I just want to rest here,
In a place beyond tears.
When You see me,
In my life’s blood,
You will not pass me by.
Shepherd,
That you are,
Lift me to Your shoulder.
Carry me
The rest of the way.
I consent to Your ministries,
Trust in Your mercies.
As Your strong arms
Enfold me.
I am comfort,
Through and through,
For I will to be
One with You,
And You have given me
My heart’s desire.
Heavenly Mother,
It is told,
You allowed a leper babe,
To be washed in your Baby’s bath,
And, immediately, the infant was healed,
His skin, supple and pink,
By an act of God,
A miraculous gift.
Plunge those forgotten in life,
Into that water of refreshment,
In which, to remove the dust of the world,
You bathed your Babe.
It is God, Who hears,
The cry of the poor.
God, Who, is not far off.
He sent His Christ,
To enter that sea,
The Jordan of Man’s Sin.
One day, it’s waters
Would wash the multitudes,
And it’s streams
Flow over the Ages.
God, indeed, hears
The cry of the poor,
As He heard the wail
Of the leper babe.
“This is my beloved Son.”,
He announces in loving unity,
As an open invitation for us to enter in,
And lay our claim in holy hope.
Mother, do for the disabled,
What they cannot
Do for themselves.
Meet us in our leprosy,
And, bathing us, say
With the Father,
“This is my son,
In whom I am well pleased.”
© 2012 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved
When did his passion begin?
Did it commence with the kiss
By which he bid his loved ones adieu.
Or did the call to battle
Bid him count the cost,
Shattering vanities and proud hoorahs,
With winter ice
Though veins,
Piercing to the marrow of bone.
The Call was always greater
Than one man’s valor or presumption.
Holier than Adam could undertake in rage,
Yet a young David found an “Amen”
Rising within his shepherd- breast,
Shielded by hope and faith
Born of a Savior,
Yet borne into battle
By the foal that carried Him forth.
All battles,
Waged for the souls of men,
Find common ground;
Friend and foe,
Dying side by side.
As grains numbered as the sand,
And the blood,
Bridle high at Armageddon,
Corpses piled and claiming
The best among us,
As generations of spent warriors’ might,
Trust to God
To judge the heart of every man,
And wear his colors in His raiment.
Memories, born as festering wounds,
Or toughened scars,
Mark the man and record the Passion.
No jot or tiddle forgotten,
Fingered on the ground,
Condemning only the Accurser.
Angels minister the balm of Gilead
As the dead live again,
And the living love
Through the Darkness.
Mended hearts,
Held to a measure,
Weighed on scales of Mercy.
Are blessed.
None forgotten,
All forgiven.
How long? How long?
Martyrs witness the passion of the warrior,
And place merited crown,
And victor’s wreathe,
As a new name resounds,
Pronounced by the Mouth of God.
©2012 Joann Nelander 
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Carrying the burden of past sin weighs the soul down. There will be a moment of freedom and healing as Jesus makes your burden light.
As far as the east is from the west, So far has He removed our transgressions from us. Psalm 103:12
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Prayer for Healing the Family Tree
by Rev. John H. Hampsch, CMF
Heavenly Father, I come before you as your child, in great need of your help; I have physical health needs, emotional needs, spiritual needs, and interpersonal needs. Many of my problems have been caused by my own failures, neglect and sinfulness, for which I humbly beg your forgiveness, Lord. But I also ask you to forgive the sins of my ancestors whose failures have left their effects on me in the form of unwanted tendencies, behavior patterns and defects in body, mind and spirit. Heal me, Lord, of all these disorders.
With your help I sincerely forgive everyone, especially living or dead members of my family tree, who have directly offended me or my loved ones in any way, or those whose sins have resulted in our present sufferings and disorders. In the name of your divine Son, Jesus, and in the power of his Holy Spirit, I ask you, Father, to deliver me and my entire family tree from the influence of the evil one. Free all living and dead members of my family tree, including those in adoptive relationships, and those in extended family relationships, from every contaminating form of bondage. By your loving concern for us, heavenly Father, and by the shed blood of your precious Son, Jesus, I beg you to extend your blessing to me and to all my living and deceased relatives. Heal every negative effect transmitted through all past generations, and prevent such negative effects in future generations of my family tree.
I symbolically place the cross of Jesus over the head of each person in my family tree, and between each generation; I ask you to let the cleansing blood of Jesus purify the bloodlines in my family lineage. Set your protective angels to encamp around us, and permit Archangel Raphael, the patron of healing, to administer your divine healing power to all of us, even in areas of genetic disability. Give special power to our family members’ guardian angels to heal, protect, guide and encourage each of us in all our needs. Let your healing power be released at this very moment, and let it continue as long as your sovereignty permits.
In our family tree, Lord, replace all bondage with a holy bonding in family love. And let there be an ever-deeper bonding with you, Lord, by the Holy Spirit, to your Son, Jesus. Let the family of the Holy Trinity pervade our family with its tender, warm, loving presence, so that our family may recognize and manifest that love in all our relationships. All of our unknown needs we include with this petition that we pray in Jesus’ precious Name. Amen.
