TRUST

Walk On Water

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          Skipping happily to my day at home this quiet November morn, I heard from within me the strains of a new song, Wherever You Lead by Kristene DiMarco. Leaning in, I tried to make out the words, seeking what God had willed for me. But the words, the lyrics, slipped out of my seeking reach.

          I was not in the least troubled. This morning, stopping by my altar, I had told Jesus I wished to offer up my days as a prayer of thanksgiving and also as a prayer for the Holy Souls, for this is November, when Catholics pray in a deeper way for those who have departed. I have three days off work. Linking up to the weekend, I have five glorious days and I am determined to live them right, in joy and thanksgiving, and may anything of worth from my days be gifted to my precious friends, the Holy Souls of Purgatory. How great their love for me has been and still is, this tender generosity of spirit of these saints-in-waiting. How many times they have warned me of danger, saved me from the rising creek. How many times, when the roads have been so dark, they have sung God’s leading to me, and with their voices in my ear, I have made my way from pain to joy.

          Everything of my November for them, I vowed.

          And then I busied myself with happy things. A small plot in my garden had been dug up and was now waiting for some new occupants. The original pot of dearly treasured Egyptian Starflowers which I had bought during one happy visit to the garden centre earlier in the year needed a new home. An attempt at a transplant some months before had initially disappointed me; I felt the new plant-babies didn’t take to their new dwellings and that I would soon lose them. Two other new plants I was trying out then, the Blue China and the Everlastings, had failed. Against the anguished backdrop of all that was going on in our lives, I had felt the sting of those garden failures deeply.

          But I refused to give up. I kept on watering and feeding the starflowers, coaxing them to fight to live on. In some ways, I think I saw our fates as intertwined; if they died, I did too. If they lived, so would I. For long weeks, it seemed a lost cause. Then, in a sudden turn of tides, the Egyptian Starflowers rallied back. Somehow, hope had reached their roots. With each passing week, they began to grow stronger and soon lushly flourished with grace, health and utter beauty. Every day, I visited them. The flowers would happily cluster together and gaze up at me, as if willing me to believe in miracles. That anything was possible.

          Today, it was time to build yet another home, a bigger home, for the starblooms. Then, I had some reading and writing to get done for the course I had enrolled in. Joy rose in delicious curls within me.

          Soon, into the quiet of that peace, God’s word gently slipped in. It was clear and precise.

Walk on water

          Everything stilled within me. Walk on water. Fix your eyes on Jesus. Do what seems impossible.

          Courage has never been an arrow in my quiver. I am easily scared and I am afraid of so many things. If I am ever emboldened, it is only by virtue of love; only love for someone can propel me forwards and out into the storm and into the darkness.

Walk on water

          What impossibility is God calling me to? Still battered and bleeding from the violence and abuse only dark hearts know how to inflict, all I wanted now was to curl up away from the eyes of the world. I wanted us, my family and I, to become unseen and unknown, to slip past human knowing invisibly, for to be seen was to ask to be hurt and harmed. Let down by family, by friends and even by Church authorities, the illumination of October has been shocking and brutal. It seems as if those who claim to love do not even know what it truly means and entails.

          Drained and exhausted, all I wanted was for us to be left alone. Yes, to remain in the cave of God’s holy mountain but beyond that, freed from even His call. Instead, last week, He sent His Word,

Prepare, Prepare, Prepare

Prepare

         I saw the word appear 4 times. I was alert. 4 was the sign of the times. First of Covid-19 and the pandemic; and now, the vaccines and the vaccine passports. What do I prepare for? How do I prepare? I had asked Him back in return. By His heart to wait, I then sent my angel, charging him to not return till God gives the word.

          My angel returned presently, bearing the reply,

Forgive

          So, in obedience, from my mind, I said the words, I forgive. Not from my heart, for so wounded was it that I felt no real forgiveness could be summoned from it. I forgive, I said mechanically, over and over, that old week of October.

          And then, a strange vine was laid upon my heart. I release you from my debt. It was an odd turn of phrase, unfamiliar, nothing I had ever prayed before. Nevertheless, I bound it to my own prayer.

I forgive you. From my debt, I release you.

          Name after name, person after person, I called to mind. I forgive you. From my debt, I release you.

