Lent 13 ~ I Refuse Thee Nothing


          Some hours ago, I stopped by one of my favourite blogs, Veil of Veronica, by blogger Susan Skinner, and there I read what I wished I’d never read – the closing of the Lifebook of Eva Vaughan, a friend very dear to Susan.

          Susan had brought Eva to us through various blog posts. Through her posts on Eva’s battle with pancreatic cancer, I saw my smallness and my empty heroism, the way I took my own health, motherhood, and other gifts, for granted.

          Today, I read that Eva has folded her earthly wings and gone Home.

          I promised Susan Masses for Eva’s soul- which I can only do this coming Sunday when we go to church. I want to do something for Eva in the days between now and Sunday. I try to offer prayers for her soul, but it’s like pricing away nails deeply embedded in wood.

          It’s a day when prayers don’t come easy.

          But I don’t want a burning, humid day when the breezes forgot to play, to be the reason to leave a soul waiting.

          Yet, an unpleasant inertia takes hold of me.

          But I press on. I’ve got to do something.

          In a quiet moment, rare in the sultry night here, Nancy Shuman brings me Heaven’s answer ~

Have you ever tried giving God just one day in which you refused Him nothing, a day of absolute generosity? ~ Fr William Doyle

          I’m not in a giving mood, to be honest. A nagging shoulder injury and the heat of the day, coupled with kids determined to be like ants on your leg, have taken me amongst briars. I just want the pain to go, the kids to be quiet and the rains to fall.

Have you ever tried giving God just one day in which you refused Him nothing, a day of absolute generosity?

          What if God asks me for something I just cannot give? I know the Giver of Every Good Gift Who fashioned me, body and soul, would never ask me to cross terrains for which no grace is available. Yet, in my sinfulness I hold back. My reluctance tells the pathetic tale of my lack of faith. I am afraid to trust Him today.

          But what if this is what Eva needs? And if she has no need of my prayers, but someone else does, can I knowingly withhold this giving? Is it right for me to do so, so brazenly and selfishly?

Have you ever tried giving God just one day in which you refused Him nothing, a day of absolute generosity?

          I have never. Even now, I don’t want to.

          But if this is God’s decree for me, I must. Because I have made a promise to obey. With all my heart and with all my soul.

          And so, I take the plunge ~

God’s Will be mine. I refuse Thee nothing.



  1. This: The Giver of every good gift “would never ask me to cross terrains for which no grace is available.” Oh my, how I need to remember this. The terrains can look so barren, so harsh. But there is grace.

    With prayer for Eva, and all who love her.


  2. Caitlynnegrace
    I have been away. For lent I have chosen to withdraw into the desert. No electronic distractions…no phone…no radio..no TV…no internet…not even blogs. Until this morning. I don’t know what made me weaken. Was the silence too deafening? Was my hunger for contact with the world too powerful? I can’t really say why, however, I felt moved to see what you and Susan were up to, so I broke my fast.
    I was saddened and edified to learn that Eva had relinquished her spirit into her loving Father’s hands. She put up an inspirational fight to remain here with her son.
    Perhaps the tug was from my own mother, who quietly slipped away like Eva a long time ago around this time of year. I was 16. It was tough, but she has held me close through all these years. I am certain that her pleas for me have precipitated the many graces and favors that have showered upon me.
    My self-imposed penitential struggle with dryness and silence will continue tomorrow. I am thankful for the moisture of a tear and the lilt of your song. You are God’s oasis for this weary pilgrim. Thank you.

    Pray for me,
    God’s Child


    1. Dear God’s Child,
      You learnt of the Cross from a young age, didn’t you? And you learnt Its painful lessons well. It shows in the way you hold out your heart to me, to Susan, and I believe, to many others as well. Lenten exile? Perhaps, it’s more a journey, and one that necessitated a couple of stops to rest a bit along the way, and to, yet again, tumble Light into our hearts.

      Come here as often as you’re called to. Or not – also as you might be called to. I will definitely hold you up to heaven. ❤


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