One thing we all share: we can, should, and have an obligation to pray.

At least speaking for myself, I tend to think of myself on the receiving end of God’s graces. During our own times of trial and temptation, we receive help from people we’ll never know — whose prayers are quietly at work in our lives.

But there’s another dimension to prayer that I don’t always think about: our prayers can obtain grace for other members of the Body of Christ. Not just the people we name in prayer, but people we’ll never meet, people in purgatory.

That moment we stick it out in morning prayer, or pray a Rosary we don’t feel like praying — God can use those offerings, those small sacrifices, to benefit someone else entirely.

We have an opportunity to be not just prayer recipients, but prayer warriors.

Let us pray. Lord, help us to pray not just for ourselves, but for the whole Body of Christ. Use our small offerings for the good of others, known and unknown. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

Talk to God about your kids more than you talk to your kids about God.

With five kids ten and under, I have no shortage of behaviors I’d like to curb or habits I’d like to help form. And by the end of the day, I notice how many of my interactions have felt nitpicky. Correcting this, redirecting that. It adds up.

Lately, I’ve been reflecting on: when do I need to say something — and when do I need to keep my mouth shut and bring it to the Lord instead? When do I need to trust that He’s got this, and that my job in that moment is to pray, not to lecture?

My vocation as a father is real and it matters. But it isn’t only about getting my kids to chew with their mouths closed or even to make good decisions. It’s also to pray for them. To bring them to God. To ask their guardian angels for help.

That’s part of the job too. Maybe the most important part.

Let us pray. Lord, help us to bring our kids — and the people we love — to You before we try to fix them ourselves. Give us wisdom to know when to speak and when to pray. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

Depending on our upbringing — depending on what fatherhood looked like for us, good or bad — it can be easy to keep God at a certain distance. We know He is our Father. But there’s a difference between our Father and my Father.

In my own prayer recently, that distinction hit me. How personal this relationship actually is. Not just a Father to humanity, not just a Father to the Church — but my Father.

In Scripture, Jesus calls God Abba. It’s an intimate word. Some translate it as Daddy. Maybe Papa, or just Dad, would be more relevant to us. Whatever word carries that weight for you — the word a child uses when he knows he is loved and safe — that’s the word.

If that’s never come naturally, that’s okay. However we get there, that’s the invitation: to approach God not just as the Father, but as my Father.

Maybe sit with that in prayer today.

Let us pray. Father — thank You for claiming us as Your own. Help us to know You not just as the Father, but as ours, as mine. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us

For those of us who are parents, it’s easy to get caught up in behavior, in getting kids to listen, in the daily management of a household. And all of that matters. But so does this: do our kids know that we delight in them?

For those who aren’t parents, there’s still something here — maybe something even more personal.

This is how God the Father looks at us. He delights in us. In you. Not just when you’re behaving well, not just when your prayer life is consistent, not just when you’re getting it right. He delights in you because you are His.

Maybe you’ve never experienced that from a human father. Maybe that kind of delight has always felt just out of reach. It’s worth bringing that to prayer — to sit with the fact that the God of the universe looks at you the way a father looks at a child he can’t help but love.

The Father delights in you.

Let us pray. Heavenly Father, help us to receive Your love. Thank You for delighting in us. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

I’ve had seasons where things were tight — financially uncertain, professionally unstable, not sure how it was all going to work out. In those moments, the question that kept coming up was simple: who are you trusting? When the security isn’t there, you find out pretty quickly where your trust actually lives.

But I’ve also had seasons where things were going well. Some ideas started to land. A little more stability, a little more success. And I found the question didn’t go away — it just changed shape. It became less about trust and more about worth. Where do I find my worth? In the success? In what I’ve built? In the stability itself?

I think that’s actually two different ways these Gospel stories can reach us.

When times are hard, they ask us: who are you trusting?

When times are good, they ask us: where are you finding your worth?

Let us pray. Lord, help us to trust in You alone — in plenty and in want. And remind us that our worth comes from You, not from anything we could ever earn or own. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

But honestly, it’s not unique to big families. It’s just what happens when you live with other humans. There can be conflict, tension, disagreement.

Something we’ve been coming back to lately — relevant for kids, but really for anyone — is this deep human need to feel seen, heard, and loved. And how often the way to communicate those things is surprisingly simple.

Eye contact. A smile. A pat on the back. A hug.

It doesn’t take much. But sometimes the littlest things make the biggest difference.

Let us pray. Lord, help us to see the people around us — really see them. Give us the small gestures of love that remind them they are not invisible. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

What struck me over the past couple of months is how many parables and miracles we heard at Mass. And how familiar they’ve become. So familiar, in some ways, that they can start to feel — ordinary.

But look at how our Lord teaches. Look at what He uses. Farmers and seeds. Fishermen and nets. A woman searching her house for a lost coin. He performs miracles around food, around storms, around the weather. The stuff of everyday life.

