Letter to Rhema: A glimpse of you restored what I lost

Dear Rhema,

This morning I woke up with abundant joy after months. I had a dream, so vivid and comforting, it felt like a kiss from heaven. In the dream, you were born healthy, peacefully and naturally. 

No sooner had I opened my eyes than Ryan hugged me with his usual whirlwind of questions but this time it was all about you: “Will baby call me Anna?” “Is baby going to cry a lot?” “Are baby bones squishy?” It feIt as if heaven gave us a shared dream, where you and I were already together and Ryan was right there, stepping into his big brother shoes loving you in his unique way. 

The dream and this early morning interaction was a melody I did not know I needed.

It felt like a prayer answered ahead of time. For the past few months, especially after being admitted with a threatened miscarriage two months ago, I’ve been carrying this constant fear of loss. No matter how hard I tried to pray it away, fear sat stubborn in my chest. I'd try to reach out to God, but I’d slide right back into sin — dramas, endless thoughts, anything but stillness.

I missed Him. I missed that closeness I once knew. And yesterday, maybe out of desperation or maybe hope, I made a decision to begin the 33-day consecration to Our Lady. Not with fireworks or overwhelming faith, but with a small, quiet yes and a surrendered plea for the grace to see it through since I no longer found the strength to carry on. Just a tired heart seeking to come home and never leave.

I am painfully aware that I’ve been the one constantly pulling away but He never let go. Even when I willingly chose to go the other way, even when my prayers felt like hollow echoes, He shielded me from falling too far. I felt His grace as a shield still holding, still steady even as I indulged in my doubt and distraction. He didn’t force me back. He simply waited, patiently, until I was ready.

And in answer to my surrender, He gifted me this moment today reminding me that every prayer is heard and no mess is too tangled for him to rescue me from. The dream gave me something precious: peace, joy and hope. A promise I could cling to. It breathed life into my prayer again - allowing me to be still and completely trusting Him.

I believe, Rhema, that God is preparing something beautiful through you. And today, I carry this promise a little more boldly, with a renewed will to pray constantly and love unwaveringly.

Thank You, Jesus. For the hope and for holding us through every moment.

Until I see you face to face,

Love,

Mom

13 July 2025

Romans 5:3-5 The Power of Visualization Rooted in Christ

 Have you ever closed your eyes and imagined something so clearly it felt real?

A breakthrough.

A healing.

A restored relationship.

A long-awaited promise finally fulfilled.

I’m not talking about daydreaming or wishful thinking. I’m talking about the kind of vision that is anchored in God’s Word - a holy imagination shaped by faith. It’s the kind of vision that keeps you going when you’re deep in the valley, holding onto nothing but a whisper of hope.

The Bible calls that hope a gift. One that grows in unlikely soil which is suffering.

And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us. -- Romans 5:3-5

Let that sink in.

Scripture doesn’t shy away from suffering. Even the saints didn’t. Paul speaks plainly: suffering is real. Even Jesus, the Son of God, suffered. But theres a miracle when suffering meets faith in Christ.
It doesn’t waste away.
It grows into endurance.

And endurance? That’s spiritual stamina. The kind that keeps you praying even when the answer is silence. The kind that helps you walk into the unknown because it knows who’s leading the way.

Character is formed when you’ve seen hard days and still believe God is good. And that strong character? It builds hope. The kind of hope that doesn’t wither when prayers take time to bloom.

Hope that endures is a holy thing. Not naive, not blind. It’s a confident expectation that what God has promised, He will surely bring to pass.

“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” -- Hebrews 11:1

What are you hoping for?

Visualize it. Picture it not as maybe one day, but as already taking shape because God is already working behind the scenes.

No, this isn’t “manifestation” or self-help hype. This is faith. This is being rooted in what God says, not what the world says. Visualization becomes powerful when it’s done in Christ and when our eyes both physical and spiritual see the outcome not because we’re trying to will it into being, but because we believe the One who promised.

What you visualize in Christ Jesus will happen.

Let that renew your mind. Let it shape your prayers.

You are not a product of your past. You are not the sum of your failures.

You are a product of your thinking and if your thinking is shaped by the promises of God, then you will become the result of the promises of God.

When Saint Paul was shipwrecked, beaten, imprisoned; he still wrote letters full of hope. Why? Because he had visualised what God was doing even before he saw it. His eyes were on the eternal.

So if you’re in a hard season right now, don’t give up. Your tears are not wasted. God is forming something precious in you through your suffering.
Hold fast.
Know your trials will soon turn into testimony.
Believe the promise.
Keep walking.
Because this kind of hope does not disappoint.
It whispers, “Keep going God is still in control.”

