Catholic Husband

Fortress of the Mind, Garden of the Heart

Mon, 10 Aug 2026 08:40:44 -0400

Castles occupy a special place in the modern world. These ancient structures, built with simple tools, stand long after the empires and principalities they were designed to protect have fallen. We consider these buildings to be places of strength and power, but they are ultimately just unique architecture. What is the use of a castle if there is nothing to guard, defend, and protect?

The Christian life is both gift and mystery. It is a multi-layered gift that must be unpacked one layer at a time. Each layer brings new meaning, significance, and understanding, a new joy to discover at every stage. It is mystery because while we can comprehend some of its deeper truths, it is impossible for us to fully understand it. The proposition is simple: accept the natural law inscribed on our hearts and follow God’s law, and we shall be truly free. They are rules written not to ensnare us or to subjugate us, but to foil anything which threatens our freedom.

It is easy for us to accept greater than 90% of its precepts without concern or even much effort. They are those things to which we are not naturally predisposed and therefore are not a struggle. It is in the last 10% that our faith is won and lost. These are the parts of God’s law that we’d prefer to tinker with, those inconvenient things that get in the way of how we think our life ought to be lived. Though we do not possess the limitless vision of God, or His purest of pure intentions, we toy with a level of permissiveness of those very things that seek our destruction. He is the athletic trainer setting out the training program, and we are the unfit participant proffering our tweaks to the plan.

We are body, mind, soul, and heart. Our consciousness exists in our mind, that fortress of intricate design. It is where we live our daily lives. It is where our thoughts begin and are developed. All of this occurs quietly to the outside world and loudly to us. Everything that happens within our mind is between us and God, unreadable and unknowable unless we choose to share it with those around us. It is in this sacred and personal space that the Christian life, and love itself, is desired, willed, and chosen.

A castle is a powerful structure, but its value is not in its architecture or protective design. Its value is the ability to protect something worthy within it. The people, stores, foodstuffs, and goods kept safely behind its iron gate are its reason for being, so long as they are happy and healthy within its walls. A long duration siege is a battle of wills. The aggressor can simply wait until the food is gone, and the well has run dry. Then, lacking resources, the castle is less of a protective barrier and more of a prison for those who dwell inside.

The fortress of our mind is where we do daily battle to merit the rich heritage of which we are inheritors. It is where we choose those things that allow us to know, love, and serve God, and it is where we reject and defend against those things that seek to steal our joy and suffocate the life within us. But the fortress of our mind can only defend us when it is fueled by the garden of the heart. The garden is what provides those things that support and sustain our fight. It is the place where virtue is developed and strengthened, where the Word of God refreshes us, and where the good fruits we need to eat come into bloom. When our interior life is strong, when our garden is producing a perennial harvest, the fortress has something within it worthy of protection.

The garden of the heart must be attended to daily, weeds must be pulled, new seeds planted, fertile soil encouraged, and green shoots nurtured. All of that diligent labor on ourselves, on more perfectly forming our life to Christ, provides our mind and our soul the strength it needs to say yes to God and no to every other thing.

There are difficult days, there are moments when the lights grow dark and the negativity feels overwhelming. There are days, weeks, and months when it feels like we are about to slip beneath the surface, overwhelmed by the current and the height of the waves. But we only lose to the current when we stop swimming, the stores only run out when we stop growing, and the siege only succeeds when we give up.

In every dark moment, in every place of despair, in every moment of regret, at every point of failure, we do not reside alone in the fortress of our mind. We are accompanied by the God who gave everything for us. God who promised to be with us until the end of the Age, and said that nothing would prevail against us. God who designed not just the intricacies of the human body, but gave us the fortress of the mind to defend and protect us, and the garden of the heart to support and sustain.

Submission

Mon, 03 Aug 2026 08:00:00 -0400

Life is full of paradox, perhaps none more profound than our relationship with God. The Baltimore Catechism tells us that we are made to know, love, and serve God in this life and to be happy with Him in the next. None of us knows how many days we will walk the Earth, but we can be sure that every day we wake up, it is to fulfill this purpose. Every day we are given is a gift intended for us to use as we live our mission.

Human relationships are filled with agendas and ulterior motives. This constant complexity causes our brains to be suspicious of anyone, especially when they tell us how to live our lives. God’s plan for us is one of those paradoxes. He does have an agenda, and a clear motive. He wants us to follow His plan because its outcome is the best version of ourselves. How can this be? How can following His script result in my total freedom and true happiness?

God knows His creation and reads our hearts. Jesus has a human nature and can understand this challenge for us. Placing ourselves last requires an act of the will every time we do it. It’s not a one time decision, but a daily and even an hourly one. So, to lead the way, God acted first.

Jesus submitted Himself to us. Before we were created, before we drew our first breath, Jesus offered us Himself, His love, and His friendship. He took all of our future errors, poor choices, and sufferings upon Himself. He accepted torture and death so that we could be free to say yes to Him. It was a vulnerable choice, but one made with full knowledge that countless would look at His eyes, hands, feet, and heart and say no. They would look upon His sacrifice and respond that they prefer themselves. They prefer their small things to His humiliation, His torture, His murder. Thanks but no thanks.

But He still did it.

When we say yes, when we die to our insignificant selves and let go of our small plans. We attach ourselves to the author of life, love itself, and master of the universe. Not as a slave or an outsider, but as sons and daughters of the high king. Our names will last no more than two generations, but His Name is forever.

Saying yes to this is the easiest decision a person will make in their life and, paradoxically, is the hardest one to remain faithful to.

We Shall Not Be Overcome

Mon, 27 Jul 2026 08:00:43 -0400

We exist in a material world, but one that is not isolated. It is enshrouded in a larger, immaterial reality that we cannot perceive with our refined senses. The reality of God and His creation is not limited to the sunrises we see in the East, or the birdsong of the forrest canopy. It is an inconceivable expanse outside of time and space that we exist in, participate in, and yet experience separately.

