Happy Mother’s Day, Mary.


Hi Mom. Happy Mother’s Day.

Your yes about two thousand years ago changed the purpose of my life. My mom and I will be reading these books to learn more about you, the Queen of Heaven. We know you can hear our songs to you, Mary. Thank you for welcoming anyone’s heart, and directly placing it in Christ’s. We can all learn from you. You were the closest person to the Son of God, wiping His blood, holding His body, suffering for His heart. Take me straight to Jesus, Mother Mary. You’ve given blue a new meaning.

A Message from Him.


“Maclaine. Look to me. Look at the beautiful creation and community I’ve placed on earth. Look at my people. They want heaven for you. They’re praying for you. They’re saints and they desire for you to join them one day. And look at me. Get lost in the Mercy my eyes narrate. Drown in the reckless and sacrificial love I’ve poured out for you. Understand when I love you so much and want more for you. I won’t stop spilling out my love for you, you just have to unplug your ears and hear my song. I am the King of Heaven, and you, a princess. I died for you. These saints were so inspired by the truth that they dedicated themselves to goodness. I want that for you. I am the vine and you are a branch. You do not live alone. Every goodness is because of me. Rely on me. I love you so. You are not alone.”

Mary in The Dollar Tree.


I never expected to see Mary in the Dollar Tree. On a rainy day, I ran to the Dollar Tree to pick up a poster for my project. A quick run in, get what I need, and leave. As I walked down the messy office supply aisle, I began looking at the phone cases. Right there, mindlessly placed on a cardboard box was the Queen of Heaven. A statue of Our Lady of Guadalupe was put in between disheveled phone cases, ear buds, and random cardboard boxes. She didn’t belong there. She belonged in a beautiful garden. In a golden beam. In heaven with her most holy Son, Jesus Christ. She’d been dropped, the statue was chipped, cracked, and it wasn’t the prettiest Marian statue I’d ever seen. So I picked her up and promised her a home for a Queen. My devotion to Our Lady of Guadalupe started a couple years ago and only recently has it really taken off. But this statue today wasn’t Mary, because she is perfect. Untouched. Beautiful. This statue instead strengthened my heart’s devotion to her holy and gorgeous intercession. She is with me even in a store. But she belongs somewhere better. She continues to find a home in my heart, guiding my womanhood and wrapping me in her mantle.

Know me by my soul.

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I found this little book a while ago, placed at the end of a pew in a church. It did not have anyone’s name in it, but I picked it up during mass and held it in my hands. As I picked it up, prayer cards began to slip out of the book. An entire person’s story was held in this tiny leather book.

I didn’t know what this person looked like or what their name was, but I felt that I saw their heart. I saw the saints they looked up to, I saw the prayers they frequently meditated on, I saw the wisdom they had underlined. I saw the collection of treasures and memories they collected.

Seeing this prayer book, I realized that I wanted the same for myself. I wanted someone to know me by my soul, not my body. That those who think of me or wonder about me think of Jesus and wonder if Jesus. Not because I deserve to be compared to our generous Lord, but that I want to be so little that one would only see Who holds my heart.

Though I never met this brother or sister, I am so grateful that for a brief moment, I was able to see their heart.

My Time in Ecuador

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Jesus, thank you for what this mission trip was. Thank You for every part of it. Here is my mission trip account:

I wasn’t really ready for Ecuador. I had packed my bags, prayed my prayers, checked my lists, but I was not prepared. In my head I had imagined this beautiful land with a beautiful experience and a beautiful story to bring back to my friends, my family, and my blog. I was quickly disappointed in many ways. I know, it doesn’t sound right to say that I was disappointed in a mission trip, but that disappoint came from my set expectations, not anything God had promised me.

The first time we landed in Panama to connect to Ecuador, I already felt the walls coming up around me. There was a suffocating feeling. I can’t go back home. There’s no way for me to turn back anymore. I feel so alone. While everyone else seemed to be in awe of the  whole experience, I felt isolated. Afraid of what was to come. Even so, I pushed a smile on my face and said, “Jesus, I trust in You.” What I didn’t expect was for that feeling to continue. Or for that feeling to grow even stronger.

When we arrived at our home for the week, I was anxious imagining about 20 people sleeping in one room, sharing one toilet, one shower, and one faith. That last fact is what grounded me my entire time in Ecuador. Through any division, we were still Catholic. I needed to be told that Jesus was the same in all of us and allowed us to interact with the people of Ecuador even though it was challenging to understand them.

