When Grief Sits Heavy: Finding God in the Crushing

There is a specific physical weight to grief, isn't there?

It’s not just a metaphor. It’s that literal, heavy pressure that sits right in the center of your chest. It’s the feeling of waking up in the morning, having a split second of normalcy, and then—boom—the reality of the loss lands on you like a cinder block.

It makes it hard to breathe. It makes the world feel grey. And if we’re being honest, it often makes God feel very, very far away.

When we are in the thick of loss, we often feel like we are doing something wrong. We think, "I should be 'over' this by now," or "I need to be strong." We try to distract ourselves, numb the pain, or spiritualize it away.

But as mindful Catholics, we are invited to a different, harder, and holier path. We are invited to stop running from the weight and, instead, to let God meet us inside of it.

Scripture tells us something radical about that pressure in your chest.

Psalm 34:18 says, "The LORD is close to the brokenhearted, saves those whose spirit is crushed."

The Hebrew word for "crushed" literally means pulverized, like dust. That’s exactly how it feels, doesn’t it? But notice the promise: God isn't repelled by your shattered pieces. He doesn't wait for you to glue yourself back together before He shows up.

The weight in your chest is the place of God's nearest presence.

This is the paradox of our faith. When you feel most alone, most broken, and most "crushed," God is actually closer to you than He is when you are happy and whole. He is the Companion in the crushing.

A Mindful Approach to Heartbreak

So, how do we live this? How do we navigate the "heavy night" without drowning in it?

Mindfulness teaches us to stop fighting the reality of the present moment. Instead of judging our grief ("I shouldn't feel this bad"), we simply acknowledge it ("I am hurting, and that is real").

We don't have to like the heavy chest. We just have to admit it's there. And then, we invite the Lord into that specific physical space.

Try this simple practice when the grief feels suffocating:

1. Locate the Sensation: Close your eyes. Don't think about the story of your grief (the "whys" and "what ifs"). Just feel the sensation of it. Is your chest tight? Is your throat closing up? Is your stomach in knots?

2. Name It: Gently say to yourself, "I am feeling a heavy grief right now." Validate your own pain.

3. Breathe into the Crush: As you inhale, imagine your breath flowing directly into that tight, heavy spot in your chest.

4. The Invitation: As you exhale, whisper (or think): "Lord, You are close to the brokenhearted. Be close to me here."

Sitting with grief is exhausting work. It feels like a long, dark night that will never end. But our faith provides a horizon.

While we sit in the reality of Psalm 34, we look toward the promise of Revelation 21:4:

"He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there shall be no more death or mourning, wailing or pain..."

Notice the intimacy. God doesn't just wave a magic wand from heaven to fix things. He comes close enough to touch your face. He wipes the tears personally.

This tells us that grief is a season, not a destination.

Your current pain is real, but it is not the final word. The "old order" of death and crushing is passing away. We embrace the heavy night now, not because we love the dark, but because we trust the One who is holding us until the sun comes up.

If you are carrying that heavy weight today, let this truth settle into your spirit:

Grief is the heavy night where God draws nearest, making His home in our crushed spirits. But we do not grieve forever; the same God who holds us in the crushing will one day personally wipe away our tears, proving that while heartbreak is a season, His love is the dawn.

Be gentle with yourself today. You are being held.

Faith is the Exhale: Trading Your Panic for His Peace

You know that feeling.

Your shoulders are hiked up to your ears. Your jaw is clenched. You realize you haven't taken a real breath in the last five minutes. You’re just... holding.

You’re holding your breath as you wait for the email. Holding it as you check your bank account. Holding it as you listen to the news or wait for a loved one to get home.

Anxiety holds its breath. It’s a full body clench, a physical bracing for an impact that may or may not ever come. It’s our body’s way of trying to control the uncontrollable. We think, "If I just stay tense, if I stay alert, if I don't let my guard down... I can manage this."

And in that tense, airless space, there is no room for peace. There is only panic, waiting.

We’ve all been told to "just pray about it." But what does that mean when you’re so full of anxiety you can't even think straight? You try to pray, but the words feel hollow. They just bounce off the tightness in your chest.

This is where I’ve found the most profound connection between mindfulness and my Catholic faith.

Faith is the exhale.

The Sacred Pause Before the Exhale

When you’re stuck in that anxiety clench, you can't just force yourself to be at peace. Telling yourself to "stop worrying" is as effective as telling a wave to stop moving.

The first step isn't a giant leap of faith. It's a tiny, mindful pause.

Mindfulness is simply the act of noticing. It’s the gentle, non-judgmental thought that says, "Wow. I'm really anxious right now. My chest is tight. I'm holding my breath."

That's it. You just notice. You don't judge yourself for it. You don't berate yourself for "not having enough faith." You just compassionately observe the reality of the present moment: "I am here, and I am scared."

In that tiny, honest pause, you’ve created a sliver of space. And in that space, you finally have room to make a choice.