It’s a reminder that our faith is not meant to be lived separately from our ordinary life — our work, our home, our families, our daily needs. The Lord belongs in all of it. He’s not just waiting for us in the extraordinary moments. He’s present in the ordinary ones.

Let us pray. Lord, help us to find You in the ordinary — the small moments of each day. Open our eyes to Your presence right where we are. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

I prayed it every day for four years, and then seemingly forgot about it for over a decade. I’ve been rediscovering it lately.

One of the real differences between childhood and adulthood — is what it actually means to be generous. As a teenager, those were just words. As an adult – married with kids, or single – they land differently. There are more responsibilities, more opportunities to give of yourself. And you learn what that actually means.

Let us pray. Lord Jesus, teach me to be generous. Teach me to serve You as You deserve to be served, to give and not to count the cost, to fight and not to heed the wounds, to toil and not to seek rest, to labor and not to seek reward. Except that, knowing that I do Your will. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

It’s easy to build a list. Daily Mass. A daily Rosary. Adoration. The Divine Mercy Chaplet. The Angelus. Bible in a Year. This spiritual book, that one. All of it good. All of it worth doing.

But there’s nothing that says we have to do all of it every single day.

There’s such a thing as a daily routine — but also a weekly routine and a monthly routine. Some practices are meant to anchor every morning. Others are better suited to once a week, or once a month. The goal isn’t to check every box by sundown. The goal is a sustainable life of prayer that actually grows over time.

Not everything all at once.

Let us pray. Lord, help us to build a prayer life that is faithful and sustainable — one that draws us closer to You, day by day. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

“When we meet again, I can promise you that there will be no wasted moments. Every minute spent with you will be nothing less than a gift to be cherished. I have found that it isn’t necessary to be always doing: talking, eating, walking, dancing, swimming. There are many times I want only to know your presence, to hear you moving around, to see you next to me. There are many ways of loving. Perhaps the simplest are the most satisfying.”

There’s something here for our relationships — marriages, friendships, family. But there’s also something here for our relationship with God.

We can feel like prayer has to be productive. That we need to be doing something — reading, reciting, interceding. And none of that is bad. But sometimes, loving God looks like simply sitting with Him. Acknowledging His presence. Letting that be enough.

There are many ways of loving. Perhaps the simplest are the most satisfying.

Let us pray. Lord, help us to simply be with You today — not just to do, but to rest in Your presence. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

The Transfiguration has always been one of the easier ones for me. It’s miraculous, yes — but it’s also intimate. Awesome in the truest sense of the word.

If you have time today, read the Gospel account. Place yourself there. Be with Peter, James, and John on that mountain. Be in the Lord’s presence as He appears in His glory — however your imagination depicts that. Let yourself encounter Him in His humanity and in His divinity, all at once.

Just be there with Him.

Let us pray. Lord, give us a glimpse of Your glory, and draw us closer to You. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

In our world today, these words are deeply counter-cultural. The secular world peddles the exact opposite — love without sacrifice. Love without consequence, without demands.

But if we’re honest, that desire lives in us too. In our marriages, in our relationships with our kids. Loving others is hard, and when it stops feeling like sunshine and rainbows, it’s tempting to check out, make excuses, bend the rules. We fall for the lie that love can exist without sacrifice.

Now — what about when it comes to our faith?

We want our prayers answered. We want blessings. We want salvation. But are we willing to pay the price for those graces? Are we willing to change our ways?

In other words — we want Christ. But are we willing to accept the Cross?

Let us pray. Lord, give us the courage to love the way You love — without conditions, without holding back, even when it costs us something. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

Courage doesn’t mean we aren’t afraid. In fact, an action isn’t truly courageous unless fear is present. The courageous person does the right thing because it’s right — even while afraid to do it.

In a similar way, we might assume that living a holy, virtuous life means eventually outgrowing temptation. That if we just grow enough spiritually, temptation fades away. That’s not true either. Spiritual growth only happens in the face of resistance. The saints are a testament to this — the holier they became, the fiercer the battle.

We will be tempted every day. We will be tempted until our final breath. The question is what we do when temptation comes. Do we strike back with a virtuous act — courageously, even when it’s hard? Or do we give in to the vices that poke and prod us?

Let us pray. Lord, give us courage — not the absence of fear, but the strength to do what is right in spite of it. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

But amidst all of it, there are gaps. Small lulls. A few minutes here and there.

And nowadays, those gaps get filled with one thing: our phones. Any time there’s a pause, it’s become almost instinctual to reach for the screen. There’s a twitch, an impulse. We don’t even think about it.

It’s a habit worth breaking.

Here’s a simple place to start: the next time there’s a lull, lift your mind to God instead. Reflect on a Scripture verse. Say a Hail Mary. Picture Jesus sitting right next to you. Let Him fill those moments rather than a glowing screen.

The gaps are already there. It’s just a question of what we put in them.

Let us pray. Lord, help us to turn to You in the small moments — not just the big ones. Fill the quiet spaces of our day with Your presence. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

We move houses, move towns. Our families grow. Friends come and go. We switch parishes. A favorite priest gets transferred. And we ourselves change — in ways we don’t always see coming.

