Brothers and sisters: I know how to live in humble circumstances; I know also how to live with abundance. In every circumstance and in all things I have learned the secret of being well fed and of going hungry, of living in abundance and of being in need. I can do all things in him who strengthens me. // Philippians 4:12 A few years ago, my husband Paul took me to Italy to celebrate my birthday. Our good friend Father Tim was working at the Pontifical North American College in Rome and arranged transportation for us from the airport to where we were staying near him on his campus. When we got off the plane, our driver was waiting with our name on a placard, and, after grabbing our luggage, we headed to a sleek Mercedes sedan. We rode in luxury through the streets of the Eternal City on our way to our apartment for the next ten days. It was a dream. For the rest of our trip we traveled less extravagantly, taking the train as we ventured out of Rome to other parts of the country. But man, that Mercedes! What a treat! The readings for today focus on humble circumstances and on abundance, and how God can meet us and be with us in both. But also, as the First Reading notes, the Lord offers us not just “rich food and choice wines,” but He makes them even better as" juicy, rich food and pure, choice wines” (Isaiah 25:6). God wants to give us every good thing, and while it’s easy to focus on the temporal, physical world, the truth is, He offers something far better—deep, abiding good and prosperity that only He can give.  “My God will fully supply whatever you need,” says Saint Paul in the Second Reading, “in accord with his glorious riches in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:19). Far better than a sleek (and very fun) ride in a fancy car is the feast of the Lord. Sister, what is the feast God is inviting us to that we would be unwilling to attend like the people in the Gospel parable for today (see Matthew 22:1-14)? What holds us back from going? The Scriptures today all point to a generous God who is eager to walk beside us.  Let us pray for the grace to be willing to attend this feast, to say yes to the goodness God has to give.

Blessed are those who hear the word of God and observe it. // Luke 11:28 I wrote my first devotion for Blessed is She on September 5, 2014, in the first week of its existence. Today, over nine years later, I believe this is my hundredth devotion written, or thereabouts anyway. After all that time, I don’t actually know how the BiS team assigns particular readings to particular writers, whether days are assigned at random or with foresight. But either the Holy Spirit or my editor thinks you ladies need to hear my take on whether Jesus is trying to take his mother down a peg. (Spoiler alert: He’s not.)  Last month, we talked about whether Jesus was dissing His mom when he said, "My mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and act on it" (Luke 8:21). Today, in response to a well-wisher in the crowd who cries out, "Blessed is the womb that carried you and the breasts at which you nursed" (Luke 11:27), Jesus says, "Rather, blessed are those who hear the word of God and observe it" (Luke 11:28). In both instances, Jesus reminds us that Mary’s example does not lie in the fact that she was the Mother of God—which is a relief because we can’t emulate that. Instead, Jesus highlights for us the way that Mary lives as a true daughter of God. She heard the word of God in a very direct way when the angel spoke to her at the Annunciation, of course. But, as you and I are doing right now, she also spent time reading Scripture and in prayer. And she did not stop there. She observed the word of God, and she acted on it.  At the Annunciation, at the Visitation, at the Wedding Feast at Cana, on the Via Dolorosa, Mary gives us the example of faith in action. What does God want us to hear today? And what does He want us to do?