--- 

This is based on Fr. Jose Vettriyankal's preaching on Logos Voice TV https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e0B-7G5Uazs

Psalm 112: The Storms of Praise, Blame and Silence!

6 For the righteous will never be moved; he will be remembered for ever.
7 He is not afraid of evil tidings; his heart is firm, trusting in the LORD.  

So, as I was scrolling through Linkedin and a quote just jumped out and grabbed me. It went something like this:

"Just such a solid rock is not shaken by the storm, even so the wise are not affected by praise or blame."

Whoa. It was like a sudden jolt of understanding.

Because let's be honest, that whole "unaffected by praise or blame" thing is about as achievable as telepoting to my next Mass. 

My heart? It's more like a little sailboat on a very choppy sea. A bit of praise comes along, the sails fill, and I'm soaring! "Oh, they noticed! They approved! I must be doing something right!" Cue the happy dance, maybe a little internal pat on the back.

Then comes the blame. Wham! A rogue wave hits. The little sailboat is tossed about, taking on water. Doubt creeps in. "Am I really that bad? Did I mess everything up?" Suddenly, all that lovely praise feels like it was just a fleeting moment of sunshine before the downpour.

And the silence? The dreaded no reaction? That’s like a thick fog rolling in. You can’t see where you stand. Are they secretly fuming? Did I completely miss the mark? My mind races, usually conjuring up the worst-case scenario. It's almost easier to deal with outright criticism than that unsettling stillness. It makes you wonder, "Why is he not telling me?"

It's exhausting, this constant chasing of approval and fearing disapproval. Love it when we get praised, hate it when we get blamed, confused and scared when we get no reaction and often think it is the negative.

As I started writing my thoughts on this quote, a realization dawned. I've been such a fool, haven't I?

It is true. The wise aren't paralyzed by the fear of messing up. Instead, they are willing to learn from their mistakes. They see missteps as stepping stones, opportunities to grow closer to understanding God's will. They don't let the potential for failure keep them frozen.

And praise? Oh, how my heart used to puff up! But now I'm starting to see that when good things happen, when we receive accolades, it's not really about us. The wise are not swayed by praise. Instead, they recognize God's hand in it all and turn that praise into thanksgiving. "Thank you, Lord, for allowing me to be a vessel for this." It shifts the focus, doesn't it? From "Look at me!" to "Look at what God has done!"

And that silence… it strikes me now as the truest test of our faith. It's in that quiet space that the whispers of doubt and fear can become so loud, allowing darkness to take root. But what if we met that silence with deeper trust? To believe that God's light still guides us, even when unseen. It calls us to constant seeking, unwavering trust, and a commitment to doing our best with what we know to be true.

As Psalm 112 says

"For the righteous will never be moved; he will be remembered forever. He is not afraid of evil tidings; his heart is firm, trusting in the LORD." ¹ 

That "never be moved"… that's the solid rock! And the "heart is firm, trusting in the LORD"… that's the anchor that keeps us steady amidst the storms of opinion.

I recognize now how this constant swaying of my heart, this dependence on my fleeting feelings, has actually ruined so much of my joy and peace. I've been so busy trying to read the room, to decipher every glance and comment, that I've missed the steady, loving gaze of God.

The lesson, for me at least, is clear. I need to lean on God more. To do my best, with love and intention, and then to allow God to take care of the rest. To find my stability not in the shifting sands of human approval, but in the unshakeable foundation of His love. 

It's a daily practice, I know. I'm not going to suddenly become a stoic saint overnight! But the awareness is the first step, right? To recognize the trap of seeking validation in all the wrong places and to turn, instead, to the One whose opinion truly matters.

What about you? Does this resonate with you? How do you navigate the ups and downs of praise and blame? Let's encourage each other on this journey towards a more God-centered peace.

Blessings,

Lean on God. Do the best and allow God to take care of the rest.

It's Always About God

I just watched an interview snippet with the actor who plays David in the new series House of David. What he said really struck me. He mentioned how easy it is, when playing such an epic role, to make it all about David. But then he added something simple and beautiful: it’s not really about David. It’s about God. It’s about how David's heart longed for God.

That line hasn’t left me since.

Because isn’t that the truth of our own lives too? 

We get caught up in the idea that we are the main character in the story — our struggles, our goals, our heartbreaks, our victories. It’s so easy to live that way, especially in a world that constantly tells us to “be yourself” and “build your own legacy.”

But when we pause… when we look beyond the surface… we realize: it has always been about God.

Everything.

The good moments, the hard seasons, the quiet in-betweens : none of them were random. They were opportunities to know Him, love Him, and do His will. 

