Abundant Breast

I adore.
You, my God, present Yourself to me,
As Mother to a nursing child,
And I nurse at Your Abundant Breast.

Your milk is sweet as honey,
And all I want to do is nurse.
I have chosen the better part,
And You spend Yourself upon my want.

God, You, Who calls forth Life,
And then feeds and sustains the needy,
With endless Love,
Succor and suckle me.

© 2016 Joann Nelander

 

“For thus says the LORD:
I will spread prosperity over her like a river,
like an overflowing torrent,
the wealth of nations.
You shall nurse, carried in her arms,
cradled upon her knees;

As a mother comforts her child,
so I will comfort you;
in Jerusalem you shall find your comfort.”

Is: 66: 12 – 13

 

This Day For God

John the Baptist baptizing Christ

Father, I thank you for this day, this holy day.
As I rise from sleep, may my soul arise,
Leaving sin to seek Your face.
As I wash in preparation for new day,
I recall my Baptism.
And the cleansing River of Life
That flowed from the side of my Redeemer.

As I clothe my body,
I remember the dignity of Christ
And the Name by which He calls me.
I am clothed in the robes of a priest
To sacrifice with Jesus in my day.
The words of a prophet
Live on my lips,
Ready to give an account
Of my hope and joy.

The Kings of Kings
Proclaims me a king,
By the power of His throne in heaven,
He rules in my life,
And the lives my life touches,
Through all generations.

Through my prayer of faith,
Covered in humility,
Born of the Blood of Christ,
Angels minister to the People of God.
Grace bringing peace, protection, strength and provision.

I proclaim my “Amen”
To His Will
And His prayer,
“Father, forgive them.”

Go before me, Lord.
Walk with me, Lord.
Be my rearguard,
Precious Savior, Warrior King!

You, Who live in me,
Suffer in my flesh
That which is to be
In this hour on Your Cross.

You are “more than a conqueror”
As You bring about Your kingdom,
In this day.
O, Love sublime,
My life is Thine.

By Joann Nelander

Upon the Cross

Upon the cross,
Your blood flowed
From Crown to Foot,
In streams upon Your Body,
So that there was not one space
That was not touched by Your Blood.

Your Body, the Church,
Covered in Your Blood,
Saved throughout Time
And for all Time
Unto Eternity,
Covered by Your Blood.

 

Invite the Angels and Saints

I’ll be headed out the door in a few minutes to attend the Mass. It amazes me that year after year I have been given the grace to participate in daily mass. It is a great blessing especially since I am no saint.  I’m slogging it out here below hoping one day that Jesus will call me and bid me come to Him that with angels and saints I might be with Him forever.

Sometimes at communion, I am overjoyed but most often my feelings are like those expressed by the Little Flower.  Would that my response also be as hers.

What can I tell you, dear Mother, about my thanksgivings after Communion? There is no time when I taste less consolation. But this is what I should expect. I desire to receive Our Lord, not for my own satisfaction, but simply to give Him pleasure. I picture my soul as a piece of waste ground and beg Our Blessed Lady to take away my imperfections–which are as heaps of rubbish–and to build upon it a splendid tabernacle worthy of Heaven, and adorn it with her own adornments. Then I invite all the Angels and Saints to come and sing canticles of love, and it seems to me that Jesus is well pleased to see Himself received so grandly, and I share in His joy. But all this does not prevent distractions and drowsiness from troubling me, and not unfrequently I resolve to continue my thanksgiving throughout the day, since I made it so badly in choir. You see, dear Mother, that my way is not the way of fear; I can always make myself happy, and profit by my imperfections, and Our Lord Himself encourages me in this path.”

Father Forever

“Father forgive them they know not what they do.”

Cords of sorrow draw me.
I am witness to the plight,
Man become beast,
Without wisdom or wit,
Licking his own blood,
Hungry, harrowed,
Stunned in horror.

The knots of revenge entangle,
Cry for evermore blood,
Ever more abasement,
Ever more widows,
Ever more orphans,
Ever more refuse and waste.

A crying child becomes hundreds,
Then thousands,
Then millions,
Left to wander,
Left to dissipate and hate.

Vengeance is sweeter than food,
To one who chooses to live
Without Love,
Without Light,
Without the Holy and the True,
For such is the abode of Sin,
And many the roads
Leading to its gate.

Bestial brutality,
Raging insanity,
Now reigns the malignant.
The disconsolate refuse all solace,
Wounds of the heart,
Wounds of the mind,
Wounds of the body of Man.

Look to the high mountain,
Eyes to the heavens,
Wake the long dead,
Who await the promised Banquet,
Those, who now know,
They are one Family of Man,
Divested of tribal allegiance,
Awaiting the One,
And coming, King.

Offer a sacrifice of prayer.
Pour forth the balm of Gilead.
Speak, in the tongue of angels,
The comfort of peoples,
Hope in the Darkness.

Humanity’s ties are stronger than its sins,
More numerous than the cords
That draw it down in the Dark Night.
For its One God
Is Father Forever.

LONGINUS, SOLDIER SAINT

Longinus,
You, who beheld Life,
As your Savior
Hung between Heaven and Earth,
Dying on His Cross,
Your heart came alive
At the sight of the Mother’s agony.

The thrust of your spear
Lanced the heart of the Christ
And pierced your own
To let Him enter,
He, who would henceforth,
Possess you in contemplation.

His blood, falling upon weak and worldly eyes,,
Touched in you, the pagan,
Opening eyes blind to the things of God,
With the sight of the Holy.

Your life became a contemplation
Of the Dying and the Rising,
Did you fall into a sleep,
As the angels descended to roll away the stone?
Did premonitions of sacred mystery stir you,
Wakening the soldier witness soul,
To serve not merely an emperor,
But True God?

The Cassius of the Crucifixion
Died, only to open his eyes in faith,
And live, henceforth a new man,
With a story of Blood and Water,
And New Life,

copyright 2014 Joann Nelander