But he knew their thoughts and said to them, “Every kingdom divided against itself will be laid waste and house will fall against house.” // Luke 11:17 There are a lot of types of deception, but I think one of the most painful is when we deceive ourselves.  I know when I have sinned—but not yet reached the point where I acknowledge the need to repent and seek forgiveness—that I experience an almost physical discomfort. Part of me wants to continue acting as if nothing has happened. I would like to deceive myself into thinking the sin can just be forgotten without consequence. The sins that have made me feel the worst are often not seen by others.  I mistakenly keep pretending that my conscience can be ignored. If I keep acting like nothing happened, surely my conscience will just forget the whole thing!  But that internal struggle feels like a physical grip on my insides in times of silence, when I’m trying to fall asleep at night, popping up when I take a shower. My soul is in effect divided. My soul cannot continue in such a state. The struggle will either pull me into more numbing sin, or be cleansed and healed if I seek out the Sacrament of Reconciliation.  Sister, when we are attached to sin our souls are like a house divided, but we cannot remain that way. We will either ultimately serve God or choose to not serve. Jesus calls us today to live a life of interior integrity in Him—to let Him make us whole. This integrity is only possible through His grace: both the grace He gives us when we seek restoration and forgiveness in Confession, and the grace He gives us through the wisdom of His Church, in giving us the teaching and understanding to form our consciences to know and love Him. It is not enough to merely reject sin; we must also fill our minds and hearts with what is good and true. His forgiveness cleans out the sin and His truth fills us up again. Just as we can always grow nearer to the Lord in prayer, we can also continue to draw closer to Christ through learning more about the Faith through the teachings of the Church.*  *Check out our Blessed Conversations Study on the Catechism.

Blessed the man who [ . . . ] delights in the law of the LORD and meditates on his law day and night. // Psalm 1:1-2 Lonely and exhausted, I finally abandoned all the various unfinished projects around the house and headed for bed. I am naturally a morning person, so the night is not usually my friend. Late nights lead to late mornings, and with three kids ages ten and under, late mornings make for a cranky mama. Alas, life as a young widow sometimes requires burning the candle at both ends.  Tempted to scroll social media searching for that dopamine hit, I instead brushed my teeth, slid into my bed, and listened to Night Prayer via an app. The soothing voice led me into prayer instead of the endless loop of others’ lives. I was ushered into God’s presence as I reflected on my day and was soothed by the psalmist’s beautiful words. I lay there in the dark, eyes closed, letting this ancient prayer practice prepare my heart for rest. I think most of us could say that our prayer lives are a work in progress, constantly changing as our lives, relationships, and intimacy with God grow. With the help of wise friends, our own discernment, and books we read, we are able to find what works for us.  Do you need an app to pray? The answer is decisively no. But can an app be a helpful tool while you are learning a new way to pray? Absolutely! Technology inevitably plays a role in your life. Why not use it to draw you closer to God? What are your favorite tools for seeking greater intimacy with God? Where can you turn when you feel stuck? The Liturgy of the Hours is quickly becoming one of my favorite prayer rhythms—so much beauty and truth is packed into a few short minutes at regular intervals throughout the day. What an amazing privilege and joy to be able to pray in concert with thousands of Saints, priests, and religious brothers and sisters both now and from centuries before us! If you haven’t yet, I encourage you to give it a try. See what happens when you replace one of your normal scrolling breaks with a prayer break instead.

Jesus said to him, "Feed my lambs." // John 21:15  (Gospel from the Optional Memorial of Pope Saint John XXIII)  “The Body of—”  The priest stopped abruptly as I sank to my knees to receive Holy Communion in my usual posture. He repeated the preparatory words, and, after responding “Amen,” I tilted back my head and opened my mouth wide. With a grimace, Father retreated his hand back and then all but tossed the Sacred Host onto my extended tongue.    Surprised by his reaction, I tried to enter into prayer as I walked back to my pew.  Receiving on the tongue was a devotion I had begun one year before during Lent. In those forty days, my deepened prayer and intimacy with Jesus sparked an enduring desire and conviction to continue. I was grateful for the Lord’s invitation to encounter Him in this traditional way of receiving the Blessed Sacrament.   And so, in my love and desire for the Bread of Life, I kept coming back to the table where this priest served, asking to be fed. Yet the more I opened my mouth and my heart to this shepherd of the Church, the more I felt the grace of Christ working within the Sacrament to feed both of us with His love.   In the Gospel for today’s Memorial of Pope Saint John XXIII, Jesus asks Saint Peter to profess his love three times. Ultimately, Peter’s imperfect love is enough, and Jesus entrusts him with feeding and tending the flock (see John 21:15-17). Similarly, in my kneeling before Father at Mass, I was inviting Him to love and tend to Christ’s sheep by distributing the Eucharist in a way that would tend to my heart and possibly help him to grow in Christ’s own love for the Church.   The third time I knelt to receive, I was struck by a noticeable openness and comfort in Father’s attitude. And the fourth time? He smiled briefly at me after Mass.   Sister, where do you need to share the Good Shepherd’s love today? Or how can you invite someone to give their own declaration of love? In the words of Pope Saint John XXIII, “Sweet Heart of my Jesus, make [us] love You more and more” (source). 

