The Hearts That Help Us Trust Again

Remembering those who gave all — for faith, for freedom, for love.

Monday was Memorial Day. A lot of folks spent it grilling, traveling, or just enjoying a day off. I took my family to Mass.

It wasn’t a holy day of obligation, but I felt drawn to go. Maybe it was habit. Maybe it was gratitude. But as soon as I sat down in the pew and heard the opening hymn, I knew we were right where we needed to be.

During the homily, Father talked about three hearts that I can’t stop thinking about.

He started with Saint Philip Neri. Turns out, when Philip died, they found his heart was physically bigger than normal. It was stretched, like it needed more room for all the love God had poured into it. Like a new wineskin, ready to hold something holy.

Then Father talked about Joan of Arc. She was burned at the stake, but her heart didn’t burn. It stayed intact. Even fire couldn’t touch the love and courage she carried for Christ.

And then he brought up the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Pierced by a soldier’s lance on the Cross. Blood and water flowed out — not just as a sign of death, but as a gift of mercy. A heart that broke open to save us.

Three hearts. All full. All given away in love. All remembered. That felt like the perfect way to honor Memorial Day.

That’s when Father encouraged us to take this summer to read not just American history, but Church history too. That landed deep for me. Because when we look back at both — at our saints and our soldiers — we’re not just learning facts or names. We’re remembering real people who gave everything so we could live and rejoice in freedom.

Freedom of body. Freedom of soul.

I have several family members who are veterans. When I’m able, I visit their graves, plant flags, and pray. I didn’t get to do that yesterday, but I plan to this coming weekend. It’s one way I say thank you. It’s how I remind myself, and my family, that freedom isn’t free. Neither is faith. Both came at a cost. And both were handed down to us by people who believed in something bigger than themselves.

Saints and soldiers. Martyrs and medics. They remind us that love means sacrifice.

That’s why I can’t forget what happened at Mass yesterday. The first reading was from Philippians, chapter 4: “Have no anxiety at all, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, make your requests known to God.”

It amazes me how words written almost two thousand years ago can still speak peace into today’s anxieties.

In the last few days, I had found myself saying almost the same thing to two different people.

One friend was worried about attending his daughter’s graduation. His ex-wife would be there, and he feared there’d be tension. I prayed with him and reminded him that the devil loves to stir up anxiety. But God is peace. I reminded him that it was his daughter’s day, to tell her he was proud of her, and not let anything else bother him. He left that conversation feeling better. There was still some conflict on the day itself, but when he called me again, I just listened and prayed again. I think he’s starting to see that even when the storm doesn’t stop, God is still in the boat with you.

The other conversation was with a family member I’m going to see this weekend. She’s nervous about introducing her boyfriend to me, afraid of what others might say or think. I told her the same thing. Don’t worry. God will be with us. Just pray. Just trust.

It’s strange how many of these conversations keep coming up lately. It feels like anxiety is circling around me. But I know this much: God doesn’t give anxiety. He never has and never will. What He gives is peace. What He gives is love. What He gives is hope.

He reminds us of hearts that still beat. The Sacred Heart of Jesus. The generous hearts of saints like Philip Neri and Joan of Arc. The brave hearts of soldiers who gave everything. And yes, even the humble hearts of moms and dads, priests and friends, who quietly carry burdens and offer them up in prayer.

When we remember these hearts, we find our own again.

So maybe this week is about memory. Maybe it’s about honoring those who came before us — on the battlefield and in the Body of Christ. Because in their courage, in their sacrifice, in their unwavering trust in God, we find a path forward. We remember their witness so that we can keep going.

We read their words. We walk in their steps. And we let their lives calm the seas of our own.

If I could sum up what God is showing me this week, it’s this: Look back. Remember. Because the peace you’re looking for today was built by those who came before you. And it’s still here, if you trust.

A gentle invitation for you this week
Pray for someone you know who is anxious. Don’t try to fix everything. Just be present. Just remind them that God is peace. And maybe take time to read about a saint or a soldier. See how they lived. See how they trusted. Then ask God to help you do the same.

Because God is still working. Still loving. Still writing history.

And He’s not done working through hearts like yours.