The first night in Ecuador was the hardest night of my life. I slept under a mosquito net sweating, crying, imagining myself being taken to a foreign hospital for dehydration and nausea. While all of this was running through my head, I again began to repeat, Jesus, I trust in You. But this time more crept into my heart, I trust You, but why would You put me through this. Why? The week consisted of getting up early, attending mass and Eucharistic Adoration, then working on the chapel we were renovating or going door to door to talk to the locals and pray with them. Not only was my body not used to sweating constantly and standing in 90 degree heat, but my heart was not prepared for this suffering.

Saturday, Sunday, and Monday I was mad at God. I was angry that He would put me through this. I do Your work in Indiana, Lord. That’s where I’m comfortable. And I’ve given You so much. Why would You ever call me to come here? As I was sitting in the shade of la capilla (the chapel), He finally answered me.

Monday, March 12th, 2018 // Day 3 in Ecuador

“Jesus I think I know now why I am here. Yesterday was hard for me. I sat down in the dirty broken chapel we were working on and stared at You on the crucifix and asked why. Why did You bring me here? Why do I need to do this? I didn’t feel You. I didn’t hear You at all. But as I stared at You on the cross, the men outside working on the chapel began hammering the wall. I couldn’t see them but all I heard were nails being hammered, and I looked at You. And You didn’t say anything. You used those men to speak to me. I told You, I know, my sins put You up there. But You said, No Maclaine. I want you to share in my suffering. You told me You wanted my hands to feel and be with Your nailed palms. To be Your hands. I’ve used my hands to stay at arms length away from suffering. I’ve allowed You to work in my life and bless me and show me happiness and goodness, but I told You I didn’t sign up for suffering. But Jesus, You took my outstretched arm, and pulled me close to Your heart.”

Once I had realized what God was inviting me to, my week looked different. The people I met had You in their eyes again. The pain I experienced was being offered up for my loved ones. The tiredness I felt created a drive and a meditation on the tiredness of Your passion. The conditions didn’t improve, the work didn’t get easier, my heart was just lifted. I realized what redemptive suffering felt like.

In order for me to understand the fullness of the Resurrection, the joy, the light, the rest, God needed me to understand the fullness of the Passion, the pain, the despair, the ache. 

During the week, I met incredible souls who had so little, but gave so much. I met a little girl who danced with pure joy. One day there was an old woman who couldn’t see, but opened her heart to trust us and trust the Lord. A man named Manuel began praying with us immediately when we invited him into God’s word. The people I met and the friendships God created will never fade from my heart. The students and missionaries I went with left a piece of their heart in Ecuador, I’m sure of it.

This trip was the hardest week of my life. I wasn’t ready or willing to suffer in the way God was calling me to. But I eventually understood why I was called to this cross. Jesus asked me to be Simon, to get under the cross and help Him carry it. It was a leap of faith, but the people I met in Ecuador modeled for me just how I can suffer happily for Christ.

Walking to the final mass, we prayed the stations of the cross. I read the 11th station that states: “My Jesus, leaded with contempt, nail my heart to Thy feet, that it may ever remain there to love thee, and never quit Thee again.”

This mission trip I was called to be Christ’s hands and feet. The whole week that’s where I had the most pain. My hands were burnt and swollen, and my feet were burnt, swollen, and had rashes. I was called to be the places where the nails held Jesus up on the cross. If I could take on this minor suffering for His glory, I decided it would be an honor.

Thank you to everyone who supported me financially, spiritually, and emotionally. I got to travel to a different country, drink the most amazing juice, dance to the best Spanish music, witness more smiles on kiddos than I ever have before, teach people how to pray in English, listen to God’s word in the mass every day, eat the tastiest rice I’ve ever had, ride in the back of pick up trucks, see hundreds of stars, celebrate mass outside with two priests and 20 turkeys, doze off in a hammock during breaks, shovel rocks to help build a chapel, walk through rice fields to meet lovely people, and praise You through it all. Though the week had suffering, it was the most joyful I had ever been. Suffering truly is redemptive when it is centered in the heart of Jesus Christ.

God in Darkness

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I see God in darkness.

When I close my eyes to pray, there He is.

Not just in the light of the church, but in the black of my heart.

I see God in darkness.

When I turn the lights off, there He is.

Not just in the sunny day, but in the storm.