David wasn’t great because he slayed Goliath or became king. He was great because, even in his failures, his heart chased after God.He repented genuinely and never repeated his mistakes. 

That’s what set him apart.

And that’s what sets us apart too.

When we start seeing our days not as a personal performance, but as a chance to love and serve the One who created us — something shifts. 

We become freer. Less obsessed with recognition, more open to humility. Less panicked by the unknown, more surrendered to God's perfect plan.

Because at the end of the day, whether our lives are filled with worldly success or quiet faithfulness that no one sees ; what we truly need to focus on is doing exactly what God wanted of us. Nothing more, nothing less.

So from today, let’s try to make it a little less about ourself and a lot more about Him.

At the Foot of the Cross: Lessons from Those Who Were There

The crucifixion of Jesus Christ was an important event. Around the cross stood people who represent many of us today. Each of them responded differently to Jesus in His suffering, and their actions offer us deep spiritual lessons.

1. Pilate: The Double-Minded Heart
Pilate knew Jesus was innocent. He tried to release Him, even washing his hands as if that could erase responsibility. But fear of losing approval and position made him choose comfort over conviction.

How often do we want to do what’s right, but back down when it costs us something?
Pilate reminds us that indecision can lead to grave injustice.

2. Judas: The Misguided Follower
Judas was close to Jesus. He saw miracles, heard the teachings, and even participated in ministry. Yet, his heart was divided and perhaps betrayed thinking he could have both money and the Messiah. And when things went wrong, instead of running to Christ, he despaired and ended his life.

Do we sometimes follow Jesus without truly knowing His heart?
Let us not be like Judas, who misunderstood Jesus’ mission and gave up before seeking forgiveness.

3. Peter: The Repentant Denier
Peter was bold disciple who walked on water and declared Jesus as the Christ. He even vowed to follow Him to death. But when fear gripped him, he denied Jesus three times. Yet unlike Judas, Peter wept, repented, and returned to Jesus. He became the rock on which the Church was built.

We may fall, but what we do after the fall matters more.
God is always ready to restore a heart that returns to Him so turn and be converted.

4. John: The Faithful Friend
John didn’t run. He stood by Jesus all the way to the cross, even when he didn’t fully understand what was happening. And Jesus entrusted him with His most precious earthly treasure which is His mother.

Faithful love doesn’t need all the answers; it simply stays.
Be faithful to Christ even in the dark times, and we will receive great blessings.

5. The Roman Soldier: The Unexpected Believer
A pagan soldier, who had likely seen countless executions, looked at Jesus and said, “Truly this was the Son of God.” While the religious leaders mocked, this outsider believed.

Sometimes those furthest from God see Him most clearly when they truly open their eyes.
Sometimes our interpretation of the Divine blinds us to who God really is. Be flexible and humble to allow God to transform your understanding.

6. The Two Thieves: Two Choices in the End
One thief mocked. The other, with nothing to offer but a broken heart, simply said, “Remember me.” And Jesus promised him paradise.

It’s never too late to turn to Jesus.
At every stage of life and even at the final hour mercy is available to the humble heart.

So who are you at the cross today?
Are you hesitant like Pilate, divided like Judas, afraid like Peter, faithful like John, awakening like the soldier, or seeking like the repentant thief?

The good news is that wherever you are, Jesus is ready to meet you with mercy, purpose, and love.

Are you willing to embrace Him with all that you have.

Sacrifice vs Choice: My Journey with Jesus

When I first started seriously thinking about becoming a disciple of Jesus, I’ll be honest I braced myself for the sacrifices. I thought following Him meant giving up a lot of things I loved, or at least things that felt really important to me at the time.

You know that feeling when someone tells you, “It’s going to be hard, but it’s worth it”? That’s kind of what I expected. Like I’d be constantly battling my desires, trying to be “holy enough,” and saying painful goodbyes to people, habits, or parts of myself.

But here’s what actually happened: once I made the change... it didn’t feel like sacrifice at all.

Sounds weird, right?

Let me explain.  “Sacrifice” means giving up something you really want, something that matters to you. But now, as I grow in my Catholic journey, I’ve noticed my wants have started to change. My priorities have shifted. 

What I truly desire most now is to be close to Jesus.

And when that becomes your top priority, a lot of the other stuff that once seemed important just sort of... drops off. Not dramatically. Not like a painful amputation. More like realizing you don’t really wear those shoes anymore, so you shed them. They served you once, but they’re not part of your walk now.

It is not painful sacrifice but a happy choice.

Think of it like this: Imagine you’re sharing a room with a close friend, and it's time to paint the walls. You have your heart set on a soft olive green - calming, earthy, totally your vibe. But your friend is in love with this bright coral shade that makes you feel like you’re living inside a tropical smoothie.

