ABUSERS

No Die

         Everybody is against us. I rejoice in this, for God will be more favorable to us. . . If we be faithful, God will not fail us.     ~     St. Paul of the Cross

 

          We are walking on fire, my family and I. It has been a bloody month, woundings that draw blood. One after another, the hits are stronger than before, relentless. If we have one happy day where the breezes twirl in joy~dance about us, then come more days when a dark wind stirs up stones against us.

          Not everybody is against us, but our camp is dwindling.

          I rejoice in this? No, I don’t. Not a bit. No part of me understands that prayer line. Who rejoices when your innocent, hardworking children are hit and torn apart by teachers for no real reason? Who rejoices when the boss who has bullied for more than twenty years, drives into us yet another dagger to tear us away from God and family? Who rejoices when our work is rent to nothing?

          I cannot rejoice. Not even for God. Because I don’t know how.

          But I do know how to bind up my loved ones’ wounds with the bandages God has provided. As I pray them not to depart the Cross, I will them to believe that even if the world sneers and discards the work of their hands, honest toil never falls unheeded to the ground, to be trampled by those who do not know better.

          No. Work from the heart, work done for Jesus is never forgotten. Wherever pure love and sacrifice is cast aside in derision, angels tread softly among the broken and the torn, picking up every little bruised head and crushed stalk, bloom after bloom. They are saved for the gardens of heavens, where they will live on.

          Ten years ago, grief winds brought the words, “…. no die.” They come before me yet again as my family pick themselves up from the ground and turn their faces to the sun once more.

          To remind me that nothing for God ever dies.

 

 

 

LENT 38 ~ Not My Sword To Wield

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          Two days ago, my peace was attacked by someone who has caused me grievous pain before, and it sent me out of kilter for a time. I gazed back on the many miles I’ve come since escaping this darkness. I saw the healing and joy my husband, children and I have come to as a family since then, and I felt anger that this person had re-emerged to chain me up again.

          I decided enough was enough, and determined to put an end to this emotional and mental hegemony, once and for all.

          I had it all planned and was on the brink of carrying it out when these words came, borne of Light:

No action undertaken on your own, even though you put much effort into it, pleases Me.  ~ #Entry 659, St Maria Faustina Kowalska, Divine Mercy In My Soul.

          I was discomfited. Why would the Lord say such a thing to me? He, more than anyone else, knew exactly what my family and I endured for so many long, dark years. And we had been mired in that muck of a maelstrom because I failed to do what was right for my husband and children – I failed to put them first.

          Fear had come first.

          My beautiful family came a distant, inferior second – because I allowed fear to set the terms of life for us all.

          I didn’t deserve to be a mother and a wife if I allowed the past to become our present and future all over again.

          He countered me: 

It is in My Passion that you must seek light and strength. ~ #Entry 654, St Maria Faustina Kowalska, Divine Mercy In My Soul.

          It is in My Passion …..

          My anger slowed and stilled. At any other time, those words might not have seared as deeply, but to hear them at the beginning of the holiest of journeys, I knew I had been summoned to the presence of God. I was being shown that the road ahead no longer merely curved and crooked as it had before .

          It now forked. Into Life and Death.

          I was being called to decide where my tread would henceforth take me.

          All I wanted was to set right a wrong – protect my family as I never did before. Now, I was being asked to lay down my weapon as danger took another step closer.

Know, My daughter, that although I was raised to the dignity of Mother of God, seven swords of pain pierced My heart. Don’t do anything to defend yourself; bear everything with humility; God Himself will defend you. ~ #Entry 786, St Maria Faustina Kowalska, Divine Mercy In My Soul.

          My Heavenly Mother reached in and took the fight out of me. I put down my sword as bidden.

          It is not mine to hold and wield.

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LENT 37 ~ Forsaking the Vineyard for the Potter’s Field

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          In these final days of Lent, there is a clamour on the steps outside the door of my heart. It is the past – using mercy as an excuse, a reason – to be allowed in again.

          It has come right after Confession on Sunday, and today, the angels have given me insight:

When an impure spirit comes out of a person, it goes through arid places seeking rest and does not find it. Then it says, ‘I will return to the house I left.’  ~  Luke 11:24

          Something is just outside, and it is screaming and scratching to be let in.

          Will I turn my back on the Lord? Will I avert my gaze, let go my hold on the Hand held out? Will I tear to naught the fabric of sacrifice and seeking of this Lent journey?

And when it comes, it finds it swept and put in order. ~  Luke 11:25

          I sense the rising winds of desperate fury outside.

Then it goes and takes along seven other spirits more evil than itself, and they go in and live there; and the last state of that man becomes worse than the first. ~  Luke 11:26

          If I turn my back on the Lord, if I avert my gaze, let go my hold on the Hand held out, and return to the person I once was – allowing fear to blind and deafen me to God’s voice – then, it is none other than a refusing of my Father’s Mercy.

          It is to return to the very darkness I fled from.

…..last state of that man becomes worse than the first.

          When I allow that darkness to engulf and break me, I will be distracted from my calling, and I will then forsake my Saviour’s vineyard, for the futile toil in the Potter’s Field.        

 

EYES WE CLOSED, LOVE WE STILLED

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Forgive us, Lord,

For the Wisdom we gave no need

Heads we turned against children

Worldly gold that focused us

Pursuit of treasure in the field

Any wagon riding the railway of Self.

 

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Forgive us, Lord,

For the cries we deafened our ears to

Numbed our hearts against

Pleas from the womb, orphan shelters, secret graves

Homes wreathed in hidden ribbons of abuse

Children in a hidden world not right.

  

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Forgive us, Lord,

For the paths we chose to tread

Angled away from buried sorrows

Bitterseeds birthed and grown old in the drought of hope

But received first in the cold earth

Of reluctant mothers and fathers.

  

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Forgive us, Lord,

For the children we failed to love

Born of us, born of others

Left to pain, forever weep

Gnarled, twisted lives to lead

Because our eyes we closed, our love we stilled.