I see God in the shame I feel when I sin.

God is the sun, but I see Him and His true mercy in the thick of night.

For God did not just come to be your light, He came to wrap Himself up in your darkness, and shine through it.

What took me so long?

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“What took me so long?”

I was listening to Matt Maher’s song, “Alive Again”, and thinking about my journey to God. I couldn’t help but think, what took me so long? Why didn’t I see God working in my life earlier? Why did I choose to bike to him instead of jumping into a car and zooming straight into His arms? What took me so long?

And then I realized that the journey was blessed. The journey to get to God had a lot of bumps and uncertainty, but that struggle and that wandering was necessary. It’s easy now to look over your shoulder and say, why did it take me this long to fall in love with You, Lord? Your journey is between you and God. It’s something that no one else can touch. And even God, through His goodness, preferred the stumbling and the flat tires we encountered paired with our free pursuit over a neon arrow pointing directly to His arms. He wanted a love story, not an unconditional script for our lives.

Know that your journey is important, and that when I fell off my bike, He continued to call me and shout to me, making my journey to Him all the more beautiful. He does the same for you.

Why Jesus Is Better Than That Boy.

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To all the ladies out there:

How many men did you marry in your head today? Was it the cute boy who held the door open for you at the IMU? Is it the dreamy guy who sits across from you in K201? This sounds kind of funny right, when you say it out loud, but it is totally something we do! Let me tell you three reasons why it’s not fair for all parties to create a list of all the boys in the Catholic center of who you would marry.

First, you are precious. You are beautifully and wonderfully made in the image and likeness of a perfect God. Wisdom 13:5 says, “For from the greatness and beauty of created things comes a corresponding perception of their Creator.” Catechism 41 says, “The manifold perfections of creatures – their truth, their goodness, their beauty all reflect the infinite perfection of God.” The manifold perfections of creatures – you are the most beloved created thing! So you, who you are reflects the infinite perfection of God. It is not fair to you to emotionally invest your heart in someone who may not even know your name. You deserve the greatest of loves, not an imaginary love.

Second, they are real men. The boy who you have created him to be in your head is not real. It is not fair to them because they could be a really great guy but if he doesn’t live up to who you created him to be, then you will find it hard to even be his friend.

Finally, its not fair to your future husband (if you are called to the vocation of marriage!). Your future husband is real, he exists, and right now you are spending your time emotionally investing yourself into a boy who may not even know your name or may never pursue you in the way that you deserve.

If you find yourself spending time creating a fake life with a random guy or worrying about what the future holds, write a letter to your future husband. Even better, tell it to Jesus. Jesus is incredibly in love with you RIGHT NOW. He is pursuing your heart perfectly at every moment. He knows every desire you have, everything you need to make you happy. He knows all of this because He created you to be in relationship with you. He created everything! Think of the most beautiful thing you have ever seen – mine is a South Dakota summer night in the middle of a cornfield where you can see every single star in the galaxy. That was created by God to woo you, because he LOVES you. He is love and He sacrificed Himself for you. Let Him love you in the perfect way that you deserve to be loved. Never let your standard be less than Christ on the Cross for you. You are loved.

Written by Kelsey McCann

The Novena Story. One Year Later.


St. Therese gave me red roses. She gave me six bouquets of red roses spread across the chapel to show me God’s vocation for my life: marriage. The bottom picture is my status on Facebook about the work of God on September 11th, 2016. One year later, I decided to revisit the place I originally saw these roses from my novena.

Before I get into that story, here’s what happened one year ago today. When I returned to college August of 2016, I was ready for the school year. I had never had a boyfriend, and I was ready for whatever God’s plan was for me. As I was talking to my campus minister, Fr. Patrick, he asked a group of leaders who was going to be a nun. I had never seriously considered the consecrated life, because I had assumed I would be a wife and have a family. After thinking about this possibility, I told Fr. Patrick that I wanted to dedicate September to discerning the consecrated life. He helped me create a prayer schedule and guided me through the differences of these vocations (thanks again, Fr. Patrick you’re the best). I had been speaking with some of my sorority sisters for a little bit about St. Therese. It kinda weirded me out because three girls had separately talked about her novena, so I decided to check it out and asked Fr. Patrick if I should discern my vocation through this nine day prayer. The St. Therese novena is very popular and known for having a question answered through a specifically colored rose. I always knew, if I prayed it, I would ask for red roses to mean marriage and for white roses to mean consecrated life.

