LENT 1 ~ SHARPEN MY CONSCIENCE
Prayer of Reconciliation
Come, Holy Spirit, enlighten the darkness of my understanding and sharpen my conscience, so that I may recognize God’s will in all things. Send forth Your light and truth into my soul! May I see all my sins and failures in this light and confess them with a contrite heart. Jesus Christ, gentle Savior, I put my hope of salvation in You. Accept my confession with loving mercy and move my heart to true sorrow for my sins. Heavenly Father, when You look into my soul, look not so much at the evil I have done but at the genuine sorrow which I feel within my heart. Help me to confess all my sins with a childlike trust in Your loving forgiveness. Amen.
LENT 2 ~ LUMINOUS SECRET
The Luminous Mysteries is the Illumination of Conscience
Every year, I seek a Lenten ritual. Special prayers. A new meditation. Each year, Lent takes me on a journey. This year, work has been so heavy and I’ve not been able to quieten myself sufficiently to make out what God wants of me during Lent. Through the crash and lurch of passing days, I saw one thing, though:
The Luminous Mysteries
Through all the wild days, like the gentle moon, Luminous Mysteries has hovered just off the side of my consciousness. Never intruding. Quiet and still, in patient wait.
Perhaps knowing that despite the crash and swell of my days, I would recall that old night 4 years ago when an unseen voice had written these words on my heart,
The Luminous Mysteries is the Illumination of Conscience
And with that, I finally recognised the reason for its presence.
This year, I was to recite the Luminous Mysteries of the Rosary as my Lent prayer for the illumination of conscience.
LENT 3 ~ TAKE HIS PLACE
This, rather, is the fasting that I wish:
releasing those bound unjustly,
untying the thongs of the yoke;
Setting free the oppressed,
breaking every yoke… ~ Isaiah 58: 6
One steaming Friday last year, my country suffered a severe setback. Angry and upset, I realised the top federal prosecutor needed all the prayers he could get. So, I hastened to my Friday Devotions. In the silence of the church, I begged God for help for this brave and earnest man, surrounded by enemies, yet fighting to uphold justice and mercy.
God’s reply to me then was,
And My spirit continues in your midst;
do not fear!
A few short weeks ago, this prosecutor shook the country by an act of great valour. As a result of what he did, innocent men accused of a wrong they didn’t commit walked free this week. In these tumultuous times, that single act of courage fed many faltering spirits with the food of heaven. By the courage to do what was right, this wise man led the way.
In his own way, he showed us all that true courage is never more needed than when we are most afraid.
Today, another Friday a year on, I return home at night to dismal news: the prosecutor has just handed in his resignation. While a part of me falls into immediate sadness, I don’t allow it to besmirch his going, for he had given his all. He was truly a luminary great. A true follower of our humble and brave Christ, he never allowed fear to manacle him. Despite great and relentless suffering, he had taken the mission of Christ into the highest chambers.
Tracing my heart over the words of today’s readings,
This, rather, is the fasting that I wish:
releasing those bound unjustly,
untying the thongs of the yoke;
Setting free the oppressed,
breaking every yoke;
Then your light shall break forth like the dawn ~ Isaiah 58: 6, 8
I see the verses which speak to this good man’s mission, hidden within the office he was elected to. He had literally set prisoners bound unjustly free. In his brief tenure, he had broken yokes which had emboldened the corrupt and incarcerated the innocent.
Now, it was indeed time for him to move on.
And for others to take his place. To carry on the salvific mission of Jesus.
Releasing those bound unjustly,
Untying the thongs of the yoke;
Setting free the oppressed,
Breaking every yoke
So that God’s promise for this soldier of Christ shall be for us too,
Then your light shall break forth like the dawn
LENT 4 ~ LIGHT THE CANDLES
Light the candles
Begin prayers in the church, begin prayers in the home
Pray for others ~ The Lord Jesus to Dina Basher, Mosul, Iraq
A gathering of thieves. A clamouring at the gates. The king’s son must decide.
Light of Christ, pierce him
Illuminate the past, the present and the future
Then, shine the path forwards.
LENT 5 ~ ANGEL, PRAY FOR ME
This Sunday dawned after the night of a thousand knives. Sunday began with tremulous hope and fear. But soon, even that hope was gone. Snatched away by betrayal after betrayal.
In less than 2 years, the course of events of this past week has returned my country to the pits of muck and mess, where it had been for decades. In just a week, I woke up today to see our futures and those of our children’s, stolen once more from us.
The pain was more than I could bear, and tears welled up throughout the day.
Even the birds knew, because they took their song to far away boughs, as the winds mourned with us, caressing us in sombreness.
