“But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your heavenly Father.” // Matthew 5:44-45 For Christmas last year my best friend gave me a tiny book with an intriguing title. Trustful Surrender to Divine Providence: The Secret of Peace and Happiness did not, upon my first reading, seem like it could possibly live up to the claims of its name. Certainly not the subtitle anyway.  The authors, one a priest and the other a Saint, make a compelling case based on Scripture that everything that happens in our lives, good or bad, is specifically willed by God for our own good, and will sanctify us if we will let it. In the case of the bad, we are to see every circumstance—from inclement weather to illness to persecutions to crimes committed against us—as exactly what God wishes us to be experiencing in that moment. He does not will the sins committed by us or by others, but He does will the consequences of those actions in our lives in order that we would benefit from them in eternity. All of that, I came to see as . . . certainly possible, not unreasonable, fitting to the perfections of God, and supported by Scripture (see Hebrews 12:5-7, Isaiah 10:5-6, Lamentations 3:37-39, Job 1:21, John 18:11, 2 Corinthians 11:22-30). But even if I could resign myself to this new way of seeing, how could it be anything other than a hopeless drudgery in practice? But, as I began to try to experience the circumstances of my day as willed by God and for my own good, I was shocked at how . . . liberating it was. All of a sudden, everything felt different: the carefully sorted craft supplies that my four-year-old inexplicably decided to dump into one giant pile, the night on which three different children barfed all over three different rooms, a person who had misled and mistreated me, grief and loss, last minute changes to my careful plans—I could experience it all not as chaos and failure, but as what God wanted for me in that moment.  I think it might be the secret of peace and happiness, after all. What trials will you endure today, and how might God be at work through them for your good?

Jesus said to his disciples: "You have heard that it was said, An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. But I say to you, offer no resistance to one who is evil. When someone strikes you on your right cheek, turn the other one to him as well. // Matthew 5:38-39 “Hey, watch where you’re going, idiot!” I yelled at a guy who nearly hit my car as he recklessly weaved through traffic. A few minutes later someone else heedlessly cut in front of me. I could feel my blood pressure rising, and the lady going ten miles below the speed limit in the fast lane wasn’t helping any.  As a mom to middle schoolers and high schoolers, I spend a large chunk of my day in the car shuttling kids around to two schools and numerous practices, games, and appointments. The crazy drivers annoyed me, but it wasn’t just them . . . the rude guy at the market, the mom who always cut into the pick-up line, the salty sales clerk. They all drove me crazy and I felt like I was becoming the proverbial grumpy, old man yelling at the kids to get off his lawn. I was sharing this with a priest during the Sacrament of Reconciliation. He advised me to try disciplining my heart, mind, emotions, and actions while I continue to work on my relationship with our Lord. I prayed about this and today’s Gospel came to mind: “But I say to you, offer no resistance to one who is evil. When someone strikes you on your right cheek, turn the other one to him as well” (Matthew 5:39).  I decided that when I encounter these annoying situations, I would pray for the safety of the crazy driver, those around him, and the urgent matter that drove him on. Or I'd pray for the rude customer or sales clerk and whatever hurtful situation was causing them to act in this manner. Instead of allowing indignation to take place in my heart, I’m trying to have the heart of Christ. It’s not easy, but I’m trying. How is God challenging you to be more Christ-like in your life? Lord, transform my self-centered heart. Please help me to have a heart like You and desire good for the people who challenge me the most. I love You. Amen.

