Blog

Most of us instinctively reach for God when life feels heavy – when the diagnosis comes, when the job is lost, when the relationship breaks, or when someone we love is hurting. Pain has a way of pushing us to our knees. In those moments, prayer feels like breathing. It’s easy to talk to God when life is hard. When we are stressed, scared, or unsure, prayer comes naturally.

Nonetheless, life never stays in one place. One season we are celebrating, the next we are trying to catch our breath. Some seasons are bright and exciting, while others are heavy and confusing. Sometimes, seasons are even slow and quiet. Life is unpredictable, and changes come without warning.

Yet God’s presence is the single constant thread woven through every season of our lives. The goal is not just to survive difficult seasons; it is to walk with God so closely that every season has meaning. Every season has a purpose. Every season holds a lesson. When we stay close to God, we don’t miss the meaning of the moment.

Staying close to God shouldn’t be something we do only when times are tough. Our relationship with God is not meant to be an emergency exit; it is meant to be the path we walk every day, in joy and in struggle, in celebration and in sorrow, in abundance and in need.

The truth is simple: the relationship we nourish in peace is the relationship that carries us in crisis. When we walk closely with God during calm seasons, we build spiritual muscle memory. So, when storms come, and they always eventually come, our hearts know where to turn. God’s voice is familiar. His comfort feels natural.

Staying close to God means inviting Him into the ordinary moments, the joyful ones, the messy ones, the silent ones. It’s like friendship: if you only talk to someone during emergencies, the connection feels thin, but if you talk often, you trust deeply when it matters most.

I encourage you to make your relationship with God part of your daily life. Faith becomes sustainable when it is part of your routine. Share with God your decisions, relationships, and daily responsibilities. Use moments like commuting, exercising, or preparing meals as opportunities to connect with Him. Faith doesn’t have to be compartmentalized. You don’t have to wait for the perfect time, the perfect moment, or the perfect prayer. It’s about constant communication and connection.

Life’s seasons will always change, but God does not. Staying close to Him is not about trying harder or being perfect; it’s about staying open, attentive, and connected. Through prayer, service, worship, gratitude, community, and daily awareness, your relationship with God becomes the steady anchor that carries you through every transition.

The seasons may change, but your closeness to God doesn’t have to.

Maria Eugenia Layrisse de Bello

Maria Eugenia was born in Caracas, Venezuela, the oldest of four siblings. She lives in Bolton, Massachusetts with Alex, her husband of 22 years, and Rocky, their 2-year old French Bulldog. Alex and Maria Eugenia are parents to twin boys Carlos and Luis, 18, both college Juniors. Maria Eugenia was raised in a Catholic family, though her Catholic faith had not always been present in her life. Maria Eugenia was inspired by Christina’s journey and by the beautiful way in which her parents and close friends choose to maintain her legacy. Christina’s faith has reframed her perspective of life and has given her a newfound source of strength and purpose.

In all circumstances give thanks, for this is the will of God for you in Christ Jesus.

(1 Thesolonians 5:18)

We have just celebrated my favorite holiday here in the United States, Thanksgiving. Growing up, I loved all the family getting together, playing board games, eating delicious food and, of course, having pie for dessert. Although I am thankful for all of these blessings and memories, it wasn’t until I was an adult that I realized we are called to be thankful in even the hard times.

This past month has been full of opportunities to give thanks, in easy and not so easy times. To give thanks for blessings I see and those that I might not see so easily.

It started with uncertainty related to the government shutdown and the hold on SNAP benefits. I work three jobs, but even still, as a single mother, it can be a struggle to make ends meet. I am so thankful that I am blessed with a roof over my head, employment to pay the bills and help to get the food to feed my family. I was down to my last $65 dollars and was trying to be as prudent as possible with how I spent it when my supervisor at one of my jobs called and said they were asking all the employees if they were SNAP recipients and, if so, could they help supplement until things were going again. I burst into tears at the generosity of God being displayed through these kind people.

The next moment of thankfulness came when we went on a trip to New York to see the balloons inflated for the Macy’s parade.  We drove in on Tuesday night so we could be there for Wednesday. It was a long drive – dark and rainy – so I was very thankful that my sister­-in-law was able to do a good deal of the driving.

