Tag Archives: meditation

Somewhere Nebraska – Somewhere Springtime

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Getting to Nebraska, we passed a lot of dry, brown land.  Colorful Colorado was a grayish tan.  But here and there bright green fields told you things were ready to burst out at the first fall of rain.

On the surface things can look bleak.  Beneath the surface, they are ready to pop. What I have to keep reminding myself is that life is thriving on planet Earth.  God is in His heaven and that makes all the difference.  Somewhere the bountiful and beautiful is happening, maybe not here, perhaps in distant, hidden places, but it’s happening and its abundant!  While, there are dry spells, and dormant periods with things that go wrong, other things are so very right.

Change, for all my discomfort, is as ordinary as air. I know that if it’s happening, at very least, God is permitting it. He always has a plan and I don’t understand simply because He hasn’t run it past me.  That does make even the present dilemma a work in progress – mysterious design and all that.

In the world or in the Church, it all hangs together.  We are waiting for rain.  John Paul II spoke of a Springtime for the Church and I believe that now, in this very dark hour, we are actually living it.  Beneath the materialism and relativism and all those other ism’s, is a harvest in the making. It waits, perhaps, on laborers and a rain of prayer, but it none-the- less is hanging fire.

I find my Springtime in my prayer.  Whether my experience of prayer is dry or consoling, doesn’t matter, anymore.  I am praying.  Day by day, I’m just doing it…. and I’m not alone in this.  Whoever is waiting on change can actually move the hands of God in His heaven, turning the dreary grey of their waiting, into a poppin’ Springtime.

For me, it’s hidden but it’s happening.  For each of us, it’s a “Just do it!” thing, hanging on a decision.  What you don’t see, none-the-less, is building beneath the surface of our day to day.  Days past, present and to come, days for forgiving, repenting, and imploring; all prayer, all the time. Springtime will come without me, but don’t want to miss it.  I want to run through the fields and feel it in my soul.

“Borne by Angels to the Bosom of God” – St. Therese of Lisieux

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From The Story of a Soul, The Autobiography of St. Therese of Lisieux:

“Dear Mother, I have still to tell you what I understand by the  “sweet odour of the Beloved.” As Our Lord is now in Heaven, I can only follow Him by the footprints He has left–footprints full of life, full of fragrance. I have only to open the Holy Gospels and at once I breathe the perfume of Jesus, and then I know which way to run; and it is not to the first place, but to the last, that I hasten. I leave the Pharisee to go up, and full of confidence I repeat the humble prayer of the Publican. Above all I follow Magdalen, for the amazing, rather I should say, the loving audacity, that delights the Heart of Jesus, has cast its spell upon mine. It is not because I have been preserved from mortal sin that I lift up my heart to God in trust and love. I feel that even had I on my conscience every crime one could commit, I should lose nothing of my confidence: my heart broken with sorrow, I would throw myself into the Arms of my Saviour. I know that He loves the Prodigal Son, I have heard His words to St. Mary Magdalen, to the woman taken in adultery, and to the woman of Samaria. No one could frighten me, for I know what to believe concerning His Mercy and His Love. And I know that all that multitude of sins would disappear in an instant, even as a drop of water cast into a flaming furnace.

It is told in the Lives of the Fathers of the Desert how one of them converted a public sinner, whose evil deeds were the scandal of the whole country. This wicked woman, touched by grace, followed the Saint into the desert, there to perform rigorous penance. But on the first night of the journey, before even reaching the place of her retirement, the bonds that bound her to earth were broken by the vehemence of her loving sorrow. The holy man, at the same instant, saw her soul borne by Angels to the Bosom of God.”

St. Joseph’s Day – The Man Behind the Day

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Who is St. Joseph? Scripture says little about this man and yet we honor him with titles such as Patron of the Universal Church and Patron of a peaceful death.  The Bible simply calls him “just.” Mt 1;19  All we actually need to know is that Joseph is God’s choice.

God knows a man as he actually is in his heart of hearts from the moment God calls him by name, before he is conceived in the womb, until God calls him to Himself. Every moment, every thought, every movement of the heart, nothing hidden or forgotten, and, knowing all, God chose Joseph. He chose Joseph for Mary. He chose Joseph for Jesus. Knowing Joseph’s heart, God called Joseph “just” which means right with God.