I am unable to walk through walls or see more than 10 miles or so on a clear sky day. Buildings, hills, and valleys obstruct my view, as does the limitations of my eyes and the curvature of the earth. But God’s angels and enemies flow throughout the created world each day, carrying out their tasks. There are those who are on mission from God, ministering to and protecting His people. There are others working just as earnestly for man’s enslavement. By their choice, God’s enemies chose to reject Him. They rejected this labor for the good, right, and just. They rejected an existence that required them to be in the service of love, charged with the care and concern for humanity. As a result, they are opposed by God in all places and at every moment. Rather than gaining power and prestige, they are destroyed by the foot of a virgin and a single word, fiat.

The reality does not require our assent to make it real. It continues in parallel to our own daily lives, all around us, while still out of view. It is not so for the immaterial. Evil spirits cannot stand to be in the same space as God, so a single grain of blessed salt dropped upon the ground, having God’s blessing and goodness embedded within it, necessarily must be seen and avoided. Just as a ray of light chases away every vestige of darkness, goodness disperses evil.

What does this then say about the Eucharist? At the Mass, when Jesus’ sacrifice is re-presented, when the angelic host assembles at the altar, when earth is caught up into Heaven, the bread and wine are transubstantiated into the body, blood, soul, and divinity of Christ. God is integral, meaning there are no parts within Him. Every atom is as much His fullness as His complete physical body. At the crescendo of the Mass, we process forward to the altar, and we receive Him within us.

Jesus said that His body is true food, and HIs blood is true drink. The Eucharist is consumed, and our physical bodies proceed through the digestive process. Jesus’ physical presence is systemically shared and diffusely spread throughout us. We are then truly a living tabernacle, inhabited at a molecular level by the author of life, Love and Goodness itself.

If a single grain of blessed salt can chase away Evil Spirits, what is possible for a person who has just received the Eucharist?

In life, we strive to earn the rewards of Heaven, and contend with our misguided desire to depart from God’s path. The more often, and more deeply, we contemplate the spiritual realities around us, the more plain it becomes how necessary it is for us to live a life of virtue and service. Life is always and everywhere difficult, but we are equipped and fortified with the things of Heaven that will never be overcome.

Empty House

Mon, 20 Jul 2026 08:00:00 -0400

One or two weeks a year, all four kids end up spending a week or so with their grandparents. Whether some time away, or attending a camp, it’s a week that is different from any other. Before it starts, however, I always do the same thing. As we prepare to pack the kids’ things, we first spend half a day giving the house a deep cleaning. My goal is to start the week with a totally clean, and picked up house.

The week is different. There’s a low-level feeling of always being switched on. From 6:30am until I go to sleep, at any moment I’m ready to be queried. A child can emerge at any moment with a request or just to chat. I don’t notice it, except when the children are away. When I’m switched off, things are quite unfamiliar.

I’ve been a father for over a decade, and in that time, I have somewhat forgotten what life is like when I am fully in charge. I have lots of work to be done, but I’m also free to choose every aspect of my day. When I walk, where I work, what I do, all of it can be made without considering external factors.

In this year’s week, I went to the dentist alone, I spent half a day working in Alison’s office, I worked out of a coffee shop. All of it was nice, including writing without interruption. But it’s not the way life is supposed to be.

The neat, orderly, quiet, and sterile atmosphere is not how the family is meant to be. The kitchen stayed clean all week, and the beds made, and toys picked up, but it was a house nearly empty of life. The low hum of children running around, the voices of play, the small pleasures of funny phrases, all of it was missing. This is the great mistake of avoiding children: they are fountains of joy.

Parenting is not easy, and giving everything leaves you exhausted, but it is the clear choice when compared with the alternative. When I went to pick up the kids, after several days of not seeing them, I switched back on. But it wasn’t exhaustion or dread or longing for quiet that accompanied this switch. It was a broad, permanent, subconscious smile. Things were right again.

We only have eighteen years with our children, before we send them into the world to start their life and families. In every tired moment, every frustrating situation, every hour spent picking up, I try to remind myself of this fact. One day, I will be an old man sitting in an empty house, longing for the days when my children filled the house with their joyful presence.

Secrets of Peace

Mon, 13 Jul 2026 08:00:54 -0400

Our summer RV trip is over, but its events are now part of our shared memory and language. It was a vacation unlike one we’ve taken before, and it found its anchoring in the many holy places we visited along the way. These green hills, leafy valleys, and empty fields were the places where saints tread.

Pilgrimages are an ancient tradition, and while they cause us to think about pious processions, they do not have to meet a certain standard. Trundling down interstates, state highways, and country lanes, we found these spots nestled in the milieu of small towns across America. They are ordinary looking churches, built upon land where extraordinary lives were lived.

Religion, theology, and prayer are often regarded as boring. They are imagined to be dusty historical events without relevance in our lives, and to some, a colossal waste of time. Why drive hours to see an empty field when you can fly to an island or experience the thrill of a roller coaster. These generic-looking places are not worth the trip.

What’s missed in this misguided opinion is that these sites hold a treasure that cannot be found elsewhere. In a busy and loud world, these holy places are set apart. There is no need to worry about work, no deadlines to meet, no chores to complete. You are free to just be still and silent. These are intentionally slow places.

That’s not all. Standing in the field where St. Kateri lived is a profound statement on sainthood. It did not appear special, it looked like a field in my neighborhood. The short hike through the woods to the natural spring from which they drew water looked like the woods in my backyard. That is precisely the point. Sainthood, holiness, and goodness doesn’t require us to relocate to Italy or to spend all day within the sanctuary walls. Collecting water, cooking meals, mending houses, all of these chores are the ordinary path to sainthood.

Even more profound is to stand in the place where St. Issac Jogues ministered, was enslaved, and was murdered. It was all too easy to look down the hill where they dragged his lifeless body and threw it into the river. The same river that he and St. Kateri, decades apart, navigated as part of their daily life, the riverbed that served as his grave. To the average American, driving along the New York Throughway, it’s a generic river and a green hillside. The real story, is so much more interesting.

Peace is a difficult thing to find in life. But to spend quiet moments in these places, to experience the serenity, is a clear sign of the holiness that is present. All of us are not called to spend our lives in these places full-time, there is other work and witness that must be done. But a great secret in life is that we do best when we take the time to travel to these places and experience a real physical connection with our heritage. The Catholic Church in America today is only possible, in part, because of the heroic virtue of these saints. To be where they were, to see what they saw, to understand how close they were in proximity to our lives, is a special thing.

