Introduction

As we continue our journey through the wisdom of St. Francis de Sales’ Introduction to the Devout Life, a quick reminder of where we’ve been so far:

1. The goal of your life is holiness—a fiery love for God according to the way He made you: your vocation, you fully alive.
2. The best purification is obedience to a spiritual guide.

Today, we will take one more step on the journey: prayer.

Why Pray?

Grace comes first; transformation comes second.

Holiness will not happen without God’s grace. Even having the best guide in the world will do us no good if we don’t open ourselves to God. This opening of our mind and heart to God—that’s prayer. It’s essential for our holiness because God is essential for our holiness, and prayer is communion with God. This is why we pray.

The Art of Prayer

Prayer is an art. There are some principles—but no “one right way” to pray, just as there is no single way to cook a meal. De Sales acknowledges three truths that can help you relax and develop your own approach to prayer:

1. Prayer can and should be different for each one of us. It’s personal and therefore adapted to our personalities, our responsibilities, our gifts.
2. Even the same person’s prayer will change over time. What was fruitful at one time may cease to be so later as God guides the soul deeper into the mystery of prayer. Likewise, methods of prayer that at one time seemed to bear no fruit may suddenly provide the soul with a banquet of grace.
3. Even at a particular stage of life, a person’s prayer is meant to be variegated rather than monotonous.

Some spiritual masters teach “a method” of prayer. De Sales does not teach one way. Rather, he teaches us many different ways to connect with God, a rich tapestry. He gets that the mystery of prayer is not “one size fits all.”

There are as many paths to prayer as there are persons who pray.—CCC 2672

The Battle of Prayer

If prayer has ever felt dry, distracted, or disappointing, that does not mean you are failing. It means you’re human. Prayer is a part of life, and life is sometimes dry, distracted, and disappointing. Mary assumed 12-year-old Jesus was in the caravan. She anxiously searched for him with Joseph. She was disappointed it took 3 days to find Him. She didn’t beat herself up or quit being a mother to Him. She started over, bringing Jesus back to Nazareth, “holding all these things in her heart.”

What pathways of prayer might already be in your heart?

A Rich Tapestry of Prayer

Let’s gather the 4 ways prayer enters your day.

1. Momentary prayers: These prayers take no extra time. They are not scheduled because their brevity allows them to be practiced in the midst of daily activities: school pickup, driving to soccer practice, nursing a baby, etc. They can be a glance of the heart or a few brief words spoken like “My God, I love you.”
2. Liturgical/group prayer: Uniting ourselves with our brothers and sisters in prayer can aid us in increasing our love for God and our desire to be more conformed to His will for us. For example, Mass or family rosary.
3. Scheduled or stacked prayers: scheduling a daily prayer time may seem impossible for moms with small children. An alternative is to “stack” prayer next to meal times, nap times or bed times. One suggestion is to keep something with you to read during times of waiting: Scripture, saints, spiritual masters, etc.
4. Divine inspirations: We cannot cause this form of communion with God but we can open ourselves to it. Once we have received an inspiration and discerned that it is good, we may welcome it, say “yes” to it, and follow it, and so follow where He is leading us.

When it comes to prayer, try everything—Teresa of Avila

You are free to discover what works for you… and keep coming back to it.

Conclusion

No matter your past, you were made to pray because you were made for Him. You have His permission to discover your own way to pray. If one way grows dry, try another. Keep showing up. Deep calls unto deep—and He is already calling you deeper.

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For Reflection questions and a place to journal, try this worksheet: Deep Calls Upon Deep: Growing in Prayer

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“Listen to your body.” 

You’ve probably heard that phrase in nearly every fitness class, wellness podcast, or health article. It sounds simple and wise, and often is; however, it’s also vague and can also be easily misunderstood.

For Catholics striving to honor God with their bodies, understanding this phrase correctly matters. The body is not something to dominate, nor is it something to obey blindly. It is a gift entrusted to us, one we are called to steward with wisdom.

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The Body Speaks—But Not in Words

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Our bodies communicate constantly through physical sensations: pain, tension, relaxation, burning, fatigue, nausea, or lightheadedness. These sensations provide us with real information; they deserve our attention and a thoughtful response. 

Listening to your body means paying attention to these signals with curiosity rather than judgment. Instead of reacting impulsively (“This is hard, I should stop” or “This hurts, I must push harder”), we pause and ask what we are feeling, why we might be feeling it, and what response would be wise in that moment.

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Listening isn’t always Obeying

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One of the biggest misconceptions is that listening to your body means always doing what it asks. But our bodies, like our emotions, can send mixed signals.