I went to The Farm with Fr. Patrick and as we were checking out what we picked up at the cash register, he brought my attention to the single red rose sitting by the cash register. He then looked at me and said, “I think you’re supposed to pray the novena”. So I began on September 2nd, and went about my days. In the middle of the novena, I saw roses at my church in front of the statue of Our Lady of Guadalupe. It was a bouquet of wilted, crumpled white roses. When I looked at the statue of Mary, she was holding a single red rose bud in her praying hands. Interesting, but I was still awaiting the final day of the novena: September 11th.

It was a Sunday, and I went to visit The Farm to show my friends the beautiful stations walk and the chapel I had never been in before. As we walked up the hill, I got excited to see if St. Therese had put any roses in the chapel. We walked inside, saw that there was Eucharistic Adoration being held, and sat in our pews. As I looked up before I knelt, there they were. Six beautiful bouquets of red roses surrounding the alter. I instantly started crying and felt so so happy and warm and joyful. Something I felt and had hoped for regarding my vocation had always been true. I felt so reassured to know that what I felt God had planned for me was the right path. He had put it on my heart since a very young age to pray for my future husband, and in the moment I saw those roses, I felt so comforted as He told me those prayers had been going to my future spouse all along. I thanked St. Therese, I thanked God, and I got even more excited to meet my future husband.

Fast forward to one year later, today, September 11th, 2017 . . .

I arrived at The Farm this morning around 9:30 am and walked up the hill to the chapel. Along the way was the Stations of the Cross walk represented in bright white statues. I huffed and puffed up the hill as I snapped (probably too many) pictures. This year, I wasn’t expecting roses. I wasn’t praying a novena, and I just wanted to go back to where it all began. As I walked in the chapel, there was no Eucharistic Adoration. There was no one with me. But there were roses. Some were yellow, some were white, but every single one of them were half red. They had red on the ends of each petal, sitting in the same position as they were a year ago. I decided to sit down, get out my journal, and figure out what God was trying to tell me this year.

God told me to slow down. For some reason, I had a song that continued to play in my head as I was at The Farm. It crept back into my head this morning as I sat there in that tiny chapel, packed with statues, and prayer cards, and roses. The song is called, “Bring Your Love To Me” by The Avett Brothers. God was telling me to bring my heart to Him, always. I have a habit of taking non-Jesus related songs and relating them to our savior. This one in particular reminded me over and over of a message from Christ. As this tune played in my head, I knew the significance of the roses. They were essentially half and half so God could tell me to only rely on Him. I had been so caught up in finding a new boyfriend, or discovering my future husband that I put God on hold for the time being. After coming out of my first relationship, I was ready for God to tell me who was to be next in my life. Rather, He had been telling me – it was Him. It has always been Him, and I vow to my future husband to always put God first in our relationship. No matter your vocation, God is first.

Bring your love to Him and it will be held tight, protected, and cherished. Today, I learned that our lives can only improve when they’re handed over to God. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain by trust-falling into the arms of your loving creator. As Saint Therese of Lisoux once said, “Our Lord has deigned to make me understand that by simple obedience I shall please Him best.” May Your will be done, Lord. Your beautiful, exciting, rewarding will.


Sit in the Light


As my friends were leaving the room, I realized I was going to go back on my word. A couple hours ago I had told my friend Kelsey that I couldn’t go to 9 pm mass. “Eh, too busy today. I have to, ya know, order some books and stuff.” She’d understand, right? Well, of course she did, because she’s Kelsey. However, God knew I needed to be there. So as my friends walked out of our room giggling and excited for their night out, I began to feel lonely. I couldn’t hang out with them, and I was by myself. Jesus then pushed me to go to mass.

I walked through the back of church, trying to be quiet. I knew exactly where I’d sit: in the 8th pew that was in the dark so no one would see me. I was comfortable staying in darkness when I tripped over the kneeler trying to get to my perfect seat. My foot was in pain, my identity compromised, and my ego totally embarrassed. Kelsey was sitting a couple pews up in the light, and turned around before gesturing for me to go sit by her. I was so focused on staying back and not testing myself. But alas, God (through Kelsey) brought me into the light. Let’s be real, that’s what mass does. It takes us out of our timid darkness into the unsure yet beautiful light of Christ.

Thank you to Kelsey for always inviting me to be with God. Keep challenging me, please.