All Things Bright and Beautiful

Mon, 06 Jul 2026 08:00:00 -0400

Over the last several months, I’ve spent a lot of my time ruminating on aesthetics. This particular branch of philosophy focuses on the nature of beauty and taste. Society usually thinks of beauty in terms of physical looks and attraction, and only in the context of what that beauty can do for it. But aesthetics recognizes beauty for what it truly is, a good unto itself.

I find aestheticism to be an easy way to communicate to my children about the things of God. Latin chant, holy architecture, a brilliant sunset, the green canopy. All of these things are beautiful in and of themselves, sharing a good that is not consumed, but savored and evergreen. To paraphrase the poem by Cecil Francis Alexander, all things bright and beautiful are the things made by God.

This makes a clear contrast with the things of evil: darkness, fear, oppression. Things of an evil or dark nature drag us down or cause us to shrink inwardly. An unmistakeable marker, the dark things in life destroy beauty and leave us feeling sad.

Perhaps the greatest good thing in the world is the human person. We, hopefully, want to be good ourselves, and for our children to be good. It’s why we spend nearly every minute of every day working to form them into good people. But being good isn’t just saying no to yourself. It’s choosing to engage with the bright and beautiful. What’s the point of life if it’s filled with emptiness, sadness, and a sense of meaninglessness? Joy is not the absence of sadness, it’s meaningful sorrow as we long for the good things, for justice, for mercy, and for reconciliation.

Why we naturally gravitate to things that are not bright and beautiful is a paradox. We are made in God’s image and likeness, and invited into relationship with Him. Indeed, His passion, death, and resurrection were not for His edification, but done out of a love that is laser focused on enabling us to live a life centered in Him.

The truth is, among all the bright and beautiful things God has made, we are intended to be one of them. We get to choose, in ways big and small, whether we will take our place among the good things, or if we reject Goodness itself. Our beauty is core to our nature and true to our being, if we are willing to get out of the way and share our goodness with the world in which we live.

Every No, An Act of Love

Mon, 29 Jun 2026 08:00:00 -0400

Over the last half century, the general agreement between Church and culture has broken down. The Church and culture held a common set of values and standards of conduct, but slowly and deliberately, the culture chose to make its own path. This break has lead to the fractured society we now live in, where we don’t even acknowledge the same reality.

For many, the Catholic Church is the church of no. Don’t do this, you can’t do that, I’m afraid that’s not right and you shouldn’t do it. That’s all true and correct. We are born into a world of order, where there are standards and consequences. It is not possible to exist outside of them, and attempts to do so are quickly addressed. But what’s lost is the safety of no.

Parents micromanage every moment of their young children’s lives. A child does not have the mental capacity to notice danger or anticipate outcomes. For that reason, the thoughtful and loving parent devotes hours per day keeping them from harm. That means saying no early and often, but rarely for the convenience of the parent. No, you may not eat ice cream for dinner because your body needs protein. No, you may not watch a movie right before bed because it will disrupt your circadian rhythm. No, you may not have a cell phone because your childhood is better without it. No, you may not ride your bike past your boundaries because the other streets are too busy.

This is no power trip, this is part of the total gift of self. A parent pours themselves into their child, and maintains a protective shield around them so that they can be free to experience a joyful childhood. Every no is for the benefit of the child, not the parent.

The Church has spent centuries thinking about the big questions, and in every teaching, regulation, and rule has been consistent. Her guidance is ordered toward the good of the human person, man fully alive and truly free. Every no is the result of a deeper understanding that a yes would ultimately cause harm. Living together before marriage makes saying yes to a lifelong commitment nearly impossible. Contraceptives destroy life, turning a parent into something other. Receiving the Eucharist while in a state of mortal sin is an act of grave dishonesty. Each of these things hurts the person who engages in them.

It would be wrong to think that the Catholic Church is not a place for questions, just as it would be wrong to think that it is only for the perfect. What better place to ask questions than the place with answers? The Church is ready for questions because She’s been asking them for centuries before now and will continue ask them into the future. Every answer is summarized and indexed in the Catechism, waiting to be examined. The Christian life is one of constant renewal in the mold of St. Francis of Assisi.

We all must contend with the difficult things, it’s part of being an adult. But what a blessing it is that we don’t have to start from square one and answer them all. As children, we didn’t know how good we had it. A life free from worry about finances, job loss, or hunger. As adults, the Church stands ready to offer sure and true guidance for how to live a life in freedom, joy, and vocation. In every case where She offers us a no, we are lovingly spared the misery and suffering from the danger of yes that we do not yet perceive.

Let it Burn

Mon, 22 Jun 2026 08:00:00 -0400

St. Paul talks about foolishness for Christ, the willing embrace of the counter-cultural lifestyle that is necessarily part and parcel of living Christianity. It’s more than just the acceptance of the story that, to some, seems more suited for a child’s bedtime story than weekly communal worship. It’s the organization of your entire life around it. It’s the grounding of your identity in whom you truly are and who you were made to be. Despite this wildly lopsided bargain, Christ’s life for ours, we still find it difficult to express that faith in ways subtle and overt.

The truth is, this hesitation is not based in modesty or even respect for other people’s beliefs. It is not necessary to trumpet your faith to all, but to paraphrase St. Francis, it is necessary to share your faith, and when needed, use words. When it comes to using words, there’s a tendency to shy away from the truth. We judge it to be too potent for the recipient and wrongfully insert ourselves into it. We repackage it, soften it, make it easier to approach or maybe even more palatable. This is a waste of time, and only serves ourselves. Christianity comes to us fully revealed and fully packaged. It requires no adjustment, no adaptation, no simplification, no improvement.

