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If you want your dream to be, build it slow and surely. Small beginning greater and heartfelt work grows purely.

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Welcome. This is David Russell and your faith anew, daily reflections guiding you to live in the divine will. Today's reflection is from the Book of Heaven by the servant of God Louisa Picaretta, september twenty ninth, nineteen hundred, volume four. Let us begin in the will and name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Jesus, draw us into the quiet of your presence. Free us from the temptation to measure prayer by what we can see or feel. Give us a heart attentive to you, willing to love, willing to offer, and willing to remain faithful when the fruit of our prayer is hidden. May everything we give you today become an act of love in your divine will. Amen. A reading from the letter of Saint Paul to the Colossians, chapter one, verse twenty four. Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ on behalf of his body, which is the Church. The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches in paragraph three seven to human beings, God even gives the power of freely sharing in His providence by entrusting them with the responsibility of subduing the earth and having dominion over it. God thus enables men to be intelligent and free causes in order to complete the work of creation, to perfect its harmony for their own good and that of their neighbors. Though often unconscious collaborators with God's will, they can also enter deliberately into the divine plan by their actions, their prayers, and their sufferings. They then fully become God's fellow workers and co workers for His kingdom. There is a mysterious dignity in discovering that God allows our small acts of love to participate in something far greater than ourselves. With that in mind, let us listen to today's reading. Louisa writes I went through several days of silence between Jesus and me, and with scarce suffering. At the most, it seems he wanted to continue tempting me to make me exercise a little bit more patience. And here is how on coming, he would say, My beloved, I long for you from heaven. In heaven, in heaven I wait for you and he would escape like a flash. Then coming back he would repeat Cease your ardent sighs now, for you make me languish continuously to the point of fainting. Other times your ardent love, your yearnings are refreshment for my sad heart. But who can say them all? It seemed to me that he was feeling like composing verses, and sometimes he would express these verses by singing them. However, without giving me the time to say a word, he would escape immediately. Then this morning, as the confessor placed the intention of having me suffer the crucifixion, I saw the Queen Mama crying and almost contending with Jesus in order to spare the world so many scourges. But he showed himself reluctant, and only to content Mama, he concurred in making me suffer. Then, afterwards, as if he had placated himself a little, he said, My daughter, it is true that I want to chastise the world. I have the lashes in my hands with which to beat it. But it is also true that if both you and the confessor interest yourself with praying me and with suffering, that is always a support, and you would come to place as many props in order to spare the world, in part at least. Otherwise, not finding any support or props, I will pour myself out with a free hand over the people. Having said this, he disappeared. There is a beautiful mystery at the heart of the Christian life. God does not need our help, and yet he chooses to involve us in his work. That truth changes the way we understand prayer. We often think of prayer primarily in terms of asking God to do something. We bring him a person who is suffering, a marriage in difficulty, a child who has wandered away, a world wounded by violence, or a soul desperately in need of grace. We ask, and then we wait. But Christian prayer can go deeper than asking. It can become participation. Saint Paul gives us an astonishing glimpse of this when he speaks of sharing in the sufferings of Christ for the sake of his body, the church. Christ's sacrifice is perfect and complete. Nothing is lacking in the saving power of the cross. And yet in his love, Jesus allows his members to participate in his offering. This is where prayer, sacrifice, and life in the divine will begin to meet. Perhaps today you're carrying something you did not choose a disappointment, a physical limitation, a hidden sorrow, an inconvenience that seems insignificant. Even the simple difficulty of remaining patient with someone may become more than an irritation to endure. Placed in the hands of Jesus, it can become love. And when we enter into the divine will, our concern begins to widen. We're not praying only for what touches our own lives. We begin to desire what Jesus desires. Our prayer reaches toward the needs of the church, toward sinners, toward suffering families, toward people we will never meet. This does not mean imagining that our prayers control God's decisions. It means allowing Christ to make us participants in His love. The catechism teaches that God gives His creatures the dignity of acting on their own and of cooperating in His purposes. That dignity reaches deeply into the spiritual life. You may never know what God has done with a mass offered for someone, or a rosary prayed quietly, a suffering accepted without complaint, or a small sacrifice united to Jesus. Perhaps heaven alone will reveal it. So when your prayer seems unnoticed, don't assume that nothing is happening. Give it to Jesus. Let him take what is small in you and place it within the immeasurable love of his divine will. And then trust him with what you cannot see. Let us pray. Jesus, I adore you. I love you, and I trust you. Receive everything I bring before you today. My prayers, my sacrifices, my disappointments, my work, my joys, and the sufferings I would rather not carry. In your divine will, unite my poor offering to your perfect love. Teach me to pray beyond myself. Place within my heart your concern for souls, for the church, for those who suffer, and for those who have forgotten you. When I cannot see the fruit of prayer, keep me faithful. When I cannot understand what you're doing, keep me trusting. And when you invite me to offer something difficult, give me the grace to say with love, Jesus, take this too. May my life become available to you, so that your love may accomplish whatever you desire through me. Amen. Thank you for joining your faith anew today. Until tomorrow, stay in his will, and your faith will be made anew.