This is a three-part post:
– Part 1 – Days 1-11
– Part 2 – Days 12-22
– Part 3 – Days 23-33
DAY 0 – GETTING STARTED
I received 33 Days to Eucharistic Glory by Matthew Kelly in the mail on Saturday. I don’t know who it’s from, but it had my name on it. Most of the charities we support list either Matthew’s name or both of ours as donors. There are very few that have just my name, so I have a short list of hunches. In any case, it is not random that this book fell into my hands. The Holy Spirit made sure I received it.
This Tuesday afternoon, I spent my me-time in Adoration. As always, spending quiet time in front of the Eucharist is rejuvenating and empowering. I had a notebook to record all the thoughts that came to me in the silence. One of those thoughts was: read “33 Days to Eucharistic Glory” and begin your Eucharistic Consecration.
I couldn’t let the Holy Spirit down; so tonight, after putting Andrew to bed, I picked up the free book I had providentially received.
In the introduction, the book suggests being deliberate about your start day so that the Consecration Day falls on a feast day. They provide a reference table for preferred beginning dates, but I can’t wait for August 13th! If I start tomorrow, the Consecration Day will be the feast of St. Helena, mother of Constantine. I know about her discovery of the True Cross, and after reading more, I am convinced she will faithfully intercede for me on this 33-day pilgrimage.
Throughout my preparation for consecration, I will update this post with my reflections as my personal testimony to the transformative power of the Eucharist.
Let the pilgrimage begin.
St. Helena, pray for us. Mary, Mother of God, and St. Joseph, Most Chaste Heart, pray for us.
DAY 1 – TRAVEL LIGHT
“Life is a pilgrimage but sometimes we need a pilgrimage to rediscover life.”
First days are usually exciting for me because they signify new beginnings. I always loved the feeling of new books, notebooks, and school supplies on the first day of school. With the same excitement, I opened the Consecration book and read Day 1.
The book reiterates that life is a pilgrimage and I am about to embark on a new journey. Framing it as a pilgrimage makes the destination far more exciting than the starting point. It’s a different kind of a first day that I’m used to.
In my journal, I write, “Unload. You must unload. Your mind is heavy and your heart is hardened.”
It’s a fitting call to action at the start of a pilgrimage. After all, who wants to travel heavy?
DAY 2 – THE PILGRIM
When I was young, my mother taught me a Bible trick. I start with a quick prayer asking God to show me the words I need to hear, then I fan the Bible and stop at a random page. Sometimes, this doesn’t work. But most of the time, it floors me how accurately the words speak to my circumstances. Perhaps the difference between a dud and a miracle is faith.
Day 2, and I am speechless by God’s words. They are uncomfortably accurate. But this is a good sign. My faith in consecrating my life to the Eucharist is strong, motivating me to go through it each day. That’s probably why God’s words are so loud and clear.
This section is entitled “Pilgrim or Tourist?” I’ve never encountered this analogy for life and faith. It’s quite compelling. Now, sometimes, I am a tourist; other times, I am a pilgrim. I don’t struggle with tourist-like materialism, but I do struggle with wanting things to go according to my well-planned schedule or itinerary. On the flip side, like a pilgrim, I am in constant search for meaning, but I need to do a better job of counting my blessings.
Today, one of my favorite modern-day writer-theologians, Thomas Merton, is also quoted. Merton composed a prayer called “A Pilgrim’s Prayer,” which addresses my chronic struggle with grasping God’s will. He prays, “And the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you.”
So far, so good. I’m excited for the next day.
DAY 3 – MIRACLES
We learned tonight that our good friend has started labor at 35 weeks. Matthew, Andrew, and I gathered in our dimly-lit living room and prayed the rosary for their family. Andrew sat on the floor with us, calmly holding the crucifix end of my Rosary, as if he sensed the gravity of the moment. Just 13 months ago, we were in a similar position and, in fact, in the same place. I was in the labor and delivery room with Matthew holding my hands. Now we have our joyful little Andrew brightening our days.
In moments of great joy, like the birth of a child, we recognize miracles. Likewise, in times of great distress, we seek them from God.
Yet the truth is, miracles occur every single minute of our lives. The breath we take to live another day, the intricate design of our bodies, the genius of nature, and the fact that a great ball of fire rises and sets each day, providing light and sustenance without burning us to a crisp.
In the mundanity of daily life, we often perceive and seek miracles only in the extremes. Day 3 of the book reminds us that when we fail to see the small miracles, it’s a sign we need a gut check in our faith. “And as your faith grows, you will see more and more miracles, until finally, you will realize everything is a miracle.”
Today’s prayer and reflection are offered to our dear friend Olivia and baby Michael.
