whenever I want to bake. I started wondering where the woman’s yeast came from and how much flour filled three measures.  Natural yeast exists in the environment or is saved from previous batches of baking or fermenting. Perhaps the parable yeast was saved from other baking. As for the three measures of flour, I learned that amount equals nearly fifty pounds of flour! Once leavened and baked, the bread from three measures fed close to 100 people (source). I think Jesus was speaking not only of the transformation yeast creates, but also of abundant nourishment. Without Jesus, I can do nothing, just as flour cannot become bread without yeast. Jesus nourishes me and changes me every time I receive His Body in the Eucharist. With His life in me, His kingdom can be established and grow in my heart. Just as the yeast in the parable leavened a large quantity of flour, Jesus can transform my entire life for His glory. God wants to transform each of our lives, and through us, the whole world. The transformation starts when we read Scripture and receive the Sacraments, allowing Jesus into the depths of our being. If we let Him, He will work through us as wild yeast, establishing His kingdom everywhere. Relate to the Lord // Receive Jesus in the Eucharist at daily Mass this week.

July 25, 2026 // Feast of Saint James, Apostle Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: 2 Corinthians 4:7-15 Reflect on the Word //  I sat on the edge of my bed, already tired—and the day hadn’t even begun. My mind was racing, my body felt heavy, and the weight of everything I was carrying pressed in before my feet even hit the floor. There was no clear solution, no immediate relief—just the quiet ache of showing up again. I wanted out. Out of the tension, the uncertainty, the constant stretching. And yet, there it was again—that small, steady pull to lift my eyes. Not to fix it. Not to solve it. Just to look at Him and keep going. “We are afflicted in every way, but not constrained; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed” (2 Corinthians 4:8-9). These words from today’s First Reading don’t deny the weight of suffering—they name it. Afflicted. Perplexed. Struck down. This is the reality of life in a broken world. And yet, there is a deeper reality still. There is a quiet, unshakable hope woven through each line of Saint Paul’s letter: Not constrained. Not abandoned. Not destroyed. Hope does not come from avoiding hardship, but from fixing our gaze beyond it: “Always carrying about in the body the dying of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested” (2 Corinthians 4:10). The dying and the rising are not separate. They are held together. The small, hidden deaths—the disappointments, the confusion, the surrender—are not wasted. In Christ, they become the very places where His life begins to take shape within us. We will all face moments that feel like breaking. And still, we are not abandoned. When we lift our eyes to Christ and hold fast to the hope of Heaven, we find strength to endure. Even in our dying, His life is being formed within us, carrying us forward in hope. Relate to the Lord // Pray before a crucifix and unite your sufferings with His. You are not alone.

July 24, 2026 // Friday of the Sixteenth Week in Ordinary Time // Optional Memorial of Saint Sharbel Makhlūf, Priest Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 13:18–23   It was the day before Valentine’s Day, and my friends and I gathered in one of their warmly lit  kitchens, reminiscing over unwrapped chocolates and fizzing sodas. We started to clean up our mess, and as I pulled open the trash can drawer, I noticed a single rose lying amongst the colorful wrappers and crumpled paper towels. My friend had received it at a show earlier that day and had deemed it too shriveled to put on display. I was sad to see it lying there all alone, so I took it home and placed it in a vase with another bouquet, flower food, and water.  It seemed to draw new strength and life from the surrounding flowers and nourishing food, because the next morning, the bud had reopened to reveal a lush, silken flower. Where we place flowers matters, but where we place ourselves matters even more. In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells the Parable of the Sower, warning His disciples that where the seed lands determines whether fruit will be borne or squandered: “But the seed sown on rich soil is the one who hears the word and understands it, who indeed bears fruit and yields a hundred or sixty or thirtyfold” (Matthew 13:23).  Hearing Scripture is one thing, but to accept it and integrate it into our lives is something else entirely. God has left us Scripture as both a love letter and guide for our lives, but it is not meant to be left on the pages. It is meant to be ever on our lips, evident in our actions, and recited in our thoughts as readily as we recite song lyrics.  Today, as we sit down with our morning coffees and open our dog-eared devotionals, let us remember to place ourselves in the midst of God’s Word. We are not passive readers, but active receivers of Scripture who hear our Lord’s commands and set out at once to do His will. Relate to the Lord // What word or phrase spoke to you from today’s Mass readings? Meditate on it throughout the day.