“[A] mustard seed . . . when it is sown in the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on the earth. But once it is sown, it springs up and becomes the largest of plants.” // Mark 4:31-32 When I discerned that I needed to leave my Army career after fifteen years of service, it stung. People were easily impressed that I was a woman of rank in the military; now, the Lord was asking me to relinquish my superficial identity and embrace a “smaller,” more hidden life. My health had been deteriorating, turning my capabilities into a long list of inabilities, and it was clear that I needed to be more present to my family. Still, it was hard to let go.  I hated how attached I was to my career and title as a measure of worth, so I turned to the Lord in prayer for help. Day after day, I asked Him to open my eyes to His view regarding my God-given mission and identity.  He revealed that while I would no longer serve on the general’s staff, He was calling me to serve Him—the Creator of the Universe—as a Soldier of Christ. Instead of training to protect lives on a physical battlefield, God was inviting me to help save souls on the spiritual battlefield, offering up my suffering for their eternal good and redemption. Like the tiniest mustard seed crafted to grow and unfurl into the largest of plants, God demonstrated His desire to cultivate the choicest of all fruits from my weakness and inability—not my accomplishments or strength.  God’s grandeur is always most evident in our littleness. His might is made prevalent in our weakness. It is not in spite of our littleness, but expressly because of it that we can become great in the Kingdom of God. Only through weakness can we discover our truest identity as a beloved, dependent child of God—generously invited into the supreme work of salvation with Him who gives us our every ability.  What mustard seed of weakness or littleness are you struggling with? Bring it to the Lord, and ask His view on the matter. Let God give you a glimpse of the greatness He desires to spring from your littleness—and in return, give Him all the glory. 

“Let your 'Yes' mean 'Yes,' and your 'No' mean 'No.’ Anything more is from the Evil One.” // Matthew 5:37 Growing up, being deeply insecure, I had a hard time knowing who I was in the Lord’s eyes. I would often look at my peers and compare myself to them. I compared my accomplishments, body, personality, you name it. I was constantly picking myself apart, wanting to always be someone else. The taunting voices of the enemy attacked my identity.  In today's Gospel we hear Jesus say, “Let your 'Yes' mean 'Yes,' and your 'No' mean 'No.’ Anything more is from the Evil One” (Matthew 5:37). Friend, Jesus means what He says, and He means what He says about you. He says yes. Yes, you are delighted in by Him. Yes, you are lovely and precious in His eyes. Yes, He’s pursuing your heart in every moment of every day. Yes, He desires to pour His overflowing mercy upon you.  However, before I knew the Heart of the Lord and His tone of voice, it was hard for me to grasp on to the truth. I came to know Him through daily prayer. It’s been seven years since I started a regular prayer life, and I still have moments where I struggle in my identity. I still have to be reminded of Who He is, and who I am. The enemy attempts to take us down and strip us of our identity, but the Lord breathes life into our lungs and restores the truth of our identity as His beloved daughters. Sister, can I gently encourage you to sit with Him today, and ask, Lord, how do you see me? He’s always ready and wanting to communicate His love to your heart. By spending time with Him and allowing ourselves to receive from Him, we will know the constant pursuit of His heart toward ours. We will be firmly rooted in our identity as we have a deeper knowledge of Who He is and allow Him to show us who we are.  Lord, we love You and we praise You. Help us to know Who You are and who we are in Your eyes. Amen.

Your presence, O LORD, I seek. // Psalm 27:8 “Amen,” I whispered as I opened my mouth to receive Holy Communion. My husband knelt at my side and received the Host in his turn at our wedding Mass. Our first act together as a married couple, after making our vows and entering into the Sacrament of Matrimony on this same date sixteen years ago, was to kneel down at the Eucharistic Prayer of our wedding Mass and receive the graces of the Most Holy Sacrament of the Altar. Beginning that day, our married life has been the intentional seeking of graces: daily family prayers, Sunday Mass every week, daily Mass when our schedule allows, Confession twice a month, regular prayer before the Blessed Sacrament. When we have slackened in our receiving of grace, our marriage has suffered. When Jesus laid out the hard teaching on marriage in today’s Gospel (see Matthew 5:27-32), He did not expect for us to do it alone. He explained that the reason there was divorce in the Old Testament was because of their hard hearts (see Matthew 19:8). They were living after the fall and before Jesus died for our sins and sent the Holy Spirit to fill us with grace. In this time of the Holy Spirit, where the seven Sacraments are a part of our daily lives, we can live out marriage as we were meant to in the beginning. As Pope Saint John Paul II wrote in his work on the theology of the body, Christ wants us to “rediscover the lost fullness of [our] humanity and want to regain it” in which we live out marriage according to God’s plan in mutual self-giving, in love and respect, as a communion of persons imaging the love of the Trinity (source). Sister, the Lord wants you to know the freedom of living in His sacramental life. Wherever you are in your vocation, you cannot live His call without the help of the Sacraments. Receive them whenever you can. He hangs on the Cross, blood pouring from His wounds, asking us to step under the flow of His sacrificial love and accept the grace to live redeemed marriages.