Faith: The Great Exchange

Here’s the secret: Faith isn’t a feeling. It's a decision. It's an action.

It is the choice to trade our panic for His peace.

In that mindful pause, we see our two hands. In one, we’re white-knuckling our panic, our "what-ifs," and our desperate need for control. In the other, God is offering His peace—a peace that, as St. Paul says, "surpasses all understanding" (Philippians 4:7).

The exhale is the act of opening our hand.

It's the conscious decision to stop holding our anxiety and to start giving it away. This isn't a polite hand-off. 1 Peter 5:7 gives us a much more beautifully human and desperate image:

"Cast all your worries upon him because he cares for you."

"Cast" isn't a gentle placement. It means to hurl. To throw. To unload.

This is the faith-filled exhale. It’s the "I can't" that finally gives way to the "You can."

A 2-Minute Mindful Prayer for the Exhale

The next time you feel that suffocating clench, try this. It’s a practice, not a one-time fix.

1. Notice (The Pause): Close your eyes. Acknowledge the feeling. "Lord, I feel this. My chest is tight. I'm holding my breath."

2. Inhale (The Acknowledgment): Take a slow, deep breath in. As you do, don't fight the anxiety. Just gather it up. Acknowledge its presence.

3. Exhale (The "Hurl"): As you breathe out, physically and intentionally give it to Him. Imagine yourself literally hurling that entire bundle of worry from your chest into the hands of a Father who, as the verse promises, cares for you.

Do this again.

• Breathe in: "My panic..."

• Breathe out: "...for Your peace."

• Breathe in: "What I can't control..."

• Breathe out: "...I give to You."

• Breathe in: "My fear..."

• Breathe out: "...Your care."

Anxiety holds its breath because it's a burden we were never meant to carry. It’s the tragic pride of thinking we have to manage our own salvation.

Faith is the exhale. It's the sweet, life-giving relief of surrender. It's the repeated, daily, sometimes-hourly choice to hurl the full weight of our worry onto a Father who has never once dropped what we’ve given Him.

He can take it. He wants to take it.

So let go. Let Him carry it. And breathe.

That Frozen Feeling: Why Faith Isn't the Absence of Fear (And What It Actually Is)

That Frozen Feeling: Why Faith Isn't the Absence of Fear (And What It Actually Is)

It’s 3:00 AM. The house is dark, everyone is asleep, and your heart is pounding.

You know the feeling. The "what if" scenarios are playing on a non-stop loop in your head. What if I lose my job? What if that test result comes back positive? What if I fail? What if...

You’re frozen.

You’re also a person of faith. So on top of the fear, a nice, thick layer of guilt settles in. "I shouldn't be this afraid," you tell yourself. "If I really trusted God, I’d be at peace. My faith must be weak."

Can I just say, as a fellow human being trying to walk this messy, beautiful Catholic life: That is a lie.

For years, I believed that lie. I thought faith was a magic, anti-fear vaccine. I’d pray for the fear to go away, and when it didn't, I assumed I was doing something wrong.

But I’ve come to learn (the hard way) that faith isn't about being fearless. Look at the scriptures. The command "Be not afraid" is in the Bible hundreds of times. Why? Because we are afraid. It's a fundamental human response. Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane was in "anguish," sweating blood. He wasn't skipping toward the cross.

Here’s the truth I wish I’d learned sooner:

Faith is not the absence of fear. Faith is the decision to trust God's presence and power more than the perceived threat.

Faith isn't a feeling; it's an action. It's a choice. It's a pivot.

And this is where the "mindful" part of our Catholic faith becomes a true superpower.

The Sacred Pause: Where Mindfulness Meets Faith

When fear freezes us, our first instinct is to either fight the fear ("Go away! I shouldn't feel this!") or flee from it (distract, numb, scroll).

Mindfulness offers a third, revolutionary path: Acknowledge it.

Mindfulness, at its core, is simply paying attention to the present moment without judgment. When fear shows up, mindfulness doesn't panic. It just notices.

It says, "Ah, hello fear. I feel you. My chest is tight. My breathing is shallow. My thoughts are racing."

You don't have to like the feeling. You don't have to agree with the feeling. You just have to notice that it's there.

This simple act of noticing is incredibly powerful. It creates a tiny bit of space between you (your soul, your consciousness) and the fear (the emotion, the chemical reaction).

In that space—that sacred pause—we get to make a choice.

The Pivot: Choosing Our Anchor

Fear has a very loud voice. It wants to be the only thing we hear. It points to the wind and the waves and screams, "We're going to drown!" (Just ask Peter).

Faith, in that sacred pause, is the conscious decision to turn our gaze. It’s the choice to listen to a different voice—a quieter, steadier one.

It’s the voice of God, who doesn't always still the storm around us, but who always promises to be in the boat with us.

This is the pivot:

• Fear says: "The threat is huge!"

• Faith says: "God is bigger."

