Mother of God

Fatima 2 ~ June 13

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          On June 13 1917, accompanied by about 50 people, the children were reciting the rosary, when there was again the lightning, and immediately after, the Lady on the holm oak appeared like in May.

          “What do you want from me?” asked Lucia.

          “I wish you to come here the 13th of next month; that you say the Rosary every day, and that you learn to read. In succeeding months I will tell you what else I want.

          “I would like to ask you to bring us to Heaven,” said Lucia.

          “Yes, Giacinta (Jacinta) and Francisco will be among the few, but you must stay here for a long time. Jesus wants to help Himself of you to make Me known and loved. God wishes you to remain in the world for some time because He wants to use you to establish in the world a devotion to my Immaculate Heart. I promise salvation to those who embrace it, and their souls will be loved by God as flowers placed by myself to adorn His throne.”

          Lucia asked: “Will I stay here alone?”

          “Don’t be discouraged, I will not abandon you ever. My Immaculate Heart will be your refuge and through it will conduct you to God.”

          Then She opened her hands and emanated Her light on the children. Giacinta and Francisco seemed to be in the light that went up toward the sky, Lucia in the light that spread on the earth. In front of the palm of the right hand of the Lady there was a heart surrounded by thorns that impaled it. They understood that it was the Immaculate Heart of Mary affronted from the sins of men, and She then asked for reparation.

(Taken from http://www.theholyrosary.org/fatimaapparitions)

 

REPARATION

by Robert Stackpole, STD,

http://www.thedivinemercy.org/library/faq/commonanswers.php?newsID=2585

…it is an act of restitution, of making compensation to someone for the wrongs we have done to them, and in some way repairing any damage that we have done by our wrongdoing.

…..We can even offer prayerful acts of reparation to God for the good of others, to open the “floodgates” (so to speak) to all the graces of repentance and deeper conversion that our Lord wants to pour out upon them from His Merciful Heart!

 

 

finding my MOTHER’S ears

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Once upon a time, 30 years gone. I scrunched up my eyes and thought of nothing else, and prayed to a Woman from the depths of my heart. No intermediary needed, no scolding voice harshly reminding me to pray. No threats of eternal damnation.  No picture painted of a furious God. Just me and the Woman.

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From the old open windows where the sun streamed in gold and breezes poured their breath through, a deep joy silvered in and took my child-heart captive, and rendered all other pleasures nothing.

mother-mary-with-child-jesus[1] The Woman let me know my prayers had found Her ears.

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14 years gone, sobbing and clawing against the door of frustration. I sought the Woman again. Hitting myself over another woman – the one who birthed me, yet strung me on a leash and whirled me wild. Convinced I was in the wrong. Buying into the NPD-inspired myth that the child is always to blame. Anger. Confusion. Helplessness.

Comfort her, Mother, I screamed silently. Comfort not me for I hurt her. Comfort her and only her. I scrunched up my eyes and thought of nothing else, and prayed to the Woman from the depths of my heart.

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In exhausted sleep amongst purple shadows, I saw a scene where all was blue. Blue of heaven, blue never before seen. I saw smiles, and gentle answers. No harshness. No accusations. Peace.

mother-mary-with-child-jesus[1]The Woman let me know my prayers had found Her ears.

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8 years gone, a million questions, a deep, black fear. Eyes dry, throat in a choke-hold. A sick child.

Heal this blessing from my womb, Mother. Our Lady of Mount Carmel, heal my child. I scrunched up my eyes and thought of nothing else, and prayed to the Woman from the depths of my heart.

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Fresh dewy eyes, cheeks pink and velvety soft. Made whole and healthy before the good bye.

mother-mary-with-child-jesus[1]The Woman let me know my prayers had found Her ears.

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6 years gone, a friend’s pain pierced my mist of grief. Hidden tears poured out from miles away. A wedding band twirled in hours of wait, a husband missing from the side. On one side, an empty seat in the Christmas pew; on the other, a cantankerous, ungrateful mother carping about everything under the Yuletide moon, oblivious to an aching heart pining for a husband gone.

Place her pain upon my shoulders, Mother. Flood my heart with her grief. I scrunched up my eyes and thought of nothing else, and prayed to the Woman from the depths of my heart.

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Miles away, kneeling in my pew, shivering in the cold, rainstorm air. A sudden searing warmth upon my shoulders and back. Like an unseen cloak, to shield against wet mist from the open church doors. Mass over, on the way home. I reached for my phone. Her words a wonder: He’s here. Beside me. My hand in his grasp, tears in his eyes.

mother-mary-with-child-jesus[1]The Woman let me know my prayers had found Her ears.

 

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Roses fade and rain mists gather

A straying heart, wandering mind

Empty pursuits, blessings forgotten

But in stillness she awaits Her child’s prayer.

Never fading nor misting

Never straying nor wandering

But ever in eternal readiness for Her child’s seeking.