My husband tried to shore up my hope, and not wanting to spurn his love, for some time, I tried to be strong. Blessed be God, I prayed, over and over. Not wanting to let evil defeat us, we worked on lunch together. My husband attended to some yard work. I tried to rest my heart amongst the new flowers in our garden.
But soon, it became too hard. Soon, I could not summon even a simple prayer.
That was when I recalled the words of my spiritual father.
If you cannot pray, ask your guardian angel to pray for you. ~ St. Padre Pio
I ran to it in great relief. My country needed prayers. Yes, hopes were dashed and crushed for now, but if we all gave up on prayer, we wouldn’t need to go far to find hell. Yet, the vicious turn of events had depleted the very sustenance we needed in order to go on fighting for our futures, for fairness and justice. Good people would tell us to keep hoping, but there are times when we just cannot find the will to hope within us. Without hope, prayer is impossible.
Yet, if I could not pray as I should, as my beloved Padre Pio had reminded me, my angel could, on my behalf.
Angel, pray for me.
The relief was instant.
LENT 6 ~ THE ANGEL BRINGS MY PRAYER
Two teenage girls living near the friary of San Giovanni Rotondo heard of Padre Pio’s supposed communication with the angels. Finding it rather incredible, they decided to test the validity of this claim. They spent a whole night sending their guardian angels to Padre Pio. They made such requests as, “Pray for my uncle Federico,” or “Cure my cousin.”
The next day after Mass, the two friends went to the friary to ask for Padre Pio’s blessing. To their surprise, the Padre was upset with them. He said to one of the girls, “You kept me awake all night. First, you sent me your guardian angel to cure your uncle Federico,” and turning to the other girl, he said, “and you sent me yours asking that your cousin be cured. And you kept it up all night long…I didn’t get any sleep!”
In my sadness last night, I came across this anecdote about a saint close to my heart, St. Pio. While it didn’t turn my heart over, something about it remained with me all night, like a gentle perfume from an unseen wildflower.
Going to bed, my heart continued to ache over my country and the follies of my leader and elected representatives. Wanting to pray, I tried to search for words. Coming up empty, I once again charged my angel, Angel, pray for me.
Then, remembering what I had read, I decided I’d trouble my beloved spiritual father a bit. So, as those two young girls in the story above did, I too sent my angel to St. Pio, instructing him,
Ask Padre Pio for my prayer. And tell him you won’t leave till it is given.
All through the night, each time I awakened briefly, I checked in with my guardian angel. When the morning came, I pressed the air for my prayer once more.
There was none.
I wasn’t too happy. I didn’t want to go into the second day leaving it all to my angel. As long as it was willed by God that I prayed this way, it was fine. But having struggled with depression for so many years, I was naturally on alert. If it was malaise that was dragging me down, I needed to rise up and fight it before the coils tightened.
C’mon, Padre Pio, I grumbled. Don’t do this. Please give me my prayer for today.
A short while later, a line from an old repentance prayer popped into my head.
Jesus, forget and forgive what I have been
And it continued to appear a few more times. Each time, I duly repeated it, until it struck me that this was my prayer for the day. I couldn’t believe it – and I was less than thrilled. Here I was agonizing over the loss of the government I had voted in, loss of our futures, loss of everything we had worked for, and this was the prayer? Forget and forgive what I had been? I? Focus on my sin at a time when others have cruelly shortchanged us?
I was in a mild huff as I went to my morning Reading.
The LORD said to Moses,
“Speak to the whole assembly of the children of Israel and tell them:
Be holy, for I, the LORD, your God, am holy.
“You shall not steal…” ~ Leviticus 19: 1 – 2, 11
Verse 11 drew me up short. I knew at once that someone was trying to get my attention.
You shall not steal
2 weeks ago, this had come to me during Mass in church in a moment of prayer for someone close to me. When that happened, as it did now, I was taken aback for a while. Then, upon reflection, I figured that God was asking me to pray for the sin of stealing: that family member had in fact stolen so much from so many.
Despite the prayer, I could still sense the lingering presence of You shall not steal as I moved from day to day.
Today, seeing that exhortation once more, I knew at once that this time, God was referring to what had happened to my country. We had lost the government we had legally and constitutionally voted in. But thieves had crept in and taken it away from us.
Our government had been stolen from us
Although it should have been obvious, the realization still came as a shock.
I thought that with the bitter night past, I’d feel better, but the pain came crashing down again. Forcefully lifting up my spirit, I tried to pray for those who had done this to us. But something didn’t feel right about the prayer. Not that it was wrong. Just the sense that it wasn’t what I was being called to for the moment.