• Fear says: "You are alone!"

• Faith says: "I am with you." (Isaiah 41:10)

• Fear says: "The darkness is overwhelming!"

• Faith says: "The Lord is my light." (Psalm 27:1)

Notice that faith doesn't deny the storm. The waves are real. The threat might be real. The fear is definitely real. Faith just chooses to make God the anchor, not the fear.

A 3-Step Mindful Catholic Pivot (For When You're Frozen)

This isn't a one-and-done fix. It's a practice. It's like building a muscle. The next time you feel that 3:00 AM panic, or that midday wave of anxiety, try this:

1. Acknowledge (The Mindful Part):

Don't fight it. Just name it. "I am feeling a wave of fear right now." Take a deep breath. Feel your feet on the floor. You are here. You are present. The feeling is just a feeling; it is not you.

2. Breathe (The Embodied Part):

Connect your breath to your prayer. This brings your body (which is holding the fear) into the presence of God (who holds you).

• Breathe in: "Jesus, my light..."

• Breathe out: "...and my salvation."

Do this three or four times. Let your breath get a little slower, a little deeper.

3. Anchor (The Faith Part):

Make the choice. You can say it out loud or in your heart:

"Lord, this fear is real, and I feel it. But I choose to trust that Your presence is more real. I don't know the outcome, but I know You. You are my refuge. You are my strength. I am placing my trust in You, even with my knees knocking."

Be gentle with yourself. This is the work of a lifetime. Having to make this choice over and over doesn't mean your faith is weak. It means you're human.

And every single time you choose to pivot, every time you turn your gaze back to Him—no matter how scared you feel—that, my friend, is an act of gigantic, courageous faith.

Peace be with you.

Dethroning My Idol of Comfort: A Mindful Path to Trusting Christ

For most of my life, I believed the pursuit of comfort and security was a noble goal. I was taught to build a nest egg, climb the ladder, and establish a life so well-fortified that no unexpected storm could shake its foundations. These aren’t bad desires, but I began to notice a subtle and dangerous shift in my own heart. Slowly, without me even realizing it, my pursuit of security had become the source of my security. The comfort I was building had become an idol I worshipped.

I remember reading Jesus's stark and unsettling words to a man who wanted to follow him: "Foxes have dens and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head" (Luke 9:58). This verse struck me, not as a command to be homeless, but as a profound spiritual invitation. I realized that my call as a Christian was to dethrone the idol of comfort in my own life. It was a summons to a life of radical, moment-by-moment trust in God as my sole provider, my only true security, and my ultimate comfort.

My Idol With Many Names

My idol of security doesn’t look like a golden calf. Sometimes it looks like my banking app, which I check obsessively. Sometimes it’s the over-planning of every detail of my life, leaving no room for the Holy Spirit to move. It’s the paralyzing anxiety I feel when life deviates from the script I’ve written for myself.

An idol is anything I turn to for what only God can truly give: ultimate peace, lasting worth, and unwavering security. When my peace of mind rises and falls with my financial portfolio, I have found my idol. When my first instinct in a crisis is to figure it out myself rather than turning to God in prayer, I have revealed where my true faith lies.

The Open Hand: A Mindful Practice

The key to dethroning this idol, I've learned, is not about suddenly rejecting all worldly goods, but about cultivating a profound interior shift. It’s about being so captured by the "treasures in heaven" that I hold the "treasures on earth" with an open hand. To help me do this, I’ve integrated a simple, mindful prayer into my daily routine.

Practice: The Open Hand Meditation

1. Find a quiet space and sit comfortably. Close your eyes and take a few deep breaths.

2. Clench both of your fists tightly. As you squeeze, bring to mind the things you are clinging to for security—your career, your savings, your plans for the future, your reputation. Feel the tension in your hands and arms. Acknowledge that this tension is how your soul feels when it's grasping for control.

3. Slowly, intentionally, unfurl your fingers until your palms are open and facing up. As you release the tension, consciously offer everything you were clinging to back to God. Picture yourself placing them in His hands.

4. Sit for a few moments with your hands open. Meditate on this posture of surrender and trust. Your hands are now free to receive what God wants to give you and free to be used in His service. I often end by praying, "Lord, I surrender what I am clutching so that I may receive what You are offering."

From Anxious Thoughts to Trusting Breath

This journey is a moment-by-moment practice. Anxiety about the future can still creep in. In those moments, I turn to a practice that connects my mind, body, and soul: a breath prayer.

Practice: Breath Prayer for Trust

When you feel a wave of anxiety about uncertainty, pause. Close your eyes and focus on the physical sensation of your breath. As you inhale, silently pray a simple phrase, like "Jesus, I trust." As you exhale, complete the prayer: "in You."

• (Inhale) Jesus, I trust...

• (Exhale) ...in You.

Repeat this for a minute or two. This simple act re-centers my frantic mind, calms my nervous system, and re-orients my heart toward my true source of security. It moves my trust from the shaky ground of my own plans to the solid rock of Christ.