There is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part and it will not be taken from her. // Luke 38:42 I can’t tell you how many times I have read today’s Gospel and have tried to make a case for Martha. I know Jesus says, “Mary has chosen the better part . . . ” (Luke 38:42), but I’m secretly rooting for my girl because I identify with her struggle. Is it really that bad that she is so hospitality oriented?  To be honest, I’m slightly jealous of Mary. Her disposition to receive Jesus and be at his feet is a posture that doesn’t come naturally to me. Although I wouldn’t have called out my sister to help me, I would have felt the lack of help festering and boiling up within—and pretended to be okay with it all.  Perhaps it’s people pleasing or a misguided sense of control, but I can’t help but feel compassion towards Martha. It’s not because I lack faith or a deep reverence for Jesus, but I’m used to living in service of others. However well-intentioned my service-oriented heart is, it keeps me from choosing the better part in my daily life.  Maybe the part that Martha and I are missing is that while Jesus wants us to serve Him, we cannot do it well without spending time like Mary. The better part is being present to Jesus in times of prayer and learning how to be present to Him even as we serve.  Jesus probably knew how our human minds would be wired for productivity instead of learning to be in His presence. He knew that distraction was a fast-track way to distance ourselves from Him.  Distraction is disguised as many good things: volunteering for your parish community, hosting playdates for your toddler(s), being a room mom at your child’s school, signing up to take snacks for the next soccer game, leading a book club, etc. All good but when left unchecked, can lead us away from Jesus. Sister, let’s give the Holy Spirit permission to inspire us to choose the better part like Mary, of being with Him in our daily lives.  Let’s learn from Martha and allow Him to serve our hearts, remembering He is our one need.

He answered, "The one who treated him with mercy." Jesus said to him, "Go and do likewise." // Luke 10:37 I let out an obvious exhale of frustration and said, “Babe . . . that’s not how I told you to do it.” It was one of those late nights of packing orders in my cramped little red-carpeted office. My husband had graciously volunteered to help me finish some work for my small business and made a relatively minor mistake. I tried to sheepishly justify my rude response before realizing that I was clearly the one at fault. Instead of extending grace, I let my emotions respond with a biting edge.  Once again, I was failing to love the person I claim to love the most.   When I read today’s Gospel passage about “loving your neighbor,” I was deeply struck by the one word Saint Luke chose to distinguish the Good Samaritan from the others: mercy.  I began to think about the other “neighbors” in my life I have failed to love—the people who have been robbed of my mercy. Not just the predictable roadside beggars, but the people I rub elbows with throughout my day.  Maybe it’s your spouse or your children. Maybe it’s that roommate who leaves dirty dishes in the sink. That girl in your Bible study who talks too much. That coworker who gets away with showing up late every day.  Chances are, your little ordinary life is imploding with opportunities to respond with mercy over judgment, mercy over annoyance, and mercy over fairness. You don’t have to go searching in the streets—more likely you just need to look up from your couch or your dining room table.  Let’s beg the Lord to drown our hearts in the ocean of His mercy today, that it may spill over towards every person we touch. Come Holy Spirit, wash over us!