“Therefore, if you bring your gift to the altar, and there recall that your brother has anything against you, leave your gift there at the altar, go first and be reconciled with your brother, and then come and offer your gift.” // Matthew 5:23-24  I was sitting at the kitchen island lost in my thoughts as my friend gave what felt like another excuse for abandoning our friendship. It had been years of this dance between maintaining what we had and completely losing touch. I found myself back at a familiar place of resentment within this particular relationship.  Why do I always end up on this side of friendships?   I put so much into these relationships, and this is what I get.  So many thoughts of bitterness and frustration raced through my head as I deceptively gave a smile and a nod to yet another apology. I was so tired of being an afterthought in this relationship—or any relationship, at that.  I had brought this to the Lord in prayer over and over, hoping somehow that He would justify my anger or perhaps I would leave feeling like the bigger person for bringing it to Jesus.  What I failed to see was how much all of this affected the rest of my prayer. It began consuming every part of me. The truth was that I could not offer the gift of myself to God until I reconciled with my friend. It wasn’t until I had a real and honest conversation with her that I saw a change in my prayer.  In today’s Gospel (see Matthew 5:20-26), Jesus firmly but tenderly declares what greater righteousness looks like, how we are not the ones to judge others. He demands conversion and offers direction—something I find so endearing about our Lord. This work of reconciliation is part of our act of worship, our offering to Him.  Is there someone you’ve been desiring reconciliation with? Listen to that conviction in your heart and take that step, first leaving your gift at the altar. Then return to the Lord eagerly and with gratitude. Sister, the Lord desires reconciliation and worship. 

But there was not a sound; No one answered, and no one was listening. // 1 Kings 18:29 My four-year-old has been getting frustrated lately as he yearns for more independence and pushes the boundaries my husband and I have set in place for him. It’s a very normal stage of development, but that doesn’t make it any easier—or less frustrating. The most recent bouts of frustration (for all parties) have been occuring when he makes a request for something and our answer is no. Rather than accept the answer or even air a grievance for the no we have given, he continues to repeat the question as though we have not responded. “Answer me!” he will demand. And it isn’t until we explain that we have, in fact, answered, and that no is an answer, that he either gives up on the matter or dissolves into those big feelings he’s been trying to keep at bay.  With that in mind, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pain when the author of the First Book of Kings tells us that after the prophets of Baal cried out to their god, “[T]here was not a sound; No one answered, and no one was listening” (1 Kings 18:29). It’s one thing to not be answered (or more likely, to not receive the answer you desperately want), but it’s another to not be listened to.  In this story, we can see the stark comparison between the false gods of Elijah’s contemporaries and the True God we know Who hears our prayers and knows our hearts. And while life does not always provide such concrete answers to our prayers as we see in God’s sending down fire for Elijah, we have faith that God is forever listening, even when He does not provide the answers we desire. So sister, with that in mind, I encourage you to continue to cry out to God in prayer. He hears you. He sees you. He loves you. 