My True Resting Place

The call of Christ is a daily invitation to find my rest not in the stability of the world, but in the unwavering love of the Father. My security is not in a place, but in a Person. My comfort is not in my circumstances, but in my Companion, Jesus Christ.

I still have to manage finances and plan for the future, but these practices help me do so with an open hand and a trusting heart. My prayer for myself, and for you, is that we have the courage to dethrone the idol of comfort and find our one, true, and eternal resting place in the heart of God.

When Words Fail: How the Spirit Prays Within Our Imperfect Groans

Life can feel like a relentless treadmill sometimes. Maybe it's the constant demands of family, the pressures of a challenging career, or simply the daily grind that leaves you feeling stretched thin. And for many of us, myself included, amidst it all, our personal practices—like prayer—can start to feel… messy.

If I’m honest, my prayers sometimes feel more like a rambling to-do list for God, or a desperate plea for five minutes of quiet, than a profound spiritual encounter. There are days I kneel down, or slump onto the couch, and just… nothing. My mind races from unfinished tasks to lingering worries, and the lofty words I think I should be praying just won't come. My brain feels like a browser with too many tabs open, all buffering.

Have you ever been there? That feeling of spiritual inadequacy, like your prayers are just bouncing off the ceiling?

If so, then Romans 8:22-27 is a passage that has become a profound comfort and a powerful reminder for me:

"We know that all creation is groaning in labor pains even until now; and not only that, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, we also groan within ourselves as we1 await the adoption, the redemption of our bodies. For in hope we were saved. But hope seen is not hope; for who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait with endurance. In the same way, the Spirit too comes to the aid of our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but2 the Spirit himself intercedes with inexpressible groanings. And the one who searches hearts knows what is the intention of the Spirit, because he intercedes for the holy ones according to God’s will."

There’s so much packed into these verses, but what hits me every time is this idea of "groaning." Paul tells us that all creation groans, waiting for redemption. And then, he says, we groan too. It’s not a pretty word, "groan." It conjures images of pain, effort, longing. But it’s an honest word, isn’t it? It perfectly describes those moments when our inner world feels stretched, when our aspirations meet the hard reality of life.

The Groaning Within

For me, that groaning often manifests in my attempts at prayer. I want to be present, to be mindful, to truly connect. But my mind is a whirlwind. I've had countless moments where I've tried to pray, but all that comes out is a jumble of anxieties: "God, help with this….help with that…please let me get some rest… help me be  better… why does this problem feel never-ending?" It's often a chaotic mess, leaving me feeling more frustrated than peaceful.

But then, I remembered these verses. Paul doesn't say we pray perfectly, or that our prayers are always eloquent. He acknowledges our "weakness." We "do not know how to pray as we ought." This hit me hard. It’s a radical acceptance of our human limitations, even in the most sacred of acts. It’s okay that my prayers aren't always poetic. It's okay that sometimes, all I have are feelings, anxieties, and unarticulated longings.

The Holy Spirit: Our Divine Interpreter

And here's where the incredible, liberating truth of Romans 8:26 comes in: "But the Spirit himself intercedes with inexpressible groanings."

Think about that for a moment. When my words fail, when my thoughts are scattered, when all I can offer is a jumble of "groans," the Holy Spirit steps in. The Spirit, who is God dwelling within me, takes my messy, imperfect, inarticulate prayers and translates them. He intercedes for me with "inexpressible groanings" – groanings that are perfect, pure, and utterly aligned with God’s will.

It’s like having a divine interpreter who understands not just the words I try to say, but the deepest yearnings of my heart, the unspoken burdens, the unformed hopes. The Spirit knows what I truly need, even when I don’t. He takes my chaotic prayer and makes it coherent and pleasing to God.

This insight has been a game-changer for my mindfulness in prayer. When my mind is racing, instead of getting frustrated with my lack of focus, I try to simply acknowledge it. I tell myself, "Okay, my mind is busy. Let's just sit with that for a moment." And then, I remember the Spirit. I actively invite Him, "Holy Spirit, you know my heart. You know what I truly need. Please pray for me, with these groanings, according to God’s will."

This isn’t an excuse for laziness in prayer, but rather an invitation to  trust. It’s acknowledging that prayer isn't just about what I say, but about what God is doing through me, and indeed, for me. It frees me from the pressure of having to perform, to articulate perfectly, to have all the answers.

Finding Peace in Imperfection

So, if your prayer life feels a bit like mine sometimes – a beautiful, messy, often inarticulate groaning – take heart. You are not alone. And more importantly, you are not praying alone. The Holy Spirit is right there with you, taking your weakness, your struggles, your deepest sighs, and transforming them into perfect petitions before the Father.

This understanding helps me embrace mindfulness in a new way during prayer. It’s not about silencing every thought, but about acknowledging them, and then trusting that the Spirit is at work in the midst of it all. It allows for a deeper sense of peace, knowing that even in my imperfection, I am perfectly heard and understood by God, through the boundless love and intercession of the Holy Spirit.