Then he looked for the crop of grapes, but what it yielded was wild grapes. // Isaiah 5:2 Bitterness: one of the differences between a good crop of grapes and wild grapes. After my first miscarriage I sometimes feared that I would become bitter. My heart felt tender and vulnerable, my grief real and valid as there had been loss of life and love. I mostly welcomed the grief except for the part that scared me—being upset with the Lord. If I opened the door to that sentiment, I thought, I might become bitter. I might look at life with pessimism and at the Lord with suspicion.  Suffering and heartache are interesting tools in the pruning, loving hand of the Lord. They are sharp and in fact, potentially quite dangerous, since things can really go sideways quickly in the spiritual life. The Lord wishes to allow these sufferings that some good might come of it but we, as free persons, can choose how we respond to these hardships. So that means there is a chance that things may go haywire. There is a possibility that we might become bitter and hardened.  And yet, as we see in today’s First Reading (Isaiah 5:1-7), the Lord is still willing to take that chance, to allow our security to be broken, our foundations to be trampled upon, and our dreams and hopes to be laid waste. Why does He permit this ruin? Why allow His beloved and cherished people to undergo turmoil and difficulties? He permits these things that the vines of the vineyard might become domesticated, cultivated—a renewed species to produce grapes that give sweet, choice wine.  I invite you, sister, to pray with me that when we are faced with life’s heartaches and difficult seasons—the ones that knock us down and shatter our defenses—we may still turn to the Lord, becoming “a people that will produce [His] fruit” (Matthew 21:43) and allowing Him to gather a good crop of grapes from our vineyard. When we are tempted towards bitterness and suspicion of His goodness and good intentions, may we ask Him to restore the ruins and make our hearts fertile places.

“No one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and those to whom the Son chooses to reveal him. ” // Matthew 11:27 It was a hot and sticky New York City summer day. You know the kind where your back sticks to the pew because it’s so darn hot? The air conditioning at my parish was broken for Mass that day and I could not begin to imagine how the friars were feeling in their vestments. Needless to say, we were all in need of a refresher—preferably a new air conditioning system.  Inside my heart, too, was sort of sticky. It felt as though things were moving too slowly inside. I was fresh off a beautiful reversion in the last year, but there was still a sort of residue in my heart. It had been a beautiful seeking of the Father and His goodness, and now I sat with what felt like no more seeking to do. In many good and beautiful ways I saw my reversion as my own pursuit of His heart, but that was only half the story.  “The Father loves you,” the friar said in his homily. He paused just long enough for my own heart to hear, The Father seeks you. Like a fresh glass of cold water I received the same truth we hear in today’s Gospel, mainly that in the last year I had not come to know Christ and the Father through my own efforts. I did not come upon God the Father in New York City by chance. No, from all eternity Christ the Son had chosen this moment in time to reveal to me the greatest secret of His heart. How refreshing!  Sister, any and all encounters with Christ and the Father are because the Blessed Trinity has looked at you in a great desire to be in relationship and communion with you and said, “Let it be.” May you have the grace today to see where Christ has chosen to reveal to you the greatest secret of His Heart, His Father. And may we have the grace to respond with that childlike gratitude for the goodness of and gift of knowing the Heart of God. 

For we did not heed the voice of the Lord, our God, in all the words of the prophets whom he sent us, but each one of us went off after the devices of his own wicked heart, served other gods, and did evil in the sight of the Lord, our God. // Baruch 1:21 My whole body tensed as I glanced at the text on my screen: My son can’t bring your daughter home from school today. He has a club. Calculating how many minutes it would take from my afternoon to drive to the school and back, I was both annoyed at this last-minute change and overwhelmed by my other commitments. But mostly, I felt an indignation at the loss of my plan for the afternoon and that I had to give up what I wanted.  This, my dear sister, is an example of the plague of ingratitude which I have let dominate my life. Rather than being thankful for all of the things I am blessed to do, I respond with sorrow and discontentment.  I see in my own heart the wayward ways of the Israelites who were given so much from God: the Promised Land, a covenant relationship, a promise of a Messiah. Like them, I begin to see my blessings—my talented, hardworking husband, our four beautiful children, the opportunity to educate them, work that I love, food to cook and serve—as a burden. And like them, I end up in a type of exile—unhappy and longing for a place of joy. The solution to the problem is actually quite simple: turn back to the Lord with gratitude. Instead of seeing all of these things as burdens, I can see them as blessings.  That day that I changed my plans and picked up my teenage daughter, we had fifteen minutes of good, cheerful conversation together, which was a great blessing. And situations like that also prompted me to restructure our daily life, so that I could appreciate my blessings with less stress. Sister, take some time today to examine your own life. Are there blessings that you see as burdens? How can you foster more gratitude for your blessings? What might you need to change to make them feel less burdensome?