“You are the salt of the earth. But if salt loses its taste, with what can it be seasoned? It is no longer good for anything but to be thrown out and trampled underfoot.” // Matthew 5:13 I know the recipe by heart. For several years now, almost every Friday afternoon I make pizza dough from scratch. Yeast, warm water, a bit of brown sugar, then salt, oil, flour. The kneading, punching down, rolling out, simple work of my hands, is a source of comfort and joy for me and my family.  One Friday evening as we sat around the table eating our pizza (cheese for the kids, green pepper and onion for my husband and me), I thought to myself, something is off. The crust just didn’t taste like it normally did. I waited to see if anyone else would say something. No one did. But later I realized what happened: I had forgotten to add the oil and salt. I had gotten distracted in the midst of my dough-making routine, and had left out two key ingredients. The pizza was not nearly as good. In today’s Gospel passage Jesus tells His disciples that we are the salt of the earth (see Matthew 5:13-16). Have you ever thought about salt as a key ingredient for the recipe of our Christian life? If we lose the flavor of Christ and His ways, Jesus tells us we are no longer good for anything, so I am humbled to admit that lately I feel like I’ve lost some of mine.  I grow weary in showing up for prayer, my never-ending to-do list always calling. My daily habit of spending time in the Word slips away. The anxieties of this world distract my mind and heart until by grace I begin again: I am strengthened by His very Body and Blood in the Eucharist. I spend time in His true presence in Adoration. I receive His mercy in Reconciliation. I am salt once more. Lord, give us the strength and courage to be salt in a culture that lacks Your flavor, and may it preserve us for eternal life. Help us to find lasting nourishment in Your Sacraments. Amen.

Rejoice and be glad; for your reward will be great in heaven. // Matthew 5:12  I had been so discouraged that semester by how little fruit had come from the mission. It was my first year as a missionary and we were serving on a brand new campus under grueling COVID restrictions. We fasted, we prayed, we begged, and yet did not see much movement in the apostolate the first few months. I wanted to see fruit and I wanted to see it now, but as I prayed the Lord began to show me my many imperfect reasons for wanting to see immediate fruit in the apostolate.  Mingled in with my good desires to bring Christ to our students were also my desires for my own reward. It was then I saw in my heart that I wanted my reward for the mission to be given to me now through the visible conversion of my students. In His kindness and through a gentle rebuke, He showed me that much of the fruit of this hidden apostolate which He called me to would not be shown to me as a “reward” for my labors until Heaven. It was an invitation for my heart to be stretched. Would I give everything the Lord was asking me to this mission even if I did not see the fruit of it while still on this earth?  Sister, many of us are laboring arduously in the vineyard for fruit that may not be for us or others to see. This can be discouraging and altogether frustrating. But in today’s Gospel (see Matthew 5:1-12) the Lord encourages us that we will one day be rewarded for our transformation into holiness through our service to Him. Perhaps that will be in your lifetime, perhaps it will not, but rest assured the reward is coming and most important than all of the fruit you bore will be your union with the Bridegroom Himself.  Today bring to Him one area in your heart for which you long to be rewarded. Ask Him to speak into it and surrender to Him that reward which is His to give in His own time and own way.

Then [God] asked, "Who told you that you were naked? // Genesis 3:11 My family still talks about my standing ovation in Rodgers’ and Hammerstein’s Cinderella. I was in ninth grade, but the costumes and the choreography made it feel like Broadway.  I’ve always been a character actress, so the Wicked Stepmother was deliciously fun to play. She was over the top and scornful and arrogant to mask her insecurity, and a part of me never stopped playing her. A part of me still criticizes and punishes, still acts with cruelty and superiority. Not to other people, really, but to me. There is a voice within who accuses and shames me. Sometimes it’s the voice of the enemy (a good spiritual director or mentor can help you distinguish and reject that), but oftentimes it’s my Wicked Stepmother. Why did you say that? You’re so stupid. No man will ever want you. I spent so many years not recognizing the voice of the enemy that I partnered with him in parroting the lies. And while it’s important to learn to discern his ugly words from our own thoughts, we must first of all learn to listen for the true voice of the Father.  When we pick up the story of today’s First Reading after Adam and Eve eat the forbidden fruit, it’s easy to intone condemnation in the Father’s call (see Genesis 3:9-15). But what if He’s not shouting, not disappointed? What if the tone of voice we project onto the pages of Scripture is actually our own Wicked Stepmother’s, or angry authority figure’s, or even the voice of the original tempter?  What if instead we read those same verses and imagined the ringing voice of a loving Father coming to help and heal His beloved son and daughter? Can you hear His fatherly concern, heartbroken that their purity and original innocence had been stolen?  Now, can you imagine the Father squatting down before you with tears in His eyes, asking, “Who told you that you were naked?” Who told you that you were ugly? Who told you that you were unlovable? Who told you that horrible lie? Tell Him today and let the Father’s love cleanse and cover you.

