Saint Thomas More is the patron Saint of statesmen and politicians. He is also one to turn to when a friend walks away from the faith.

Learn about the canonization process and meet five heroic women in the process of becoming Saints.

From All Saints Day on November 1 until November 8, pray in a cemetery and gain a plenary indulgence for the holy souls in Purgatory.

This fall, get to know these ten female Saints who not only overcame difficult situations, but also allowed their sufferings to bring them deeper into holiness. 

Why do we remember the Basilica of St. Mary Major in Rome on August 5? Because there, in every direction, you meet our Blessed Mother. It really is her church. 

Saint Maria Goretti has always been present in my life. Recently, she reminded me that the Saints take our friendship seriously, especially when we ask for their help.

As we approach Saint Valentine’s Day, let us spend time praying with Scriptures that focus on the love of God, that we may know without a doubt just how much He loves us.

There are a few Saints who have been named “Great,” like Saint Gertrude the Great, whose feast we celebrate today. But aren’t all the Saints great? (The answer is of course, yes.)

Keeping our prayer routine when we are busy is especially important. Here are some Scripture verses to help us along.

In her message to women, Saint Teresa Benedicta of the Cross explains how love means to embrace an encounter with the Cross in some form. And an encounter with the Cross is an invitation to an encounter with Christ.

No matter where you are vocationally this Saint Valentine's Day, Jesus wants to spend it with you. So much so that this year, Ash Wednesday falls on the feast of Saint Valentine's Day. The day we begin the season of repentance, remembering and turning back to the Lord, and entering into the desert, is the Saint’s feast-day-turned-secular-holiday that the world uses to remind us of love. Today, as the first day of Lent, is the day to enter into His love. His heart is for you. Let Jesus “allure [you] and bring [you] into the wilderness” this Saint Valentine's Day “and speak tenderly to [you]” (see Hosea 2:14).  The secular Valentine's Day, with its pink and red hearts, flowers and chocolates, and romantic notions, reminds us of the beauty of love. Those Valentines we receive, whether they are from classmates in second grade, a friend, or a spouse, are affirmations of being loved. Our hearts, made in the image and likeness of God, crave that affirmation of love. Yet love cannot be separated from sacrifice, as modeled for us by Christ but also by Saint Valentine who was martyred for His love of Jesus.  As the Bridegroom of us, the Church, Jesus' love for us is not only sacrificial but wildly beautiful and, I daresay, romantic, in His pursuit of our hearts. I stumbled across this poem recently from the epigraph of the book The Friendship of Christ by Robert Hugh Benson. (He footnotes it as “from an old manuscript.”) I think it captures the beauty of the Lord’s pursuit of our hearts and gives us much to ponder this Valentine's Day.  “This Is My Friend” Let me tell you how I made His acquaintance.I had heard much of Him, but took no heed.He sent daily gifts and presents, but I never thanked Him.He often seemed to want my friendship, but I remained cold.I was homeless, and wretched, and starving and in peril every hour; and He offered me shelter and comfort and food and safety; but I was ungrateful still.At last, He crossed my path and with tears in His eyes, He besought me saying, Come and abide with me. Let me tell you how he treats me now.He supplies all my wants.He gives me more than I dare ask.He anticipates my every need.He begs me to ask for more.He never reminds me of my past ingratitude.He never rebukes me for my past follies. Let me tell you further what I think of Him.He is as good as He is great.His love is as ardent as it is true.He is as lavish of His promises as He is faithful in keeping them.He is as jealous of my love as He is deserving of it.I am in all things His debtor, but He bids me call Him Friend. This Valentine's Day, this Lent, “He begs me to ask for more.”  What more is the Lord begging you to ask for? For what have you been hesitant to ask the Lord? It's funny how we can hold ourselves back from asking the Lord for very good things out of fear, false humility, or pride. Yet He wants us to ask. Perhaps He is asking you this Lent to be bold in your prayer. Ask big, because “He is as lavish of His promises as He is faithful in keeping them.” I think, in a way, this kind of prayer is an affirmation of love. It’s a way you can give the Lord a secret Valentine.