You chat, you gently argue, but eventually, you let her have her way. You say, Okay, coral it is. But deep down, you’re not happy about it. Every time you walk into the room, that coral wall feels like a reminder of what you didn’t get. You start saying things like, “I sacrificed for her.”

But did you really?

Or was it just a choice you made that you’re still not at peace with?

See, that’s the thing - choices become sacrifices when we’re dissatisfied with the choice we made. When we say yes to something outwardly but carry a no in our hearts, it lingers. It becomes a “begrudging choice.” One that tastes a little bitter every time we remember it.

Now flip that story.

What if, instead, every time you saw that coral wall, you remembered your friend’s face lighting up when she saw it painted? What if you focused on her happiness, her excitement, her joy? Suddenly, it doesn’t feel like a sacrifice anymore. It feels like the right choice. One made from love. One you’re at peace with.

That’s the kind of shift I’ve experienced with Jesus. What felt like it might be full of sacrifice turned out to be a series of peaceful choices and none of them I’ve regretted. Because each one brought me closer to what I truly want: Him.

So if you’re standing on the edge, thinking about walking with Jesus and worried about the “sacrifices” - I get it. But remember, it’s not about giving things up; it’s about learning to love Him more and more. Let that love shape your choices. Focus on Him, be gentle with yourself, and embrace the discipline that helps your heart grow closer to His.

From Palms to the Empty Tomb: Walking with Christ Through Holy Week

From His triumphant entry to His triumphant victory on Easter, the week we call Holy is anything but simple. It’s intense. It’s sacred. It’s heavy with love, glory, blood, and silence. Every step Jesus took was a message of mercy.

He Knew and He Still Came

Palm Sunday opened with joy. Crowds shouted “Hosanna!” and waved palm branches as Jesus entered Jerusalem. But He knew that those cheers would soon turn into cries of “Crucify Him.” Still, He went. That alone speaks volumes.

 Who chooses that kind of love? 

Who walks straight into pain for the sake of those who would abandon Him?

The Gift of Himself

At the Last Supper, Jesus wasn’t just sharing a meal. He was giving us the greatest gift we’d ever receive: Himself. “This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” (Luke 22:19). 

In that moment, the Eucharist was born which is  His Real Presence offered to us for all time. He would not leave us orphaned. He would remain in the breaking of the bread.

Then, He knelt before His disciples and washed their feet. The King of Heaven, down on His knees, serving His friends — even those who would betray and deny Him. 

The Creator serving the created. Have you reached ver heard of that!

Agony in the Garden

Later that night, in the quiet darkness of Gethsemane, Jesus was crushed with sorrow. He prayed so intensely that He sweat drops of blood which is a real, physical response to the emotional and spiritual agony.

He faced. He cried out to the Father, “Yet, not my will but yours be done.” (Luke 22:42). 

And with that surrender, He accepted the cross.

Mocked, Beaten, and Scourged

After being betrayed by a kiss, Jesus was brought before religious leaders and Roman authorities. He was falsely accused, spat on, slapped, and condemned. 

Then came the scourging — a common Roman practice, yes, but the cruelty He endured was beyond the norm. The whips used on Him were embedded with sharp fragments of bone and metal, designed to rip flesh from bone. 

He was torn apart — far more brutally than the worst criminal.

The Crown and the Cross

A crown of thorns was driven into His head. A purple robe was placed on His bleeding shoulders. They mocked Him as King blind to the truth they were mocking their Creator.

Jesus, the innocent Lamb of God, bore not just physical pain but deep humiliation.

He was forced to carry His cross through the streets, stumbling under the weight of it - the weight of the Divine Justice of our sins.

Though others were crucified that day, none of them were sinless. None bore what He did. None were doing it for love of all.

Love Poured Out

At Calvary, Jesus was nailed to the cross. He spoke few words and each one was dripping with mercy and purpose. 

"Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” (Luke 23:34). 

And finally, “It is finished.” (John 19:30). Not a cry of defeat, but of fulfillment. The work was done. The price was paid.

At that moment, the veil in the Temple was torn. The earth shook. Heaven responded. The abyss between God and man was bridged.

The Cross Was for You

Christ is the Way. Our sin created a chasm we could never cross, but He came to us. God became Man to pay a debt man could never repay. And through His Passion, we are made heirs to a Kingdom we could never deserve.

Holy Week isn’t just a sequence of historical events but an invitation. 

Jesus didn’t just die. He died for your sins. 

He didn’t just rise. He rose to bring you home.

So don’t let this week pass you by. Enter in. Reflect. Repent. Let yourself be shaken. Let yourself be loved.

Because the cross wasn’t the end of the story but the key to everything.