Fatigue, for instance, might mean you truly need rest, or it might mean you need gentle movement to increase circulation. The burning sensation in muscles during strength work can be a healthy sign of effort rather than a warning to quit, while sharp pain is often a clear signal to stop or modify.

Listening to your body does not mean letting emotions or sensations dictate truth. Our feelings and physical signals are important, but they are not infallible guides on their own. Similar to the spiritual life, where feelings must be weighed with reason and faith, our bodily sensations must be interpreted within the broader context of health, experience, and good judgment.

Listening, then, is not passive compliance; it is active discernment. Just as in prayer we learn to discern between consolation and desolation, in movement we learn to discern between discomfort that builds strength and pain that signals harm.

Growth almost always involves some level of discomfort. Muscles strengthen through resistance, flexibility increases when we stretch beyond our current range, and endurance develops when we remain with effort a little longer than feels easy. These sensations can feel intense but are often part of healthy adaptation.

Harm, however, speaks a different language. Sharp or stabbing pain, dizziness, nausea, joint instability, or sudden weakness are not invitations to push harder but signals to stop or adjust. Learning to distinguish between productive discomfort and warning signs is one of the most important skills a person can develop in fitness. It allows you to grow stronger while respecting the limits God designed into your body.

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A Catholic Perspective: Stewardship, Not Control

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Catholic tradition teaches that the body is a gift, not an enemy and not an idol. We are neither meant to neglect it nor obsess over it. Listening to your body, then, is an act of stewardship rather than a quest for control.

Stewardship asks different questions than self-optimization culture. Instead of “How can I get the most out of my body?” it asks, “Am I caring for this gift? Am I using it in a way that serves love? Am I respecting its limits?” This perspective frees us from two extremes: prideful pushing that ignores warning signs and comfort-seeking avoidance that resists growth. In their place, we approach training with gratitude, patience, and prudence.

Yet living this kind of stewardship is not always simple in a culture that constantly tells us to measure, track, and optimize ourselves. 

In a world filled with fitness watches and performance trackers, it can be tempting to outsource our awareness to data. These tools can be helpful, but they are not substitutes for attentiveness. A device can measure your pulse, steps, or sleep cycles, yet it cannot interpret your interior experience—your fatigue, tension, peace, or strain. 

When we rely exclusively on numbers, we risk silencing the quieter language of the body itself. Technology may serve our discernment, but it does not replace it. True listening means allowing bodily awareness, not just metrics, to guide our decisions.

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Practical Ways to Listen to your Body

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Learning to listen well is a skill that develops gradually, like training a muscle of attention. It requires intention and practice. Here are several ways to cultivate that habit more deeply during your fitness routine:

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Pause during your workout
Rather than rushing from one movement to the next, build in brief moments of awareness. A slow breath and a short mental scan of your body can reveal tension in your shoulders, tightness in your jaw, or fatigue in a muscle group you hadn’t noticed. These pauses aren’t interruptions; they are moments of insight that help you move more wisely and prevent strain before it begins.

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Gauge your exertion honestly

Many people unintentionally train at extremes—either barely challenging themselves or pushing to exhaustion every time. Learning to assess your effort level with honesty allows you to stay in that fruitful middle ground where growth happens. Most workouts should feel challenging but sustainable, leaving you worked yet steady rather than depleted or shaky. Over time, this self-awareness builds both physical endurance and interior honesty.

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Modify without guilt

Adjusting a movement to suit your body’s needs is not a sign of weakness but of maturity. Choosing a lighter weight, slowing your pace, or shortening a range of motion can be the difference between steady progress and injury. When you release the need to “keep up” with others or meet an imagined standard, you create space for authentic growth rooted in truth rather than pride.

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Invite prayer into bodily awareness.

‍Bringing prayer into your workout doesn’t pull you away from your body; it anchors you more deeply within it. Prayer can steady your attention and keep your mind from drifting into distractions, helping you inhabit the physical experience more fully, noticing breath, effort, and sensation with greater clarity. In this way, prayer actually strengthens your ability to listen, because it cultivates recollection: a calm, attentive presence that makes it easier to recognize what your body is truly communicating.

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Reflect afterward

The listening doesn’t end when the workout does. Taking a moment afterward to notice how you feel can be surprisingly revealing. Do you feel energized, peaceful, and strong—or drained, tense, and strained? Over time, these reflections form patterns that help you recognize what types of movement nourish you and what approaches might need adjusting. This reflection transforms exercise from a routine into a relationship with your body.