I had been sensing for a while an invitation in prayer to slow down, especially after reading this blog post that struck a deep chord in my heart. I started to pay attention to when I responded to the perennial question of “How are you?” with “Busy”—and reframed it as “Full.”   I intentionally took time in my day to recreate, not just pretend that I was doing so.   And then I received another assignment from my religious order. Not just an assignment change, but an additional assignment—one that left me with one and a half full-time jobs. Busy had just ratcheted up to the snowball barreling off the mountain at top-notch speed, gaining momentum and snow every second. You get the idea.   Yet I knew the invitation from the Lord to slow down still stood. Slowing down wasn’t in contradiction to my apostolate(s). Both were good, and I was invited to pursue both. How in the world was I going to slow down AND stay on top of the work entrusted to me?  My first objective was: Be covered in prayer. I asked my sisters to pray intentionally for me and the work entrusted to me. A gift of religious life is that my prayer life is structured, but I still have my responsibility to show up and actually dialogue with the Lord. I talked to the Lord about how my brain was running circles around my prayer time as I tried to keep my gaze on Him. I settled into His gaze of patient mercy and held on.   My second objective was: Seek advice from those whom I trust, and whom I know are also living busy and full lives. They helped me set up systems. They talked me through best practices. And one said: “You’ve got to read this book.”   {formbuilder:OTk3ODc=} The book is The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry by John Mark Comer. I highly recommend it—no matter what season of life you are in. Maybe you’re in a double-time mode or a quieter season, but there are gems and wisdom in this book for everyone. I say this because our culture is one of hurry, and no matter how strongly we resist or fight, we get sucked in by the noise and busyness of the world. Even if you are living in a convent.  What I loved about this book is that I felt deeply seen. That seems silly to say about a thing, but there were so many times I thought, Yeah, that’s me . . . What, it’s not just me?! I thought I was the only one who was “distracted from distraction by distraction”—a quote by T.S. Eliot that Comer references in his book.   Talk about references—this book is widely footnoted with brain research, the Saints, and wisdom Comer has gathered on his own journey to eliminate hurry from his life. He points to the brain research that shows that humans have an eight second attention span. (Interestingly enough, it was only twelve seconds before the digital revolution we live in.) Though he is not Catholic, many, if not most, of the conclusions he comes to will be familiar: observing the Sabbath, fasting, living a gospel-centered life. These are mixed in with extremely practical advice, including the following: observe the speed limit, set time apart to check email, and get in the longest line in the store (to cultivate patience). He reminds his readers to learn to recognize the propaganda in advertising that wants you to do more and get more, and evaluate the true cost of an item before it is bought—including the new time investment it will require.  In our culture that screams, “Slow is bad and fast is good!” we need reminders that it is more than okay to seek and strive for balance. It is beautiful to practice simplicity and abide where we are. This book is an easy read, but filled with profound reminders that we are not made for hurry.  Ultimately, the advice and conclusions are to not only eliminate hurry from your life, but live more in the image and likeness of God. God does not hurry. God is love, and love does not hurry. In reality, “love is painfully time consuming”—in other words—love is patient.

