Resting in Your Spirit

I am witness.
I am martyr.
You are silence in action,
No moving parts,
Yet accomplishing Your intent,
While I keep watch.
You rest upon Your Altar.
I rest in You.

You are Son.
You are Witness.
You are Martyr.
You are Living Testament,
Covenanting with Man,
Promising me.

Draw me.
Give me Your vision of holiness.
Cause me to desire.
Infuse wisdom
As answer to my pleading desire.

O, Happy Cause.
O, Moving Spirit.
Be one with the essence of me,
That fallen nature might drink
Of Your Eternal Spring.

By Joann Nelander
Copyright 2011
All rights reserved.

Hide Me, Lord

Hide me, Lord
On the mountain
Of Your Love.
Place me in the cleft
Of the Rock.
Play for me
The music of silence.
Shelter me
From the storm and noise
Of the world.

©2013  Joann Nelander
All rights reserved

A Thousand Little Moments

I fail and I fall.

“Yes, Father, it’s me, again.”

My prayers and tears reach Your heart with plaintiff sighs.

I reach for Love, as a baby grasps the finger,

Securing You to my heart,

Binding You by trifles.

A thousand little moments, like a knitter’s weave,

Trivial triumphs conquering like souls,

For made in Your image, I desire only You.

Of wooing, my begging be a part.

I turn, my God, to You, as a prayer with every care.

Prayer and tears, now, all one,

I nestle to Your breast and am all ear.

I listen as beat upon beat,

Love’s rhythm reassures me of the next,

And, of Your eternal constancy.

I listen, as for a whisper, and fear not

Whisper every care, and fretful prayer.

I reach for You with every breath,

And sigh when You draw nigh.

You answer with a mother’s warmth,

Bending low, picking me up, and pressing me

To Your consoling bosom.

“What is it my child. Am I not here? Haven’t I given you all?”

You kiss away my tears

And delight in the exchange.

I have given nothing but complaint,

Yet, You are full of smiles.

A thousand little moments knit our day.

I cry and You comfort.

I beckon and You bend in kind regard.

You draw me into that chamber,

In which I was formed,

That hallowed space,

In which my time began.

Heaven and rest contained

In one all holy Name.

Name me, my God,

And I will come into being,

Called forth from my darkness

Into Your marvelous Day.

All our moments measured by Your mercy,

I cry out for a heart made unto Your own,

That I may grow to give Your Love.

Love begetting love, for love alone.

Feed My Lambs

The Good Shepherd by James Powell c. 1888

I am no one,
But see the army
Of saints and angels
Who implore Thee.

You say “Feed my lambs,
Feed my sheep,”
And I am tempted
To think, I have nothing,
But, Lord, are You
Not the Whole Loaf,
And are You not
Eternal and ours?

I will give
From my Ever Present Lord.
In my poverty,
You are my abundance.

What I can not see,
I know is on the way.
You are not far off.
You have come,
And You are coming soon.
Emmanuel.

By Joann Nelander

A Thousand Little Moments

I fail and I fall.

“Yes, Father, it’s me, again.”

My prayers and tears reach Your heart with plaintiff sighs.

I reach for Love, as a baby grasps the finger,

Securing You to my heart,

Binding You by trifles.

A thousand little moments, like a knitter’s weave,

Trivial triumphs conquering like souls,

For made in Your image, I desire only You.

Of wooing, my begging be a part.

I turn, my God, to You, as a prayer with every care.

Prayer and tears, now, all one,

I nestle to Your breast and am all ear.

I listen as beat upon beat,

Love’s rhythm reassures me of the next,

And, of Your eternal constancy.

I listen, as for a whisper, and fear not

Whisper every care, and fretful prayer.

I reach for You with every breath,

And sigh when You draw nigh.

You answer with a mother’s warmth,

Bending low, picking me up, and pressing me

To Your consoling bosom.

“What is it my child. Am I not here? Haven’t I given you all?”

You kiss away my tears

And delight in the exchange.

I have given nothing but complaint,

Yet, You are full of smiles.

A thousand little moments knit our day.

I cry and You comfort.

I beckon and You bend in kind regard.

You draw me into that chamber,

In which I was formed,

That hallowed space,

In which my time began.

Heaven and rest contained

In one all holy Name.

Name me, my God,

And I will come into being,

Called forth from my darkness

Into Your marvelous Day.

All our moments measured by Your mercy,

I cry out for a heart made unto Your own,

That I may grow to give Your Love.

Love begetting love, for love alone.

Eucharistic Fast

Canon Law on Eucharistic Fast disciple