          Nothing changed in my heart and I wondered what good was such a prayer prayed from a heart hardened by hurt and sorrow. But something within me remained undefeated. I forgive you. From my debt, I release you. Slowly, veiled by mists, my heart turned. I forgive you. From my debt, I release you. Slowly, softly at first, the prayer took gentle root in my heart. Then, it began to come forth with a new vigour.

          Just like my starflowers. And then, each time I prayed the prayer, it yielded with nary a trace of reluctance.

          Now, today, 4 days since joy began to unfurl anew in my heart comes the new call,

Walk on water

          Do the impossible.

Let Go

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God is our refuge and our strength,
an ever-present help in distress.
Thus, we do not fear, though earth be shaken
and mountains quake to the depths of the sea,
Though its waters rage and foam
and mountains totter at its surging.
Streams of the river gladden the city of God,
the holy dwelling of the Most High
God is in its midst; it shall not be shaken;
God will help it at break of day.
Though nations rage and kingdoms totter,
he utters his voice and the earth melts.
The LORD of hosts is with us;
our stronghold is the God of Jacob.
Come and see the works of the LORD,
who has done fearsome deeds on earth;
Who stops wars to the ends of the earth,
breaks the bow, splinters the spear,
and burns the shields with fire;
“Be still and know that I am God!
I am exalted among the nations,
exalted on the earth.”
The LORD of hosts is with us;
our stronghold is the God of Jacob.    Psalm 46

          Last night, deeply troubled again, I sought the voice of my God. I told Him my family and I had sealed our hearts to this Calvary which He has asked of us. But since the path is hard and rutted, and we are often frightened and exhausted, we needed to hear His voice. And not just metaphorically.

         I asked God to lay His voice directly inside my ears. Then, the waters still in a churn within me, I fell into troubled sleep.

          This morning, the second I opened my eyes, I heard a single line from a Jeremy Riddle song play gently in my ears,

Be still and know I am the Lord

          Returning to the source of that line, Psalm 46, I recalled anew how many times God had given me hope through the verse God will help it at the break of dawn (Psalm 46:6). Each and every time, at breaking point, He reached out and showed me a new path, and fed me for the journey.

          I am tired, Lord, I whisper. Tired of fighting, tired of being frightened. Tired of the endless days of nights.

          Psalm 46 tells me to continue trusting – but today, I just cannot. I do not mistrust God –  I am still holding on to the Cross – but in a way I cannot explain, I am also so very tired and worn out. The secret, inner bubbling of joy I felt a few days back is gone. In its place, a cache of grit and sand and tears.

          Idly, I seek out the lyrics to the Jeremy Riddle song. And there I see the line,

And let go, let go of your worries

          As my heart took in the words, I remembered something else. 22 years ago, on a severely dark night, I gave up hope on life and begged God to take me. That night, Jesus appeared to meAnd He told me,

Let go, relax

Let go, relax

Let go, relax

          They were simple words – and certainly not what I thought I’d hear directly from Jesus. But as it turned out, they were exactly what I needed 22 years ago. And in a little weave of a way, they were brought back to me today, 22 years later, this still Sunday morn where the happy winds of past days no longer dance and hardly a note of birdsong is to be heard.

Let go, relax

          I knew what Jesus was telling me. Given the hard days here, worries and fears had accumulated, as they would, naturally, causing a churning within me. My worries and fears were standing between me and the stillness I sought and which God wanted for me as well. Jesus now wanted me to let go of my burdens to Him so that nothing remained between Him and me.

Let go, relax

          And so I begin.

The Prisoner’s Freedom

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I trust in the LORD;
    my soul trusts in His word.
My soul waits for the LORD
    more than sentinels wait for the dawn.   ~  Psalm 130: 6

          This past week, I have been learning an old, old lesson anew: that if God wills us to walk a path away from the multitudes, even if we be persecuted for it by everyone else, true peace is to be found only in that solitary, lonely path.

          No where else.

          When people spit on us for daring to be different, I can’t help but think of Jesus. Falling under the weight of His Cross, flogged and bleeding, He continued on despite the curses and vitriol flung at Him by those He had been sent to love. True, there were those who wept for Him and who loved Him and more who hid this compassion and love in their hearts for fear of reprisals, but all their numbers were pitiably small in the face of what Christ had to endure.

          Yet Jesus told Veronica, Weep not for me but for your children. Despite His immense suffering, He did not choose this solitary path to be pitied; He accepted this path for it was His Father’s will for Him that He be a Sign for others. A sign of complete and perfect obedience to what God has willed, not what man demands.