God loves a paradox. The Trinity is three Persons in One God. The King of the World was born in a stable. “I am with you always,” Jesus tells His Apostles right before the Ascension (Matthew 28:20). He tells his disciples “The greatest among you must be your servant” (Matthew 23:11) and “Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it” (Matthew 10:39). And in a deep ravine in rural New York, this last paradox takes concrete shape. This ravine is deep shades of green, a quiet stream trickling nearby. The only sounds are natural ones. This ravine exudes a holy peace.   The quiet, beautiful, peaceful ravine is, in reality, a messy, ugly, violent way of the Cross. It is, in itself, the paradox of discipleship: “Whoever loses their life for my sake will find it.”  In this place, the blood of the martyrs became the seed of Christians. It is the place Saint René Goupil was tossed after he was tomahawked by two of the Iroquis to whom he was bringing the Good News of the Gospel. It is the place Saint Isaac Jogues snuck into during the middle of the night to bury his brother. Isaac Jogues had been standing next to René when he was killed. He fully expected to be next, but for some reason his life was spared, at least for a while. He describes what happened next:  After [René] had been killed, the children had stripped him and tieing [sic] a cord around his neck, dragged him to a torrent which runs at the foot of the town. The dogs had already gnawed a part of his thighs. At this spectacle, I could not withhold my tears. I took the body and aided by the Algonquin, I sank it in the water and covered it with large stones, to hide it, intending to return the next day with a spade, when there was no one near and dig a grave and inter it. (source) {formbuilder:OTk3ODc=} Delayed a few days in being able to sneak back to bury Rene’s body, he describes what happened next:  I entered the water already quite cold, I [came and went], I sound[ed] with my feet to see whether the water had not raised and carried off the body, but I saw nothing. How many tears I shed, which fell in the torrent, while I sang as I could the psalms which the church chant[s] for the dead. After all I found nothing . . .  [ . . . ] [T]he young men had taken it up and dragged it to a neighboring wood, where during the fall and winter it was the food of the dog, the crow, and the fox. When I was told in the spring that he had been dragged there, I went several times without finding anything; at last, the fourth time, I found his head and some half-gnawed bones, which I interred. [ . . . ] Repeatedly did I kiss them as the bones of a martyr of Jesus Christ. (source) Somewhere in that ravine, Saint René Goupil is buried. Just above the ravine is a small plateau where the Mohawk village once stood. Pilgrims now quietly explore the grounds where it is both easy and hard to imagine the torturous, holy events in the midst of the day-to-day village life that took place here.  One can walk to the edge of the largely unchanged village and see the steep hill leading to the river. It is this hill that Saint Isaac Jogues, Saint René Goupil and others, after having been forced to march from their capture miles away, were forced to run the gauntlet.   Stumbling and dragged into the village, they were tied and staked to the ground, enduring unimaginable tortures we only know about because Saint Isaac Jogues escaped and wrote about them. He wrote them with the short remains of his fingers that had been chopped, beaten, and bitten off. To this he wrote: "I thank you, Lord Jesus, that I have learned from this slight test how much you deigned to suffer for me on the Cross when the weight of your whole body was suspended not by ropes but by your hands and your feet cruelly pierced with nails" (source). Saint René Goupil was killed on September 29, 1642. A short fourteen years later, Saint Kateri Tekakwitha was born on that same plateau, and converted to Catholicism when she was nineteen.  It is not out of the realm of possibility that those who witnessed or even participated in the torture and martyrdoms of Saint Isaac Jogues and Saint. René Goupil later witnessed and even participated in the life of the first Native American saint.  Here again, in this peaceful ravine with no outward scars of the brutality it has seen, is the paradox God loves. It is the paradox of the Cross.

Saint Jerome, the great biblical scholar, is probably most well known for his quote “Ignorance of Scripture is ignorance of Christ.” St. Jerome translated the Bible into the Latin Vulgate in the late 4th century. He spent 23 years of his life in the Word, translating from Hebrew to Latin. Then he spent the rest of his life writing Biblical commentary on what he had spent so many years contemplating. He was thoroughly steeped in the Word, so much so that a quote attributed to Saint Augustine said, “What Jerome is ignorant of, no mortal has ever known.” Recently, I was reading the Apostolic Exhortation Verbum Domini by Pope Benedict XVI, and this quote from Saint Jerome pierced my heart:  We are reading the sacred Scriptures. For me, the Gospel is the Body of Christ; for me, the holy Scriptures are his teaching. And when he says: whoever does not eat my flesh and drink my blood (Jn 6:53), even though these words can also be understood of the [Eucharistic] Mystery, Christ’s body and blood are really the word of Scripture, God’s teaching. When we approach the [Eucharistic] Mystery, if a crumb falls to the ground we are troubled. Yet when we are listening to the word of God, and God’s Word and Christ’s flesh and blood are being poured into our ears yet we pay no heed, what great peril should we not feel? I am most definitely troubled if the Eucharist falls to the ground. Yet do I have that same reverence for the Word of God I receive in Mass?  {formbuilder:OTk3ODc=} This has become an examination of conscious-ness for me the last couple of months:  At Mass, do I listen to the Word of God?  Do I prepare to hear the Word of God as much as I prepare to receive the Word in the Eucharist?  When the readings are long or contain seemingly tedious details that don’t relate to my life today, what am I doing to turn my attention back to the Word?  When I am distracted in or by the homily, what am I doing to be attentive to the Word?  Am I (im)patiently waiting to “get through” the Liturgy of the Word to receive Jesus in the Liturgy of the Eucharist?  The Liturgy is the privileged setting to learn Scripture. Pope Benedict calls the Liturgy the “home of the Word.” He goes on to say:  The Word and Eucharist are so deeply bound together that we cannot understand one without the other: the word of God sacramentally takes flesh in the event of the Eucharist. The Eucharist opens us to an understanding of Scripture, just as Scripture for its part illumines and explains the mystery of the Eucharist. Unless we acknowledge the Lord’s real presence in the Eucharist, our understanding of Scripture remains imperfect.  I think Saint Jerome would agree if we expanded on his quote: ignorance of Scripture is ignorance of Christ, and ignorance of Scripture is ignorance of the Eucharist. Those seemingly random or long or tedious readings that come along in the liturgical year? They can and do shine a light on His presence in the Eucharist. The Scripture verses we’ve heard time and again, that have seemingly lost its flavor to us? There is something new for us there too.  Saint Jerome spent twenty-three years translating Scripture. Being in the Word wasn’t a job, an assignment or a checklist to him. He was in the Word, day in, day out, contemplating meanings of individual words, phrases, and chapters. He prepared for his work by becoming a language scholar and studying with the best teachers of the time. He spent time in the “fifth gospel,” the Holy Land.  So he witnesses to us. We, too, are called to be in the Word. While most of us will not be scholars, we are called to be like Saint Jerome—studying Scripture, immersing ourselves in the Word, and praying through Scripture. It’s important that we also study with the best teachers of our times, like Saint Jerome did, not following whims or our own interpretations. Thankfully, there are so many beautiful resources for us to use to dive into the Word, starting right here. HIS WORD CHANGES LIVES God is speaking to you through His Word. In this personal study, you will learn to hear God's voice by reading slowly and praying deeply. BEGIN THE JOURNEY

