Guest Post by: David Tonaszuck
Dear friends in Christ,
Let me begin with a story. A few years ago, a young woman named Julia found herself standing in the back of a church, uncertain if she belonged. She had been away from faith and the Church for a long time. Life had been messy—disappointment, guilt, and the nagging feeling that she wasn’t “good enough” for God or anyone else. But one Sunday, driven by a deep thirst for something more, Maria slipped quietly into Mass. As the congregation sang, “Come to the Water,” tears filled her eyes. In that moment, she realized that God didn’t want her to be perfect—He just wanted her to come. Like someone parched in the desert, Julia longed for a love that would not run dry. She understood, maybe for the first time, that the well is for everyone, and Jesus is waiting for each of us there.
Today’s Gospel gives us this same invitation. We find Jesus, tired and dusty, sitting beside Jacob’s well in Samaria. It’s noon—the hottest part of the day—and a Samaritan woman comes to draw water. She’s an outsider, both by her heritage and her personal history. Jews and Samaritans avoided each other. She comes alone, likely because she is unwelcome among her own community. And yet Jesus speaks to her—not with judgment, but with a simple request: “Give me a drink.”
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Most people think they know St. Francis of Assisi.
He’s the bird guy. The nature saint. The gentle medieval mystic who probably floated through fields quoting poetry to wildflowers.
The real Francis would smile at that image and then promptly dismantle it by doing something wildly inconvenient, like renouncing his inheritance in public or embracing a leper out of love for Christ.
Francis didn’t become famous because he was soft. He became famous because he was free. Once you understand that, you begin to see why pilgrims still lace up their boots and follow his footsteps across Italy eight centuries later.
St. Francis is one of the most beloved saints in history and also one of the most misunderstood.
He’s often portrayed as sentimental or dreamy, but the historical Francis was intense, disciplined, and radically committed. When Jesus said sell what you have, Francis didn’t treat that as a metaphor. He treated it as instructions. When Christ said take up your cross, Francis didn’t write a reflection about it. He obeyed it.
He once said:
“Sanctify yourself, and you will sanctify society.”
Continue readingEditor’s Note: Matthew Chicoine interviewed Joe Burud, creator of Father Alvaro Comics, via phone on February 13th, 2026. Some of the questions/answers have been rearranged, edited, and paraphrased to provide the best reader experience without losing any integrity of the answers given.
I have always enjoyed creating comics. When I was a kid my dad was really supportive in sending my comics to newspapers. In eighth grade I shadowed John Kavolic during career day. At the time he worked on the Wild Life comic strip for the Wisconsin State Journal. He later also did the artwork for the boardgame Munchkins.
I started Father Alvaro because I love the creative process. I wanted to explore my faith, my dad is a deacon. And I also wanted to take a break from the negativities of social media and create something positive.
Comics for me are almost like a diary. It’s a way for me to convey a point in a very precise way (three frames). Father Alvaro started out as something I would email my brother and my dad. It was a great way for me to reflect on the faith in a small way.
A few years later, I came across Joshua Masterson’s The Catholic Cartoonist and was inspired to share them with others.
Guest Post by: David Tonaszuck
Dear friends in Christ,
Today, I want to share with you the story of a modern day saint, St. Carlo Acutis—a boy from Milan whose ordinary life became a beacon of hope, love, and faith. Carlo was not a priest or a missionary in a far-off land. He was a teenager, a student, a lover of computers, and, above all, a lover of Jesus in the Eucharist. From a young age, Carlo’s heart burned with love for God. He once said, “The Eucharist is my highway to heaven.” But what made Carlo’s faith truly remarkable was that he didn’t keep it to himself. His devotion to Jesus overflowed into love for his neighbor.
Carlo noticed the lonely kids at school—the ones who sat by themselves, the ones who were overlooked. He made it his mission to draw them in, to listen, to befriend, to make sure no one felt left out. His mother tells how he’d run to play with the children of their housekeeper, just to make sure they felt included and loved. For Carlo, loving God meant loving others, especially those who needed it most.
When Carlo discovered the miracles of the Eucharist, he used his God-given talents for computers to build a website cataloguing these miracles, so that people everywhere could see the beauty of Jesus’ real presence. “People have to see, people have to understand,” he said. “Jesus is always close to us.” Even as he grew sick with leukemia at just fifteen, Carlo’s hope and joy only deepened. He offered his suffering for the Church and for the Pope, saying, “I’m happy to die because I’ve lived my life without wasting even a minute on things that don’t please God.” At his funeral, stories poured in from people who had been touched by his kindness, his faith, and his radiant joy. Carlo’s life was a living answer to fear and loneliness—a reminder that, with trust in God and care for others, hope shines bright, no matter what.
Continue readingBy: Jocelyn Abyad
As a cradle Catholic, I developed a pro-life belief system from a very early age. As a young adult, I prayed outside abortion clinics and debated the evils of euthanasia among my college peers. I knew with conviction that life begins at conception and should be protected until its natural end. But at 40 years old, I heard the words that every pregnant woman fears most, “I’m sorry, there is no heartbeat,” and my life was forever changed. Immersed in the intense grief that followed my first miscarriage, I realized that I had no idea how to care for my own 10-week-old baby who had passed away. Through marriage prep and Natural Family Planning (NFP) classes and many years as a mother, the topic had simply never been raised. Amidst all the pro-life talks and presentations, miscarriage care had never been brought up.
Continue readingGuest Post by: David Tonaszuck
Dear friends in Christ,
Today’s Gospel reading from Matthew chapter 4 takes us to the very beginning of Jesus’ public ministry, a moment marked by testing and temptation in the desert. This passage stands as a powerful reminder of who Jesus is—the faithful Son of God—and how He models for us the way to live, especially in times of trial. To bring this message to life, let me share with you a simple yet profound story.
Lena was walking home from work one evening when she noticed something shining under a streetlamp. As she approached, her heart raced—there, hidden in the cracks of the pavement, was an envelope stuffed with thousands of dollars. It was the kind of money that could change her life overnight. For a moment, she was tempted by the dreams this windfall could bring: paying off debts, fixing her car, finally taking that vacation she longed for. It seemed like a blessing dropped from heaven, a way out of her struggles.
But then, a quiet memory surfaced—a story she had heard many times in church about Jesus’ temptation in the desert. Jesus, famished and weak after fasting for forty days, refused to turn stones into bread to satisfy His hunger. He trusted in God’s word and timing, even when the path was hard. Jesus said, “You shall worship the Lord your God, and him alone shall you serve.”
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