          Through the many developments in the recent months, we are learning yet again that when we stand up for what is right, it is never a comfortable place to be in. There might be a few, deeply faithful friends who will stay with us through thick and thin, more who might support us as long as it doesn’t inconvenience them, but in the end, it can still be painfully lonely. It is a seat of thorns for sure, it will draw blood from us.

          And yet I have found, only here among the thorns, lives true peace. And freedom. In these past days, I have revisited our decision – the decision that pits us against others and for which we are paying dearly. I have allowed myself to imagine doing things differently, choosing to leave this lonely point by the wall of vigil and instead going where the crowds claim is freedom.

          Immediately, the peace flees. Immediately, the waters are troubled. Although the roads the crowds have chosen promise freedom, even imagining I am there, I do not feel free anymore.

          In a strange, unlikely way, I seem to be free only in this lonely place by the water’s edge, where the travelers are few. It is certainly a strange sort of freedom, unseen by anyone else, felt only by the spirit. I am beginning to realise that this is what Jesus meant when He proclaimed, I have come to set prisoners free.

The freedom of the spirit

          We can be sad. There will be days when we will cry when our cross bites deep. We will not shift our gaze from the horizon afar, continually seeking the break of dawn and release from this pain and suffering.

          But through it all, even as we wait for daybreak as prisoners, something inside us will be, paradoxically, free.

I Will Act

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          Sometimes, even the brightest days can be troubled by ribbons of cold winds. Something just didn’t like seeing me skipping about, and so it brought me a troubling update on my job, to dampen my happiness. I stood still for a bit as I took in the news. It was as real as bad news can be and it was draining away the last vestiges of hope. Then, I made up my mind: It was the Feast of Our Lady of Sorrows. In honour of Her, despite the news, I decided to make that little leap of faith and willfully choose to cling to Our Lady’s hand. Mother, I prayed, help me trust in Jesus. I returned to my day, brightened again.

          Some hours later, those cold slivers made another attempt to unsettle me. Feeling their presence, I didn’t want to pretend I wasn’t a little anxious. I didn’t want to pretend to be strong. I wanted to be honest with Jesus. And so, I prayed once more. Lord, give me a sign. I am worried and afraid – but I don’t wish to be. Help to me get on with life. Then, I turned to Mother Mary once more. Keep me close to Jesus, Mother. I think I was/am tired of being afraid, of being spooked. There comes a time in every Christian’s life when we realize that the way to really live is to trust fully in Jesus, and I might have finally arrived at this point of realization and of wanting it for myself. Trusting doesn’t suddenly make merry our walk through life. There will still be valleys to traverse and tears to shed. But for me at least, to trust fully might mean a lot less of the inner wobbling I fall victim to so often.

The wavering in trust, as Jesus called it.

          And the minute I made this decision to trust, Jesus answered my prayer for a sign for the way ahead, but in His way. He sent me His beloved emissary, St. Margaret Mary Alacoque,

          I must no longer concern myself about anything it may please my Sovereign Master to do with me and in me; He has told me He will cease to take care of me only when I am preoccupied with self. I have experienced this many times through my infidelity, the outcome of which was the thwarting of my wishes. But I no longer have any desire but to do what He has told me many a time: “Leave it to Me to act.” 

          When I heard Jesus’ words in my spirit, I was infused with a soft yet strong desire to not be a hindrance to my Lord’s work in any way. Jesus wanted me to stop looking over my shoulder and He had shown me the way to do it:

 

Beloved:
Let no one have contempt for your youth,
but set an example for those who believe,
in speech, conduct, love, faith, and purity.
Until I arrive, attend to the reading, exhortation, and teaching.
Do not neglect the gift you have,
which was conferred on you through the prophetic word
with the imposition of hands by the presbyterate.
Be diligent in these matters, be absorbed in them,
so that your progress may be evident to everyone.
Attend to yourself and to your teaching;
persevere in both tasks,
for by doing so you will save 
both yourself and those who listen to you.   ~   1 Timothy 4: 12 – 16

 

          My fears about our future were being fed by the attention I was giving them. And every time I fed my fear, even a little, I took my eyes off Jesus. But the Jesus who knew me so well also understood that I could not simply force myself to stop fearing; I needed to be focused on something instead. So, He exhorted me to be absorbed in my job and in my studies.