DAY 4 – TRUE GREATNESS
Unlike many American families, we are neither an NFL nor an NBA family. But I have heard of Harrison Butker. Five years ago, I watched a highlight interview with him by Colm Flynn on EWTN that I will never forget. His redemption story in college, which started with existential questions that led to a gradual discovery of the beauty of Catholicism, resembled with my own rediscovery journey. I was also impressed that a million-dollar professional athlete like him would lay prostrate before the Eucharist and serve at traditional Latin Masses. When you think about pro athletes, one of the last things you expect is humility.
What struck me most in the video, however, was the ending. If the editor planned Harrison’s final words to be the video’s closing statement, they were a genius storyteller. It went something like this:
CF: The final big question, of course, is that you are one win away from the last season, but this season, [will you win the] Super Bowl?
HB: I think so. Definitely.
CF: Are you praying for it?
HB: Ah… I’m not praying for that. No.
CF: Why not?! You should be praying for it!
HB: I don’t know, I don’t know. I pray for myself to be a good husband and a father, I guess.
Interviewer Colm was obviously puzzled, and many of us would be too. We pray for promotions, new jobs, more income. We pray to “win at life.” I do that all the time. But here was Harrison, a man many would consider at the peak of his sporting career, not praying for victory.
The difference between a person who will not achieve true greatness in their lifetime and Harrison Butker is not the Super Bowl records or three pro-sports career titles. It is clarity and focus on things that truly matter. Harrison does not center his life around validation, career, fame, self-glory, and money. Instead, he understands that he is a pilgrim in this world. Focused on his vocation as a husband, father, and faithful evangelizer, Harrison’s eyes seem set on heaven as the final destination with the same steadfastness as Jesus approached Jerusalem in Luke 9. Day 4 expounds, “We are called to pursue Heaven, which is union with God, with that kind of steadfastness, determination, focus, and clarity.”
I ought to think of myself as a lily. After all, the symbol I chose for this blog, Home of Virtues, is a lily. If the central part of a lily starts to rot or mold, it can lead to the entire flower wilting prematurely. The Eucharist is the central part. Allowing It to rule our days determines if we will flourish and be great in the eyes of God during our passing time on earth.
Our Blessed Mother, please come to my aid so that I always focus on my vocation and God-given mission. Amen.
DAY 5 – CLOSER TO THE ORIGIN
In today’s reflection, I have a mental image of the Cartesian plane.
On the x-axis, moving to the right signifies increasing worldliness, driven by the disordered desire to experience everything worldly from the Fear of Missing Out or FOMO. Moving to the left represents apathy, where we do things with indifference, merely “settling” as the book describes.
The y-axis represents connection. Upwards indicates lack of independent reason and position leading to conformity. Downwards leads to isolation, where we withdraw from others and lose touch with our community and spiritual support.
In this Cartesian plane, the origin, 0, is the Eucharist, Jesus Christ himself, the center of our faith. The person who walked this earth closest to this origin is Mary. At any given time, we find ourselves somewhere on this plane, and the pursuit of holiness is journeying towards the origin.
At this very moment, I know where my coordinates are on this plane. If I’m being honest, it’s nowhere near 0. However, the goal is that after the preparation, I’m closer to the origin than I was on Day 1.
Beyond Consecration Day, I realize there will be seasons in my life where my coordinates drift farther from 0, but with God’s grace and seeking Him every day, I know I can stay grounded and move ever closer to the Source.
DAY 6 – HOLY CHILLIN’
Bruno Mars has a song called “The Lazy Song.” Bruno Mars is too lazy to come up with a more creative title because “today, [he does not] feel like doing anything…nothing at all.”
After Mass, Andrew fell asleep in his car seat while we drove to grab charcoal chicken for lunch. Trying not to wake him, I whispered to Matthew, “I do so much in a day. Every hour, there’s something to be accomplished. Sometimes, I just don’t want to do anything. I just want to lay down and mentally…pray.” A few hours later, back home after finishing our lunch, I declared, “Family… let’s not be Marthas today, let’s be Marys.”
Day 6 introduces the term carefree timelessness, which means spending time together without an agenda. That’s a great way to approach relational prayer with God—no pushing our agendas, our supplications, our heartaches, and feelings. Just being. Staying in His presence without doing anything, nothing at all.
DAY 7 – SHOW UP
We can come up with countless excuses for not showing up to something we promised to attend. The car won’t start. I overslept. My calendar got mixed up. The dog ate my homework. And my personal favorite, “Something came up.”
For introverts like myself, it takes a lot of energy to show up. As I build the energy to get up and go, so does the list of reasons not to go. Luckily, I’ve collected plenty of instances where “showing up” produced a good outcome. So it’s less of a problem for me now than before. If I’m unsure I can show up, I simply won’t promise in the first place.