That makes us different. Not just our circumstances, but us.

And yet, one thing has not and will never change: our call to holiness.

Holiness, simply put, is conforming to the will of God. That’s it. And no amount of change — no new address, no new season of life, no loss or transition — touches that call.

Change isn’t always easy. But it doesn’t have to be bad, either. The phases of life that feel most unsettled are often the ones where the most growth happens. Use them. Let them draw you closer to Christ.

Let us pray. Lord, in every season and every change, keep us fixed on You. Help us to conform our lives to Your will, no matter what shifts around us. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

Think about the world from a child’s perspective. Walking along a path at a local park is an adventure. Everything is fascinating — sticks, rocks, a puddle, a bug. Things they’ve passed a hundred times. They react to each one like it’s the first time they’ve ever seen it.

That awe comes naturally to children. A kid could find a thousand sticks on a single walk and still rejoice at every one.

There’s a parallel here for how God sees us. He rejoices over us every single time we acknowledge His presence. But there’s also a lesson for us adults. We live in an amazing world. We have families, homes, faith — gifts beyond counting. How often do we stop to acknowledge any of it?

Maybe instead of fixating on what we don’t have, we start with what we do.

Even the sticks and the rocks.

Let us pray. Lord, open our eyes to the gifts You’ve placed all around us. Give us the heart of a child — quick to notice, quick to rejoice. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

Strange, right? Shouldn’t we be avoiding challenges, trials, and temptations? Why be grateful for them?

Because our lives are full of struggles whether we like it or not — and God uses them to help us grow. In fact, struggles are a sign of His love. They mean He wants more for us than what we already are.

The only way to grow in holiness is to be challenged and stretched. It doesn’t just happen. God doesn’t make the transition for us — we have to work for our shot at sainthood.

Think of it this way. Maybe there’s been a time you wanted to get stronger or run faster, but the weights and the treadmill sounded awful. Without the struggle of actually doing the work, those goals stay goals. We need the resistance to grow.

The same is true in the spiritual life.

So the next time life’s struggles are getting you down, give some thought to how God might be using them — to make you better, to grow in virtue, to draw you closer to Him.

Let us pray. Lord, help us to be grateful even for the struggles — trusting that You are using them to shape us into who You made us to be. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

St. Paul nails it.

We know what sin is. We know it’s wrong, bad for us, and damaging to our relationship with God. And yet — we still do it anyway.

It’s not like we wake up each morning thinking, “Today I’ll sever my relationship with God.” It’s subtler than that. We get lax. We get tempted. We wander. And before we know it, we’re somewhere we didn’t intend to be.

So where does sin lurk in our own lives? Where are we most tempted?

It starts with the little things. It’s rarely one dramatic fall — it’s the small compromises, the small indulgences, the small moments of inattention that lead us down the path. That’s where we need to be vigilant.

To combat sin, we have to keep our guard up. We have to know where it lurks and see it for what it is. And in those moments — in all moments, really — we call on our Lord and our Lady for the grace to persevere.

Let us pray. Lord, help us to see clearly where we are most vulnerable, and give us the grace to stand firm. Our Lady, pray for us. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

Chances are, you’ve already heard it all. Between Mass, Scripture, Catholic school, and religious education, most of us have a pretty solid idea of what we should do, what’s right versus wrong, and how God is asking us to live. There’s always room for discernment — but the broad strokes? We know them.

And that’s the critical point. Knowing isn’t enough. Hearing isn’t enough. We have to take the teachings of Jesus Christ and actually live them. There are actions that must follow.

Christ Himself says it plainly: “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven.” (Matthew 7:21)

A true disciple hears — and does.

Let us pray. Lord, move us from knowledge to action. Help us not just to hear Your word, but to live it today. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

Take magnanimity and humility. On the surface, they look like opposites.

A magnanimous person strives to do great things and is deserving of honor. That desire lives in all of us. Think of kids’ daydreams about saving the day, being the hero. The desire for greatness is hardwired into us. That’s magnanimity.

Then St. Thomas Aquinas gives us this definition of humility: “It consists in keeping oneself within one’s own bounds, not reaching out to things above one, but submitting to one’s superior.”

So on one hand, we’re made for greatness. On the other, we’re told not to stretch beyond our own bounds. Opposites, right?

Not quite. When we dig a little deeper, we find that both are expected of us — and that it’s actually through humility that we reach magnanimity.

Humility helps us acknowledge our very real weaknesses, which causes us to depend on the Lord. Greatness is not something we attain on our own. We’re human — flawed and sinful — so we turn to the One above us. It’s by faith in Jesus Christ that the door to greatness opens. Not by our own power, but His.

Knowing who we are, and who God is — that’s what frees us to seek greatness in His name, for His glory.

Let us pray. Lord, keep us humble enough to depend on You, and bold enough to pursue the greatness You’ve placed within us. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.