July 23, 2026 // Thursday of the Sixteenth Week in Ordinary Time // Optional Memorial of Saint Bridget of Sweden, Religious Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 13:10–17 Reflect on the Word //  I minored in Spanish as an undergrad, and one of our assignments involved translating an essay into English. Somewhere along the way, I got a key word wrong and ended up with a heartfelt reflection on a family heirloom onion that had been passed down from a grandmother, an onion that the writer recognized as a sacred part of their family. Something to treasure. When I got to class, I discovered that the story was actually about a bracelet, not an onion, which made a lot more sense. Somehow, I chose the wrong word in translation and everything else was lost! I got most of it right, except the heart of the message. I heard but did not understand.   “You shall indeed hear but not understand, you shall indeed look but never see” (Matthew 13:14). How terrible and confusing when we hear but do not understand, when we look but do not see. I worked so hard to translate only to discover I was misunderstanding everything. Jesus, quoting the prophet Isaiah, warns of this—the danger of closing our eyes and ears to Him. When we don’t listen to the Lord with our heart, we get it all wrong. We can become so busy, or so convinced we have it figured out, that we are missing the point. The best way to hear the Lord is to get in the habit of listening. We read Scripture. We fill ourselves with the goodness of God. And mostly, we must sit at the feet of the Lord and listen to what He has to say. It is not enough to just talk to Him; we also must tune our eyes and ears toward His voice and wait for Him to speak.   Like Mary, who sat at the feet of Jesus, we must listen to the voice of our Savior. He loves when we talk to Him, but in order to hear, we must also be willing to sit and listen, to hear and understand.  Relate to the Lord // Read (or re-read) the daily readings today. Listen for His voice.

July 22, 2026 // Feast of Saint Mary Magdalene Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: John 20:1-2, 11-18 Reflect on the Word //  I stumbled out of bed, groggy and tired. I am not a morning person. Never have been, never will be. Mornings are difficult because of my Delayed Sleep Phase Syndrome. I would not have been the first to the tomb on Easter morning, and sunrise workouts are safely off my list of spiritual practices. So I deeply admire Saint Mary Magdalene, who ran before sunrise, heart pounding, grief raw, searching for a tomb that seemed empty and impossible (John 20:1‑2). She did not tiptoe. She did not hesitate. She ran. Mary stayed outside the empty tomb weeping, desperate for answers that were out of sight (see (John 20:11). I understand her. I have felt that panic when everything you love feels gone. Then the angels asked the simple question that shakes everything: “Woman, why are you weeping?” (John 20:13) Truth lands. Sometimes God does not rush to fix things. Sometimes He simply waits for us to see what we have been missing. And then “Mary!” (John 20:16) One word, full of intimacy, and her heart explodes with recognition. That is the Resurrection moment. The Lord is alive. Right there. Not somewhere far away. Not in some abstract hope. Jesus is alive and calling her name. “I have seen the Lord” (John 20:18). Mary does not whisper. She proclaims. Her words are a declaration of a reality that transforms her fear. We can do the same. We see Him in quiet mornings, in laughter, in tears, in acts of mercy. We see Him when grief gives way to joy. We are women navigating loss, longing, our own weaknesses, and the ordinary chaos of life. We can share in Mary Magdalene’s wonder. We can share in her courage. One day, there may be a moment when Jesus calls our name and everything changes. When He does, may we proclaim with unshakable confidence: “I have seen the Lord.” Relate to the Lord // When have you heard the Lord call you by name? Share that experience with a friend.

July 21, 2026 // Tuesday of the Sixteenth Week in Ordinary Time // Optional Memorial of Saint Lawrence of Brindisi, Priest and Doctor of the Church Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 12:46-50 Reflect on the Word //  I hurried into the little country church on that beautiful summer day, heartbroken and weak, needing shelter. Some people I trusted and held very dear had hurt me deeply, and I did not know how to respond. I needed guidance from the Lord. I needed humility, so that I would be able to see past my own pain to the right path forward. In today’s Gospel, Jesus says, “whoever does the will of my heavenly Father is my brother, and sister, and mother” (Matthew 12:50). In my life, there have been times when the will of God felt utterly clear and undeniable. Discernment was easy. I saw the path brightly lit before me, and I walked confidently down it. Other times, the options feel much more hazy. As I begged for guidance that day in church, the Holy Spirit prompted me to pray the Litany of Humility. I assumed that humility would allow me to put my needs aside and turn the other cheek. Then the Lord showed me that what I assumed was humility was actually fear and pride. I prayed for deliverance from the desire of being loved and approved, the fear of being despised and forgotten.  In this instance, God’s will for me was to create a boundary that protected my family from injustice and injury. It was not easy for me to set aside my pride and risk the disapproval of people I so desperately wanted to please.  It takes a huge amount of courage to discern and follow God’s will, especially when it causes us to turn away from the approval of friends or family. But Jesus promises that when we are faithful, we become His family. He knows what it’s like to be despised and rejected. His approval is worth infinitely more than the approval of any other.  As we grow in virtue, and in intimate knowledge of Scripture, His will becomes easier to discern. And as we continue to practice obedience and experience God’s faithfulness, those courageous leaps become easier to make. Relate to the Lord // Pray the Litany of Humility today. 