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Harmony Through Attentiveness

Sometimes the most faithful response in a workout is not pushing harder but stepping back. Rest is not failure; it is part of the rhythm woven into creation itself. Muscles repair during rest, the nervous system resets, and energy is restored. Ignoring the need for rest does not produce holiness or strength—it produces burnout. Choosing rest when your body truly needs it is an act of humility, acknowledging that you are a creature, not the Creator, and that limits are not defects but gifts that keep you rooted in truth.

This posture reveals the deeper goal of fitness: not domination, but harmony. Much of modern fitness culture speaks in terms of conquering the body or forcing it into submission, yet the Christian vision is more beautiful. We are not meant to fight our bodies but to cooperate with them.

In the end, “listening to your body” is more than fitness advice. It is a spiritual practice of attentiveness—learning to recognize the signals God built into you and responding with wisdom, prudence, and love.

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Lent calls Catholics to prayer, almsgiving, and fasting, which includes meatless Fridays and other days of abstinence. You might feel tempted to fall back on the same quick, carb-heavy standbys year after year; who doesn’t love pizza or the parish fish fry?

While those meals technically “count,” they don’t always support our bodies as well as they could during a season meant for greater intentionality.

Choosing nourishing, protein-packed meatless meals can be a practical way to live Lent well—caring for the bodies God has given us so we have the energy to pray, serve our families, and show up fully for our vocations. 

These healthy meatless meal ideas are designed with Catholic families in mind: simple, satisfying, and aligned with the spirit of Lent, helping you embrace sacrifice without sacrificing good nutrition.

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‍Breakfast

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‍Egg and veggie scramble with spinach, peppers, and cheese
A simple, satisfying breakfast that comes together quickly and keeps you full through the morning. Eggs provide high-quality protein, while vegetables add nutrients without weighing you down.

Greek yogurt parfaits with nuts, seeds, and berries
Greek yogurt offers a protein-rich base, while nuts and seeds add healthy fats for lasting energy. This is an easy option for busy mornings or light Lenten breakfasts.

Cottage cheese bowls with fruit and a drizzle of honey
Cottage cheese is an often-overlooked protein powerhouse that pairs beautifully with fresh fruit. A touch of honey adds just enough sweetness without turning breakfast into dessert.

Egg muffins baked with vegetables for an easy grab-and-go optionThese make-ahead egg muffins are perfect for meatless days when mornings are rushed. Packed with protein and vegetables, they’re an easy way to stay nourished without extra effort.

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Lunch

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These meals are easy to prep ahead and satisfying enough to carry you through a busy day:

Lentil soup with whole-grain bread
Lentils provide plant-based protein and fiber, making this a comforting and filling meal. Served with whole-grain bread, it’s a simple option that works well for lunch or dinner.

Chickpea salad with olive oil, lemon, and fresh herbs
Bright, fresh, and satisfying, chickpeas offer protein and substance without heaviness. This dish is ideal for light lunches or as a side on meatless days.

Tuna salad served on whole-grain toast or lettuce wraps
Tuna is a Lenten staple that delivers both protein and healthy fats. Serving it on whole-grain toast or in lettuce wraps keeps the meal balanced and versatile.

Black bean and rice bowls topped with avocado and cheese
Beans and rice form a complete protein, making this a hearty and reliable meatless meal. Avocado and cheese add richness that helps the dish feel truly satisfying.

Grilled cheese paired with a high-protein tomato or white bean soup
A familiar comfort food made more nourishing when paired with a protein-rich soup. This combination is perfect for family-friendly meatless lunches or dinners.

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Dinner

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Perfect for meatless Fridays, these dinners are hearty without being heavy:

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Baked salmon with roasted vegetables and quinoa
Salmon is an excellent protein choice for meatless Fridays, offering healthy fats that support energy and fullness. Paired with quinoa and vegetables, this meal feels both nourishing and celebratory.

Shrimp stir-fry with mixed vegetables over rice
Shrimp cooks quickly and provides lean protein, making it ideal for busy evenings. Stir-fried with vegetables, it’s a colorful and satisfying Lenten dinner.

Vegetarian chili made with beans and lentils
Hearty and warming, vegetarian chili is a Lent favorite that feeds a crowd. Beans and lentils make it protein-packed and perfect for meatless Fridays or leftovers.

Fish tacos with cabbage slaw and crema
Fish tacos are a fun way to keep meatless Fridays from feeling repetitive. The protein-rich fish and crunchy slaw make this a light yet filling dinner option.

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A faithful friend is a strong defense:

whoever has found one has found a treasure. —Sirach 6:14

The first step of our spiritual health is to be purified. --St. Francis de Sales, Introduction to the Devout Life

[Note: While I will be using the masculine pronouns when speaking of a spiritual guide, the Christian faith has known many women to act as guides, even to priests. These include Catherine of Siena, Teresa of Avila, and Therese of Lisieux, just to name some of the most illustrious examples.]