He went down with them and came to Nazareth, and was obedient to them; and his mother kept all these things in her heart. // Luke 2:51 I was suddenly overwhelmed by excitement and praise as I prepared to log on to a video call. The thought of how I would introduce each person left me in awe of how profoundly privileged I felt to know and love them. As I treasured and praised God for each of them, I also smiled and pondered how mysterious it was that their beauty was hidden from them like a huge secret in plain sight.  I felt alive, awake, and buoyant as I introduced each of these friends. For a second, I glimpsed a fraction of the love, excitement, and joy our Blessed Mother and all of Heaven have in looking at each of us dear sisters in Christ! This reminded me of a priest I deeply admire, explaining that we are at our best when we are other-centered and not turned in on ourselves. He said this is a fundamental Marian principle for our daily lives. It’s true. Loving and introducing them to each other took all of my attention. Today, as we celebrate the Feast of the Immaculate Heart of the Blessed Virgin Mary, we can also think of how her whole life was devoted to the service of the Lord, from before her motherhood, throughout the life of her Divine Son, and now as our own dearest Mother. Sister, each of us would please our Lady so much on her feast day today if we took fifteen minutes to quietly ask her to show us how her maternal heart sees us. Ponder her gaze. Consider how our God, Who freed the Blessed Mother from Original Sin, is breathing you and me into life right now.  Can you receive it? Can you receive your life as a gift so as to make your whole life a gift to the glory of God and for others? This is the secret of all happiness and peace. We can learn how to give our lives from her. She will teach us to ponder these things in our hearts (see Luke 2:51). May you know and feel her patient and perfectly attentive love today and every day of your life.

Know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. // Ephesians 3:19 On this Solemnity of the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, let us, dear sister, add our needs to the traditional Litany of the Sacred Heart:* My brother is drifting away from the Church. Heart of Jesus, Son of the Eternal Father,  have mercy on us.   My friend is suffering from infertility. Heart of Jesus, formed by the Holy Spirit in the womb of the Virgin Mother,  have mercy on us.   My Bible is collecting dust. Heart of Jesus, one with the eternal Word,  have mercy on us. My mind is completely distracted during prayer. Heart of Jesus, tabernacle of the Most High,  have mercy on us. My friend's dad just went into hospice care. Heart of Jesus, house of God and gate of heaven,  have mercy on us. My heart feels unlovable. Heart of Jesus, aflame with love for us, have mercy on us. My supervisor misunderstands me. Heart of Jesus, source of justice and love,  have mercy on us. My bad habits feel impossible to change. Heart of Jesus, well-spring of all virtue,  have mercy on us. My schedule is pulling me in countless directions. Heart of Jesus, king and center of all hearts,  have mercy on us. My failures are a disappointment. Heart of Jesus, in whom the Father is well pleased,  have mercy on us. My frustrations keep growing. Heart of Jesus, patient and full of mercy,  have mercy on us. My selfishness is guiding decisions. Heart of Jesus, generous to all who turn to you,  have mercy on us. My prayer feels incredibly dry. Heart of Jesus, fountain of life and holiness,  have mercy on us. My tendency is to choose comfort. Heart of Jesus, obedient even to death,  have mercy on us. My fear of pain hinders vulnerability. Heart of Jesus, pierced by a lance,  have mercy on us. My desolation is not going away. Heart of Jesus, source of all consolation,  have mercy on us. My body is hurting. Heart of Jesus, our life and resurrection,  have mercy on us. My soul needs a savior. Heart of Jesus, salvation of all who trust in you,  have mercy on us. Jesus, meek and humble of heart, make my heart like unto Thine. *Pray the full Litany of the Sacred Heart of Jesus.

