Am I Doing All I Can? A Message from Fatima & A Little Plan for Holiness

I wasn’t one of those students who had it all figured out.

I changed my major to English after being accepted into Economics. On the last day. After the deadline had passed.

That’s how clueless I was.

But the Lord guided my steps and I ended up exactly where I was meant to be. Professionally, that is.

It can be costly to wander through life without direction.
But what if the thing we stand to lose isn’t success or stability — but eternity?

When I first read these words spoken by Mary to the little shepherd children at Fatima, I flinched.
I don’t want to be as aimless in my pursuit of holiness as I was in planning my career.
I refuse to be careless with eternity.

A Little Plan

The message of Fatima is not lost on me. But the problem I have is not one of desire. It is one of action.

I want to be holy. But I don’t follow through. I let the cares of the day, the voices of the world, and my own pettiness pull me away from my eternal destiny.

I know I need a plan. So I’ve come up with a little one. It’s based on what I know of myself.
It’s concrete and realistic and reminds me to keep at it when I feel like giving up.

Perhaps you’ll find a few ideas here that might help you, too.
Here it is.

1. Soak in Scripture

I spend way too much time on the phone, taking in what the world has to say. I’ve got to replace that with time in His Word.

Ten minutes of Scripture time after tea. No scrolling until I’ve first let His Word in.
The idea is simple: sit with a paragraph or two each day. Just like our family did this Lent.

I’m not setting a target or following a reading plan. I just want to go where He leads me. To allow His Word to slowly shape my mind and heart each day.

2. Learn from the Saints

Holiness, I’ve come to realize, is not a personality type.

Many of the saints were deeply flawed before grace transformed them.
Some doubted. Some wrestled with anger. Others were distracted. Some lived ordinary or even sinful lives.

What set them apart was their response to God’s voice.
Their willingness to say “yes” every day.
To begin anew whenever they fell.
To rely on His mercy and grace.

This gives me so much hope.

Because I can learn from them. Especially from those whose lives are most like mine — Zélie Martin, Teresa of Avila, Thérèse of Lisieux.

So each week, I’m spending a little time with their letters and books.
They’re teaching me how to listen to God’s voice even amid noise. How to keep pressing on toward that eternal goal even when I don’t really feel like it.

3. Face the Mirror

This is where things become uncomfortable for me.
Loving what Saint Teresa of Avila says is one thing. Applying it is another.

I deeply desire to be holy. But I often end up letting my flawed will win.
A reluctant sacrifice.
An angry outburst.
Prayer postponed.

These small acts of selfishness slowly, quietly pull my heart away from love. If I’m to have any chance at walking this path, I need to be brutally honest about my own heart and the choices I make.

This is not easy. And that’s why reading the saints’ lives is so important for me. When I see how they overcame their own interior battles, it strengthens my resolve to stop being blind to my own sins. To put aside defensiveness and recognize my failings.

That is where conversion begins.

4. Change, for Real

Introspection must turn to action. The dead branches I find need to be cut away.

This is the part I struggle with the most. But I can’t forget what Our Lady of Fatima said: I need to do everything in my power to change my life.

Just a few days ago, I was upset and really didn’t want to reconcile with someone who had hurt me. But I thought of Saint Rita of Cascia — how she not only forgave those who murdered her husband but even worked to bring peace between feuding families.

Suddenly my own resentment looked small. I knew I was letting sin take root.
So… difficult as it was, I took the first step.

It is at times like this that holiness feels impossible for me. Yet, this is precisely when I need to surrender my heart and will to Jesus.

To resist the urge to judge someone else.
To respond with gentleness, when I’d rather snap.
To clean the kitchen with a servant heart.
To give more of myself to family and community.

In these little acts of love, these little ways of dying to myself, I can allow Christ to reshape my heart.

Doing All I Can

I do not have the great charisms of Don Bosco, the missionary zeal of Francis Xavier, or the holy heart of Dominic Savio.
I have an ordinary life.
But Saint Thérèse reminds me:

So I will do all I can. To soften my heart and my words when I want to be harsh. To smile when I’d rather grumble. To humbly listen when I would prefer to argue without end.

I know I won’t be perfect. I’ll falter.
But I can still try to do everything in my power.

Because I refuse to be careless with eternity.

In faith,