Moses and Jethro

Moses sat to judge the people and the people stood before Moses from morning to evening.

When Jethro saw this, he quipped: “What are you doing? Why do you sit alone, and the people stand before you from morning to evening?”

Moses answered, “Because the people come to me to enquire of God. When they have a matter, they come to me, and I judge between one and another, and I make them know God’s statutes and laws.”

Jethro answered, “What you are doing makes no sense…” (Exodus 18:13-17)

Introduction

In light of the symbolism of Baptism, purification is an essential dimension of the Christian journey. This purification can take many forms in the various physical and spiritual penances handed on in the two thousand years of Christian life witnessed by the saints and taught by the doctors of the faith. However, one stands out as pre-eminent in the mind of St. Francis de Sales: submission to a spiritual guide. Before listing several saints who held fast to this practice, he mentions an episode from the life of Teresa of Avila in which she was contemplating disobeying her spiritual director to engage in the extreme penances she saw Catherine of Cardona practice. This is what Jesus told her:

My daughter, you are in a way that is good and safe.

Do you see the penance [Catherine of Cardona] is doing?

But I value your obedience [to your spiritual guide] more.

This moment in Teresa’s life raises a question many sincere Christians eventually ask—one that touches the heart of our desire to follow God faithfully.

Why would I need a spiritual guide?

Scripture itself anticipates this question and answers it with remarkable simplicity. When Tobias was ordered to go to Rages, he confided to his blind Father Tobit, “I do not know the way.” Tobit’s answer to his son was simple: “Go, and find someone to be your guide.” (see Tobit 5)

Life’s journey is long, and we do not know the way. Still more, it is filled with unforeseen pitfalls and dangers, twists and turns. Even as we progress, our enemy becomes more cunning. Faced with such a journey, one might ask…

When you put it that way, what hope is there for me?

To this, Jesus might say something like, “Alone you would have much to fear and perhaps even good reason to despair… but you are not alone. And when you need help, I shall offer it to you through My chosen instrument.”

If Jesus does not leave us to walk alone, what does He offer us through a guide?

In a word, certainty. God’s will can be difficult to discover, and even once discovered can be followed with hesitation or hedging. As Teresa of Avila notes, “You will never find God’s will with more certainty than by following this path of humble obedience.”

Our salvation depends on our decisions, our responses to God’s grace.

Our decisions depend on discernment.

Discernment depends on seeing, accepting, and responding to Truth.

This certainty does not remain abstract; it touches every dimension of our lives:

• What is good in you, your guide will strengthen.

• What is bad in you, your guide will correct and cure.

• In good times, your guide will save you from over-confidence and laxity.

• In bad times, your guide will raise you up and give you the courage to carry on.

What if I choose poorly?

Of course, a gift so powerful also demands prudence. A bad guide can be a nightmare. That is why St. Francis advises us to choose one among a thousand, or even among ten thousand. No less than Teresa of Avila herself was tempted to give up her spiritual growth under the heavy hand of Fr. Gaspar Daza, a priest renowned for his holiness. It was thanks to her encounters with the Jesuit Fr. Diego de Cetina that she gained the strength and certainty to continue praying as she battled her sins.

How do I choose wisely?

Like all good gifts from above, you must first ask your Father.

Then you must do what you already know: pray, seek virtue, and make good decisions.

Third, you must test those God places on your path:

1. Is this person discreet? Do they make good decisions?

2. Is he wise, able to see beyond appearances to the truth of things?

3. Is he full of charity? Does he love God, his fellow man, and even his enemies?

Does my spiritual guide need to be a priest or minister?

While this can be helpful, God has raised up both men and women-whether priests, religious, or laity-to serve as spiritual guides. The important thing is that your guide has some core competencies that you can check for yourself.

How do I test these candidates for spiritual guidance?

Discernment does not end with a single prayer or decision.

First, you may observe them to see if they are living the faith themselves.

Second, you may converse with them. Ask them questions. Seek their counsel. Perhaps at first about some very small matters. And if they show proficiency, test them again with a weightier matter.

If what he tells you is not a sin, even if it is not the path you would have followed, consider taking his advice and looking for the fruits: love, joy, peace, strength, certainty, etc.

What do I do when I find someone to guide me?

1. Give thanks to God.

2. Meet regularly with this person as long as circumstances allow.

3. Treat him as God’s chosen instrument for you. Tell him everything with confidence. Obey him in all things with reverence.