Let's continue to groan, to hope, and to trust that God is always listening, always loving, and always interceding for us.

The Ascension: When Balancing the Books Requires Letting Go and Trusting God's Plan

You know those moments at work when you’re staring at numbers that just won't add up, and the more you stare, the more a single, stubborn penny throws your whole day off? That was me just last week. I was knee-deep in month end accounting close reconciliation – a process that always feels like a treasure hunt, except the treasure is a perfectly balanced ledger. This particular one, though, was a beast. I had multiple bank statements, dozens of expense reports, and a stack of invoices, all needing to tie out to the penny. I'd run the numbers forwards, backwards, sideways. My eyes were blurry, my head was pounding, and that elusive penny, or sometimes dollars and cents, just wouldn't magically appear or disappear to bring everything into alignment. I was cycling through the same reports, getting more frustrated by the minute, ready to declare accounting an ancient form of torture.

I finally decided to just… walk away. Not just for the night, but for a whole weekend. I needed a complete mental reset from those spreadsheets. I promised myself I wouldn't even think about debits and credits. And wouldn't you know it? Saturday afternoon, while I was simply out for a walk, enjoying the fresh air, a simple thought popped into my head: "Check the last month's closing balance again, specifically for a single, small adjustment." It was so obvious in hindsight, yet completely invisible when I was forcing the numbers. The solution wasn't in brute-forcing the reconciliation; it was in stepping back and allowing a fresh perspective to emerge. I had found it – a miskeyed transaction from the prior period that was exactly the amount I was off by. The frustration melted away, replaced by a quiet, joyful click.

That little breakthrough, as mundane as it might seem, has been echoing in my mind this week as we approach the Feast of the Ascension. It reminds me so powerfully of the ending of Luke's Gospel, specifically Luke 24:46-53, where Jesus’s earthly ministry culminates in His departure.

Think about the disciples in that moment. They had walked with Jesus, seen His miracles, heard His teachings, and just witnessed His resurrection. Their world had been completely turned upside down, then right-side up, and then sideways again! And now, He’s telling them He’s leaving. Imagine that mix of confusion, perhaps a touch of fear, but also, as Luke tells us, "great joy." It’s like being handed the keys to a vital, world-changing organization, with the overwhelming task of "balancing the books" of humanity's redemption, just after your visionary Founder steps away.

Let's look at what Jesus shares with them before He ascends:

"He told them, 'This is what is written: The Messiah will suffer and rise from the dead on the third day, and repentance for the forgiveness of sins will be preached in his name to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things. I am going to send you what my Father has promised; but stay in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high.' When he had led them out to the vicinity of Bethany, he lifted up his hands and blessed them.1 And while he was blessing them, he left them and was taken up into heaven. Then they worshiped him and returned to Jerusalem with great joy. And they stayed continually at the temple, praising God."

When I read this, I see so much that speaks to our modern human condition, that sense of overwhelm, the need for new vision, and the promise of strength, even when our own calculations fall short.

First, Jesus begins by explaining that His suffering, death, and resurrection were not random events. They were "what is written," the fulfillment of God's ancient promises. For the disciples, this provided context, a framework for understanding the seemingly chaotic events they’d just witnessed. In our own lives, when we’re feeling lost or overwhelmed by a problem that just won't yield, like a reconciliation that won't balance, it's a powerful reminder that there is a larger, divine narrative at play. Even our struggles, our "impossible" tasks, can be part of a greater purpose, leading to renewal and growth if we allow ourselves to see beyond the immediate obstacle. Just as my reconciliation needed a different perspective, our lives often need alignment with God’s overarching will.

Then, Jesus entrusts them with an incredible mission, telling them, "You are witnesses of these things," and that the message of repentance and forgiveness should be "preached in his name to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem." He's commissioning them, making them part of something monumental – not just balancing human accounts, but bringing about true reconciliation with God. This isn't just about their problems; it's about their role in God’s solution for the world. We, too, are witnesses. Not necessarily to the historical events of the resurrection, but to the transformative power of Christ in our own lives and in the small corners of the world we inhabit. How often do we get so bogged down in our daily grind, staring at our own ledgers of life, that we forget to see the impact we can have, the small acts of grace or kindness that point to something greater? Being mindful means actively looking for these moments and acknowledging their divine source, realizing our part in the larger story of God’s plan.

Perhaps the most striking part of the passage, especially in light of my recent accounting dilemma, is when Jesus says, "I am going to send you what my Father has promised; but stay in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high." And then, "he left them and was taken up into heaven." This wasn’t an abandonment, but a moment of transition and empowerment. He had to depart so that the "power from on high"—the Holy Spirit—could come. Sometimes in our lives, whether it's a complex accounting problem or a deeply personal struggle, we have to let go of our own limited understanding, our frantic attempts to control every decimal point. We have to step back and create space for God’s transformative grace. It's often in our moments of surrender, when we stop forcing the solution, that we are "clothed with power" we never knew we had, and the Holy Spirit reveals the way forward. It's like clearing out the clutter in your mental ledger so the divine insight can finally balance the books.