He said to them, "The harvest is abundant but the laborers are few; so ask the master of the harvest to send out laborers for his harvest.” // Luke 10:2 I plopped my bag on the pew and slid in next to it, heaving a sigh of relief. I had the dimly lit church all to myself. Our monthly women’s group had just wrapped up, and it had been nothing short of beautiful, with poignant sharing and heart-level conversation. Yet we’d also had an uncharacteristically low turnout; only two other women had shown up besides me.  What am I doing wrong? I wondered. What needs to change? I considered the success of countless other groups and ministries, and my insecurities gathered steam. It must be me.  The glinting gold tabernacle caught my eye, and Our Lord gently but firmly tugged me away from my tailspin into His Heart.  Did I give you a quota? I felt Him say. Or invite you into mission?  I had to laugh. I’d ignored the beautiful fruit that I had witnessed first-hand during the meeting, and instead applied my prideful, constrained standards to His limitless work.  So often we judge our contribution to God’s harvest through the world’s restrictive notion of success. We cling to numbers and analytics, or measure ourselves against someone else’s timelines, talents, and accomplishments. This leads to hasty conclusions that our role—even our very selves—must be unimportant or lacking.   Christ tells us the opposite: the real lack is disciples willing to say yes to His call.  The Lord knows you’re imperfect but calls you anyway. His harvest is not dependent on your talents and results—or anyone else’s. It’s dependent upon your openness to His power in your weakness.  This truth extends to measuring your work against others. Ordered rightly, it is, in fact, all God’s work. We’re all on the same team, and other disciples’ work cannot take away from our own. This means that wherever Christ calls you, your role is vital. There are countless souls in need of salvation. There’s an abundant harvest in need of a lifetime commitment. Today, let God redirect your focus to the invaluable souls He’s placed right in front of you—starting with your own. Today, let Him redefine “success” for you.

"I will follow you wherever you go." // Luke 9:57 I knelt at the tomb of Saint Francis at the Basilica di San Francesco in Assisi, Italy. I had just attended Mass with some Fraciscan friars and sisters and was praying in the silence of that stone crypt in a quiet corner. Pilgrims were quietly filing through for a moment to pray at the tomb of this beloved Saint.  What would this poor, humble Saint want us to know?  In my prayer, I imagined Saint Francis responding to us with these simple words: “Say yes and follow Jesus wherever He goes.” The ripple effect of Saint Francis’ yes to Jesus has continued in the Church for almost eight hundred years. Saint Francis of Assisi inspired the fiat of many saints: Saint Clare of Assisi, Saint Agnes of Assisi, Saint Anthony, Saint Bonaventure, Saint Catherine of Bologna, Saint Joseph of Cupertino, Saint Colette, Saint Thomas More, Saint Junipero Serra, Saint Marianne Cope, Saint Maximilian Kolbe, Saint Padre Pio, and countless other Franciscans and Poor Clares who have given their lives to follow Jesus.  I doubt that the poor and humble Saint Francis of Assisi ever imagined how his yes to Jesus would help so many to say yes to following Jesus wherever He goes. The witness of the lives of the Saints inspiring one another is a concrete example of how the Kingdom of God grows. Today, our yes to Jesus may seem hidden and insignificant. The enemy may tempt us to make excuses or procrastinate, but let’s pray for the grace to respond to Jesus’ call with quick obedience. As we say yes to Jesus, others will follow. 