Moses and Jethro Continued

Scripture now returns to where we began, offering a final, decisive lesson:

“What you are doing makes no sense. You and this people will wear away for this task is too heavy for you, and you can’t perform it alone.

You need time to pray before God.

You must teach God’s people His laws before issues come up.

You shall appoint able men who fear God, men of truth, hating covetousness, and make them judges… and all small matters they shall judge…

If you do this, then you shall endure, and all this people shall journey in peace.”

(cf. Exodus 18:17-23)

Moses spoke face to face with God. Moses was the humblest man on earth. Moses could judge rightly the most convoluted cases of others. There was only one spot where Moses was blind, a fool, in need of a guide: himself.

It’s not even that he saw the problem, but couldn’t find a solution. He couldn’t even see the problem, because the problem had become normal. As the old saying goes, “To a worm in horseradish, the whole world is horseradish.”

If Moses had continued doing as he’d always done, he could’ve destroyed himself and God’s people. Thanks be to God for Jethro and the purification of truth he proved for Moses. Thanks be to God for spiritual guides—and for the humility to receive them.

If you are someone who benefits from worksheets, here is one for discerning a spiritual guide.

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We hear phrases like “practicing Catholic” or “Catholic in full communion with the Church” in many places—on sacramental forms, in parish life, or in conversation—and yet many Catholics aren’t entirely sure what those phrases mean.

At its heart, being a practicing Catholic isn’t about checking boxes; it is about living in a real, ongoing relationship with Christ through His Church. It means belonging fully to His Body, receiving the life of grace He offers, and striving each day to walk as His disciple.

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Every Catholic’s life in the Church starts at the batismal font. Through this sacrament, we are incorporated into Christ, made members of His Church, and given the seed of a lifelong journey of faith. 

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But Baptism is only the beginning. The Church teaches that a Catholic is fully initiated through all three Sacraments of Initiation: Baptism, Confirmation, and the Eucharist. Confirmation strengthens and seals the grace of Baptism, rooting us more deeply as children of God and empowering us with the gifts of the Holy Spirit. The Eucharist, the “source and summit of the Christian life,” nourishes us with Christ Himself and binds us in living communion with the Church. These three sacraments together form the foundation of what it means to live as a Catholic, and they shape the rest of our spiritual journey.

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Full communion with the Church also means embracing the core teachings of the Catholic faith. This does not mean you will never struggle with a particular teaching or never ask questions. However, a Catholic in good standing approaches these struggles within the Church, trusting that the faith handed down from the apostles is a trustworthy expression of God’s revelation. Rather than rejecting teachings outright, we seek understanding, clarity, and formation, believing that the Church teaches not to restrict us, but to lead us closer to Christ and to the fullness of life.

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One of the most visible signs of being a practicing Catholic is faithful participation in the sacramental life, especially Sunday Mass. The Church teaches that attending Mass on Sundays and holy days of obligation is a foundational commitment for every Catholic, not because God keeps score, but because He knows we need the grace that flows from the Eucharist. 

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The Catechism expresses this clearly in the Precepts of the Church (CCC 2041–2043), which are meant to be a “minimum” for growing in love of God and neighbor. These precepts include: 

• Attending Mass on Sundays and Holy Days
• Confessing your sins at least once a year
• Receiving the Eucharist during the Easter season
• Observing days of fasting and abstinence established by the Church, 
• Providing for the material needs of the Church according to one’s abilities.

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These are not burdens but rather, simple, concrete ways to ensure that our spiritual lives stay rooted in God and connected to the community of faith.

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Living in full communion also means striving, with God’s grace, to live a moral life. None of us do this perfectly, yet a practicing Catholic continually turns toward God, avoiding serious sin, forming the conscience according to the Church’s teachings, and seeking forgiveness when we fall. 

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Confession is not just an obligation; it is a gift that restores us to grace and helps us walk forward with renewed strength. Similarly, the Eucharist is not only a sign of unity with Christ but also a sign of unity with the Church. Receiving it worthily expresses our desire to remain in communion with the Lord and with one another.

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Living in full communion with the Church also requires remaining within the visible unity of the Church—communion with the pope, with one’s local bishop, and with the parish community where one worships and receives the sacraments. This visible unity isn’t simply institutional; it is sacramental. Christ entrusted real authority to His apostles and their successors to teach, sanctify, and shepherd His people. Staying united to them is part of staying united to Christ Himself.

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Finally, being a practicing Catholic is lived out in the daily rhythm of life. It shows in prayer, in acts of charity, in our marriages, in raising children in the faith, and in witnessing to Christ in our homes, workplaces, and communities. Full communion is not only about what happens inside a church building but the way we allow our faith and the sacraments to shape the way we speak, act, and love.