          I immersed myself immediately in both calls. Soon, I could feel the shadows retreat and joy bubbled within me once more.

          As I worked and rested in the deeps of joy, the angels came by to gently lay His promise upon my heart once more.

I will act.

To Accept

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          Who knew it is possible to be gently happy and at peace even in sadness and uncertainty? With each passing day taking me closer to the day when I might lose my job, I expected the pain within me to intensify to the point of bitter grief. Instead, here I am, filled to the brim with a strange sweetness, a pink and white nectar I’ve never known before. And not only am I sustained through the hours, I can even sense a silver brook tumble elfin bells within me.

          Even as one life seems to be winding to its end, another has already begun. Towards the end of May this year, I finally admitted to myself that I was experiencing a deep burnout over work. Despite the changes I had made and the improved quality of life, it still wasn’t enough to shore up what was inevitably crumbling. Even though I could still handle work and do it well, something was clearly dying inside me. All the years of struggle and tyranny had taken its toll. I only wanted to stay on for financial reasons, nothing else mattered any more. Even then I wondered how long I’d hold out, because although money is important, it has never been a major motivation for me. When I reached breaking point, would money be enough to convince me to stay on?

          At that point, everything that held me in place fast fraying, one Sunday in May found me musing about trying something, something different that would offer a respite from the intensity of life as it was then. If I couldn’t escape from my job, could I then build another world within it, a new world that would nourish and sustain me even as the old one drained me dry?

          The minute I began to give it serious consideration, something was set in motion. Despite being filled with trepidation and doubt in myself, I applied to go back to school, fulfilling a dream I’ve long had. Even as fear and shame over my lack of abilities and past failures held me back many times, the moment I opened one door, it seemed as if unseen hands were gently pushing me from behind and tugging me forwards. 

          On and on, those unseen souls led me down one rutted path after another. Sometimes, overcome by fear, I would question my sanity in attempting something like this. If I could barely manage my job, how was I to study and work? Was this not the height of lunacy?

          In response, yet another door would open. Keep your eyes on the Lord and move forward, St Margaret Mary said.

          Just as the storms whipped around me more violently, the acceptance notification came on the Feast of St Teresa of Calcutta, to shine a light through the gathering darkness. And it was significant because 11 years ago, St Teresa had taken me on a journey through the book on her life, Come Be My Light. At the end of that journey 11 years ago, I understood what carrying our cross and following Jesus meant. While I fell many, many times since then, I know that those lessons St Teresa taught me have brought me to this point in time when light is somehow piercing this darkness. There are some days when I still I cry and rage at the world for the unfair hand it is dealing me and my family – but I cannot remain in the pit for long, for there are books to read and words to write, meetings to attend and thoughts to think.

          Today, on the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, little bells are stirring in my spirit. Their light chimes lead me to forgive all who are hurting us. To ask for the grace of silence as I carry my cross as Jesus did.

          And finally, to accept with humility and with generosity of giving, the will of my Jesus that sometimes we must suffer so that someone else is saved.

 

 

 

Something Beyond the Bend

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He alone can see what lies beyond the bend.   ~   He by Richard Mullen

 

          At what should have been the start of a cheery week, we heard the sudden announcement that we are going into full lockdown yet again for a month. No dining out. No travelling beyond district lines. For us, that meant no trips to the city, no quiet moments in the church there, no forays to the garden centres – our newfound delight.

          But we comforted ourselves that at least, living in a huge district, we could still stuff everyone into the car and take our sunset drives out of town but still be within district boundaries. We had begun that practice about 2 months ago and all of us enjoyed that hour out of the house, driving along quiet country routes, the big sky purpling, making ready for its night. We’d set out with hearts full of thorns and along the way, drop each one by the wild wayside, returning with our spirits calmed and in order.

          Then, the government hit us with a 3-person cap on the number of people in a car – even if it’s from the same family. So, there went our drives too.

          I could feel my heart drying up around the edges. We had relatively simple needs as a family. With the pandemic worsening by the day in our country plus in a few others as well, we’ve given up all hope of a family holiday for the next 1 to 2 years. But we found that it’s something we could live with. With thanksgiving planted firmly into the soil of our hearts, we found that we could be happy in other ways. There were other joys for every one taken away from us.