And when Jesus saw that he answered with understanding, he said to him, "You are not far from the Kingdom of God." // Mark 12:34 My mom had a rule for us growing up—if you say you’ll be there, you’ll be there.  Still, I was quick to ask her if I could get out of things. One specific instance comes to mind from high school where I had committed to assisting weekly at my parish. People were counting on me, yet when the first tired weeknight came along, I went to her for permission to cancel. I knew before I had even asked the question. I should go. She had already taught me that value of responsibility through the years. As I presented my “I’m-not-in-the-mood” excuses, the simple look in her eyes said it all. I grabbed my keys and drove to our church. She still has this effect on me. I called her recently for advice on what to do in a friendship. I slowly realized that it was harder and harder to make a case for “my side.” I talked in circles until I finally said, “Yeah, yeah. I know what to do.”   My mom always guides me to the right choice (or rather, the loving choice). It’s rarely her words at that exact moment, but it’s what she planted in my heart from the years I spent in her home. Many of us are quick to complicate holiness, confusing ourselves as we treat relationships like data to analyze and love like a puzzle to solve. We claim that we’re “just trying to do the right thing.” The truth is, love is more simple, and much more free. It’s talking to God often, and reading His Word. It’s following the Holy Spirit’s tugs on your heart, that voice in your head that helps you know how to respond. It’s staying quiet enough that you hear what others are actually saying, and choosing to make little sacrifices to stay by their side. Jesus often gives me the same look my mom does. It’s not demeaning, but completely confident.  You already know what to do. Stop doubting what you know. Love God, love others. Do that, and “you are not far from the Kingdom of God” (Mark 12:34).

I am not ashamed, for I know him in whom I have believed // 2 Timothy 1:12 The crowd cheered behind me as I made my way toward the back door. I wanted to escape quietly, to slip out without anyone noticing.  I held my head down as I bolted through the lobby and almost made it out to freedom before I heard my name being called from behind. I turned around and saw a friend looking at me with questions in her eyes. “Where are you going? You’re going to miss the biggest dance competition of the entire weekend.”  I knew that when I signed up to go to this event, I’d have to miss the largest part, the culmination of the whole thing. It was on a Sunday morning, and the local church only offered a couple of Masses.  “I’m going to church,” I said with a little bit of embarrassment in my voice. Because the truth is that going to church at such an event was a lonely endeavor; it was one that many people didn’t understand, and I was keenly aware of that fact.  In today’s First Reading, Saint Paul tells us, “For God did not give us a spirit of cowardice but rather of power and love and self-control. So do not be ashamed of your testimony to our Lord” (2 Timothy 1:7-8).  Following Christ can be difficult, especially when you are outnumbered. People may not understand and some may even make unfair assumptions about you just because of your faith.  Do not be ashamed, dear sister. Allow the Holy Spirit to empower you to keep bringing Christ’s light to the darkness. The world needs your strength, even if you tremble a little. 

In every age, Oh Lord, you have been our refuge. // Psalm 90:1 Today is my husband’s sixtieth birthday, so it only seems fitting to celebrate him, the gift he has been to me, and the ways he has strengthened my faith. Our second date was basically dinner and Adoration. I sat there with him before the Blessed Sacrament thinking, Lord, this could work. I soon learned he was a voracious reader and would never watch television—two musts in a life-partner for me. We ran at the same speed, were both deeply introverted, and needed more quiet than most. But this was my favorite thing: though my husband is Italian and loves to celebrate that fact, he “identifies” as Catholic. It is the first and most defining piece of information he will offer about himself. On principle, he says, it’s the only thing that will last. Today’s Responsorial Psalm says it so beautifully: “from everlasting to everlasting, you are God” (90:2). Amen to that. When I was still teaching, I was forever reminding my students that the Church will outlast social and news media, the internet, and whatever technological fad or fancy the world might come up with. I told them that they didn’t need to invest too much in their “profiles” or keeping up with the latest trend. They’d be much better off resting in prayer with God’s Word, relishing a spiritual classic like Abandonment to Divine Providence by Jean Pierre de Caussade or Confessions by Saint Augustine, or delighting in the mystical poetry of Saint John of the Cross or Julian of Norwich. They would do well to turn off whatever screen they were sitting in front of and instead pray with a sunset, or an icon, or a friend. But more than anything, while the swirling world competed for their attention and wanted to claim their identity, they needed to ground themselves in their true character: son or daughter of the God of Jacob, blood relative to the King of Kings, with the only truly noble lineage there is—child of God. Reclaim your identity today—as beloved daughter of the Heavenly Father. Then walk through the world testifying to it. He is Everlasting.