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To be a Catholic in full communion with the Church is to stand firmly within the heart of Christ’s Body. Full communion means belonging to Christ, to His Church, and to the community of believers who journey together toward the life He promises. It is, in every sense, being truly at home in God’s family.

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The Christmas season is beautiful—but it’s also busy. Between travel, family gatherings, late nights, special foods, and joyful disruptions to ordinary life, it’s completely normal for your regular habits to slip a bit. Prayer rhythms shift, workout routines loosen, and nutrition gets… well, more festive.

When the decorations come down and the calendar turns toward Ordinary Time, many of us feel the desire for a fresh start. The good news? You don’t need a “perfect” plan or heroic willpower to reclaim your routine. You just need a gentle reset rooted in peace, clarity, and intention.

Here’s how to step back into a sustainable rhythm:

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Begin with a Reset, not a Reinvention.

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January doesn’t require you to become a brand-new version of yourself. Often, the healthiest thing you can do is return to the habits that were already serving you well. Ask yourself: What did I feel best doing before the holiday season began? 

Maybe it was a short morning stretch, praying the Daily Examen before bed, or cooking simple whole-food meals during the week. Start there. Your body and soul remember the patterns that nourish you.

Don’t try to overhaul your life in one week; embrace the slow re-entry.

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Anchor yourself with something small (and achievable!)

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If you’ve fallen out of all routine, choose one small anchor habit to reestablish, like a 10-minute Pietra Fitness class before the kids wake up, a cup of water before coffee, five minutes of quiet prayer after you light a candle, or a walk after dinner.

These habits re-establish order and remind you that you are capable of showing up consistently. Consistency beats intensity every time.

Move your body in ways that feel good again.

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After days of travel, rich meals, and irregular schedules, your body is probably craving gentle, restorative movement.

Start with classes that stretch, awaken, and re-align rather than push you to the edge. Pietra Fitness offers exactly this kind of balance—workouts that strengthen the body while grounding the mind in Scripture and breath. A few sessions can be enough to shake off stiffness and rekindle your motivation.

If you need help finding structure or guidance in building your Fitness routine again, the Pietra Fitness Online Studio offers hundreds of classes ranging from short stretches to full-body strength workouts.

Whether you’re easing back into movement or ready to build momentum, there’s a class that will meet you right where you are.

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Re-center nutrition with nourishment 

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Skip the “I need to undo the holidays” mentality. You don’t. Instead, give your body what it’s likely craving now: plenty of water, vegetables with dinner, regular mealtimes, protein at breakfast, and fewer sweets.

Think of yourself as gently guiding your appetite back into order. This is the season of returning to normalcy, not making up for anything.

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Rebuild your prayer rhythm with simplicity

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Spiritual routines often shift during the holidays, too—sometimes beautifully, sometimes chaotically. To reclaim your prayer rhythm, keep it simple: return to a favorite prayer you neglected, set a specific place in your home where prayer happens, attach prayer to an existing habit (Morning Offering with your first cup of coffee, for example).

And if you feel rusty? Excellent. God loves being welcomed into ordinary life again.

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Embrace Ordinary Time’s gift of stability

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The Church gives us seasons of feasting and seasons of steady, holy work. Ordinary Time is an invitation to rebuild structure and strengthen virtue through daily faithfulness.

Let this season be your invitation to return to healthy rhythms, show up for yourself in small, steady ways, rediscover peace in routine.

Reclaiming your routine after the holidays is not about erasing the joy of the last few weeks. It’s about returning to the steady, nourishing habits that help you live your vocation well—body, mind, and soul.

Start small. Stay consistent. Give yourself grace. And step into this new season with renewed strength.

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Begin with the end in mind.—Steven Covey, 7 Habits of Highly Effective People

Note: This begins a year-long series on some of the key teachings of St. Francis de Sales’ masterpiece Introduction to the Devout Life. Here I will use the term “holiness” where most translations use “devotion.”

One day Diogenes, a disciple of Socrates, was walking backwards through the marketplace in Athens. Since it was the busiest time of day, he inevitably ran into someone. That someone was Gorgias. Shocked and indignant, Gorgias exclaimed, “What are you doing?!” Calmly, Diogenes answered: “I’m doing with my body what you’re doing with your soul.”

Like Gorgias, we can live without paying attention to what matters most: our souls’ holiness. How easy it can be to focus on things that don’t ultimately matter in life: Quarterly evaluations, kids’ grades, spouse’s comments, friends’ judgments, home décor, beach bod, meager paycheck, church fundraisers.