I was sitting at my desk when someone said, “You’re surrounded!” Sure enough, there, on three walls in my office, was Our Lady of Perpetual Help, only one image of which I had personally placed there. As she does so often in my life, she was present without me even realizing. The original image can be found in Saint Alphonsus Church in Rome, and can be traced back to 1495, though there is a tradition that holds Saint Luke the Evangelist originally painted it. As an icon it is considered a window into Heaven by the Eastern Church. Celebrating her Feast Day today, let us contemplate the meaning behind this famous image.  What draws us in first is Our Lady’s expression. Sad? Serious? Solemnly she looks directly at the viewer, perhaps in dialogue with us. The child Jesus, however, looks towards the side over His shoulder, and on further inspection, we see his gaze on the angel. We know from the Greek letters that it is Saint Michael and Saint Gabriel that flank Our Lady and Jesus and hold the instruments of the Passion: Gabriel to remind us of the Annunciation and Incarnation, and Michael to remind us of our angelic helpers. It’s interesting to note that the angels are holding the instruments as if they are presenting them, almost like a gift or a trophy. We don’t typically think of our sufferings as gifts when we are in the midst of them, but when we are able to look back on them through the eyes of faith, we can see the triumph of the Cross in our own crosses. Our Lady and Jesus wear crowns, signifying their own triumph over the Cross. Mary is Queen and Christ reigns as King, and we are theirs.  Jesus, in an almost startled response to the instruments of His Passion, clings to His mother’s hands, so eager for her comfort and care that He has lost His shoe. Another interpretation of the shoes is that one is bound closely to His foot, representing His Divinity, while the other hangs loosely, representing His Humanity. For me, it is a reminder of Our Lady’s care for every aspect of our life. Whether great or humble, day-to-day, or once in a lifetime, Our Lady is present to it. I can be like Jesus and run to Mary for anything, great or small.  Our Lady herself wears red, the color worn by virgins, and blue, the color worn by mothers in the time of Christ. Our Lady knows how to navigate the complex mysteries and paradoxes of our own lives.  {formbuilder:OTk3ODc=} Mary’s hands are the midpoint of the icon. Even the slant of her hands tell us something—they are pointing to her Son, our Redeemer.  She gazes at us and points to her Son—emphasizing her role as Mediator between us and Jesus. This is not a diplomatic mediation because both parties can’t get along, but rather a maternal mediation. She takes us and presents us to her Son.  As the Council Fathers of Vatican II stated, “This maternity of Mary in the order of grace began with the consent which she gave in faith at the Annunciation and which she sustained without wavering beneath the cross, and lasts until the eternal fulfillment of all the elect. Taken up to heaven she did not lay aside this salvific duty, but by her constant intercession continued to bring us the gifts of eternal salvation. By her maternal charity, she cares for the brethren of her Son, who still journey on earth surrounded by dangers and difficulties, until they are led into the happiness of their true home”  (Lumen Gentium, 62). Jesus clings to His mother’s hands as He looks at the instruments of His Passion. He reminds us to cling to Mary when we face our own crosses.  She too is eager to hold us, carry us, guide us. She accompanies us on the journey. As she does physically in my office, Our Lady is eager to surround us with her care.