We are participants in the mystical Body of Christ, and while there may be a very stimulating academic conversation to have about what that means theologically, it contains the deepest truth. To the extent that we give ourselves over to God, and orient our heart and mind to Him, we participate in His ministry and truly His power. We say that prayer is powerful, that it can affect real change even in the most impossible and desperate situations. This is not happenstance or luck; this is the Creator of the Universe, for whom atoms rearrange themselves, present and engaged in our lives. Jesus spoke of this with the mustard seed. If we had faith the size of the smallest seed, we’d move mountains. Physical mountains? Maybe, but that’s not the point. What is harder to move, Mount Everest or the heart of a fallen away Catholic?

The best investment of our time, effort, and focus, is on building and improving our interior life. Erecting and then reinforcing an interior fortification that is so resilient that no outside event, no matter how terrible or awful or stressful, can even begin to touch its outermost walls. From that place of strength, we participate fully in the life of Christ and burn with the heat, passion, and energy of a thousand suns. When we do, no part of us will wish to stand in the way of that outpouring of grace.

Allure

Mon, 15 Jun 2026 08:00:00 -0400

Mass attendance is up. At my parish, the men under 30 demographic is quickly outpacing the women in the same age bracket and is getting to the point where they seem to outnumber the retired. I see them everywhere: every event, every group, Daily Mass, special liturgies, and Adoration. The majority of catechumens this year were young men. Recent commentary from some bishops in interviews with national journalists has attributed this resurgence to a “bully culture.” This analysis misses the mark.

Bully culture, whatever that means, is neither new nor is it emerging. Was society kinder in Pol Pot’s Cambodia, Napoleon’s France, Henry’s England, Khan’s Mongolia, the Japanese shogunate, or Caligula’s Rome? Political leadership across time and cultures has always tended towards the mean spirit suggested in these interviews. In comparison, we appear to be living in the kindest civilization ever organized. Mean people on the internet are not the cause for this transformation.

I think this is something much deeper, and much more simple. People have an awareness of how adrift everyone in their social group seems. Wake up, scroll on phone, work, travel, sleep, and repeat. What is the point of that? For more than six decades, young adults been told that relationship is bondage, children are consequence, and adventure is truly living. We can tell ourselves anything for a very long time, but eventually, we’re mugged by reality.

No matter how far we run or where we try to hide, truth is inescapable. We are who we are, no matter how we act or what we choose to believe. Just as there is nothing we can do to reduce our human dignity, there is nothing we can do to change who we were made to be.

In their lives, physical and digital, they watch the lives of their friends who decide to try to separate themselves from their purpose. Purpose is not one’s career or passport stamps, but the cause for which they were made. We are made for others, not for ourselves. They see the pain of people living the lifestyle equivalent of a sovereign citizen: a mistaken belief that they can extract themselves from who they really are and what they actually need.

In response to this, these brave souls who now join us in the pews do the difficult thing: they acknowledge the tug they’ve always felt. They choose to engage in the quest to find that meaning, purpose, and the center of the universe. They find their life when they lay it down; they find their everything at the altar in the Eucharist.

This is an act of incredible moral courage. The courage to reject a counterfeit life, to accept that their life is a gift for others and not built for our amusement. Pope Leo said at the canonization of Carols Acutis and Pier Giorgio Frassati, the greatest risk in life is to live it outside of God’s plan. The more we participate in that plan, the closer we get to our truest, best version of ourselves.

In the Footsteps of Saints

Mon, 08 Jun 2026 08:00:00 -0400

Travel to Italy, France, or Spain and you’ll be inundated with churches, relics, and burial places. These holy sites and treasures are the results of the lives of holy men and women across Europe tradition developing over the centuries. For those of us in the New World, or in the emerging regions of Catholicism, we do not have the luxury of passing countless holy sites along our commute to work or the grocery store. But we are not without treasures of our own.

This week, our family will travel to upstate New York to visit the St. Kateri Tekakwitha shrine. We will visit the ruins of her village, the physical place where she grew up and lived. It is just one site here in the United States where saints have walked. There is the village of Blessed Fr. Stanley Rother in Okarche, Oklahoma. There’s Bishop Fulton Sheen’s Peoria, Buffalo, and New York. Holy sites dot our land as the stories of these heroic men and women become more widely known and the canonizations of North American saints continue.

We visit these places not for thrills or tourism, but as moments of philosophical pause. We walk where they walked, and see what they saw. It is some small reminder that sainthood isn’t reserved for the clergy, the perfect, or the Italian. Sainthood is a wide boulevard for us and our story. It is who we were made to be, and it should be the rule, not the exception, for us in our lives.

Every saint experiences adversity on their path to sainthood. For some, it’s plainly seen through gruesome persecution or public martyrdom. For most, it’s the quiet struggle in the mind and heart to choose to say yes to God’s plan. The point is, they made it, and we can join them.

Our trip will be one of many memories and experiences, and the ruins may look like an ordinary grassy field in midsummer bloom. But the ordinary appearance hides the true treasure. That on this soil walked a girl who had the moral courage to walk away from tribe, friends, and family and give everything she had to acquire the One who loved her first. May we each choose to follow in her footsteps.

In Summer

Mon, 01 Jun 2026 08:00:00 -0400

The school year is over, and the time that we placed so many hopes and dreams on is here: summer. For the last three seasons, we deferred new habits and projects and made great plans for all the great things we’d accomplish in summer. We find ourselves at the starting line.

While it’s easy to think that summer is a carefree time of fewer responsibilities, that’s not really how life works. It’s not fewer responsibilities, it’s different responsibilities. Without the time pressure of school work to be accomplished, homework to submit, and extracurriculars, something else will step into that time. The house will grow cluttered, the children will ping you throughout the day, and the task list won’t grow any shorter. These next eight weeks offer us great promise, but they offer us the promise that any other time of the year does.

The temptation is to always wait for some later, more perfect time. The truth is, we don’t have a minute to waste. If you were waiting to pray more, start praying more today. If you were hoping to have more time to read, carve out a dedicated time and defend it rigorously. Always wanting to connect with your children through bike rides and other spontaneous fun? Turn one “no” into a “yes.”

Summer is a magical time, and based on our plans, I know this one will be a standout memory for my children. Summer is rest and grace, but it is no easier or no less busy than any other time of the year. Take it in, savor each day, and start the projects and work on the goals you set aside until now.