The next morning when we woke up and were about to get on the road, we found that my car had a flat tire. I was very thankful that my oldest sister had taught us how to change the tire and also that my second oldest sister made sure that I have AAA roadside assistance because the tire wouldn’t come off despite my valiant effort. I was also thankful that the tire went flat when it did – after we had showered, slept soundly and had a good breakfast, instead of at midnight when it was dark and rainy with no place to pull over.

While waiting to get the tire changed my sister-in-law started having symptoms which, at first, seemed like acne, but continued to evolve to the point where we felt she needed a trip to the emergency room. It turns out, she had shingles. Luckily, she was able to get medical attention to relieve her symptoms.

While my sister-in-law was being seen at the hospital, my daughter, my niece and I were able to go see the balloons This may seem harsh, but both my daughter and my niece have special needs, so keeping calm and as normal as possible was necessary for their sake.

If all of these things had happened before I really found my faith, it would have shaken me. Yet through each one of these challenges, my heart was singing songs about “blessings coming in raindrops” and “praising God in the storm.” It is easy to say thank you when you get what you want or when blessings look the way you expect them to look, but I pray my heart continues to grow in thankfulness even in the hardest of times. In fact, I have found that the more often I stop to give thanks, the more I notice all the things for which I have to be thankful.

Loving, merciful Father, I praise you and thank you for all of the goodness you pour out upon my life, but I also thank you for the struggles which remind me that you are by my side through it all. In all things, I thank You. Amen.

Christine Dufresne

Christine Dufresne has been a Promised Pauline Cooperator for 9 years. Originally from New Bedford, MA, she served at a mission in Kentucky for 16 months before moving back to MA where she currently lives in Norwood. In addition to being a foster parent, she has been working with children in various ways for the past 25 years, helping with the children’s program on retreats and with the Holy Family Institute group in Boston, and currently works as a paraprofessional in a classroom for students with Autism in the public school system. She serves as a Eucharistic minister in her home parish of St. Catherine’s in Norwood. She recently graduated with her Bachelor’s in Psychology/Human Services and has celebrated the second anniversary of adopting her sweet 11 year old little lady from foster care. God is Good!!!

The year was 1886. On July 13th of that year, in a dirt-floor stone hovel in County Roscommon, Ireland, a child was born into abject poverty. The midwife, seeing the sickliness of the child, declared that his chances of surviving the night were hopeless. The child’s grandfather, hearing this, took the child under his heavy coat, held him close to his chest, and rocked him in front of the fire all night long — holding him, rocking him, loving him. The boy survived that first trial and many more battles with illness in the years that followed. The child was baptized Edward Joseph Flanagan.

By the time he was a teenager, his parents decided to emigrate to the United States. They came seeking new life, new hope, and a future for their children.

In 1906, Edward entered Saint Joseph’s Seminary in Yonkers, New York, to study for the priesthood.  Because of his insistence on caring for the forgotten who languished in the tuberculosis wards of what was known as Hell’s Kitchen, Edward once again fell gravely ill and was released from his studies in the Archdiocese of New York.

Yet, he refused to give up. Determined to be a priest somewhere, he made his way to Nebraska, where his brother Patrick had already been ordained. With a lot of perseverance — and perhaps some brotherly persuasion — Edward was allowed to continue his studies and was finally ordained for the Archdiocese of Omaha.

One night, while overseeing a home for homeless transient men, a young boy came to him, distraught and broken by the suffering he had endured in his short life. Father Flanagan cared for the child, and in that encounter, his true calling was revealed.

The next day, Father went to juvenile court and found homeless boys, aged from twelve to fifteen, before a judge on various charges. The priest convinced the judge to release the boys into his care, assuring him that he could help them. He told the judge that every boy, no matter how troubled, was, at heart, good — each created in the image and likeness of Christ. His task, he said, was to reveal the Christ within each one of them by displaying the Christ within himself.

And so, in 1917, Father Edward Joseph Flanagan — an Irish immigrant and a priest whose life had been declared hopeless more than once — made history. Through perseverance, faith, and hope in Christ, Father Flanagan founded what would become known as Boys Town.

