Just a Pebble

On an ordinary day in Paradise,
Into a world created to glorify God and Man,
Adam introduced just a smidgen of sin.
Merely, a pebble, Adam thought,
Hardly enough to weigh on a cosmic scale.

In the grand scheme of Time, and Space,
The cosmic sea quaked.
In ever increasing concentric circles,
Shock waves carried an echo,
Reverberating, through all that is matter,
Shouting, “Me”.

On an ordinary day, dreaming of Paradise,
In a world created to glorify God and Man,
Man hides in the evening stillness.
Mercy walks about offering forgiveness.

I smile in my “niceness”.
Still in denial,
I make a show of all the good things I have done,
While all Creation simply waits on tiptoe
Praying for the revelation of the sons of God.

Of Myself and of Thee

I know so little of myself.
I perceive myself to be
Only because
You think of me.

I spin about like elemental sprites,
Really nothing without You,
Yet dancing as the orbs
Upon the stage
Of Time and Space.

I know so little of my heart,
How it can beat and bow,
And even break.
That I am free to move,
In opposition to Your dreams for me.

You are the spirit and stuff
Of my many moments,
The thought I hold dear,
And the music I hear.

I know so little of myself,
But You speak me and here I be,
Living and dreaming,
Praying and waiting,
To see all You have thought of me.

Copyright 2016 Joann Nelander

Heart Afire

Jesus, Heart Afire,
Furnace blazing,
Fueled by Love,
Burning without consuming,
Radiant heat,
And all pervading.

Soul, drawn to escape
The hell of Darkness,
With an exchange
Of holy vows.
Free to flee,
Though enraptured
By superior desire.

Created One,
Of two natures,
Once at peace,
Fallen, then to warring,
Barred from Eden’s gate.

Blazing Promise
And Redemption,
Offering Sin’s undoing,
Constant in Your wooing.

Creat anew,
As once in Paradise,
Purified and restored
Exceeding recognition.
Raised beyond perfection,
Melted, purged,
Merged, and welded,
Seamless life as Mother’s garment.
To live now
In Thee,
For Thee,
Through Thee.
Knowing All
In knowing Thee.

Two natures,
Now at Peace
Both lost,
And found,
In Loving Thee.

Copyright Joann Nelander 2011

All rights reserved

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.”

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

The Strength of a Man

The strength of a man
Is not in weapons and might,
But in his heart,
Powered by faith in God.

©2014 Joann Nelander