Start the season with one more resolution. As a gift to yourself, never put off the good work for later. Starting now, wake up every day committed to being the best version of yourself. It’s who your family deserves to lead and love them, and it’s who you were made to be.

At Play

Mon, 25 May 2026 08:00:00 -0400

Sunday is supposed to be a day of rest, just as on Friday we are supposed to abstain from meat or make some other sacrifice. As with all things in the Church, they are designed for our benefit. Work and chores expand to the time we give them, and they will never be done. Friday is an ordinary day in which we look forward to the weekend, but a small reminder that our God chose to give up everything for us isn’t such a bad thing. It helps us to remember how loved and valued we are, who we are, and whose we are.

Perhaps one of the reasons we don’t observe the sabbath, why we work or do chores on Sunday, is just because we ran out of time during the week. It’s easy to design a perfect week in our heads, allocating enough time for each task so that Sunday is protected. But there is no perfect week. There are changes, doctor’s appointments, haircuts, dog grooming, and swimming lessons that come and go and that take away big chunks of time. Unprotected, those uncompleted tasks just get shifted to Sunday.

I think the deeper truth is that we don’t know what to do when we give ourselves permission to not work. Suddenly, with a six-hour time block between Mass and dinner, how should we fill those hours? Funny as it seems, that much optionality, in a world in which we are constantly guided by constraints, can feel scary. A good option, in the vast openness of a Sunday afternoon with no obligations, is play.

There came a point in our lives when we stopped playing. Play is the work of children, but we never outgrow our need for play. It can look as it used to look, or it can look like play for adults. That means that going to LEGO store and picking out a set to build with your kids qualifies. That means flying your drone qualifies. So does going for a leisurely walk, a family bike ride, or playing a board game are all ideal ways to spend a Sunday.

God’s example for us is meant to model how to life live well. God was not exhausted at the end of the creation allegory; God has infinite energy and does not need a break. He rested because we need a break, and because it is right and proper to enjoy the created world.

Protecting our Sunday’s from the creep of work and chores is not just a noble goal, but a practical reality we should strive for. Our children do require much of our time, energy, and attention during the week, but our interactions with them shouldn’t be confined to homework, projects, and picking up. We should find them in the rejuvenating activity of play.

We never outgrow our need for play. What we really need is the permission to rest on Sunday and the invitation from our children to step away from our responsibilities, even just for a few hours, and to spend that time, instead, at play.

Bloom

Mon, 18 May 2026 08:00:00 -0400

Early last winter, Alison planted tulips in our backyard. There was an area of dead space where a sandbox sat for untold years. My yard is very shady and struggles to thrives, so instead of fighting the uphill battle, it became the default planter for our tulip bulbs. After months of cold hibernation, the bulbs are starting to bloom.

For the moment, the view is lovely. Every season has its merits and its beauty, and the pure brilliant white of crystalline snow has given way to the symphony of floral colors. I know, though, that before too long, the flowers will fall to the ground and all that’s left will be green leaves.

All of that work, months of waiting in cold darkness, and the tulip bulb produces a single flower per year. For the rest of its time above the surface, its leaves pull in as much sunlight as it can to produce next year’s flower. In a way, it feels like a waste. 11 and a half months of plainness and anonymity for two weeks of color. What’s the use?

If you want permanent beauty, buy art. Landscapes, flowers, even abstract pieces offer bursts of color that can be enjoyed and interpreted day after day. This is not the role of the tulip. The tulip is to remind us of the magic of creation all around us. The lifecycles in our biosphere that quietly roll on, year after year, without our intervention. If the tulip were in bloom for weeks or even months, it would lose some of its sweetness. The yellows, reds, and pinks would fade into the landscape. The point of the tulip is to savor its richness while it is in full bloom.

The tulip is just one flower. There are countless varieties, each on their cycle, that grow out of the ground, leaf, and flower, before starting the cycle all over again. They bloom at different times throughout the season, offering wave-upon-wave of new growth. They are meant to be appreciated, enjoyed, and savored apart from all other flowers.

Our existence within creation is filled with these little delights, scatted throughout the calendar and seasons. Little reminders of God’s goodness, and the brilliance of His work not only in us, but in the created order. There is a time and season for everything, and we are given the grace of experiencing it all, year after year.

Childlike

Mon, 11 May 2026 08:00:00 -0400

Jesus’ love for children is shared in story after story. This is not really a mystery; while a cynic may think of them as gullible or easily led, Jesus can see their heart. Children are not jaded or hardened by the world, and in that way make themselves more receptive to God’s work in their life.

At some point, we all learn that we have to pretend. Whether to fit in or be accepted, we change who we are exteriorly and ensconce our true selves deep inside. Though we are seeking comfort, we tell ourselves a lie. Through this play theater, we tell ourselves that who we truly are is not good enough. The danger of this lie is that it runs counter to God’s truth: we are wonderfully and fearfully made.

Whenever I want to challenge my thinking, I think about space. Earth is a massive place; even America is of size. It can take me two full days of driving at 70 miles per hour and I still can’t go from one end to the other. Zooming out, Earth is floating in a vast expanse of emptiness so large that I cannot comprehend it. This expansiveness is akin to the things of God. His goodness, His love, His wisdom, His everything is so wide, so complete, so whole that my brain just cannot process it.

It’s like St. Peter walking on water. When he believed that he could, through the power of God, walk across the flowing waters, he did. Then he did what we all do; he doubted. Suddenly, he collapsed into the waves and had to be saved. When St. Peter accepted what Jesus said in an act of childlike surrender, he experienced God’s power. When he doubted, placing his trust in himself, he failed.

Childlike does not mean unthinking. God created the animals, but He didn’t enter into relationship with them. He gave them instinct, not intellect. He doesn’t force Himself on anyone, nor impose His love on those who reject it. Children run to adults and embrace them, or cry the second someone they would rather not be near picks them up. Childlike means accepting the Word of God and embracing it wholly because of the trust we have in its Source.