The perseverance and hope displayed by Father Flanagan are the very qualities that the Lord calls us to embrace today. In the Gospels, Jesus speaks of wars, famines, and dreadful events — signs that the world as we know it will one day come to an end. At first blush one might conjure up an image of hopelessness, but Jesus goes on to remind us that His Kingdom will endure, and those who persevere in faith will be saved. In our own lives, we encounter moments when the world we know seems to end and then we move to another one: a marriage begins, a child is born, a loved one dies, a divorce is finalized, a dream collapses. Through it all, Jesus calls us to hope, to persevere in faith, and to trust in His promise. Or as He puts it so simply in Luke 21:19, “By your perseverance, you will save your lives.”

Father Flanagan persevered — and as a result, thousands of lives were saved. Father Flanagan’s life reminds us that faith is not proven in ease but in endurance. When everything seems dark, when the world seems to fall apart around us, that is the moment when Christ whispers: “Do not be afraid; I am with you always.” So, hold fast. Keep praying. Keep serving. Keep loving — even when it costs you; because every act of perseverance, no matter how small, opens a door for grace to enter and, in the end, it is not our strength that saves us, but the steadfast love of God who never lets go.

”By your perseverance,” says the Lord, “you will save your lives.”

May we, like Father Flanagan, endure in faith until the day we see Christ face to face.

Deacon Brendan Brides

Deacon Brendan Brides , a native of Ireland, was educated by the Presentation Brothers in Cork City, Ireland. Deacon Brendan emigrated to the United States in 1986. Shortly thereafter, he met his wife, Gail. They married in the early nineties and have resided in Sandwich ever since. They have a son, Patrick, who grew up attending religious education and serving as an altar server for many years at Christ The King Parish. Patrick now serves in the United States Navy. Deacon Brendan worked for many years as a building contractor on Cape Cod where he oversaw the construction of many fine houses in his career. In 2013 he decided to accept a position as building commissioner for a local municipality. He continues in that position today.

After his ordination by Bishop Coleman to the permanent diaconate in 2013, Brendan was transferred to Saint Johns in Pocasset. He spent six and a half years there serving the people of Bourne. He and his wife Gail returned to Christ the King in 2021 and although they sincerely miss the great people of Saint Johns, they are very happy to be back at their home parish of Christ the King. Besides being active at Christ the King, Deacon Brendan is currently a mentor for gentleman that is going through the permanent deacon program and he is also actively involved in assessing the latest class of applicants to the permanent diaconate for the Diocese of Fall River.

Ever since the newest member of our family arrived—our third child—life has taken a 180-degree turn. The house is louder, messier.  Our routine now feels like a survival mission; but you know what? We’ve never been happier, because we’ve never experienced so deeply what it means to truly let go of control. Feeling fulfilled doesn’t mean everything is perfect; on the contrary, it means embracing the blessed chaos of having a “big” family in the 21st century.

Seeing the crib full and realizing we are instruments of God in forming this new soul is the greatest adventure we could have chosen. Yes, it is crazy—a risky bet in a world that constantly tells us, “Live comfortably, live alone, travel, close the factory.”

Yet here we are, in the trenches of marriage, rowing against the current, convinced that investing in family is the only move that truly matters.

In the midst of these trenches, the words of Jesús Urteaga in The Defects of the Saints have powerfully illuminated our path, encouraging us not to let our guard down and to humbly accept that only through divine grace can we accomplish the daily tasks of a “large” family.

Now, with three children, there are countless everyday situations where we simply don’t have enough hands. So many times, all we can do is close our eyes, pray, and leap into the unknown, trusting that our Father will guide us along the way. Sometimes we must keep going alone, but most of the time, God moves the hearts of family, friends, and even strangers who, seeing us, lend that extra helping hand we so desperately need—just at the right moment. We are constantly called to practice abandonment to God and to strengthen the humility of recognizing how small we are before the tasks entrusted to us.

The saints had many spiritual shortcomings—there was always something they lacked in order to fully do God’s will. Saint Peter was impulsive and denied Jesus at the crucial moment. Saint Paul was a persecutor of Christians before his conversion. Saint Jerome had a fiery temper that often led to conflict. They were, at times, a complete mess—yet their defects did not disqualify them. Instead, those very flaws became the raw material which, polished by Grace, led them to Heaven.

