Pierce Me, Lord

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          Thursday, after a tough meeting, I had come home tired, a little hurt, more than a little angry, but nowhere as bad as it used to be – not because the work situation has improved; but because I sense something else in control within me. So, when I asked God, Why, why, why? Why is this necessary?, I did not really ask to know the answer, and I did not ask in the anguish of old. I asked in the slow weariness that comes at the end of a long day where the winds have restlessly stirred leaves, only to retreat to hidden depths, sullen and unwilling to speak.

          The answer didn’t matter as much as the will to endure if the road ahead was long, the bend He had spoken of, yet to be. 

          Later, opening my heart to one of my children, I heard myself saying,

Often we must suffer in order to know joy;

often too we must suffer so that joy comes to others.

          It was as if something from inside me was speaking through me, reminding me of the Cross, reminding me of why the Body must be broken and piercings endured, why Blood must be shed.

          Answering my own question of Why?

          As I spoke, I knew the bite of tears in my throat, the glisten of those same tears in the eyes of my child, as we both fell to remembering the breaking and piercing we have endured as a family, what we have suffered and lost forever.

          A short while later, an old memory was stirred. A memory of my children being a hair’s breadth away from danger, the chilling memory of how close abuse had brought me to the edge of the cliff.

Broken and pierced beyond belief.

          But by a miracle, my family and I were saved by St. John of the Cross. He had rushed to pull me back from the brink, holding me till I heard and obeyed his urgent bidding,

Seek counsel.

          Now, years later, as I sat and recalled that miracle, I began to sense something else. I felt the strains of a hymn nudge my ears.

Lift up your hearts

Lift up your voice

Rejoice!

again I say, Rejoice!

          A Christmas hymn. A Christmas hymn in the middle of June. I looked curiously at the word, Rejoice! What did it mean? I couldn’t just jump up and pretend a jubilance. So, what did Rejoice! mean, coming as it did now?

          Two days later, we happily welcomed to our home two friends – one a beloved priest. It meant a lot to me to have Father with us on the weekend of the feast of the Body and Blood of Christ. Twelve years ago, I had deliberately gone past church on that very feast day. On that day, we had arrived way too late and it seemed silly to make a spectacle of ourselves and go to a Mass that was almost ending. So, we drove on.

          We drove on into the biggest sorrow of our lives.

          For the next twelve years, haunted by what I had done, I made reparation, over and over, for piercing the Heart of my Jesus that day.

          Suddenly, now, here was Father, this particular priest, the one we ran to twelve years ago when the light began to go out, sitting and having lunch with us! I was so happy!

          We sat and laughed and chatted about so many things. It was beautiful, so beautiful being blessed by the presence of Jesus within this joyful and loving priest. I have always been a Martha, fussing over things that didn’t need fussing over. But not this day. This time, I was Mary, sitting by Jesus’ feet, listening to Him.

          And then he uttered the word, Promise. He said it three times.

          My mind went to the verse in Jeremiah.

The days are coming, says the LORD,
when I will fulfill the promise   ~   Jeremiah 33: 14

          To the stunning June rainbow. To the painting of The Fool and His Gold. The steady stream of signs. We must endure the piercing, I had told my child. Our Friday of 10s.

          I sense someone is waiting before me, waiting for something from me.

          I shrink back. I am afraid of more suffering. I don’t want any more of it. But I know that’s not the way to go. If I want to be a part of what is to come, I must endure the piercings too.

          What do You ask of me, Lord? I ask timorously.

          And then I dive. Pierce me, Lord.

          The winds pick up suddenly. The change is instant. From gentle sun~warmed breaths threaded through clouds and tree tops, the winds jump in jubilance and exultation. Through the trees and leaves, the winds rush as if to spread the news. The robin’s song pierces through the gold of Corpus Christ morn.

          As this excitement reaches for the highest ever notes, a soft breath writes upon my heart,

Something is about to end.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

11 comments

  1. This post made me cry. The mention of St. John of the Cross, and the piercing. Sometimes the piercing can be so fierce, and it can come from the very Church itself. The Church that you love. The priests too. But lufe in general. You can go through the utter abandonment that St, John of the Cross speaks of, and yet be the clisest to Christ that you have ever been. I miss Father Do inic who told me that I was on a path that no one much would understand. Not even priests. And so it has been. He has left now, but he said so much to me about continuing on this path. Oh yes, the suffering is great. Very great. Coming from places you would never expect it to come from. And this Corpus Christi, that means SO much to me, we are alone, with no place in the Church at all. I brieve. But it is part of the path. Broken. Broken for ys. Tes, broken.