And what was the disciples’ response? They "worshiped him and returned to Jerusalem with great joy. And they stayed continually at the temple, praising God." Think about that. Their leader had just ascended, leaving them with an immense mission. Yet, they were filled with profound, spiritual joy and praise. This isn't superficial happiness; it's a deep contentment rooted in faith, understanding, and the anticipation of God’s promise. In a world full of anxiety, tight deadlines, and constant demands to be perfectly "balanced," finding moments to pause, to be grateful, and to praise God—even when the future feels uncertain or our own accounts don't quite square—is a deeply mindful and liberating act. It anchors us in a hope that transcends our daily frustrations and the endless pursuit of perfection.

The Ascension reminds us that our faith isn't about clinging to what was, or frantically balancing every aspect of life with just our own limited strength. It's about trusting in God’s larger plan, embracing the divine empowerment that comes when we step back, and living with a joy that’s rooted in His constant presence. Just as I had to let go of my frustration to find that elegant solution for my reconciliation, we too are called to let go of our grip on life, trusting that in His apparent departure, Christ has given us everything we need to live lives of purpose, profound hope, and surprising peace.

What "unbalanced accounts" are you wrestling with right now, where stepping back might be the key to seeing God’s hand at work? Share your thoughts in the comments below – I'd love to hear from you.

Are You Seeing Clearly? A Mindful Look at Luke 6:39-45

Okay, let's be honest, we've all been there. You know, that moment when you're convinced someone else is the problem. You're mentally listing their flaws, dissecting their mistakes, and feeling that surge of judgment rise within you. Maybe it's a friend's social media post that rubs you the wrong way, or a family member's annoying habit that pushes your buttons. Whatever it is, you're locked in, laser-focused on the "speck" in their eye.

But here's the thing: Jesus throws us a curveball in Luke 6:39-45. He gently reminds us, "Why do you see the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye?" Ouch. It's so easy to get caught up in judging others, isn't it? We become hyper-aware of their shortcomings while conveniently overlooking our own.

Think about it:

• In our relationships: We criticize our spouse's messiness while ignoring our own tendency to procrastinate.

• At work: We judge a colleague's presentation skills while forgetting the time we completely missed a deadline.

• In our communities: We whisper about someone's parenting choices while failing to acknowledge our own struggles.

It's human nature, right? But Jesus calls us to something deeper, something more mindful. He challenges us to turn that critical gaze inward, to honestly examine the "logs" in our own eyes before pointing out the "specks" in others.

This isn't about self-condemnation or wallowing in guilt. It's about cultivating self-awareness, humility, and compassion. It's about recognizing that we're all on a journey, all works in progress, all in need of grace.

And here's the beautiful thing: when we shift our focus from judgment to self-reflection, something amazing happens. We start to see others with more understanding and empathy. We become less quick to criticize and more willing to extend grace. We begin to recognize that those "specks" we're so focused on are often just reflections of our own unhealed wounds.

So, how do we practically live this out?

• Daily Examen: Take a few minutes each day to reflect on your interactions with others. Where did you judge? Where did you fall short?

• Practice Forgiveness: Extend forgiveness to yourself and others. Remember that we all make mistakes.

• Cultivate Gratitude: Focus on the good in yourself and others. Celebrate the small victories and appreciate the unique gifts each person brings.

• Pray for Discernment: Ask the Holy Spirit to help you see clearly, to distinguish between the "specks" and the "logs," and to guide you on the path of love and compassion.

As we journey together as mindful Catholics, let's strive to live out the message of Luke 6:39-45. Let's choose self-reflection over judgment, forgiveness over condemnation, and love over fear. And let's remember that in the eyes of God, we are all perfectly imperfect, beautifully broken, and infinitely loved.

Ditch the Hamster Wheel: Find True Abundance

Let's talk about something real. Something that gnaws at all of us, no matter how much we pretend it doesn't. We chase, we strive, we hustle… for what exactly? Another promotion? A bigger house? That designer handbag that'll be "so last season" in six months? We're on this hamster wheel of more, more, MORE, and yet, how often do we actually feel… full?

I was reflecting on today’s Gospel reading Luke 6:17, 20-26, and it hit me like a ton of bricks. Jesus is talking about blessedness. But it's not the blessedness we're used to hearing about. He's talking about the poor being blessed. The hungry. The weeping. Wait, what?!

Hold on, before you click away thinking I've lost my mind, hear me out. He's not saying poverty is some glamorous ideal. He's talking about a poverty of spirit. A recognition, deep down, that we don't have all the answers. That we need something bigger than ourselves. We need Him. That's where the real abundance comes from.