From the light of reason alone, without the benefit of Christian (or Jewish) faith, this ancient Greek philosopher, Diogenes, believed the human soul was the most important thing in the world, and that virtue, aka holiness, was the greatest good of the soul.

Following in the footsteps of de Sales, the Second Vatican Council teaches that all men are called by God to be holy. This is the goal of our lives. This is what we’re made for. But what is holiness? Is it desirable or depressing? And still more, is it even for us today? These 3 questions are at the foundation of Introduction to the Devout Life.

The Blueprint Problem: What Is Holiness, Really?

Holiness is the perfection of charity. Charity is the love of God that moves us to do the good. As charity’s perfection, holiness moves us to do the good carefully, frequently, and promptly.

We all have an idea in our minds of what holiness is. The first problem Francis addresses is not that we don’t know what it is, but that our ideas about holiness are wrong. As Mark Twain said, “It ain’t what you don’t know that gets you into trouble. It’s what you know that just ain’t so.” Here are some examples from de Sales:

• He who is in the habit of fasting will think that because he fasts he is very holy, even though his heart is filled with hatred… speaking ill of his neighbor with false statements.
• Another considers himself holy because of the great number of prayers he recites every day, even though soon after this, he speaks words that are annoying, full of pride, and hurtful to his family and neighbors.
• Another very gladly opens his purse to give alms to the poor, but can’t take any gentleness from his heart to forgive his enemies.
• Yet another will forgive his enemies but will not pay his debts unless legally forced to do so.
• All such persons are generally looked upon as holy, but in reality they are not… They are no more than statues or illusions of holiness.

Holiness and charity are not differences of kind, but of degree. To use an analogy, a hen flies short distances with great effort. An eagle soars for miles with ease.

Charity is spiritual flapping. Holiness is spiritual soaring.

If grace is a spark and charity is a fire, then devotion is a white-hot flame.

Another time Diogenes interviewed Tyresias the merchant. After listening to Tyresias spend an hour explaining the virtues of various fabrics, Diogenes commented impertinently: You know so precisely the value of your goods, how do you not know the value of your soul?

The Discouragement Problem: Is Holiness Desirable or Depressing?

Once our misconceptions are cleared away, there’s still the question: do we want to be holy? Those in touch with the world see the sacrifices saints make and the pleasures they reject and may conclude their lives are bitter, depressing, unbearable. They assume that if holiness is important, then it is serious, and if it is serious, then it is sad.

There have been a few sad and serious saints, but they were not saints because they were sad, and hardly because they were serious. Nor would it take much research into the saints to stumble across a St. Francis of Assisi singing of “perfect elation” or a St. Philip Neri who kept a book of jokes in his pocket so he wouldn’t float off into ecstasy. Holiness is not dreary.

De Sales teaches that holiness is the best thing there is:

• Holiness is the delight of delights and the queen of virtues since it is the perfection of charity…
• If charity is milk, holiness is its cream.
• If it is a plant, holiness is its flower.
• If it is a jewel, holiness is its luster.
• If it is precious balm, holiness is its perfume…

Holiness carries with it a secret: Whatever may seem bitter in following our Lord, holiness makes sweet like a bee drawing forth bitter thyme nectar and transforming it into delicious honey. The reality is that life is harder NOT striving to be a saint. Life will still send us plenty of struggles, but we will not have God’s strength, wisdom, and love to sustain us. If our struggles in life are so hard with the Almighty’s help, do they not become impossible without it?

But what if holiness is good, the best thing there is, and it’s impossible for me?

The Mismatch Problem: Is Holiness for Me?

It is possible to believe holiness is “not for me” because the forms of holiness presented to us don’t fit, just as we may not fit in another’s pair of shoes. Like our footwear, devotion is different for a workman than for a CEO, for a widow than a wife, for a wife than for an unmarried woman, etc.

De Sales goes on to say: “Even more than this, the practice of devotion has to be adapted to the strength, the life-situation, and the duties of every individual.” Holiness is not 1-size-fits-all. It’s not a cookie-cutter, a box we all fit in, or a checklist. Holiness is differentiated, adapted, personalized, tailored to fit you perfectly and no one else quite like you.

In Genesis 1:11, God orders the trees to produce fruit, each one according to its kind. He doesn’t tell the apple tree to grow figs or the lemon tree to bring forth pineapples. He didn’t make you one way to call you to be the opposite. He wants to purify, perfect, and elevate who you are as He did with these three ladies:

• Therese of Lisieux was sensitive to the point of hysteria before she was a saint. She was both more sensitive and more calm after she was a saint.
• Teresa of Avila could talk anyone’s ear off before she was a saint. She was just as talkative, but with more to say, after she was a saint.
• Mother Teresa had a heart for the poor before she was a saint. That heart grew beyond the bounds of imagination when she became a saint.