Our generation places little value on “just.” It has no glitz. Give us “world renowned” and “phenomenally successful.” “Just” is just so unimpressive. If “just” were only as common as it sounds.

Today’s celebration will go unnoticed and unreported by the world, but the courts of Heaven ring with Joseph’s name this day. Jesus and Mary embrace him, sharing with saints and angels, their memories of his obedience to the Will of God, his humility, his protective care, his kindness and the sacrificial love that reigned over their home and their life together. Who remembers St. Joseph?  God remembers St. Joseph.  The God-Man remembers St. Joseph, and called him “Abba”, no doubt.

Thanksgivings After Communion – St. Therese of Lisieux

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From The Story of a Soul, The Autobiography of St. Therese of Lisieux

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.”

The Revelations of Saint Gertrude. Written by the Saint Herself.

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Well worth the effort to get to this pearl:

Book 2: Chapter 5

After I had received the Sacrament of life, and had retired to the place where I pray, it seemed to me that I saw a ray of light like an arrow coming forth from the Wound of the right side of the crucifix, which was in an elevated place, and it continued, as it were, to advance and retire for some time, sweetly attracting my cold affections. But my desire was not entirely satisfied with these things until the following Wednesday, when after the Mass, the faithful meditated on Thy adorable Incarnation and Annunciation, in which I joined, however imperfectly. And, behold, Thou camest suddenly before me, and didst imprint a wound in my heart, saying these words: May the full tide of your affections flow hither, so that all your pleasure, your hope, your joy, your grief, your fear, and every other feeling may be sustained by My love! And I immediately remembered that I had heard a wound should be bathed, anointed and bandaged. But Thou didst not teach me then in what manner I should perform these things, for Thou didst defer it to discover it to me more clearly in the end by means of another person, who had accustomed the ears of her soul to discern far more exactly and delicately than I do the sweet mummers of Thy love.

She advised me to reflect devoutly upon the love of Thy Heart when hanging on the Cross, and to draw from this fountain the waters of true devotion, to wash away all my offenses; to take from the unction of mercy the oil of gratitude, which the sweetness of this inestimable love has produced as a remedy for all adversities, and to use this efficacious charity and the strength of this consummate love as a ligament of justification to unite all my thoughts, words and works, indissolubly and powerfully to Thee. May all the deprivation of those things which my malice and wickedness has caused be supplied through that love whose plenitude abides in Him Who being seated on Thy right hand, has become “bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh!” As it is by Him, through the operation of the Holy Spirit, that Thou hast placed in me this noble virtue of compassion, humility and reverence, to enable me to speak to Thee, it is also by Him that I present to Thee my complaint of the miseries I endure, which are so great in number, and which have caused me to offend Thy Divine goodness in so many ways by my thoughts, words and actions, but principally by the bad use which I have made of the aforesaid graces, by my unfaithfulness, my negligence and my irreverence. For if Thou hast given to one so unworthy even a thread of flax as a remembrance of Thee, I should have been bound to respect it more than I have done all these favors.

That’s Not Forgiveness – That’s Revenge

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“That’s not forgiveness; that’s revenge.”  Father, whose on the older side of old and on the happy side of holy, can speak those hard to hear words because the day to day battle’s of life have yielded a humble, gentle man. His words have the haunting power of the Holy Ghost.

It is true that there is a certain perverse pleasure in holding-on to a grudge.  Sulking off and licking the wound can become a ritual of sorts.  Forgiving does break into my world of remembered, if not treasured, trove of offenses.  What price the bounty for your absoultion? The very idea of Scott-free seems unfair.  So what cost forgiveness?

Will a litany of the pain I’ve suffered suffice? That doesn’t really touch-on just how bad you are for hurting me (real or imagined.) Do I get a chance to tell you?  Still, that doesn’t even come to tit-for-tat.  If I do my generous deed, can I still take the memory out and feel self-justified?  Or will my good angels shake a finger at me?  Letting you off my hook  would be easier if I could see you squirm a bit.

When I was kinder and gentler, I would have asked, “What would Jesus do?  My day to day seems to have hardened  my heart.  A pound of flesh, that’s the price I put on my forgiveness.  Hmmm………Father is right.  That’s not forgiveness.  That’s revenge!