If God entrusted His kingdom to people with so many flaws and weaknesses, how could we ever think we are not capable of carrying out our mission? It won’t be our own strength that sustains this family—it will be God’s. He will do it through us, using us as His instruments. All we need is to be docile and open to His grace.

We, still learning to handle two kids and a newborn, look at the saints and feel relief. It reminds us that God doesn’t need us to be perfect to work through us. Humility begins by recognizing that we are not saints, that we make mistakes every day, that sometimes we say the wrong thing or act without thinking. Thus, we must become a little more “daring,” recognizing that holiness isn’t risk‑free; it’s a daily decision to “enter the fray.”

If the saints battled their faults, then true holiness is in perseverance: in refusing to give up and in a willingness to start again each day. In our home, that looks like staying calm with a crying baby while work waits, asking for forgiveness when we speak harshly, waking up early to pray or even making breakfast and lunchboxes. These small struggles and small victories become our path to Heaven.

Our third child is God’s reminder that He trusts our imperfectness. Though our parenting may be far from ideal, our mission is clear: to battle together, despite our limits, toward the fullness of Heaven. God doesn’t ask for perfection—only that we don’t quit. The call isn’t for “superheroes.” It’s for you and me, right in the middle of real life—diapers and all.

Holy Mary, Queen of the family, pray for us.

Juan and Sofia Veloza

Juan and Sofia were born into Catholic families in Colombia, South America. They met on Juan’s Patron Saint Feast Day, Saint John Bosco, January 31st and recently got married on the 31st of July. Both have encountered Jesus in their lives and decided to follow him with great commitment.

Juan is a Political Scientist and also a great golfer. He works in the Wine and Spirits Industry.

Sofia is a commercial real estate lawyer and works at her family-owned business. They currently live in Cali, Colombia.

Juan and Sofia are increasingly passionate about the apostolic mission with the youth and young professionals. They are committed to showing the love of God and his mysteries through the beauty of the sacrament of marriage and friendship. Both have lived their conversion through different spiritualities within the Church, such as the charismatic renewal, parish groups (Emaus and Effeta), Mana (a self-founded apostolic group) and Opus Dei. This last one is currently where both congregate and receive all their spiritual formation and guidance. Although they have much to learn, they are eager to share their testimony with all the readers.

 

There are moments, quiet and filled with light, when the heart understands that everything finds meaning in the love of God. It is not weariness or resignation, but the serene certainty that God’s will is perfect, even when life feels uncertain. In those sacred moments, grace descends gently, like a breeze that soothes wounds and turns them into comfort. Fear settles, hope is reborn, and a deep peace takes root in the soul, bringing calm where restlessness once dwelled. Nothing changes outwardly, yet within, everything blooms.

Faith illuminates uncertainty, pain becomes a teacher and waiting turns into prayer. This is how God works: silently, tenderly, restoring what is unseen and giving meaning to all that is lived. To surrender to Him is to trust, to open the heart so that His love fills it completely, until the stillness of His presence becomes a dwelling of peace. There is no wound He cannot touch, no sorrow He cannot transform into hope.

Life gave me a great gift: difficulties. At first, I could not understand them, they seemed unfair and heavy. Yet, over time I discovered that behind each one was the loving hand of Christ Jesus, patiently guiding me and teaching me the true meaning of faith. In my constant struggle, I learned to be silent and to listen to His voice. I understood that when everything seems lost, it is He who sustains the soul and renews its strength.

Each trial became a lesson, and in every fall, I found a reason to rise with humility. Jesus showed me that it is possible to keep one’s dignity even amid pain, and that hope must rise as the banner of those who trust in divine power. He taught me that difficulties are not punishments but paths of purification that prepare the heart to receive His grace.

Today I know that without those trials, I would not have known the depth of God’s love. Each tear became a prayer, each stumble an opportunity to draw closer to His light. For when we walk hand in hand with Christ, no darkness can extinguish faith, nor any obstacle divert us from the purpose God has for us.

What once was a burden is now a lesson; what seemed an ending was truly a luminous beginning. God does not allow pain to punish us but to teach us to see with new eyes, to live with humility and to love with purity. The faith He plants in the soul is like an invisible thread that holds the spirit when everything seems to fall apart. It cannot be seen, yet it is felt; it does not impose, yet it saves.