God calls us to be the way He made us to be. He calls us to be our “perfected” selves: strong, wise, loving, vibrant, free, unshakeable, unrelenting, in tune with the Holy Spirit. And perhaps many things that seem to us to be “problems” with our personalities are saving graces if we allow them to be perfected by Him.

The biggest mistake we can make in our journey to holiness is to try to be someone we’re not. Don’t do that. Don’t fall into that trap. Be you the way He made you to be.

One day a man came to Athens to meet Diogenes:

“I am Alexander” (Yes, the Emperor Alexander the Great)

“I am Diogenes”

“I have heard much of your wisdom. Ask me a boon, and I shall grant it.”

“Could you please step aside? You’re blocking my sun.”

Alexander went away marveling to his entourage: “If I were not Alexander, I would wish to be Diogenes.”

Alexander was meant to be Alexander.

Diogenes was meant to be Diogenes.

Who were you meant to be?

“In the coming world, they will not ask me, ‘Why were you not Moses?’ They will ask me, ‘Why were you not Zusya?’” —Rabbi Zusya in Brothers Karamazov

Over the next 12 months, are you willing to explore what holiness might mean for you and try some things that are outside your comfort zone to see if they can help you to grow in holiness?

___ Yes           ___ No

If you’d like a little help reflecting deeper on this, check out the worksheet here.

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By the time December 26 rolls around, the world has already moved on. Christmas music disappears from the radio, trees head to the curb, and neighbors begin packing away their lights. But the Church—the ever patient keeper of time—invites us into something richer, slower, and more beautiful: the Christmas Octave.

For Catholics, Christmas isn’t just one day. It is eight full days of solemn celebration, each one treated as though it were Christmas Day itself. The octave stretches from December 25 through January 1, culminating in the Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God. In a culture that rushes past the feast as soon as the wrapping paper is thrown away, the octave offers us a countercultural way to savor the mystery of the Incarnation.

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Octaves are ancient traditions in the Church, moments when a feast is so profound that a single day cannot contain its glory. Christmas and Easter—our two greatest mysteries—receive this extended celebration as a reminder that God’s work unfolds over time, not in an instant.

Every day of the Christmas Octave is a “mini-Christmas,” a chance to ponder anew the tenderness of God-made-flesh. The Church surrounds us with rich feast days—St. Stephen, St. John the Evangelist, the Holy Innocents, the Holy Family—each one illuminating a different facet of Christ’s coming.

Because the world tends to pack up Christmas early, it’s easy for us to slip into the same mindset. But keeping the octave holy helps us stay rooted in the rhythm of the Church rather than the pace of culture. Instead of letting Christmas end with the closing of a gift bag, we intentionally stretch out the joy, gratitude, and wonder of the season.

Honoring the octave doesn’t mean we need to maintain a frenzy of celebrations. It simply means we continue to behold the mystery with reverence and let the grace of Christmas soak in slowly.

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Simple Ways to Keep the Christmas Octave Holy

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Here are a few meaningful, prayerful, and manageable ways to extend your celebration beyond December 25:

• Pray before the Nativity scene each day. Spend a few minutes quietly contemplating the Christ Child, allowing the simplicity of the manger to speak to your heart.
  
  
• Attend Daily Mass for one or more days of the octave—each liturgy is celebrated as a solemn feast.
  
  
• Celebrate the saints of the octave by reading their stories or praying to them.
  
  
• Pray the Joyful Mysteries of the rosary. These mysteries beautifully echo the themes of the octave.
  
  
• Make space for stillness. Slow afternoons, quiet cups of tea, or gentle walks can help you remain in a posture of wonder.
  
  
• Practice an act of charity in honor of the Christ Child—write a note to someone who is grieving, donate to a local ministry, or check in on a neighbor.
  
  
• Keep your decorations up as a visible reminder that the season is still alive and unfolding.
  
  
• Choose one day for intentional family time, even something simple: a board game, a movie night, or a meal eaten slowly together.

The octave invites us not to rush the mystery but to let it shape our hearts. God came quietly, humbly, slowly—hidden in the smallness of a newborn. And He invites us to receive Him the same way: not all at once, but day by day.

As we move through these eight days of joyful solemnity, may the Church’s wisdom guide our hearts to rest, rejoice, and remain in the grace of Christmas. Don’t let December 26 feel like an ending. It’s only the beginning of the feast.

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