Be Ready for the Infant King

The Holy Night by Carlo Maratta

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

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.

“Fiat”

“Fiat.”
To Mary’s “Fiat,”
I say, “Amen. Amen. Amen. ”

“Fiat”, my gift to You, my King.
I give You, here in my heart, Mary’s “Fiat”,
That so inflamed the heart of Your Father,
That He gave her His Kingdom,
Enfleshing You, His Son.
The instant Mary formed her ascent in her heart and mind,
And her lips forms the word “Fiat”,
You, my God,  began Your Human life in the womb of the Virgin.

O Mary, more than a chalice,
For of your seed sprang God,
Fully human, Fully Divine ,
Of you,
Eucharist was conceived
In Immaculate Splendor.
Thanksgiving began in the heaven of your Soul
And took flesh from the heaven of Your being.
Amen. Amen. Amen.

Father, my gift to You
This morning,
Mary’s “Fiat”
May it ring out
From this lowly Earth
That heaven come down
And live among Men.
Rain down Truth and Beauty, born of a Virgin,
His Body,
Forever bearing her donation.
Mystery, Divine,
Remember Your Love, throughout Time.

©2011 Joann Nelander

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Smiling Eyes

Lying in the sunshine of Your love,
Recounting humming bird days,
Flitting as flashes flung to the heavens,
I look to the horizon,
For the rising of yet another sun.

I feel I know You.
It is me I doubt,
But I don’t know why.
I have spent my life
Becoming what I think
You want me to be.
Others, though, have always
Seemed to do it better.

Here I am at eve tide,
Recounting the many waters,
That wash these shores.
Your Beauty plays for me,
Painting the setting sun;
I guess, to reassure my clay
Of The Love You are,
As I still look for me,
Reflected in Your smiling eyes.

copyright 2014 Joann Nelander

Flowers of Love

I will sit here,
Speaking my heart to You.
Look on me as in a garden
Tending these flowers of love.

I water them,
Sometimes with tears,
Sometimes with sweat,
And always with the water
That flows from my Baptism.

Water my garden from above.
Make my flowers grow,
And as I tend them,
Please send your angels to plant seeds
For our eternal tomorrows,
Far off, My Love,
But soon, eternally, Now.

 

 

 

Brink of Eternity

Good morning, Jesus.
Here we are again,
At the beginning of a new day.

Can you feel me?
Here I am in Your Great Heart,
Reaching for You with my heart.

I feel Your eyes upon me.
You are perfume to my senses.
You are the touch of sweetness
I taste wafting on the breeze of Spirit.

You sound in my heart
With the beating of Yours.
Ever near, ever dear, everlasting,
Song of my soul.

Good morning, my Jesus.
Hold me here,
On the brink of eternity.

©2014 Joann Nelander