Lord, as I begin this day,
Have it Your way.
I seek not me, but Thee.
When bitter valley threaten,
And I count the cost,
I choose not me, but Thee.
In the dark night.
Trace Your path upon my heart,
That demons, seeking to terrorize and tempt,
Meet not me, but Thee.
When gift and labor
Bring merit and reward,
All glory to, not me, but Thee.
O Lord,
May those I meet upon Your Way,
See, not me, but Thee.
© 2014 Joann Nelander
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
My Jesus, I wait in humble expectation,
For the fulfillment of Your desires for me.
The Father wills,
That You be all in all in me
What will I look like,
When You fully reign in my heart?
How have I distorted Your Image?
How do I hold You at bay?
The most beautiful monstrance,
Without You at its center, is empty.
Shine out of me.
Be the heart of me.
Be Lord of this manor.
Be heart, hearth and home.
Draw the world to Your Table.
Feed the world with your Holy Bread.
Flesh and Blood, You,
Penetrate the Gift of Life.
With ever new hope in me,
You wait to fulfill all You Promise.
You are my Sweet Salvation
Given as unmerited and undeserved gift.
Believing and bowing low,
I am lifted!
Touching the hem of Your garment
My faith finds Your favor.
Holiness of the forgiven sinner,
Live the fullness of Your Life in me.
© 2016 Joann Nelander
God is counting on you.
God’s plan for the Universe includes you.
God’s plan for History includes you.
God’s plan of Salvation includes you.
God planned you.
You count!
Catch God’s vision.
When you are down,
Ask God, what’s up?
Plans can go wrong
But God is on track.
Are you?
Be faithful.
Little choices add up.
The ordinary is grace-filled opportunity.
That is the stuff of Saints
©2011 Joann Nelander
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 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.
Be Holy! 