Trusting in God rather than ourselves is a great act of moral courage, and even when we do have a powerful experience of God, maintaining that trust is difficult. Our brains, and occasionally, our hearts, tug us in the wrong direction out of an instinctual attempt to protect us. But we don’t need protection from God or His Will in our lives. We need to find ourselves at rest in Him when we lay everything down. When He promises us the great things He has prepared, we only need to accept and participate in His plan, which is far and away better than anything we could’ve dreamed up for ourselves.

Church Family

Mon, 04 May 2026 08:00:00 -0400

Spend a few months attending the same Mass at your parish, and you’ll grow accustomed to the faces and families. The elderly couple that sits two pews ahead of you, the family with five small children, the college students who impressively show up every week. The faces and familiarity builds a degree of comfort and a sense of belonging. Though you may not know their names or their story, their regular presence subtly contributes to a sense of normalcy.

Our weekly attendance at Mass is a requirement of our faith, but like all other requirements imposed on our lives by the Church, they are done so for our benefit and edification. Prayer is meant to be intensely personal and regularly communal. Jesus spent very specific times in prayer alone, withdrawing from everyone to catch His breath and connect directly with His Father. He also spent lots of time in His public ministry praying and worshiping in groups large and small. He reiterates the importance of communal prayer when He shares wherever two or more are gathered in His name.

Sadly, many regard this sacred obligation unnecessary or burdensome. What they perceive as one more thing to do, one more appointment on their busy calendars, is the sustainment we need to endure the challenges of life. Not only is it good for us to gather and pray the highest prayer we have, the Mass, it’s good for us to know that we are not alone. That there are other retirees, young families, and students who value their faith as much as we do. Others who recognize that no matter the stage in life, the Church stands ready to support us.

The best thing about these fellow parishioners whose names we don’t yet know is when we finally do meet. Whether at a Knights of Columbus meeting, a volunteer rummage sale, a parish picnic, or in the basement sheltering from a passing storm, when we finally exchange names and talk for the first time, it feels like connecting with a friend we’ve known for years. There’s an instant depth, a mutual respect, on which to build this new friendship. And a few days later, when you show up to a particularly packed Mass, they greet you with a smile from afar and invite you to sit next to them in their pew.

The bonds of Catholicism and rich and deep. Through the Communion of Saints, we are connected to the living and deceased members of our Church and, though we do not know their names right now, we share in the most precious bond known to man. We belong to God’s family and are always and forever united in the Eucharist.

Scent of Sanctity

Mon, 27 Apr 2026 08:00:00 -0400

There is a moment in our lives, sometime around middle or high school, in which we learned how to pretend. Not the kind of imaginary play that fills the days and hours of a child’s life, but the facade we erect around ourselves. We want to be liked, to be wanted, and so we observe what our friends and peers seem to like, and we make ourselves imitate those things. The treasure of children is their innocence, when the idea of pretend does not even exist in their minds.

In the treasure of this innocence is an openness about the importance of their faith. It could be cynically assumed that children merely parrot what their parents tell them. It’s true, and good, for children to follow the example of parents who labor in every way to instill virtue in their children. But dismissing a child’s words as empty or meaningless is to discount what that innocence unlocks.

Children do say memorized prayers or repeat answers from the Catechism, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the scent of sanctity that wafts off them as they share expressions of faith. A child who dashes to the Marian altar after every Sunday liturgy, who proudly announces as they emerged from their room that they have just prayed the rosary, who begs to go to Eucharistic Adoration on a Friday night, or whose drawings are filled with angels and the saints. This is not a child who is copying their parents; this is a child who has accepted the love of God in the simplest and purest way.

It is admirable when these behaviors present themselves; it might even leave parents wondering how best to respond to cultivate this continued love. Perhaps, though, it is more than just the expression of a child. Perhaps it is a gift from child to parent, a reminder that accepting God’s love is the work of a lifetime, but that we are to approach God with the trust, innocence, and acceptance of children.

Life brings many great pressures, burdens, and challenges. We are not made to carry them alone. The less we trust in ourselves and our abilities, and the more we place that trust in God, the closer we move to Him in our spiritual journey. Every so often all we need to remind us of this important work, in the midst of so many tasks, is a brief waft of the scent of sanctity.

Open to Discomfort

Mon, 20 Apr 2026 08:00:00 -0400

Perspective is the hinge on which our lives turn. We see this in the story of every saint. These men and women faced adversity of every type and kind, some more cruel than others. They lost friends, family, endured exile, suspicion, and torture, gave up the quiet and the comfort for the uncomfortable. Through that crucible, they were remade.

I’ve written many times about comfort and trust, two themes that play out more poignantly each month in our world. It’s easy for us to forget the anxiety of our parents and grandparents as they endured two global wars for freedom, the threat of nuclear apocalypse, and economic collapse. Life today is no simpler, but it is markedly comfortable.

When we’re comfortable, we drift towards mediocrity. Unchallenged, we fall into a malaise in which there is little movement, small momentum, and no growth. The periods in our lives that we look back on with the greatest satisfaction are the times in which we pushed through the difficult things and came out the other side, shockingly, better.

Wincing from pain or shying away from difficulty is a natural reflex. It’s our humanity’s attempt to shield us from danger. But glory is not in idleness, nor is it in sameness. Glory is in the discomfort, where we are pushed to our limits and, at that moment, come into contact with the grace from God to surge us to the next higher level.

Being open to discomfort is an act of courage, and a recognition that we are called to constant renewal. We cannot be truly good, or make room for the better part, if we do not let go of and clear out the things that hold us back.

Building

Mon, 13 Apr 2026 08:00:00 -0400

Parents only get eighteen years with their children. The goal of parenting is to take a child under your wing, raise them up, and then let them fly. Though parenting has all sorts of stressors and challenges, this might be the hardest part of all. While letting go is never easy, the goal of the parent is to raise happy, healthy, productive adults.

When I think about the number 18, it seems very big. Thousands of days, all strung together, most of which are full of tasks and objectives. Not only do the bigger lessons need to be taught, and a lifetime of wisdom imparted, but rooms must be cleaned, stomachs fed, and activities completed. Each day, a single step, a few bricks mortared into place to be the foundation on which their life is built. Still, as the sands slip grain by grain in the timepiece, it’s easy to feel it slipping away.

