Mothers in Un-ending Mourning–Take My Hand

Take My hand,
The very same hand
That in infancy
Grasped My Mother’s finger,
Hugged her about the neck.

Look into My Eyes,
The very eyes
That held My Mother’s gaze.

Let me take you
To your child,
Never forgotten,
Buried in secret mourning,
No day without pain.

Your little one has a heart of love,
A soul of patience
A spirit of forbearance,
And one solitary prayer.

Playing on the lap of Our Father,
Whispering the heart’s desire
Into Abba’s listening ear,
Full of Love’s expectation,
Your babe smiles eternally
And waits for thee.

Take My hand,
The very same hand
That in infancy
Grasped My Mother’s finger,
Hugged her about the neck.
Now is a time to embrace
The gift I give you in Love.

©2012 Joann Nelander

Remembering Michael

Amy Welborn shares not only her grief but her gratitude for all that is Michael.  Amy writes:

“How can I, even as I acknowledge the crushing, puzzling, confusing loss and my shattered heart  – for even Jesus wept –  how can I say that I love him and that I believe all this stuff we both said we believed is actually true – and not allow some gratitude, albeit limited and struggling gratitude – to creep into my soul, for that thing, which is not a small thing, but a great thing?”

It will be a good day to die when someone who knows me intimately can write:

He prayed the Office almost every day of the last 25 years or so. Prayed the rosary every day for longer. Went to Mass almost every day.

He prayed, and knew intimately all those words I have been praying – or trying to pray – so intensely over the past week.

Thirsting for God. Rescuing from the snares of the enemy. Letting Christ live in me, being consumed, taken over by Christ, the Risen One,  alive in Him. Praying for that. Every day. Asking God for mercy, for forgiveness, for peace. For the total embrace of Love.