As a child,
Gathering flowers in a meadow,
I spend these hours
By your side, dear Mother.
Happily, you kiss each bloom,
I offer, playfully, to your lips.
Bunching them as a bouquet,
I press them into your hands,
And you, as mother’s do,
Press them to your heart.
Copyright 2014 Joann Nelander
Who will come to the stable
On Christmas Day?
And what will they take away?
Wise men, steadfast and earnest, came,
Instead of palace music,
They heard the donkey brae.
A lowly sound and sight,
Yet their wonder unallayed.
Many come rejoicing,
To behold the Newborn King,
Bowing low,
While angels sing.
Christ comes for all
But not all come.
Some come, behold, then fall away,
Being rootless, they merrily go their way.
Father God prepared a voice
To announce His Only Word,
A messenger, born before, to go before.
Another child, spared Ramah’s plight
To live and pierce Sin’s long night
John, O, John, still cries, “Repent!”
Prepare if you would follow.
At Jerusalem’s Gate,
Many cried, “Messiah,”
Who would soon cry, “Crucify.”
Whose will will you do,
When the music fades in life?
Pride prides itself on ‘my way,’
Confounds with will and strife.
Without a ready, willing heart,
Nothing changes Christmas Day.
Corrupt hearts go on corrupting,
All the while the kingly Infant cries,
As throughout His life,
“I am the Way.”
Whose heart will live in yours
As angelic songs fade away.
Will you simply leave the stable
To follow your own way?
Come, O come, rejoicing!
Praying for a change.
Receive the Babe within your Heart.
Beg Him forever stay.
©2010 Joann Nelander
EASTER MORN
Holy Mother Mary,
I invite Your presence in my life.
As you look on my days,
Listen to my prayers,
Watch my growth through the years,
Touch me with the graces
Of.your Motherly prerogative,
You who walked the way of the Cross
With your Holy Son,
From the instant of His Incarnation
In your sacred womb,
Be beside me
In my every moment.
Meet me in my joys and sorrows
And impart your maternal blessing.
May my soul grow holy,
As you rush to lift me,
When I fall,
Just as you interceded
For Jesus in His Passion.
He fell under the weight of my sins,
And you cried out to heaven.
Hear now my heart
Beseeching thee.
Standing by His Cross,
See me in His Suffering
And receive me as your own.
Take the moments,
And all the years,
Of my existence,
In your arms,
As you did the Body of your Son,
When He was lowered from His Cross.
He wrought my Salvation
In that fearsome Hour.
Wrap my years in His shroud
And when I wake,
Rejoice in this,
My Easter morn.
As a child,
Gathering flowers in a meadow,
I spend these hours
By your side, dear Mother.
Happily, you kiss each bloom,
I offer, playfully, to your lips.
Bunching them as a bouquet,
I press them into your hands,
And you, as mother’s do,
Press them to your heart.
Copyright 2014 Joann Nelander
Mary, Virgin, Mother of God,
The perfectly fashioned,
And tuned instrument,
A violin,
In the hands of God,
As He plays His music
For the Son.
©2012 Joann Nelander
A biblical look at the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary
Be Holy! 