Amid suffering, when the body tires and the mind grow restless, faith whispers to the heart: “Do not be afraid; there is still life within you.” Every dawn brings a new promise. Peace does not come from the outside but from the silent embrace of God, reminding us that we have never been alone. He walks beside us, even when we do not perceive Him, for His love neither falters nor fades.

When we grasp this mystery, we are reborn. We no longer fear time or destiny, because we know that everything bears the imprint of an eternal love that never errs.

There are days when the soul drifts like a leaf in the wind, light, uncertain, surrendered to the currents of time. These are passing days when it forgets that behind every invisible breath is a divine will leading always toward the good.

Then come the fertile days, when an inner rain descends and nourishes the heart. It is God’s grace awakening what slept and making bloom what once seemed lost. Life becomes an offering, and everything vibrates in a silence that proclaims hope.

There are also shadowed days, when faith feels distant. It is then that Christ draws near, quietly, and with His radiant gaze, reminding us that even clay can become light again if it lets itself be touched by forgiveness.

Finally, there come days of profound peace, when all creation seems to pray with us—a birdsong, a breeze, a kind word, and the soul feels itself reborn once more, sustained by a love that demands nothing, only gratitude.

Then the final day arrives: the day of release and serenity; the day when the soul, after its journey, lifts its anchor and returns to its origin. It is not death, it is return; not an ending, but fullness. It is the encounter with the love that never dies, the eternal gaze of God who welcomes and forgives, the fulfilled promise of heaven that awaits us.

Ricardo Gutierrez

Ricardo Gutiérrez is an economist and entrepreneur with extensive experience in various sectors. His life has been marked by professional commitment, faith, and family. Fifty years ago, he married Elsy Dangond, with whom he has built a strong family, raising three children and seven grandchildren. Educated by the Jesuits in Colombia, his education strengthened his principles and trust in God. His faith is his daily guide, inspired by a wise Spanish priest and symbolized by the crucifix before which he prays each day. For him, Jesus Christ is the true architect of his achievements.

build%20the%20faith%20

One of my favorite prayers is Psalm 23. Its words have been my companion through joy and through struggle. I whisper them every night before bed—and sometimes during the day, when I need strength. My daughter, Christy, learned it by heart too, and we used to recite it together in the car on our way to school or errands.

It begins like this:

“The Lord is my Shepherd, I lack nothing.

He makes me lie down in green pastures,

He leads me beside still waters,

He restores my soul.

Even though I walk through the darkest valley,

I will fear no evil,

For You are with me;

Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.”

There’s something profoundly reassuring about those words. Every time I pray them, I feel my confidence in Jesus’ return. Because no matter how lost I may feel—like a boat drifting in a storm—Jesus is always there. My job is not to control the waves, but to stop resisting His hand. When I surrender and whisper, “Jesus, I trust in You,” peace begins to replace fear.

Just as Psalm 23 says, when we walk through dark valleys, the Shepherd’s staff guides our steps safely through the shadows.

I’ve had many valleys in my life—moments when the path ahead seemed completely blocked. There were professional frustrations, conflicts with colleagues, and family trials that tested my endurance. Yet, none of these compared to the time when my daughter Christy was diagnosed with cancer at just six years old. That was my darkest valley.

As a father, I had to carry a heavy cross—keeping faith alive, holding the family together, and helping Christy fight her battle with courage. During those nights of tears and confusion, I learned that life can change direction in an instant. One day it flows peacefully, and the next, it turns into a maze of sorrow, broken dreams, and uncertainty.

And yet, through every labyrinth of pain, there is always a door—a way out. That door is faith.

Jesus never forces His way into our lives. He waits, like a gentleman, for us to open our hearts. When we trust Him completely, miracles begin to unfold. Still, how can we see the light if our eyes are fixed on the darkness? When we focus on our fears, we become blind to the gentle glow of God’s presence. The shadows of pain—ignorance, sin, and despair—can only fade when we lift our gaze toward God’s light.

The Bible is full of promises for those who choose to walk toward that light:

Isaiah 9:2 – “The people walking in darkness have seen a great light.”

Psalm 27:1 – “The Lord is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear?”

Isaiah 60:1 – “Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord rises upon you.”