Think about it. When you're clinging to every penny, terrified of losing what you have, are you truly free? Or are you shackled by fear? When you're constantly chasing the next dopamine hit, the next fleeting pleasure, are you truly satisfied? Or are you left feeling empty, craving more?

This isn't about giving up everything you own and living in a cave (unless that's your jam, then rock on!). It's about mindful awareness. It's about taking a breath, stepping off that hamster wheel, and asking yourself some tough questions.

• What am I truly hungry for? Is it the external validation, the fleeting moments of glory, or something deeper, something that nourishes my soul?

• Where do I find my consolation? Is it in the stuff I own, the image I project, or in the connection I have with something greater than myself?

• Am I living a life of purpose, or am I just going through the motions? Am I contributing to the world in a meaningful way, or am I just focused on my own little bubble?

Now, I'm not going to tell you the answers. That's your job. But I will tell you this: True abundance, the kind that fills you up from the inside out, isn't found in the external world. It's found in our faith in God.

Here are a few things you can do right now to start cultivating that inner abundance:

• Practice gratitude. Seriously, take a few minutes each day to appreciate the good things in your life, no matter how small. It shifts your focus from what you lack to what you have.

• Connect with something bigger than yourself. Whether that's through prayer, meditation, spending time in nature, or volunteering, find something that connects you to the divine, to the universe, to something beyond your own little world.

• Serve others. Get outside of yourself and focus on the needs of others. You'll be amazed at how much joy you receive in return.

This isn't some fluffy, feel-good, self-help nonsense. This is about reclaiming your life. It's about breaking free from the chains of materialism and finding true, lasting fulfillment. It's about living a life of purpose, a life of meaning, a life of abundance.

So, I challenge you. Step off the hamster wheel. Take a deep breath. And ask yourself: What am I really hungry for?

Let me know what you discover in the comments below. I'm genuinely curious.

Finding the Extraordinary in Your Ordinary

I recently reflected on this weekend’s Gospel reading, Luke 2:22-40, and it struck me how relevant it is today. It explores hope, faith, and the incredible power that lies within each of us. It's about human potential, about finding the extraordinary within your ordinary life.

We have Mary and Joseph, two regular parents dealing with a newborn. Sound familiar? Sleepless nights, diaper changes, the whole ordeal. But they're also carrying this immense responsibility – raising the Son of God. Talk about pressure!

But here's the key: they show up. They follow through. They present their son at the temple, just as they were supposed to. They were present to the task at hand.

Then we meet Simeon and Anna, two individuals who dedicated their lives to something bigger than themselves. Simeon, waiting for the Messiah, his whole life fueled by this burning hope. Anna, a prophetess, practically living in the temple, radiating faith.

These people weren't superheroes. They were just like you and me. They likely had doubts, fears, and probably bad hair days. But they had something more: unwavering belief and a commitment to their purpose.

Simeon's story hits me hard. He was promised he wouldn't die before seeing the Messiah. Imagine that! He held onto that promise, that hope, through thick and thin. And when he finally holds baby Jesus, he's overcome with peace. He can finally rest, knowing he's witnessed the fulfillment of God's promise.

How many of us are waiting for something? That promotion, that relationship, that breakthrough? Simeon teaches us that the journey is just as important as the destination. It's about having faith, staying present, and trusting that things will unfold as they should.

This reminds me of a time a few years ago when I was preparing for my first best man speech. Hundreds of people, huge expectations, and the pressure was crushing. I started to doubt myself, to question if I was the right person, if I could deliver. Fear started to creep in, and my energy plummeted. By focusing on my breath, I was able to tap into my inner strength and reconnect with my purpose. Getting through that speech was one of the most powerful experiences of my life.

Mindfulness, being present, it's a superpower! It's about quieting the noise in your head and connecting with your inner wisdom. Just like Simeon found peace by holding Jesus, you can find peace by trusting in God’s presence in your own life.

And then there's Anna. This woman was a force of nature! She recognized Jesus and immediately started spreading the word. She didn't keep that joy, that revelation, to herself. She shared it with the world.

What are you passionate about? What lights you up? Don't keep it bottled up inside. Share it! Your passion, your energy, they're contagious. You have the power to inspire others, just like Anna.

So, here's the takeaway: You don't need to be a saint or a superhero to make a difference. Mary, Joseph, Simeon, and Anna were ordinary people who embraced their purpose and lived extraordinary lives.

You have that same power within you. Embrace your purpose. Trust in the Lord and have faith in the journey. Be present. Share your light!

Overcome Feeling Lost: Find Purpose & Meaning Today

Ever feel like you're just going through the motions, not really living your life to the fullest? I know I have. It's like being stuck on autopilot, scrolling through social media, binge-watching shows, but not really feeling alive. We are not present.