When the days for Jesus to be taken up were fulfilled, he resolutely determined to journey to Jerusalem, and he sent messengers ahead of him. On the way they entered a Samaritan village to prepare for his reception there, but they would not welcome him because the destination of his journey was Jerusalem. // Luke 9:51-53 I remember stepping onto the plane as an eleven-year-old not knowing what the other side of the world would hold. I was completely crippled with fear and yet I found myself buckled and ready to go. My twin sister and I were leaving Ethiopia to go to our new home and new family in Northeast Ohio.  A thousand questions were racing through my head while I was quietly staring out the window. Am I going to be safe? Will I be happy? Did we just entrust them our entire life? So many questions, fears, and doubts. Many of them I’m still processing and figuring out. I was stepping into the unknown and honestly I don’t think there was anything at that moment that was going to make all of my fear go away. I had to walk through it. I had to accept that my life would be radically and unexpectedly different than I could have ever imagined. I was having to let go of everything to step into this new life. In today’s Gospel (see Luke 9:51-56), Jesus sends the disciples ahead of Him. They step into this village not knowing if they will be welcome. Then they get rejected. While the disciples are ready to call down fire on them, Jesus shocks them by barely noticing and heads toward Jerusalem with unwavering determination.  In the text of Luke after today’s Gospel, Jesus explains that to be a disciple we have to be willing to let go of the past (see Luke 9:57-62). Jesus has a destination, a place where He knows He will be welcome. He knows that His disciples’ lives will be radically and unexpectedly different than anything they had imagined, but He offers them His plan for them. There are times where the Lord will ask to step into our Jerusalem. He will ask us to let go of things in our past that keep us from the place He wants us to be. Sister, what is the Lord asking you to surrender today? The step He’s asking you to take could lead to something way more beautiful than you could’ve ever imagined. Journey on with Him.

The nations shall revere your name, O LORD, and all the kings of the earth your glory, When the LORD has rebuilt Zion and appeared in his glory; When he has regarded the prayer of the destitute, and not despised their prayer. // Psalm 102:16-18 We were sitting around one evening, reflecting and commiserating about the state of the current culture—the moral confusion, lack of faith, weakened leadership—and on and on about what is wrong with the world. It was one of those conversations that can lead to anger and self-righteousness, or discouragement.   Of course my attempts to “solve the world’s problems” are often not the way the Lord does it. At times it’s more of me in my flesh, than me in the heart of Christ. Lord, it is so discouraging that many people don’t revere Your Name or welcome Your truth and love. Why don’t You bring judgment on this unbelieving generation? In today’s First Reading and Psalm, we see the Lord’s deep love and desire for all of the nations to revere His Name. When will I learn that God’s strategy for solving the world’s problems and redeeming the human race is so different from mine?  Christ came into the world as a baby, humble and dependent like the child in today’s Gospel (see Matthew 18:4). He was never influenced by what others thought of Him or affected by the disciples’ lack of faith. He never took matters into His own hands out of frustration or unjust anger. Instead, He was firmly fixed on obeying His Father’s will. He came to free all people, even those within our current culture, from moral confusion and faithlessness—and to free me (and you) from fear, striving, and self-importance.  Sister, today if you are overwhelmed by what’s wrong with the world, if you are battling discouragement or a judgmental spirit, remember that God is firmly in control of ALL things. He is resolutely determined to save His children through the sacrificial death of His Son, and there is no power in Heaven or on earth that can thwart His love. May the Lord give us hearts inflamed with love and mercy for those who do not yet know Him. May every discussion of the world’s problems end with the name of Jesus on our lips. He alone is the Savior of the world. 

Thus says the LORD: You say, "The LORD's way is not fair!" Hear now, house of Israel: Is it my way that is unfair, or rather, are not your ways unfair?” // Ezekiel 18:25 “It’s not fair!” my son exclaims. He is four years old and has a high sense of justice, fairness, and equality. However, he has yet to grasp the idea that his siblings are different ages and have different needs and how we parent each child varies depending on emotional development.  But to a four-year-old, everything has to be fair. Or else we hear the cries of injustice and I believe he will lead the charge of our kids unionizing. On this particular sleepy Saturday morning, my husband and I were attempting to get our youngest to use the toilet. Potty training is definitely in my top five least favorite parenting requirements but, alas, it must be done. And rewards with candy ensued. “Why does he get candy and I don’t?! It’s not fair!” my son demanded. I explained that his little brother was learning a new skill and we would reward him accordingly. But foot-stomping and rage-against-the-parental-machine commenced and our morning turned chaotic. I listened to his frustrations and validated his feelings, but held firm. Each of our four children are different; they have different needs and are at various developmental stages. We parent them in the ways they need as individuals. Some days my patience wears thin and I just want to throw in the towel—give the kids what they want, when they want it—so I don’t have to hear any more whining. But I hold firm and take a deep breath and let them rage, stomp, and shout to the heavens about how unfair their mother is. And I am the first to admit that I do the same thing. Sister, you may foot-stomp at the Lord and ask why me or why is this happening. Or the classic, it’s not fair! But in His endless patience and Fatherly wisdom, He has uniquely designed His path for you. Let Him know your feelings; He’ll hold you close. And He can take anything you give Him.