John 8:12 – “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows Me will never walk in darkness.”

Each verse is a reminder that light and darkness cannot coexist. When the light of God enters, fear must leave. Faith transforms us.

In Ephesians 5:8, we read: “For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light.” That light doesn’t just guide us—it illuminates us from within.

2 Corinthians 4:6 says, “For God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ made His light shine in our hearts.” Ultimately, that light leads us to the greatest promise of all: eternal life.

Revelation 21:23 describes it beautifully: “The city does not need the sun or the moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and the Lamb is its lamp.”

So, if you’re struggling right now—if life feels too heavy, too dark, or too uncertain—take one step forward in faith. Stop demanding that God do things your way. He sees what you cannot see. His plans are far greater; His light is far brighter.

Get up. Step out of your valley. Fix your heart and spirit on the Shepherd’s staff—on Jesus of Nazareth—and let Him lead you to peace.

And never forget to say, with all your heart: “Jesus, I trust in You.”

Fernando Dangond

Fernando Dangond, MD, was born in Colombia, South America. He and his wife, Monica, live in Weston, MA, and have been blessed with two sons Daniel and David and a beautiful daughter, Christina (the inspiration behind Build the Faith) who left to be with the Lord 7 years ago.
Dr. Dangond, is a neurologist and scientist who works for a pharmaceutical company developing medicines to treat devastating neurological diseases.

I have been feeling a little lost lately after the recent passing of my dad.  The tasks involved in handling my dad’s affairs have been so overwhelming at times that I have sometimes felt like I haven’t had the time to process his death and fully grieve.  Since my mom died nearly ten years ago, it’s a strange feeling being in this world with no parents; so much so, that I have been asking myself, To whom do I go when I don’t know what to do?  Do I really have to navigate this world without the safety net my parents have always provided for me?

Thankfully, attending the Build the Faith Women’s Retreat has left me feeling less vulnerable and more complete despite my parents’ passings.  Why? Well, at the retreat we talked about prayer… in particular, the prayer Jesus taught us… the Lord’s Prayer.  In it we pray, “Our Father….” Focusing on God as my Father, turned out to be just what I needed to pick myself up and keep going.  Though I have always known that my true safety net has always and will always be God, reflecting on this prayer was a good reminder for me to lean on God when I don’t know what to do. It reassured me that God will always be there for me and He will always provide me with what I need in this life.

This beautiful, faith-filled retreat weekend recharged my spiritual battery and gave me the energy and resolve to continue with my responsibilities in regard to my dad’s estate.  These past few weeks I have felt lighter and more productive.  I also no longer feel lost. There is even an extra spring in my step!

As we all move forward into the month of November, the month when we as a Church remember the faithfully departed, let us take a moment to reflect on how our loved ones who have gone before us have impacted our lives and how they live on through us. Most churches have a Book of Remembrance where those who have died over the past year are recorded and prayed for at all masses said over the course of the month. Check with your local parish to see how you can remember your loved ones. Many churches have information on their website so you can do this over the internet from the comfort of home.  You can also remember your loved ones at home through prayer.  Here is a popular prayer said during the month of November:

Remember, O Lord,

Those who have died

And gone before us

Marked with a sign of faith

Especially those for whom we now pray (insert names of deceased loved ones).

May these and all those who sleep in Christ,

Find in Your presence,

Light, happiness, and eternal peace.

We ask this through Christ, our Lord. Amen.

Perhaps what comforts me most now is realizing that God’s safety net doesn’t just catch us when we fall, it also connects us to others who help lift us back up. The friendships and faith community I’ve found through Build the Faith have reminded me that we are never meant to journey alone. When we open our hearts to God’s grace, He often sends His love through the people around us, those who listen, pray, and walk beside us in our times of loss. In that way, my parents’ love continues to live on, woven into the larger net of faith that holds me, and all of us, securely in God’s loving arms.

Deb Egan

Deb Egan grew up in a Catholic family.  Throughout her adult life, she has participated as a church volunteer in many capacities, including teaching Religious Education, being a Eucharistic Minister and Lector, Ministering to the elderly and homebound, and Facilitating Small Faith Groups.  She has been trained by Evangelical Catholic and became a member of the Build the Faith Team in April of 2017.