All that I need,
All that is good,
You bring to me in this Eucharist.
Help me to desire,
All that You want to give me.
Open my eyes,
To see myself as You see me,
And long for You all the more.
I abandon myself to You,
That You may make me holy,
And do everything for me,
By Your limitless grace.
© 2017 Joann Nelander
Lord make this useless beggar useful.
Like the returning Prodigal
Nothing recommends me,
And everyone but You
Condemns me,
For my rags declare my misery.You see me
But You do not turn away.
You rush to my side,
And embrace the little one
Who wanders from Your side.I am to You
The lost and longed for
Child of Your Heart.
My provident possibility
Is all but destiny
Awaiting my “Amen”.You draw the bath Yourself.
You allow Your angels the joy
Of tending to my wounds.
They touch me in consolation
As they once ministered strength
To You in the garden,
For they beheld me then in Your Holy Agony.I am the child of Your sorrow
And Your glory.
Wash me and lovingly dress me
In Your robes of holiness and light.
You are creating me even now
While You gaze on me
For I am all “Yes”.Your kindness and Your gentleness
Convince me beyond doubt.
I yield to You my sinfulness.
Every moment in Your Presence is gracefilled.
I have but to stretch out my hand
That You might place Your ring on my finger,
Put forth my feet to see them shod for
The journey to Your house.I walk now in Your Kingdom,
For Your Presence makes light my steps
And sure the Way.
In Your embrace I find that I can dance merrily,
For the mysterious steps
Seem to come quite naturally
As long as I follow Your gentle persuasions.Dance on my Father,
My Friend, my King, my All.
In Your arms I have found myself.
I have become Onesimus.Joann Nelander
“I Saw You Under the Fig Tree.”
All our yesterdays are forgotten
With the rush of Tomorrow.
All the words fade away.
Images are fleeting.
All praise passes into oblivion.
The compliments lost,
As unrecorded history.
All things are sand
Falling through the fingers of the Future.
None endure the winds of Time.
So, what of me?
What is the why of me?
Why do You long for me?
I feel your desire pleading
In all about me.
“I saw you under the fig tree.”
What did you see of me, O Lord?
Did you see my yearning?
Were You witness to my sin?
Did you hear the prayer I whispered,
The call of my heart.
Did you see resolve written on my face?
Did you see the love
Swelling my heart?
What did you see of me, Oh Lord,
Under the fig tree?
Because You saw me
Under the fig tree,
My heart opens to see You.
You reveal a world and love
Beyond all that is matter,
Beyond all that once mattered,
Surpassing all that is,
A world of God ,
A world of God in all,
And for all,
Dying to live in all.
I didn’t see You,
Until now,
This precious Now,
Surviving my mortality,
With the reason of my being,
With the holy vision of Thou.
© 2016 Joann Nelander
Opening my eyes
And lifting my head
From my prayer,
My eyes fell upon you,
My friend.
Your steady gaze
Fixed on the naked Savior,
Your arms crossed
Over your breast
And you,
Lost to this world,
Spoke my prayer.
You, in iconic stature,
Embodied my heart’s cry.
Bowing my soul,
I turned within
To pray with clarity
In humble poverty of spirit,
With Faith’s certainty,
The Lord had heard,
And smiled on my desire.
Rising with my closing “Amen”,
I looked
Only to find your place
Before the altar,
Now abandoned,
Yet the holy sight is seared
On my impressionable spirit.
It lingers still.
Your gifted presence
Shall long capture,
And hold fast
The essence of being
At which I hope to arrive,
In the tabernacle of my heart,
As in pleading it resounds.
Anchored to an image
Of prayerful adoration
Living in my mind’s eye.
My God be adored,
And Your children
Forever graced.
Who is the poorest of the Poor?
Is it not the one deprived of womb?
Is it not the one gone unnamed?
Given a frame
But denied rightful claim,
Stripped bear of place,
No space to grow,
Deprived of a proper birth?
Is it not the one evicted,
Before drawing it’s first breath,
Whose beating heart is silenced,
With the sanction of the Court!?
With privacy,
Lest the whole world hear it’s cry?
Though a mother forget her child,
The Father of all fathers
Will not, no never, forget.
He has a place,
And a name,
For all the poor,
For the poorest
Of the poor,
Called “Beloved”
And “Poor No More”.
©2012 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved
In the midst of joy,
I bear many sorrows.
For the perfection
Of the Trinity’s All Holy
Work of Love,
I place my longing,
My yearning,
Next to your perfect sorrow.
May my cries
Pierce your Immaculate Heart,
O Holy Mother,
As you behold your Son,
In His Dying.
What good can come of sorrow?
You, Queen Mother,
Who sit enthroned
Beside His throne,
Sharing the sweetness
Of Love’s fulfillment,
Know,
And count it all joy.
The One Son,
The One Christ,
Bears Mankind,
As He bore the Cross.
Savor the shed tears
And offer them,
As you did your own.
I await the morning,
The bright dawning
Of Love’s true laughter.
©2013 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved
Be Holy! 