Now, we faithfully go to Mass. It’s not even a question. During the pandemic, we began going to Mass in person as soon as the church allowed. We go to Mass even on vacations. I gave birth to Andrew on a Thursday night; I got discharged from the hospital on Saturday morning; bruised and broken, I still showed up for Mass that Sunday.
My struggle with showing up for Jesus right now is in praying at a consistent time and place. Consistency is hard to achieve with a 13-month-old and responsive parenting. God is perfect but doesn’t expect perfection from us. He meets us where we are. And where I am, I’ll likely falter every day if the objective is to show up at the same time and place to pray. So, I won’t promise to show up for prayer with impeccable consistency. I pray whenever I breastfeed. I pray when I get a whiff of silence. I pray in the shower. I pray when I drive. I find that just by doing the Sign of the Cross and asking God to put me in His Presence, any time can be a good time to pray, and any place an ideal one.
DAY 8 – RESTORE
I was so terrified by Andrew’s seizure incident that I might have experienced mild post-traumatic distress. I had taken steps to process and heal myself from the scary experience, but an hour before the Blessed Sacrament capped it all off. Fr. Joseph, our parish priest, encouraged my desire to seek closure through Adoration, saying the rays of God’s glory in the monstrance were healing. Indeed, they had been. Now, I can confidently say that I’ve mentally and emotionally moved forward from the experience.
Today’s reflection is all about Mother Teresa and her unwavering habit of spending time in Adoration. Mother Teresa is just plain impressive. But what strikes me most is her wisdom to add more hours spent before the Blessed Sacrament in proportion to her increasing popularity. This reminds me of Sunday’s Gospel from Mark 6:30-34. It begins, “The apostles returned to Jesus and told him all that they had done and taught. And he said to them, ‘Come away by yourselves to a lonely place, and rest a while.'” In his homily, Fr. Joseph points out that Jesus had instructed the apostles to go to a deserted place to rest, so they could reconnect with the Source amid busyness and temptations of personal validation.
The busier we get, the easier it is to justify that we don’t have an hour to spare for Adoration. But it seems that the busier we are, the more we need that time to be in the presence of the Eucharist… to be restored by the rays of His glory.
DAY 9 – SILENCE
Silence is my friend. When I drive, I don’t listen to anything. My favorite mornings are those when I step outside to embrace both sunlight and silence. Even in conversations, I’ve learned to appreciate awkward pauses.
But silence isn’t always a friend. Sometimes, it becomes a battleground where my thoughts blaze uncontrollably, and I can fall prey to the devil.
Today’s reflection takes a leaf from St. John Paul II’s book, revealing that silence isn’t merely the absence of sound—it’s a gateway to the soul’s deepest depths, where we encounter God. The most powerful kind of silence isn’t just about quiet; it’s about being in the presence of the Prince of Peace.
DAY 10 – SMALL, SIMPLE, PRACTICAL
In Matthew 19:14, Jesus says, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” As I care for Andrew around the clock and observe his daily habits, I’m beginning to understand the childlike qualities we are called to embrace as adults.
Despite having an abundance of toys, Andrew finds endless delight in the simplest things. Every day, he explores the kitchen, pulling out humble objects and elevating them to the status of his favorite playthings. Today, he bangs a spoon to his heart’s content that I teeter on the edge of madness. I maintain a strained smile, and he innocently smiles back. For him, that spoon is more than a kitchen utensil—it’s a source of pure joy.
This spoon reveals a profound truth: sometimes, the greatest joy is found in the small, the simple, and the practical.
DAY 11 – DAILY SUFFERING
Today highlights St. Maximilian Kolbe, affectionately known to me as St. Max. Fun fact: He, along with St. Alphonsus Liguori, is one of the patron saints of this blog, Home of Virtues. Why have a patron saint for a blog, you ask? Because I want to ensure my writings carry good intentions and glorify God through our everyday family life.
St. Max is renowned for his ultimate sacrifice at Auschwitz, where he gave his life for a fellow prisoner. This reflection centers around the dichotomy of suffering and comfort. Initially, today’s reading felt unremarkable, despite my connection to St. Max. Suffering? That’s a daily reality for me. Exclusively breastfeeding Andrew, now almost 14 months, juggling household chores with Matthew, attending to Andrew’s needs day and night, and working full-time? Each day feels like a struggle. I don’t need any reminders.
After a nighttime shower, I breastfeed Andrew to sleep and begin to pray, thanking God for specific blessings. As my list of gratitude grows, it hits me: I live a comfortable life. Suddenly, the daily hardships I endure seem insignificant compared to the abundant blessings God has granted me.
Today isn’t as much a reflection as it is a revelation. While I make daily sacrifices as a wife and mother, God ensures that life remains good. He looks after me in my daily suffering, that’s for sure.