          But to come home yesterday after one such happy, country-drive and to hear that even those little replacements had been snatched away is a blow that takes time to recover from. It is cruel because yet again, we are paying the price for the recklessness of others. While we have followed the rules, kept as safe as can be and kept others safe too, too many haven’t done the same.

          In the end, everyone gets punished.

          I retreated into myself to try and come to terms with this development. As I searched for God’s word which I may have missed, I remembered that for the past day or so, snippets of an old hymn had been sung into my inner ear.

He can turn the tides
And calm the angry sea.
He alone decides
Who writes a symphony.
He lights ev’ry star
That makes our darkness bright.
He keeps watch all through
Each long and lonely night.

          So, I sang the hymn in my head, tracing my heart over its lyrics, trying to find God’s voice in it for me.

He’ll always say, “I forgive.”

          I groaned a little. I wanted answers. I wanted comfort. Not another exhortation to forgive heaven knows who. The fact that I wasn’t angry with anyone made it harder to figure out who God wanted me to forgive.

          Maybe I’m just imagining it, I told myself. Maybe, ‘I forgive’ isn’t for me.

          But those 2 little words wouldn’t leave me. Like the tinkle of a distant tiny~bell, they chimed quietly from afar through the following day. So, I sent up a quick prayer to forgive all who had hurt me. I pictured a couple of faces and figured, it must be one of them.

          A little deeper into the morning, my youngest child unexpectedly annoyed me with her schoolwork. I was sick and tired of having to tell her the same thing over and over and I felt that I needed to get really strict with her as it had gone on for too long. Working through the laundry with sharp, angry movements, I sifted through my options for action before I went to her.

          Then, more out of habit than any real obedience or humility, I turned it over to God. Tell me what to do, I shot my arrow in the direction of heaven – and promptly turned away.

I forgive

sang a voice in my ear. Blithely – and a tad cheekily.

          In an instant, in one swift second, all my anger evaporated! God wanted me to forgive her! I couldn’t believe it. I just couldn’t believe how fast my anger disappeared – and more so that the hymn in my ear was for something like this, something pretty minor in the grand scheme of things!

          Suddenly, the coming of the hymn, He, made sense. Getting annoyed with my child seemed such a trivial thing against everything else that was happening in our land. Yet, the angels had brought His voice and His word to me early. Because even as our country shook, God clearly didn’t want me drying myself out looking beyond our fence at whatever was beyond my control.

          A short while later, helping my child with her studies again, nary a trace of residual anger remained. Because of that, I had a little girl eager to learn from her mistakes.

          Sometime in the afternoon, on our final day of freedom before the lockdown took effect, I wondered how the year would end. Whatever we built seemed to be crumbling and breaking. Nothing seemed to last.

          Slowly, I became aware of the hymn, He, floating by once more. This time, it didn’t pause but like a lone traveller along a country road, it gently went on its way, leaving it to me to decide to follow it or not.

Who do I have to forgive now, I wondered.

          Curious, I reached out and opened my heart to its lines once more.

          This time, something else was laid upon my heart.

He alone can see
What lies beyond the bend.

Word for the Seas

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I believe that I shall see the bounty of the LORD
    in the land of the living.
Wait for the LORD with courage;
    be stouthearted, and wait for the LORD.   ~  Psalm 27: 13 – 14

 

          In the days following Easter, over and over a single verse resounded,

This is the day the Lord hath made.   ~  Psalm 118: 24

And with it, a quote that came to me during Lent,

God always answers prayers – just not our way.

          Exactly a week ago, I needed to make that long drive to the city. I actually dislike driving long distance; I’d rather be driven, free to let my mind drift and roam and dream. But that Friday, I felt I needed to drive myself there, even if I didn’t feel like it because being alone meant being able to go and be in church.

          As usual, letting myself into our still and empty church, it seemed worth all the difficulty. The welcoming silence and peace within God’s Heart is without compare. 

          I cannot recall everything I took to the Risen Jesus in my hour there, but I did set down my prayer cart before Him, and linger by it a while before finally reaching for my much loved copy of In Sinu Jesu. I will go back to a lot of noise, Lord, I told Jesus. So, please let me hear Thy voice, if You will. Loud and clear, I added helpfully. The tyrants at work were warming up to their innate talents. I needed to keep God’s voice close at hand for when the days grew long and hard, as I knew they would soon enough.

          So, I attentively read word after word, line after line, parting the boughs and leaves in search of His words for me. Along the way, finding humble little blooms, I dutifully gathered them and tucked them absently into the posy in my heart.