No two eras of parenting are the same, and none are easy. The infant requires constant attention and guarding, while the teen needs help in different, more complex ways. Each era is a blessing unto itself, and a challenge anew.

Regardless of the time or the season though, it is still the work of building. It takes more than one mistake, or one faulty brick, to collapse a building. It’s the grace of physics and of discipline. A single weak brick in a facade is a problem, but is also supported by the strong bricks all around it. Parenting is not a zero sum scenario, but it does require focus applied over time.

On the late evenings, when the day has been long and many things are left undone, though, it’s easy to keep perspective. And when your son asks if you can build LEGOs together, you leave the kitchen a mess, you head into the basement, and you build.

Freedom

Mon, 06 Apr 2026 08:00:00 -0400

Political science, philosophy, and human history is full of yearning for just governments. While it would be ideal for the perfect government to always act justly, perfectly balancing individual liberties, free markets, and the collective good, our broken human nature puts that possibility unreachable. Governments tend, more often than not, to ignore their citizens and instead focus on the constituency of one: themselves.

Hard as it is to admit, we tend to get the governments we deserve. In democracies, elected officials represent the people who elect them, in nearly every sense of the word. Countries are big places, and there are the selfless and the selfish, the serving and the self-serving. It shouldn’t offend of sensibilities to see in our government a mirror, although it might nudge us closer to virtue.

The story of Christianity, and the reason the religion is so difficult to accept, is its raw paradox. God, the omniscient and omnipotent, uses His power to… become a human. God, in His completeness, chose to create and dignify humanity and is at pains to have them live in relationship with Him. He is the ultimate bridge-builder and chasm-crosser, and His relentless and loving pursuit of us confounds the human mind.

This timeless truth extends further. We long for good rulers and governance, though it is never within our grasp. What does it say that our King governs justly? He only prohibits things that hurt us, no matter how sweet they might seem. He gains nothing from obedience to the Commandments; He’s already complete. Instead, He gives us guardrails for our own good, edification, and glory.

When we look at our government and see ourselves reflected, it fills us with a sense of uncertainly and unease. How much happier we would be to look in the mirror and see God’s goodness reflected in ourselves.

Reconciled

Mon, 30 Mar 2026 08:00:00 -0400

Over the decade plus that I’ve written on this blog, I’ve built a solid habit of receiving the Sacrament of Reconciliation. So much of my knowledge today is attributable to the golden age of podcasting and blogging in the 2012-2014 era, and this particular habit finds its roots in Mark Hart. He was on The Catholic Guy Show with Lino Rulli as I was driving across my huge sales territory, and he made a comment that has stuck. He said nothing was more consequential in his life as a husband and father than embracing this sacrament.

In all those years, I’ve gone from a guy who’s just trying to make it through the line as efficiently as possible, to now bringing along three of my four children. Kids make it through Reconciliation quickly, but it’s a different experience. It’s no more just seeing and experiencing reform in my own life; it’s seeing my children lined up in the pew, doing their penance, experiencing the same newness.

Most people yearn for youth and lament their age, but the philosophy in me pulls me in the opposite direction. The wisdom of age is a comfort and gift unto itself, grey hairs starting to show through reflecting that I am now beyond the phase of gathering knowledge and now and pouring it into those who are following behind me.

In youth, I loathed the season of Lent; now I harvest its fruits. In youth, I guiltily avoided Reconciliation; now I embrace the process of refinement. This is the life of the Christian. I do the hard things to make myself a more prefect reflection of Love.

For the time they are home with me, I will bring the children along when I got to Reconciliation. When they are grown and on their own, I hope they, too, will find the sweetness of this special Sacrament, and spend their lives embracing its refining fire.

Push Harder

Mon, 23 Mar 2026 08:00:00 -0400

For the last six years, I’ve built out my collection of pocket knives. The result is an incredible set of American and Italian hand tools designed and built to perfection. Each one is unique, and most are built to last beyond my lifetime. It’s a joy to manage the collection, and select the knife that I’ll carry for the day. This Lent, I gave it up.

I picked one knife that, starting Ash Wednesday, would be the only knife I would carry. For the most part, I haven’t interacted with my collection at all. I think about the other knives three or four times throughout the day, which offers me simple reminders of the season we’re in.

Last weekend, for Laetare Sunday, our pastor had a letter in the bulletin about the significance of this mid-point. The starkness of bare altars and violet vestments give way, for a moment, to flowers and pink vestments. It’s a reminder that though we are observing the penitential season of Lent, the victory is already won. It’s also an inflection point, where we turn our gaze from the desert towards Jerusalem.

When I picked just one knife to carry, I chose one that was easy. The locking mechanism is simple to operate, the blade moves freely, and I knew I could just send it off to be sharpened when all was said and done. That note on Laetare Sunday offered me a new idea. What if it wasn’t easy?

Having no choice in my daily knife is a reminder, but what if I chose a knife that wasn’t easy to open? What if I chose one that I had to mindfully open because its mechanism was built for tolerance, not speed? What if I chose a knife that, at least until I use it much more, would be difficult to open? It’s a shift; easy to hard, Good Friday is coming.

I liked the idea of layering in one more tangible reminder, in the middle of breaking down boxes or cutting a thread off a shirt, of what I’m actually here for and what I’m working towards. Life should not be hard all the time, but choosing something slightly harder, and ignoring the path of least resistance, is a sure path to growth.

Reign

Mon, 16 Mar 2026 08:00:00 -0400

It is said that discipline is destiny, though it is one that few choose to pursue. Discipline is uncomfortable, difficult, and at times, unpleasant. Its fruit, however, is the sweetest of all. A man who fully commands himself is not subject to the agenda of another.

Life is a blank canvas, shaped by our daily choices. Everything about us flows from our choices, and the consequences that they bring into our world. At every daybreak, and even at every moment, we have the power to alter the course of our lives by our choices.

Self-control and discipline, the things Pope Benedict XVI talked about as self-mastery, is not easy. Though it may not be easy, we have sovereignty over our lives. Will we sell that sovereignty for a bowl of beans or a fleeting thrill, or will we reign as kings, and live like one?

