No Empty Dream

No Empty Dream

Lamenting, I quit my case.
Sorrowing, my complaints lie with me
In dust and ashes.
The plaintiff has become defendant.

I rest the case I brought against You.
What have I proven?
That I never knew You?
That I never sought You?

Counterfeits sufficed to fill my belly.
There was always another dream on the horizon.
Tomorrows pretended to satisfy my emptiness.
The chase was the gambit that became the game.

Before You showed me mercy,
You showed me Me
Not the Me of mirrors, but the Me of my heart,
That shrunken pigmy of diminishing proportion.

Among Men, there is no forgiveness like Yours.
If judged by Men, I would be meted punishment
By the self-righteously righteous,
While the unrighteous, would applaud my vice and welcome me at the hearth,
No forgiveness necessary, where sin is no sin.

As gift, the clarity of Day, dawned suddenly,
You appeared with Light as Your garment,
In Your Light I was all Darkness,
Pretense dissipated as Your Sun rose.

The world appeared not as a prize but as a wonder.
Nature didn’t dictate; it served.
The heart of mothers where turned back to their children.
And You reigned as King.

I would have fainted away,
Had not the Good Thief stood by Your side.
He smiled my way,
Eyes twinkling at the memory of his meeting You upon Your Cross.
Assurances asked, assurances given.
Simple eternal words.

Coming full circle, I rest upon Your arm,
You lift up my head and incline to comfort me.
Mercy smiles on my repentant heart,
And plans for me a future full of hope.

You Who laid the foundation of the Earth,
Plot a course for me through the Wilderness of the world.
My pilgrimage from sin to saint
Leads through Two Hearts bound by a Mystery uniting Heaven and Earth.

Birthed anew in Baptism,
Restored again in Reconciliation,
Your grace acts on me, Your grace acts in me.
All grace that waited upon my willing.

My will is now that of a child.
I follow at Your side, learning Your ways.
Your Words are my food and my fullness.
Heaven is no longer an empty dream, but a Promise.
From Your lips on the Cross, piercing my heart.

“Father forgive them.
They know not what they do.”

By  ©2011 Joann Nelander

Sunday Snippets–A Catholic Carnival

It’s time once again for Sunday Snippets. We are Catholic bloggers sharing weekly our best posts with one another.

As for me, I am a wife of 51 years, a mother of two beautiful daughters, a Sinai nurse (NYC – 1962), a photographer, a writer (poet in awe of God). Prayer and daily Mass feed me. Lioness ( lionessblog.com ) is my way of evangelizing, a persistent shout out for God.

Join us to read and/or contribute.

To participate, go to your blog and create a post titled Sunday Snippets–A Catholic Carnival. Make sure that the post links back to here, and leave a link to your  snippets post on our host, RAnn’s, site, This, That and the Other Thing.

My Posts for the past week:

Not Me but Thee

Grounded in the Glorious

Sunday Snippets–A Catholic Carnival

It’s time once again for Sunday Snippets. We are Catholic bloggers sharing weekly our best posts with one another.

As for me, I am a wife, a mother of two beautiful daughters, a Sinai nurse (NYC – 1962), a photographer 0f sorts , a writer (poet in awe of God). Prayer and daily Mass feed me. Lioness ( lionessblog.com ) is my way of evangelizing, a persistent shout out for God.

Join us to read and/or contribute.

To participate, go to your blog and create a post titled Sunday Snippets–A Catholic Carnival. Make sure that the post links back to here, and leave a link to your  snippets post on our host, RAnn’s, site, This, That and the Other Thing.

My Posts for the past week:

Killing Innocents

When the Twain Shall Meet

Passion of a Warrior

A Drop in the Ocean

Blossom in the Desert

The Breech

 

Feed My Lambs

Islam 101 : Jihad Watch

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When the Twain Shall Meet

There is a delicacy of old
With which men speak to one another.
Though, approaching from the farthest ends,
Never meeting in the middle,
Yet, do they honor one another,
In their humanity.

They offer the gift of presence,
Gifting to the other
An open ear
That wills to hear.

To do the Good
For the sake of Good,
To forge the best of thought
For presentation at the gate
Is the beginning of our holy end.

Though all men be wrong
In varying degrees,
There is something right
In putting down one’s arms
To meet as warring friends,
In hope and trust
That they serve a higher call,
When men do speak of peace.

Who is honored by this respect,
If not the Maker of all Men,
Who alone can change
Hearts of stone to flesh,
Making them like unto His own.

By Joann Nelander

A Drop in the Ocean

A drop in the ocean of the Lord,
Minuscule,
Tear-sized,
Hardly felt upon the cheek,
Brushed away
To fall into the river of Your love.

Once alone,
Barely a something,
Really “a nothing”,
A lonely singularity,
But felt upon a Heart.

The tears of others,
Conjoined,
Confusion,
Profusion,
Holy joy in headlong rush,
Whisked over rock and rubble,
Carried by unseen arms,
Pressed on
By force of a Holy Will.

Cascades’ roar arousing fear,
Bewilderment,
Mingled vigor,
Hope rises to the surface
And churns the deep.

Fate creates a splash
And a rivulet of escape,
An instant of choice,
Puddle or precipice?

I hang upon a prayer,
Borne aloft in new fall,
Truly free fall,
Onto the rushing stream,
And weeping humanity prevails.

One drop,
Now millions,
Energy,
Direction,
Momentum,
Kinetic kaleidoscope,
Mirroring Divine power.

The tide of many waters,
Convergence,
At the edge,
And then the fall,
Not like the first,
In free abandonment.

One drop,
Transformed by divine law,
Holy Obedience.
Tumultuous streams
Carve the land without,
And all within.

Fertile flood of holy tears,
Serve now His Plan,
A drop in the ocean of God.

Copyright 2014 Joann Nelander

,

Joann Nelander
lionessblog.com

The Breech

How great is the distance between us?

Some would say
The span from East to West,
Or measure in miles the chasm
Stretching from Heaven to Hell.
Others count the centuries
Since Your earthly Presence
In hallowed flesh.

There is no numbering
Eternity or Divinity.
You are closer than my breath.
Your Heart beats within my breast.
Day by day,
Nay, moment by moment,
I pick up Your rhythm.

Traversing the breech,
You make me Your own.
Small, but beloved,
I repose in willful abandonment.
Grace-filled faith,
A movement,
Not a measure,
Soars to the heavens,
In flights of trust in You.