When you are weak, come to Me

When you are burdened, come to Me

When you are fearful, come to Me

          Yes, Lord, thank you, Lord, I know, I know…. but is there anything … more? I looked deeper. There had to be something for the days and weeks ahead.

When you are assailed by doubts come to Me

When you are lonely, come to Me

          With small sigh, I gave up. My hour in church was nearing its end. I thought of visiting a little store on my way home and getting us some things for the weekend. Turning my gaze back to the Crucifix behind the Tabernacle, I felt a wave of tiredness wash over me. So, I decided against going to the store. I would spend those minutes here instead, rest a while more.

          And so I did. Just a while. Just Jesus and me and the little birds fluttering their wings against the glass panels of the church. From outside, the muted drags and hums of passing vehicles reminded me of what lay waiting. Work, duties, responsibilities. Nothing much had changed in my world but I had. Always tottering and in turmoil, the recent weeks had found me a little more steady on my feet. My friend, Linda Raha told me once about counting our blessings each night and that found its mark in my heart. Making it a point to be grateful each day, picking little flowers of thanksgiving each night has gotten me to a better place.

Come to Me

Come to Me

Come to Me

          Perhaps for now, that was all the grace I needed.

          Just before I packed up, again, one last look but not expecting anything.

You did not expect to receive these words from Me today…   ~  In Sinu Jesu

          They were not the words I was hoping for. Not searing, not a light-bolt that strikes the heart, slicing through the fog. 

You did not expect to receive these words from Me today

          They were words of a friend. A friend of the heart. One who can sift through the layers which cloud our seeking, knowing what our spirit needs most.

You did not expect to receive these words from Me today

          Just as I was rising to leave, He speaks so gently, tenderly. And again, as before, they were not the words I sought but they were the ones I truly needed. Because just like that, everything came to a rest. The seeking dried up and a cheery quiet slipped in to take its place.

...that I should know how to speak a word in season to him who is weary.   ~  Isaiah 50: 4
          
          Jesus is the Master of that knowing. Whatever the season, He knows the word we seek. And when our spirits have bent low enough to His lips, He will whisper them to our hearts.
   
          And the seas will calm.

Lent 34 ~ Miracle of Motherhood

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The Holy Spirit will come upon you,
and the power of the Most High will overshadow you.
Therefore the child to be born
will be called holy, the Son of God.
And behold, Elizabeth, your relative,
has also conceived a son in her old age,
and this is the sixth month for her who was called barren;
for nothing will be impossible for God.   ~   Luke 1: 35 – 37

 

          From yesterday, my heart has been filled with babies. This past year, I’ve truly carried my children close to my heart. For all the times work has taken me away from them, the past 12 months have returned me to them.

          But yesterday, babies clung tighter to my heart a little more than usual.

          As always, the realization came belatedly.

Feast of the Annunciation

Feast of the Miracle of motherhood

          I have been blessed with this miracle seven times that I know of. Some of my children are here with me, my heart’s delight. Some are hidden from sight, my unseen helpers.

And one leads the way.

          For a time, I struggled to have children. I know too well that everything the world says is right can instead result in disappointment after disappointment. The sun will never rise unless God grants us His love. Many women have trouble with this comforting truth – that God determines each dawn of life, the journeys each of our children take to come to us.

          But it is true. A child comes to know our love only in God’s time.

          Today, on this day sacred to motherhood, my prayers are for a dear colleague aching to have a baby after the sorrow of miscarriage. If it be the will of my Lord, through the intercession of Our Lady, may my friend know the miracle of motherhood again. May she be one with the others I place in the Divine Hearts of Jesus and Mother Mary,

Those who sit by the window of life, waiting and waiting,

Those who returned God’s gifts because He asked.

Those who said, Not now, Lord,

Those who turned their hearts away, saying, Never.

Those who loved and who had no choice but to release their loves to others.

          Today, I consecrate each heart, of woman and baby, to the Mother Heart that knows the seasons of motherhood only too well.

          May today be the Day of Miracles.

Lent 33 ~ Even When I Cannot

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You have a plan for me
Even though I cannot always understand
Beyond what I can see
I know that I am held within Your Hands
So I will trust in You
And I will lift a song a praise for You
And never ever change
No matter what I am going through

Even Here, Rebekah Dawn

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