In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
O my Jesus, You have said: “Truly I say to you, ask and you will receive, seek and you will find, knock and it will be opened to you.”
Behold I knock, I seek and ask for the grace of…
(Mention your Intention Here)
Sacred Heart of Jesus, I place all my trust in you.
O my Jesus, You have said: “Truly I say to you, if you ask anything of the Father in my name, he will give it to you.” Behold, in Your name, I ask the Father for the grace of…
(Mention your Intention Here)
Sacred Heart of Jesus, I place all my trust in you.
O my Jesus, You have said: “Truly I say to you, heaven and earth will pass away but My words will not pass away.” Encouraged by Your infallible words I now ask for the grace of…
(Mention your Intention Here)
Sacred Heart of Jesus, I place all my trust in you.
O Sacred Heart of Jesus, for whom it is impossible not to have compassion on the afflicted, have pity on us miserable sinners and grant us the grace which we ask of You, through the Sorrowful and Immaculate Heart of Mary, Your tender Mother and ours.
Amen.
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
“Please be careful not to use political categories to speak about faith, to speak about the Church. The Church doesn’t belong to any political party; rather, she helps form your conscience.”
Baseball legend Babe Ruth was a Catholic who wrote this letter about Communion, Confession and the Miraculous Medal:
“In December, 1946, I was in French Hospital, New York, facing a serious operation. Paul Carey, one of my oldest and closest friends, was by my bed one night.
- They’re going to operate in the morning, Babe, Paul said. -Don’t you think you ought to put your house in order?
-I didn’t dodge the long, challenging look in his eyes. I knew what he meant. For the first time, I realized that death might strike me out. I nodded, and Paul got up, called in a chaplain, and I made a full confession.
-I’ll return in the morning and give you Holy Communion, the chaplain said, -But you don’t have to fast.
-I’ll fast, I said. I didn’t have even a drop of water.
-As I lay in bed that evening, I thought to myself what a comforting feeling to be free from fear and worries. I now could simply turn them over to God. Later on, my wife brought in a letter from a little kid in Jersey City.
‘Dear Babe,’ he wrote, ‘Everybody in the seventh grade class is pulling and praying for you. I am enclosing a medal, which if you wear will make you better. Your pal—Mike Quinlan. P.S. I know this will be your 61st homer. You’ll hit it.’
-I asked them to pin the Miraculous Medal to my pyjama coat. I’ve worn the medal constantly ever since. I’ll wear it to my grave.”
Of the Twelve Apostles, St. John alone died peacefully of old age (around AD 100). The others gave their lives in martyrdom🇻🇦🩸
Yet his path was not easy, he endured exile on Patmos, persecution, and even survived attempts on his life (tradition speaks of boiling oil, from which he emerged unharmed).
So why was his mission different?
Catholic tradition points to one powerful moment: the foot of the Cross.
While the others fled in fear, John remained. He stood faithfully beside Jesus Christ, together with Mary, sharing in the suffering of Calvary with unwavering love (John 19:25–27).
And there, in His final moments, Jesus gave John an extraordinary gift:
"Woman, behold your son… Behold your mother."
From that hour, John took Mary into his home, caring for her with filial love until her Assumption.
Many Church Fathers and sacred tradition see in this a profound mystery:
because of his fidelity at Calvary and his love for Our Lady, John was entrusted with a longer earthly mission, to guide the early Church, to write his Gospel, Epistles, and Revelation, and to bear witness through a lifetime of faithful endurance.
His was not a martyrdom of blood, but a “white martyrdom”, a life poured out in love, perseverance, and truth.
St. John reminds us: Remain close to the Cross. Stay near to Mary. And God will give the grace you need to endure.
St. John the Beloved, pray for us! 🙏❤️
One of my favourite pieces in St Peter’s Square at the Vatican: a statue that first appears to be a beggar, transforming into an angel as you move around it - by Timothy Schmalz.
In 1977, a 15-year-old boy asked his father a question that would change both of their lives—and eventually inspire millions around the world.
The boy was Rick Hoyt.
Rick had been born with cerebral palsy, a neurological condition that affected his ability to control his muscles and speak clearly. Doctors initially told his parents that their son would never communicate, never live independently, and might never understand the world around him.
Many families in the 1960s were advised to place children with severe disabilities into institutions.