"Pay attention to what I am telling you.” // Luke 9:44 “Here, take a whole pack!” Sister cried over her shoulder, blue and white habit billowing behind her as she went off in search of the trifold Litany of Trust prayer cards. I’d just finished praying the most glorious Holy Hour with the Sisters of Life where the Lord reminded me of something beautiful He had asked of me just a few days before—which I had promptly forgotten. When vocational doubts or anxieties arise, He instructed my heart to simply pray, Jesus, I trust in You.  Instead of spinning out or taking things into my own hands, I should turn to Him interiorly, look at Him with faith and love and say, Jesus, I trust in You.  But only a few days later, as I tried to pray in that sunny adoration chapel, the questions came knocking, followed by the all-too-familiar anxiety. Suddenly, I remembered the grace. Jesus, I trust in You.  He had already prescribed a remedy for a moment like this; I just needed to remember to take it. The Lord has been so generous to me and He also has to you. He leads us by His Word, nourishes us through the Sacraments, consoles us in prayer, and unfolds His will through the events of our daily life. He has already given us everything we need to hear His voice and follow Him.  The question isn’t, Does God speak? The question is, Are we paying attention?  In today’s Gospel, Jesus admonishes His disciples to pay attention (see Luke 9:43b-45). When the Lord speaks in the myriad of ways He does, is your heart poised and disposed to listen? Or do you, like me, have a short spiritual memory? If so, let this be a reminder. Go back to the last thing Jesus said or did and renew your yes to Him today. We won’t always understand what the Lord is doing, but if we tune in with ready hearts, He will always turn our mourning into joy (see Jeremiah 31:13).

His throne was flames of fire, with wheels of burning fire. A surging stream of fire flowed out from where he sat. // Daniel 7:9-10 In 1990, my sister and I went to Medjugorje. There, Vicka, one of the children to whom the Blessed Mother is said to have appeared, prayed over us. She was not much older than we were, just twenty-five. We both fell to our knees crying without knowing why; we couldn’t understand a word she said. But her countenance was numinous: so pure, so radiant. It was something I’ll never forget. Many years passed and Vicka married, had children, and then got breast cancer. She was speaking frequently at the time and wasn’t interested in canceling any of her talks. She would let the Blessed Mother take care of it, she said—until family members stepped in and said, “Yes, Mary will take care of it, and we’ll also apply a little modern medicine.” So she went home, was treated, and later returned to speaking. Years ago when I first had breast cancer, I panicked and felt sorry for myself for about a day. Then I remembered Vicka’s story and thought, If that glorious creature can get breast cancer having lived the life she has lived, who am I to complain about it? It was treated and I went on about my life. When I learned the cancer had returned, again I had a few days of panic and self-pity, but was quickly, thankfully, drawn out of that by remembering Vicka’s story and the God we serve.  Myriad angels minister to this God of everlasting dominion, Whose throne is flames of fire (see Daniel 7:10). If in His omnipotence He has deigned to allow me this suffering, then I trust it is for some greater good. And though this good may be hidden from me, it is known to Him and I choose, again and again, to trust in a God the angels serve. If you need reminding of God’s glory and might, His wisdom and power, ask the angels to pray for you. They know firsthand and have approached in all humility this throne of fire from which He governs with justice, might, and mercy, your life and mine.