    I wish that I could change my Blog entirely, for I want to write of these spiritual things. That was what I intended it to be originally. I love your Blog Caitlyn. Happy Corpus Christi.

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    1. I know that for every piercing we suffer for the love of God, He gives us what we need to endure. Yet, that is very hard to believe when the piercing is underway. I think that is when we suffer the most. That’s why He gave us Himself. And through Him, the saints. We need that support when the pain becomes unbearable.

      Maybe, this thought of ‘spiritual posts’ is God’s way of leading you to your next journey. If it is, you could consider another blog.

      God be with you, Lorraine. I will pray for you.

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      1. Thankyou, I did consider another blog. It is what I really want to do. It was so strange how my present one was set up to be purely spiritual but then took off in a different direction yet has helped many nevertheless. But I long to make it deeper. About the real desert experience and what it really means to be totally stripped. And of how the darkness is good. We will see. I am going to try to travel, today, to another church where we will be welcome and will be allowed a place to sit in our wheelchairs. Corpus Vhristi means the world to me but we have been denied Communion. We Have to break this cycle but I get sick travelling these days. God be with you

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      2. Continue to pray to attend Mass, to be able to hear His word, to receive Jesus and to console Him, Lorraine. God will work out the rest – whether you can get to Mass, and if you go – the church, the seating and everything that needs to be seen to. Most people need to live our lives in order to understand our difficulties and struggles. Since that’s not always possible, life can get decidedly difficult for us. So, continue to ask Him for His strength.

        I had to smile at what you said about your blog. That sure sounds like God’s doing 🙂 My life is filled with noise so when I began my blog about 5 years ago, it was mainly to hear myself think even in the midst of noise and distraction. But since I dedicated it to Mother Mary, it has taken a life of its own.

        God be with you as you discern His will for you.

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      3. Caitlynne, it is amazing. We set off for Mass today in a different town, knowing that all would be well for us in that place. The priest is nice, and the people are nice plus there us access for oyr wheelchairs! A BIG plus round here! We got there but coukd not park ANYWHERE! So we returned to our hometown,and, since I was all ready for Mass, spiritually, we went to the church seven minutes from oyr home, where we have had a LOT of trouble in the past, and bad treatment. But, it being Cirpys Christi, and not having received Communion for many months, i was determined to try. So, not being able to get into the actual church (it was packed solid anyway) we parked our wheelchairs in the pirch. Fortunately the doirs into the church were left open. We were about ten minutes late for Mass, and when it came to Communion, I was lrepared not to receive it, abd then,quite suddenly, at the very end, my husband exclaimed “Liam is coming with Communion.” I could hardly believe it. He had seen us. In THAT crowd! He is a Deacon anout to be ordained priest in July. He has been in that church for 9 months. I was so overcome when he gave me Communion that I burst into tears! So, we hope to return tomirrow for the Nativity of John the Baptist, which is a very special Feast Day for me. I feel very hopeful. And yes, my hysband is goung to try to set up a new Blog for me. I feel truly led to do that. We will see if he can manage to do it as I can’t. God bless you Cautlynne. Thankyou for your prayers. You have mine too.

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  2. New beginnings often start with a stirring deep within our souls. Little miracles are made manifest within us.I think at times when the road is hard of the Holy Spirit, The Comforter, God who abides within us. I think of the words of scripture in Romans 6:10: “the Spirit of God who raised Jesus from the dead, lives in you.” Life is a great mystery for us all. Still, in the ebb and flow of our days, God’s Spirit leads us, knows the way. We don’t know everything, but God does. It gives us peace, as He gathers us up each morning with a hug and a kiss, as we gather our own children.The road may be hard at times, but in the end, it only matters that you made the journey, knowing God was there at each and every step.

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  3. “Something is about to end”, I love your quote. Joy comes in the morning, No matter how mornings you must endure. Christ Jesus is there from eternity to eternity. He is our true Hope. TY:)

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  4. Your words brought a smile to me, Hawk. Mornings you must endure. In less than 2 hours, I go to a workplace I dislike. Suffering awaits me there. But so does Jesus, as you remind me.

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