In the silence God invites without words. My prayers are often noisy affairs filled with faces, memories, love and feelings of sorrow. I am often overwhelmed and moved to tears by the poignancy of a fleeting thought. My heart tells me that what seems insignificant holds a treasure. God’s gifts often come in disguise like the beggar at the door who is Christ. The Spirit says minister here in this place at this time; reach back through the years to move the hand of God by prayer.
I am with God, the Lord of All, including Time. I may have missed or misused moments to do good, but God reigns in Eternity, as present in the Past as He is in my heartbeat. God’s hands are not tied by the flow of Time. He is there and here and Eternal Now. My lowly prayer, clothed in The Name, breaks down the wall that stands between my need or regret, and blessing. Like the little donkey that carried the King of Kings, my humble prayer sets in motion the flow of grace to love, to heal, to mend, to restore and bless anew.
Joann Nelander
A reflection by Sr. La Donna Pinkelman:
Anxious, heavy-hearted, thirsting, yearning,
Expecting, wanting to be open, tired, uptight,
Fearful, yet hopeful, searching for a deep walk
With God, with myself.
Probing, getting in touch, drained,
Excited, amazed, awed, presence of the deepest kind,
constantly with me, dialoguing, communing,
Unlocking, emptying, freeing, healing.
Body, mind, spirit, touching, embracing, loving and
Being loved, with inward amazement,
New life penetrating, releasing, accepting,
My God, You deeply entered my life,
Renewed and cleansed and gifted me.
With new eyes, body, and heart, I praise and glorify,
Thank and acknowledge You, my companion, friend, spouse;
My life’s energy and source, continue to abide with me
As I journey with You; following Your lead,
Receiving Your healing, living Your life
As You send it to me in joy and in peace.
by Sister La Donna Pinkelman, OSF Sylvania, Ohio
H/T Franciscan Flowers:
Just as one season moves into another, so are there like seasons in our life cycles. There are times of joy and beauty and times of sorrow and suffering. They sometimes go hand-in-hand. They are companions on our journey. We need to befriend them, not control them. When we hold on to either or both, we stop growth. We stop God’s work in us. Spring, summer, fall, winter–each has its beauty and difficulties; each has its dyings and risings. We need to let God be God. We need to depend on God’s strength in each phase of the journey. “Fear not. I am always with you.”
Sister La Donna Pinkelman, OSF Sylvania, Ohio
“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”
“Remember, O man, that thou art dust and to dust thou shalt return”
A Lenten reflection on “Forgiving the Living” a phrase used by Immaculee Ilibagiza in her own story:
Left To Tell, Discovering God Amidst the Rwandan Holocaust
Most of us struggle to forgive, finding it difficult to put aside our bumps and bruises. We savor our wounds as though they give us pleasure. We are a strange lot.
Imagine, if you can, living with the memory of genocide. Not a genocide across the world from you, but surrounding you; a genocide that includes your mother and father, your brothers, friends and all your neighbors in one way or another. Imagine a genocide you can smell and touch and that touches you, that calls your name, hunts you and haunts you.
For thousands in the world today, that is the reality. For one particular soul, Immaculee Ilabigiza, the author of Left to Tell, this reality has sprouted wings. She flies high above her small village in Rwanda living forgiveness, not as a half-hearted effort, but as a mission. A dream, that she believes was given her by God, opened her heart to the world. Her touch is one of grace and healing. Immaculee was left behind to let us know that in order to truly be alive to Life, we can and must forgive by the living grace of God.
Today is the feast day of Our Lady of Lourdes. Lourdes, the shrine of healing, will be forever linked to the weak and the humble. The miracles that happen are often those of the soul. It should be noted the Bernadette Soubirous to whom Our Lady appeared, had a tuberculous tumor on her knee and was never herself healed. In life, she knew great suffering. The miracle that did happen to her body,, though, is ongoing. After her death, her body proved to be in corrupt.
Old school Catholics are very familiar with the injunction, “Offer it up!” St. Paul, you will recall, made an outrageous claim. He said, ” Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I do my share on behalf of His body, which is the church, in filling up what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions.” Col. 1:24
Rev. Jeffrey Whorton, now, a Catholic priest, coming to us from Episcopal fields, offers this in his inimitable fashion. He found the Catholic concept of “Offer it up!” astonishing. That our warts and wrinkles, our far from perfect acts and sufferings, could ever be more than the sad effects of the Fall, seemed far too good to be imagined. He did find something to which he, and, perhaps, we, could relate. He said for us to think of our 401Ks and an employer who offers to match any funds that we contributed to our account. Now, God the Father, in his magnanimity, goes far beyond matching funds. He turns our humble dross into pure and eternal gold by clothing it in the sufferings of His Son. The thing, Fr. Jeff says we must remember is: “No funds, no matching fund!” So “Offer it up!” The corruptible can become incorruptible.
The Anchoress has more and more and more on St. Bernadette
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