I was talking to my friend, Lindsay, the other day. She's a successful accountant, has a nice apartment, and from the outside, it looks like she has it all. But she confessed to me that she felt empty inside. "I'm working all the time," she said, "but for what? I'm not even sure I'm making a difference." She was so focused on climbing the corporate ladder that she'd lost sight of what truly mattered to her. She was drifting, not really steering her own life. Lindsay is not alone. Many people feel the same way.

And that's where a lot of us are, right? We get so caught up in the daily grind that we forget to ask ourselves the big questions: What's my purpose? What am I passionate about? What kind of impact do I want to make? Deep down, we all have incredible potential, but it's easy to get stuck in a rut. We end up just drifting along instead of steering our own ship.

But here's the good news: we can find a sense of purpose and direction that will absolutely transform our lives. This comes from figuring out what truly matters to us and connecting with something bigger than ourselves.

Let's talk about this Sunday’s Gospel reading from Luke! Now, Luke was like the ultimate truth-seeker. He didn't just take things at face value when it came to the stories about Jesus. He went out and interviewed people who had actually met Jesus, witnessed His miracles, and heard Him teach. He was determined to get to the bottom of it all. Like a detective, he gathered all the evidence he could, building a solid foundation for his faith. He wanted to be sure, just like those scribes that took extra care and time to accurately copy the scripture word for word. They didn't just copy. They took their time to understand the words they were writing, through meditation and prayer.

And you know what Luke found? He discovered that Jesus was the real deal - someone who came to bring hope, love, and freedom to everyone.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus reads from the prophet Isaiah, saying He's here to bring good news to the poor, freedom to those who are trapped, sight to the blind, and relief to the oppressed. Then Jesus says, "This is happening right now, today!"

That's powerful stuff! Jesus wasn't talking about something that would happen way off in the future. He meant that He was there to change lives right then and there. And guess what? That same power to change and transform is available to us today.

Are you stuck in a dead-end job? Are your relationships struggling? Do you feel lost and unsure of your purpose? We can find a way out! Just like my friend Lindsay started to do when she realized she was not fulfilled. We can discover our true potential, pursue our dreams, and overcome the things that are holding us back.

But it doesn't happen by magic. We have to put in the work. We need to actively build a strong faith, one that's about how we live each day, not just what we believe. We should be like Luke, always searching for truth and a deeper understanding of our faith and our purpose in life.

So here's what I want you to do:

1. Figure out what you want: What kind of life do you really want? What kind of difference do you want to make in the world? What did you love to do as a child?

2. Find your connection: Whether it's through prayer, meditation, being in nature, or whatever works for you, find a way to connect with something bigger than yourself. For those of us who believe, we can connect with God.

3. Take action: Don't just sit around waiting for things to change. Go out and make them happen! Step outside your comfort zone, face your challenges head-on, and don't give up on what you want.

This is your chance to really live the life you were meant for. Find your purpose, unlock your potential, and go make it happen! You got this!

The Force Awakens - The Beginning of Someone Better

If you are like me and millions of other people, you probably saw Star Wars: The Force Awakens. Well, the movie speaks for itself and I will not bore you with my thoughts on who Rey’s father is or any other commentary. But, around that same time that the film came out, I was having my very own Awakening. I don’t know about you but 2015 was a tough year for me - dealing with my mother’s death and my own heart illness. I realized that whether life was going well or collapsing like a melting ice glacier, I wanted to be a better person. I wanted to be a better friend, brother, cousin, uncle, employee, leader, lover, and boyfriend. Most importantly, I wanted to know God better.  I had finally realized that a force was within me desiring to be more like Him. I knew it in my heart; I had been put on this earth for something more. I needed to be living at a higher level and I could no longer be complacent. I needed to be better for me, for others, and for Him.

We have been already experiencing the wondrous blessings from God. But, we should never be complacent. He calls us to be vigilant and constantly wants us to do more. God increases life through us. He challenges us every day to become better and to raise life to a new level. We simply cannot settle for anything less than are very best. We must awaken the force and push forward.

The Mindful Catholic is a resource for you. It will serve as a practical guide to help you grow better each day so that we can be at our very best. It is at our very best that we may also have the ability to serve Him best. I hope that you come with me on this journey to seek out the greatness that God has already placed within us. Now is the time to set aside differences, set aside mediocrity, and set aside negative thinking.

Like everything else, this is a process for growing and learning. Let us remember to trust God and have the faith of a mustard seed so that God’s grace will pour out on us with abundant blessings. The more our faith grows in God, the better we will become. We may just be surprised with ourselves and how abundant life will become.   

So, are you ready? The upcoming Blog posts and the Podcasts will go through the principles and practices that will help us become better each day. Understand that this is a process. We must do all we can do to improve ourselves and have unwavering faith that God will take care of the rest. This will be a life-changing process. You will be better. You will be more useful. You will be more productive. You will have better relationships. If you want to become rich or famous you will.  When you have faith in yourself and trust in God with all your heart; there is no stopping your potential. We just need to awaken the force within that God placed within us.