As a nineteen-year-old college student, I first stumbled upon Saint Peregrine in a small chapel somewhere in Europe. Surrounded by hundreds of candles, this little chapel tucked away in the back of a larger church caught my eye. Why did this particular chapel have such a draw that so many left their candle offerings there? Who was this Saint who, although covered in candle smoke, prominently had his leg showing a large gash? As I figured out who he was, I too became one of the pilgrims to leave a candle.   Canonized in 1726, 381 years after his death, his feast day is May 2. In 1260, he was born the only son in a wealthy Italian family , which was tied very closely to politics at the time. As a result of this political involvement, his family was staunchly anti-papist in a time when the pope had great secular and spiritual power.  Peregrine went so far as to hit the papal representative that had been sent to calm down a local uprising. This papal representative, Philip Benzini—himself a canonized saint—turned and offered Peregrine the other cheek. Eighteen-year-old Peregrine, overcome by Saint Philip’s humility and concrete living of the Gospel, is said to have run three miles after Saint Philip, repented, and asked for his forgiveness. Thus began his conversion, and a few years later, he joined the Servite Order. His conversion led him to be a merciful priest.  A good priest, as well as a popular confessor and preacher, he went on to found a Servite monastery in Forli, Italy. It was in this monastery that there occurred the event which led to  his patronage as a saint. He developed a cancerous growth on his foot. It was not only painful, but also caused a stench, causing people to turn away from him. The doctors could not provide relief, except with amputation. Crawling to the chapel, he spent the night before the operation in prayer, begging the Lord to spare his leg. The following morning he was completely cured! News of this miracle became widespread and his popularity increased even more. He lived to be 80, and his popularity after his death spread throughout Europe. He is known as the patron saint of cancer and running sores.  {formbuilder:OTk3ODc=} Answered Prayers?  I began praying to him as a young 19-year-old for a dear friend of the family, my kindergarten teacher, who was suffering from breast cancer that had metastasized all over her body. She passed away three years later.  Five years later, I asked for his help for my uncle, dying of liver cancer. He passed away after a short battle with cancer.  About five years after that, I began praying to him again, this time for my dad, who had been diagnosed with an aggressive form of prostate cancer. Three years later, he also passed away .  Did those prayers go unseen, unheard by Saint Peregrine? Was he too busy with the countless souls suffering this horrible illness? Did it even matter? Why didn’t this wonder worker work wonders for me?  Even though I didn’t get the outcome I was hoping for in my prayers and Saint Peregrine’s intercession, those prayers were heard, seen, and answered.  My dear kindergarten teacher, who had introduced my parents, became a radical prayer warrior through the Rosary during her battle with cancer. My mom went to visit her every week, which witnessed to me the gift of friendship and intercession, through the corporal works of mercy she did without thinking, purely out of love.  My uncle was reconciled to the Church shortly before he passed away.   My dad gave the witness on how to bear suffering patiently to all of us, saying on occasion, “This is the cross I’ve been asked to bear.” Our family grew closer during this time, and again, my mom was heroic in her witness and care for him. He passed on Trinity Sunday, during the Divine Mercy hour, while we were praying the Divine Mercy Chaplet. I don’t know that I’ve ever experienced a moment more holy than when he passed from here to eternity.  “Better today than yesterday, better tomorrow than today!”  “Better today than yesterday, better tomorrow than today!” is one of the Servite mottos, and this is how Saint Peregrine interceded in my life. In the dear ones who have battled cancer—not just these I shared, but also friends and classmates from college—these words describe how they lived after their diagnosis: “Better today than yesterday, better tomorrow than today!” For those suffering with cancer, the veil between heaven and earth becomes even thinner, and a strength, trust, and hope that is only from God gives them the grace to be there. For those of us entrusted to take care of those with cancer, being at their side is a privileged place to see God.  Saint Peregrine is always at work interceding for those with cancer. Ask his prayers and see the good he can bring about. It may look different than you imagined, but it will be good. God is always working about our good and for our good, and He listens to Saint Peregrine’s prayers that we become better today than yesterday, and better tomorrow than today. He intercedes for us to become saints, and there is no better gift than that.