But Rick’s parents refused.
His father, Dick Hoyt, and his mother Judy believed their son deserved the same chance at life as anyone else. They fought to include him in school, pushing against systems that often excluded children with disabilities.
Eventually engineers at Tufts University developed a computer interface that allowed Rick to type by moving his head against a switch. For the first time, he could communicate his thoughts.
And one day, in 1977, he typed something simple.
He wanted to participate in a charity race for a classmate who had been paralyzed in an accident.
Rick asked his father:
“Dad, can we run in that race?”
Dick Hoyt had never run competitively. At 36 years old, he considered himself out of shape and had no training in endurance sports.
But when his son asked, he didn’t hesitate.
“Yes,” he said.
The Race That Started Everything
The race was about five miles long. Rick sat in a wheelchair while Dick pushed him from behind.
They finished near the back of the pack.
There were no cameras waiting for them. No headlines. No celebration.
But that night something remarkable happened.
Rick typed a message to his father.
“Dad, when I’m running, it feels like I’m not handicapped.”
For Dick, those words changed everything.
He realized that when they ran together, Rick experienced a freedom that everyday life rarely gave him.
So Dick decided they would keep running.
The Birth of Team Hoyt
Over the next four decades, the father and son became known around the world as Team Hoyt.
They didn’t just participate in races.
They conquered some of the most demanding endurance challenges on earth.
Together they completed more than 1,100 races, including:
• 32 Boston Marathons in Boston Marathon
• Multiple triathlons
• 6 Ironman competitions in Ironman World Championship
An Ironman is one of the most grueling athletic events in the world.
It requires athletes to complete:
• a 2.4-mile swim
• a 112-mile bike ride
• a 26.2-mile marathon
Team Hoyt completed these races together.
Dick would swim while pulling Rick in a specially designed raft.
He cycled with Rick seated on a custom-built bicycle attached to the front.
Then he pushed Rick’s wheelchair for the marathon.
For hours.
For miles.
For years.
What made their story powerful wasn’t just the physical effort.
It was the message behind it.
At a time when many people still believed individuals with severe disabilities could not participate in sports or public life, Team Hoyt proved otherwise.
Crowds began recognizing them.
Spectators would cheer as the father pushed his son toward the finish line. Runners who had once competed only for time or medals found themselves inspired by something deeper.
The Hoyts weren’t racing against other athletes.
They were racing against assumptions.
Against the belief that disability meant limitation.
Against the idea that inclusion was impossible.
And mile after mile, they proved it wrong.
The Heart Behind the Strength
People often asked Dick how he managed to do something so physically demanding.
He always gave the same answer.
“I’m just lending Rick my arms and legs. He’s the one with the heart.”
Rick saw it differently.
“He was my motor,” he once said.
“I was his heart.”
Together they became something greater than either of them alone.
A team.
I heard that there are nuns who wake up at midnight every night to pray for moms who are up with their babies and have been doing so for centuries. Nuns are mothers too.
@RealityTVBliss No, you have to be in the vicinity of whatever device you use for you Dr to get the reading. 10 years back, I had a phone appointment that went through my landline, they called my husband!!
@Savage16May@SoldiersWhisper I’m so sorry for the loss of your mom!! I lost mine when I was 23 and not a day goes by,all these years later, that I don’t think of her. I hope that day never comes, she deserves to be remembered
I’ve had a several people reach out, saying my posts are “too depressing” & that they’ll need to unfollow.
If what I share about #ChildhoodCancer feels too heavy, I truly understand. Just unfollow quietly, no announcement or explanation needed. I’m not upset. But that very reaction is the reason this disease stays hidden in the shadows. Most of us don’t want to picture small Children tethered to IV poles, losing their hair, throwing up from chemo, wondering if they’ll see another birthday. It’s painful. It’s easier to scroll past, change the channel, pretend it’s rare or far away. I get it, we all protect our peace.
The difference is, these Children don’t get to scroll away from their own lives. They wake up to needles, scans & fear every single morning. They don’t get a break. They don’t get to look away. They’re still here. Still fighting. Still laughing when they can. Still deserving to be seen, spoken about & never forgotten.
So I’ll keep posting the truth, even the hard parts because someone has to make sure the world doesn’t keep looking away.