Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, before this day begins, I give it to you.
I give you everything I know this day will contain and everything I cannot yet see.
My work.
My marriage.
My home.
My body.
My plans.
My interruptions.
My joys.
My disappointments.
My waiting.
My longing for a child.
And every ordinary moment between them.
Lord Jesus, I unite this day to You and to the offering of Your Sacred Heart. Through the Immaculate Heart of Mary and under the protection of St. Joseph, receive everything I am, everything I do, and everything I endure for the glory of God, the good of souls, the sanctification of my family, and in reparation for sin.
This is my little offering.
This is The JMJ Way.
I may not accomplish anything the world considers extraordinary today.
I may make breakfast.
Take medicine.
Go to work.
Answer emails.
Drive somewhere.
Wash dishes.
Fold laundry.
Pay bills.
Clean a bathroom.
Make dinner.
Take out the trash.
Care for someone.
Sit in traffic.
Wait in a doctor’s office.
Complete another form.
Answer another question.
Check the telephone.
Walk past the empty room.
Go to bed.
And begin again tomorrow.
But Jesus, Mary, and Joseph lived many ordinary days too.
Nazareth was filled with hidden holiness.
So teach me not to despise the smallness of my life.
Take the things no one sees and make them holy.
When I wash something, let it become love.
When I cook, let it become love.
When I work, let it become love.
When I care for my spouse, let it become love.
When I am interrupted, let patience become love.
When I am tired, let perseverance become love.
When I forgive, let mercy become love.
When I choose not to say the unkind thing, receive that silence as love.
When I do something necessary that no one notices and no one thanks me for, let it become love.
When infertility hurts today, receive that too.
If I see a pregnancy announcement and my heart drops, I give You that moment.
If someone asks whether we have children, I give You the awkward answer.
If another month passes, I give You the disappointment.
If the adoption agency does not call, I give You the silence.
If the telephone rings and my heart races before I even know who is calling, I give You that hope.
If I walk past baby clothes, hear a child call someone “Mommy” or “Daddy,” attend a baby shower, hold someone else’s newborn, or see grandparents playing with their grandchildren, I give You the ache.
Not because the ache is good in itself.
Not because I must pretend suffering does not hurt.
But because if I must carry it, I do not want to carry it without You.
Take what hurts and join it to Your Cross.
Do not waste it.
Use it somehow for love.
For a struggling marriage.
For a frightened mother.
For an unborn child.
For a couple experiencing infertility.
For someone grieving a miscarriage or the death of a child.
For a foster child wondering where home is.
For a birth mother making an agonizing decision.
For an adoptive family waiting for a call.
For a child who is being abused, neglected, trafficked, abandoned, or forgotten.
For someone who has no one praying for them today.
Lord, take even the suffering I cannot explain and make it fruitful in ways I may never see.
And Jesus, I give You my desire for a child again today.
I gave it to You yesterday.
I may have to give it to You again tomorrow.
Apparently surrender is not something I do once.
So here it is again.
I want a child.
You know that.
I do not need to hide it beneath spiritual language.
If conception is possible, please bring healing and new life.
If adoption is our path, guide every person involved with justice, freedom, tenderness, and truth.
If the answer is still “wait,” then give me today’s portion of patience.
Not enough patience for the next ten years.
Just enough for today.
Mary, teach me your fiat in the ordinary moments.
You said yes to God at the Annunciation, but you also had to keep saying yes afterward.
Yes while carrying Jesus.
Yes on the road to Bethlehem.
Yes in the stable.
Yes in Egypt.
Yes in Nazareth.
Yes when you did not understand.
Yes beneath the Cross.
Teach me the daily yes.
St. Joseph, teach me hidden faithfulness.
You did not need applause.
You simply got up and did what God asked.
You worked.
You protected.
You provided.
You obeyed.
You loved.
Teach me to become holy through the next thing that needs to be done.
Blessed Fulton Sheen, teach me to return everything to Jesus in the Eucharist.
When possible, draw me toward the tabernacle.
And when I cannot physically be there, turn my heart toward the Eucharistic Lord and remind me:
Jesus is still here.
Holy Family, make my home a little Nazareth today.
Let peace begin in the way I speak.
Let holiness begin in the way I treat the person nearest me.
Let prayer enter the kitchen, the bedroom, the car, the workplace, the doctor’s office, and the waiting room.
Let nothing be too ordinary to offer.
And Lord, I make one more offering.
I give You even the things my distracted mind will forget to offer today.
Receive the steps I take without thinking.
The breaths I take without noticing.
The work my hands perform automatically.
The hidden sacrifices I forget five minutes after making them.
The tears no one sees.
The smiles I give when they cost me something.
The thousand tiny movements of an ordinary human life.
Even my heartbeat.
Let every beat say:
Jesus. Mary. Joseph.
When I consciously remember You, I offer it.
When I forget You, let this morning’s intention continue speaking for me.
When I am sleeping tonight, let my resting body still belong to You.
Let my whole life become a prayer that continues beneath my awareness.
And someday, Lord, if You place a child in my arms, teach me to live The JMJ Way there too.
In midnight feedings.
Dirty diapers.
Tantrums.
School lunches.
Homework.
Sick nights.
Car pools.
Laundry.
Worries.
Laughter.
Bedtime prayers.
Let me remember that these are the ordinary things I once begged You to let me experience.
But do not make me wait until parenthood to begin becoming holy.
Begin today.
Here.
In this ordinary day.
One duty.
One sacrifice.
One prayer.
One act of love.
One heartbeat at a time.
Jesus, take this day.
Mary, help me live it.
Joseph, help me remain faithful within it.
And when tonight comes, whether something wonderful happened or absolutely nothing changed, let me be able to place the day back into Your hands and say:
I gave You what I had.
Tomorrow, if You give me another day, I will offer that one too.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I give you my heart, my home, my family, my waiting, my work, my suffering, my joy, my ordinary duties, and every heartbeat of this day. Let all of it glorify God and draw souls closer to Him.
Always remember Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.
Holy Family! Help us to be a holy family and pray for us!
Amen.