May grace and peace be yours in abundance through knowledge of God and of Jesus our Lord. // 2 Peter 1:2 I wish I could say there were times I’ve found myself holding back parts of my heart from the Lord. Unfortunately, those times are not necessarily in the past. I still find that there are places in my heart that the Lord is asking me to give Him, or even to others, but I’m afraid to give them up. I fear what will happen to the empty space left behind if I offer my heart to the Lord. It has taken me a long time to fill that space and I don’t want to have to do that work again. Then, it hits me: there is a lot of  “I” and “Me” in those thoughts and not a lot of remembering the mercies of the Lord. The Lord asks for these parts and spaces within us that we have worked so hard to fill, so He can give us something even better. He desires to bring Saint Peter’s prayer from today’s First Reading to fruition and fill us with grace and peace in abundance (see 2 Peter 1:2). He wants to pour upon us and into us the precious and very great promises He has bestowed (see 2 Peter 1:4), that we might share His divine nature. He asks us to empty the spaces of our hearts filled with shame, disappointment, fear, loneliness, bitterness—all the things that result from the works we do on our own without His grace. He wants to remove the junk so He can fill us with grace and glory beyond our greatest imaginations. He calls us to make acts of trust, placing ourselves in the embrace of our refuge and fortress (see Psalm 91:2). He knows it’s a big ask. But He prepares us. He plants His life within us, protects us, digs out what is not of Him, and builds us anew (see Mark 12:1). He asks for some of the produce—not all (at least, not all at once)—and even with that little He makes us new wine. Sister, what spaces in your heart is Jesus asking you to surrender to Him today, so that He can make new wine within your heart?

“Wherever he enters, say to the master of the house, ‘The Teacher says, “Where is my guest room where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?”’ Then he will show you a large upper room furnished and ready. Make the preparations for us there.”” // Mark 14:14-15 I patted my brother-in-law's shoulder gently as he struggled to hold back his tears. My own eyes welled up, too, as I watched my five nephews kneel reverently in a row before the sanctuary steps, waiting to receive the Blessed Sacrament for the first time.   Years of fervent prayer and preparation had finally brought us to this powerful moment, and as I pressed my nephews’ names to our Lord’s Eucharistic Heart, I realized that they were no longer boys, but brave and confident young men ready to give themselves wholly and freely to their Savior truly present in the Eucharist.   For varied reasons, my nephews did not receive their First Holy Communion at a typical young age. As time went on, I witnessed a growing hunger in their hearts to taste and see the Living Bread (see John 6:51). But now, seeing them newly confirmed just moments before, I was consoled by the fruits that had blossomed from the waiting: souls set ablaze, faith strengthened, upper rooms furnished and ready.   Today’s Gospel for the Solemnity of Corpus Christi stresses the importance of preparation. Jesus gives His disciples explicit instructions to find and set a specific space in Jerusalem for the Last Supper (see Mark 14:13-16). While they didn’t know this would be their final meal together, they carefully obeyed Christ’s command and were able to receive all that their master had in store.  So, I ask you, dear sister: Is your soul—your upper room—set for the sacrificial meal of the Eucharist? If your preparation before Holy Communion has been lacking, I invite you to thoroughly prepare your heart for a proper and worthy reception of the Sacrament. If your upper room could use some housecleaning, avail yourself of the cleansing gift of Confession. Anticipate the sacred mysteries by allowing your disposition and dress to convey the solemnity and joy of the moment when Christ comes to dwell in you. And don’t forget to fast! (source)   With a little preparation, your upper room will become a designated holy space that is ready and waiting to dine with the Lord.