July 20, 2026 // Monday of the Sixteenth Week in Ordinary Time // Optional Memorial of Saint Apollinaris, Bishop and Martyr Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s First Reading: Micah 6:1-4, 6-8 Reflect on the Word //  I sat at the kitchen table staring absently out the window, my thoughts a million miles away. I was healing and reorienting after a major personal decision, and many negative emotions now competed with good memories from the past year. My thoughts harshly accused me as I assessed my mistakes and wondered how I could “make it up” to God for falling short. At that moment, my eyes drifted to the Divine Mercy image on our kitchen wall. Christ’s face pleaded that I didn’t need to do this. Trust and humility would suffice.  Today’s First Reading takes us into the hills where the Lord and Israel hold trial. I imagine myself standing in the mountains where this exchange reverberates from the rocks and high places. Since the Lord uses many words like “hear,” “pay attention,” and “answer me,” I know I must listen carefully. Then, the divine vulnerability of God’s petition cuts me to the heart: “O my people, what have I done to you, or how have I wearied you? Answer me!” (Micah 6:3) Although He is God, He only accuses us humbly.  Do I perceive Christ’s mercy? I often anticipate an exacting God only to find Him more lenient than I am towards myself. I am sometimes like Israel, trying to offer holocausts and streams of oil: I also try to calculate how to placate God, certain that I must do something big.  But the Lord shows me I am thinking in human terms. Have I listened to what He requires? His tenderness convicts, then shows me the true solution, simple and insignificant though it may seem: “to do the right and to love goodness, and to walk humbly with your God” (Micah 6:8). His divine, merciful gaze entreats me to let this truth echo in my memory.  Sister, release your thoughts and self-accusation to Him. God does not upbraid you or measure the way we do, even in the hilly, hard places of life. He does not condemn: He calls out tenderly, mercifully, and humbly. He shows us how to act. Trust that He knows what suffices.  Relate to the Lord // Today, meditate on an image of the Divine Mercy. 

July 18, 2026 // Saturday of the Fifteenth Week in Ordinary Time // Optional Memorial of Saint Camillus de Lellis, Priest [In the Dioceses of the United States] Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel for the Memorial of Saint Camillus de Lellis: John 15:9-17 Reflect on the Word //  I love You, Lord, but . . . The word but is a conjunction to set up contrasting thoughts, and too often it comes up in my conversations with the Lord.  I love You, but . . . I know Your will, but . . . I trust You, but . . . Whatever follows the word but is a contrasting thought:  I love You, but I really don’t want to do what You are asking me to do.  I know Your will, but I really want this other thing.  I trust You, but I grow impatient.  How would my prayer life look different if I simply put a period where I use the word but? I love you. I trust you. I believe you. No contrasting thoughts, just expressions of love, trust, faith.  Jesus’ words in the Gospel today sound so simple. He invites us to remain in His love and assures us that if we keep His commandments, we will remain in His love (see John 15:9-17). The greatest of these commandments, of course, is to love God with all our hearts, our minds, and our strength.   We remain in that love simply by loving Him with our entirety. When we find ourselves using the contrasting conjunction but in our prayer, it is a sign that we are struggling to love Him fully. We need to take that to deeper prayer, because it is likely that we are spiritually attached to something of this world that is preventing us from fully remaining in His love.  We all desire to remain in God’s love. Yet keeping His commandments in order to do so can be hard. The day-to-day temptations of life can press on us. Always remember that the Sacrament of Reconciliation is there waiting for each of us, allowing us to clear away the obstacles that keep us from receiving and remaining in God’s love.  Relate to the Lord // What is  your “but”? Journal about what’s keeping your from loving or trusting God.

July 17, 2026 // Friday of the Fifteenth Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Responsorial Psalm: Isaiah 38: 10, 11, 12abcd, 16 Reflect on the Word //  I slumped into a pew in the back of the chapel, arms crossed belligerently in front of my chest, and expelled a loud huff. Grumpy from lack of sleep, overwhelmed by a mountain of assignments to grade, stewing over an email I’d just received, and hangry to boot, I felt like a mutinous toddler as I narrowed my eyes at the tabernacle. Melodramatic as it seems now, in that moment, I felt like the writer of today’s Responsorial Psalm as my spirit groaned, “To the gates of the nether world I shall be consigned for the rest of my years!” (Isaiah 38:10) Somewhere between the Gospel and the beginning of the Eucharistic Prayer, I felt my irritation dissipate. The transformation was striking in its subtlety. It was as though the Lord had pressed a finger tenderly to my chest and set my cold heart awash in the gentle warmth of His love and presence, which radiated to fill my entire being. I still felt like the writer of today’s Responsorial Psalm, but now I was singing a different tune: “Those live whom the LORD protects; yours is the life of my spirit. You have given me health and life” (Isaiah 38:16). Have you ever had a “life-saving” moment like that? Maybe yours, too, was a soul-stirring moment in the Mass, a miraculous change of perspective you’d be hard-pressed to articulate. Or maybe it was a smile from a stranger when you were being particularly hard on yourself, or a text from a friend that made you laugh when you needed it most, or the happily wagging tail of a dog who greeted you after a crummy day at work.  Sister, take heart: no matter how bleak life may seem, the Lord is always there, extending His hand to pull us out of the pit and give us new life, over and over again.  Relate to the Lord // Reflect on your own life-saving moments of grace—and thank God for them!