2026/07/19 SCRIPTURE REFLECTION
Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
- Lori Howard, Coordinator of Sacramental Prep
This fall, my youngest son heads off to college. My house is changing from a high-energy house full of slamming doors and empty fridges to a quiet, empty nest. I am currently navigating that highly emotional maternal state where I am alternating between crying over old baby photos and yelling at him to clean his room! The stress of this transition is incredibly real, but God is using it to teach me a lot about faith.
Reading this week's Gospel from Matthew, I couldn't help but see myself in the frantic servants. They look out at the field, spot some weeds growing next to the good crop, and instantly panic. They want to rush out there and forcefully yank up every single threat right that second.
As a mom of three boys, I felt that in my soul. I look at the messy world my sons are stepping into, and my instinct is to micromanage. I want to pull up every potential mistake, shield them from every bad influence, and force them into perfectly manicured, weed-free holiness.
But Jesus steps in with the ultimate spiritual reality check: "Let them grow together until harvest."
This Gospel reminds us that God is the true Master of the Harvest. For 25 years, I have been throwing seeds of faith and prayer into their lives, trusting the Holy Spirit to do the heavy lifting. Now, Jesus is asking me to surrender the field. My boys will encounter weeds, and they will make mistakes. But the grace of God isn't fragile. The seeds of faith we planted in our living room and watered through the Sacraments have taken real root. They are built to survive the messy world.
Jesus also mentions the Mustard Seed and Yeast—forces that are tiny, hidden, and slow, yet completely transformational. My motherhood isn't ending; it’s just moving into a more contemplative, hidden phase. It’s shifting from active daily policing to the quiet, unstoppable power of a mother’s intercession. Like the yeast hidden in the dough, our prayers—quietly offered up during Mass or whispered over an empty bedroom—are silently working in their hearts, even when we can't see the results.
This week, when the sight of packing boxes triggers my anxiety, I am going to choose to trust God’s big picture instead of panicking over the small details. I am going to hand my three boys over to the Lord, reminding myself that God loves them even more than I do. To all the moms dropping off their babies this fall: take heart. The seeds have been sown, the master of the harvest is in control, and even if we cry the entire drive home from campus, God’s grace is going to carry us—and our children—through this next beautiful chapter.
If you are a fellow boy mom or empty nester navigating a transition of your own this summer, let me know how I can pray for you. Let’s commit to praying for one another and for our children as they take their next steps into the world.