Retreats, sabbaticals, and sabbath rest are glorious things: time set apart to be with the Lord, in His presence, attentive to His work in a way we miss at times in the day-to-day busyness of life. Sometimes the hardest part of retreat is the end. After all, you “have competed well . . . have finished the race . . . have kept the faith”  (2 Timothy 4:7).  So what now?  To continue St. Paul’s analogy, after a long run or hard workout you need time to cool down. In fact, some argue that the cooling down process is the most important part of the workout. It improves circulation, prevents stiffness, and over time, improves overall performance. And, as is the case with so many things of the body, so it is for the soul. The “cool down” time after a retreat solidifies graces, promotes new fervor, and strengthens us spiritually.  How do we enter that time after a retreat? What does it concretely look like? I offer three ways: a gathering of graces, resolutions, and an entrustment to Mary. Gathering of Graces A gathering of graces, an Ignatian practice, is exactly what it sounds like. Where did God work during the time away with Him? What do you understand differently about Him and yourself now? What are you grateful for?  It’s important to have this to reflect on throughout the next few months, even years. We have all experienced the let down from a “retreat high”—but gathering the graces helps us to move past that to remember all the good the Lord has done (Psalm 126:3). Even if you are not someone who frequently journals—or even if you have never journaled—write these graces down. Scientific studies show that we remember things better when we write them by hand. And don’t just write it down and stuff it on a shelf. But for the next few weeks review the graces once a week, letting the Holy Spirit remind you of what He’s done and is still doing. (John 14:26) Resolutions At the end of your time, it is good to set resolutions. These resolutions will carry the graces received during your retreat into your everyday life.  We’ve all experienced setting resolutions and then not following through. What’s the difference with setting resolutions after a retreat experience? You have received many graces during your time away because “[g]race is a participation in the life of God” (CCC §1997). You may not see them, or even know them, but they are there! Have confidence that “the one who began a good work in you will continue to complete it until the day of Christ Jesus” (Philippians 1:4).  The resolutions you make are simple reminders of the encounters you’ve had with the Lord and His work in you. It might be offering a decade of the Rosary in thanksgiving once a week for graces received. It could be looking over your gathering of graces once a week for the next month during your prayer time. It could be spiritual reading on a particular grace the Lord brought to light. It doesn’t have to be complex, and really shouldn’t be, as then it could distract from the real gift of the retreat: a deeper encounter with the Lord. I heard someone recently say, “What the devil can’t destroy he accelerates.” The evil one does this also with resolutions—both Lenten and retreat ones—by trying to get us to complicate the resolutions so that we will abandon them.    {formbuilder:OTk3ODc=} Entrustment to Our Lady  That’s why we need Our Lady! We can entrust the graces received during our time of rest and retreat to her. One of my friends has seasonal bins into which she gathers her children’s toys, and then brings them out again the next year or when the children need a refresh. There might be a little complaining or whining when the toy is first tucked away, but when she brings them out again, it’s like Christmas! Many had been forgotten about, and now are happy reminders and a refresher.  I see Our Lady doing much the same with us and the graces we entrust to her. As a good mother, she is happy to hold on to them until we need them. She also sees the bigger picture better than we do. She knows when we need the reminder and the refresher. It may hurt initially to entrust them over to her, but when she reminds us later of the gift it’s exactly when we need it. St. Bernardine said, “All the gifts, graces, virtues of the Holy Spirit are distributed by the hands of Mary, to whom she wills, when she wills, as she wills, and in the measure she wills.”  St Louis de Montfort says in True Devotion to Mary:  “Pour, pour into the bosom and the heart of Mary all your treasures, all your graces, all your virtues. She is a spiritual vessel, she is a vessel of honor, she is a marvelous vessel of devotion. Since God Himself has been shut up in person, with all His perfections, in that vessel, it has become altogether spiritual, and the spiritual abode of the most spiritual souls.”  Even after a time of sabbatical, our vessels are still fragile. We’ve grown, learned and formed new habits, but we’re still fragile. Our Lady’s vessel is not—she can weather any storm that comes along after our time of rest. She's the ironclad to our vulnerable wooden ship.  Storms will come. We will want to run back to the place of rest. We may be tempted to give up on the resolutions we have made or to doubt the graces we have been given. But Jesus assures us: “The Advocate, the holy Spirit that the Father will send in my name—he will teach you everything and remind you of all that [I] told you” (John 14:26).  So most of all, be at peace. “I am confident of this, that the one who began a good work in you will continue to complete it until the day of Christ Jesus” (Philippians 1:6).