These Better Things

Mon, 09 Mar 2026 07:00:00 -0400

The relationship between Creator and created bends the mind. For centuries, theologians and philosophy have plumbed the depths of the reality of God. A Creator who is both perfect in and of Himself, but still chooses to enter relationship with the broken created. Not because they will make Him better or more perfect, but because of the reality of love means that we do for others with no expectation of reciprocity. He engages because His love for us means He wills the best for us.

So many of our plans, designs, and ideas are about elevating ourselves and our lifestyle. It’s the height of responsibility and maturity to build a stable household in which our children can grow, thrive, and launch. But when we compare our plans to those of God’s, we are instantly put in our place. It’s not that we cannot conceive or perceive the good, it’s because our creative and imaginative capacity is dwarfed by the capacity of Love in wanting the very best for us.

There are difficult days in life, and though they could not possible compare to the hardships that Catholics face around the world, or that Jesus endured in His penultimate act of self-giving, they are a challenge to bear nonetheless. We yearn for stability, clarity, and certainty, but when the losses stack up day after day, week upon week, and year after year, it’s an act of moral courage to continue to choose hope and trust.

The wages for hope and trust, for working as if it all depends on us, but trusting because it all depends on God, is a glimpse into the perfection of His design. A series of broken experiences, bad relationships, and difficult employment, in hindsight, are the perfect sequence that unlocks the vocation you were made to live. Regret and pain suddenly are anestized, as they are seen for what they were: specific preparation for the grace and mission to which we are called.

God is at work at every place, and in every moment. Though we may not choose the uncomfortable and downright terrifying experiences that we must undergo, they each slot into place in God’s plan. Not a minute was wasted, not a moment of discomfort was for naught; He makes all things new.

Trust is an easy word to speak, but a daily challenge to endure. He offers us a shared yoke, a place of rest; but to offer our yes to His generosity and His plans, we have to be willing to let go of our own smaller plans. It is the grandest bargain any of us are offered, and the last stumbling block to overcome before we get a foretaste of the greatness for which we were made.

Long Lens

Mon, 02 Mar 2026 08:00:00 -0400

It’s cliché to write about how short-fused we’ve become. In the golden age of comfort, where snacks are delivered to us by strangers or drones at the press of a glass rectangle in our pockets, how can we be anything but insulated? Every pain point, every hint of friction, is sanded and refined away until our entire existence is a glassy, smooth slide from one thing to the next.

There’s nothing wrong with comfort. Many of the things that contribute to our high standard of living is a gift from God. How thankful we should be for the scientific breakthroughs that have alleviated pointless suffering, the electricity that powers our economy, and soft skills that enable us to put food on the table. The age of comfort is not something to be despised, but to be accepted with gratitude. It was built on the hardships of those that came before us.

A struggle that anyone who has focused on their health will eventually encounter is moving from the period of transition to a period of maintenance. If you wake up significantly overweight, with just a few months of intense focus and lifestyle adjustment, you will meaningfully improve your health. But that time of transition is intense, and requires dedication that no one can sustain over a lifetime. Thankfully, once you attain your health goals, maintaining them does not require the same intensity, but it does require commitment. There is no body composition that will tolerate inactivity and ice cream every night. But making that switch, from intensity to intentionality, is where many of us fall off the track.

Our bodies are resilient and adaptable, and they will adjust in rapid succession if you change the parameters quickly enough. But rapid weight loss can result in rapid weight gain if things revert to the mean. The problem is not that we aren’t serious or committed, it’s that we’re using the wrong lens.

Health is a lifetime commitment, and requires long perspective over decades to achieving lasting positive outcomes. We can’t just avoid regular drinking for three or four months, but we have to change our relationship to alcohol. We can’t skip donuts after Mass for a season, but make them the exception, not the rule. When we take a long view, the urgency and hurry dissipate. I’m not skipping donuts just for today, I’m a person who eats foods based on their overall nutrition for my body. I’m not a person who walks when it’s nice outside, I’m a person who walks every day no matter what.

This correlates directly to the spiritual life. We can clean up our act in Lent, and maybe even kick an attachment to sin that we’ve fought for decades. But Lent is a season; holiness is the work of a lifetime. We need to be intense in Lent, we need to shift our focus and get intense, but it should be in service of a larger arc in our story. It should be the season that propels us to the next level, to a deeper love, to a more authentic vocation. The risk this Lent is not that you drink a soda or snack between meals; the risk is that you let the season pass without any real effort.

A long lens is required to achieve the results we want in our physical health and our spiritual health. Every day is an opportunity, but missing any one day won’t break us. We are the Easter people, and that means no matter what, we do the work.

Mother

Mon, 23 Feb 2026 16:27:59 -0400

The theological dynamism of the Holy Family is challenging to comprehend, but easier to grasp is the human dynamic. Jesus was raised by two saints, but Joseph and Mary were not saints while they put in the work. Mary was freed from the inclination to sin, but Joseph was not, and neither were exempted from the challenges of human existence. Relationships, economics, health, all of these factors weighed on them. They had to choose to overcome this crucible.

Mary’s place of reverence is well deserved, and meets the historical context. In ancient Israel, the queen was not the King’s wife, but rather his mother. After all, she was the woman who gifted the kingdom the King and thereby contributed significantly to its stability. That context aside, it would be odd for us to so properly venerate Christ the King and forget all about the people who raised and cared for Him.

Participation in the mystical body of Christ means that we accept Jesus’ parents as our own spiritual parents. Joseph was silent in Scripture and has made few apparitions since his death, while Mary has taken on a much more active role in Church history. In countries around the world, she has appeared, always careful to match the cultural conditions in which her presence is revealed. In local dialect and fashion, she brings messages of great importance. This is the act of a mother gently watching over her children.

Mary sees herself as mother to each of us, in a real and concrete way. This is not a room mom or a house mom, a relationship in a communal form; this is direct and personal connection to each of us. It is the desire of her heart to help us in any way she can, ensuring our safe return to Heaven to be with her Son. This is why the Memorare highlights the reliability of her intercession; a mother would never ignore the heartfelt wishes of her children.

She desires a deep, personal, and warm relationship grounded in real human love, that always points to God. It’s a relationship we should cultivate constantly.