I had to go to work, to the mad amount that needed to be done there today. But I didn’t want to drown in it either. Angel, I whispered, ask Padre Pio for my prayer, and bring it back to me.
Our government had been stolen from us
Our government had been stolen from us
Our government had been stolen from us
I turned it over and over in my heart as I drove to work.
Then, in a quiet quickness, I suddenly discerned a change in the dejection within me. The hurt of being cheated slowly began to change into a strange, new sadness. I recalled the good times we had briefly enjoyed after decades of slavery.
Slowly, very slowly, it began to dawn on me that I hadn’t been grateful enough for those good times and for everything our leaders had done for us.
Instead, I had joined the masses and fixated upon the slowness of reforms and stewed in impatience over missteps. I had done nothing to convey my appreciation to my elected representatives. I had barely prayed thanksgiving prayers for them.
And only now, when it was all stolen, did I see what I had done.
Padre Pio had indeed sent me my prayer at dawn. Like any true father, he had known what I hadn’t, and he was determined that I see what I was blind to. Jesus, forget and forgive what I have been was truly my prayer for my sin of ingratitude. It had taken an act of larceny of the highest order to lift the scales from my eyes.
Jesus, forget and forgive what I have been
And with that, a sad peace finally stole into my heart.
LENT 7 ~ FAITHFUL GUIDE
May your good guardian angel always watch over you; may he be your guide on the rugged path of life. May he always keep you in the grace of Jesus and sustain you with his hands so that you may not stumble on a stone. May he protect you under his wings from all the snares of the world, the devil and the flesh. Have great devotion, Annita, to this good angel; how consoling it is to know that near us is a spirit who, from the cradle to the tomb, does not leave us even for an instant, not even when we dare to sin. And this heavenly spirit guides and protects us like a friend, a brother. ~ Letters III, Letters from St. Pio of Pietrelcina
LENT 8 ~ ENDURE FOR A WHILE
So be truly glad. There is wonderful joy ahead, even though you must endure many trials for a little while. ~ 1 Peter 1: 6
This morning, part of this verse appeared in Susan Branch’s Martha’s Vineyard, Isle of Dreams.
So be truly glad. There is wonderful joy ahead
I had been seeking Jesus’ answer for something important to our family, and to read that verse right at that moment did me a world of good.
So, I understandably drooped when I saw the rest of the verse,
…even though you must endure many trials for a little while
It’s just not in me to love my trials, patience and endurance one of my many sticking points. But I grudgingly admit that joy is sweetened only by trials endured in the right spirit.
I saw this demonstrated in a small way some years back. Most of us had been so involved in various endeavours to eject the ruling party in our country. We took our politicians’ campaigns into hostile and indifferent heartlands, working feverishly, doing whatever we could to win every vote. And when we finally won, the joy we experienced was indescribable. For the first time, we were united as a country, ecstatic in finally sharing a single bloodline of true brotherhood.
But one of my colleagues had little to do with that struggle. She had always had a weakness for gossip and news that singed the ear, and in the tense weeks in the lead up to the election, instead of trying to do something meaningful, however small, she took it upon herself to dig up nuggets of unsavoury, empty news about the townspeople’s political affiliations. While it didn’t detract from our efforts, it did nothing to help either. Yet, despite seeing the work that was being done and how much was still left to be done, it didn’t move her to try and contribute in a more positive way.
When the sun finally rose for this land, beyond a polite smile, I found I could shared none of my joy with her. None of the excited analysis, not a single victory anecdote – simply because it felt flat to do so with someone who had not really been a part of your struggle. We couldn’t talk statistics or political demographics – her eyes would glaze over, waiting for me to stop, to bring in some yellow angle.
Somehow, she got to know of the big dinner I managed to cook for the family as a celebration. Eager not to be left out, she went out with some other likeminded friends of hers for a celebration dinner, and the next day, proceeded to inform me about it. But there was no masking it for either of us. The emptiness of it was evident. Not having worked for it, she could barely scratch the surface of the national jubilance.
That victory did so much for so many of us. Although many returned to old prisons and old problems after that night of joy, we did so with the fire of hope burning fiercely within us. We loved better and we forgave easily. That fire changed the way we worked and lived, because we knew that even if there was none yet in some of our homesteads, there was wonderful joy ahead.
For eschewing the call of the struggle and preferring the languid ease of a ringside seat, my friend, sadly, was a stranger to that glorious fire of hope. Hence, in a very short while, she returned to her bitter and vicious roots, caught up once more in pettiness and trivialities.
Tomorrow is a momentous day for our family – and for thousands of others across the country. Thinking about my friend and what she lost out on by staking her claim on joy without earning it, the second half of the verse – you must endure many trials for a little while – loses its tiny sting. Because my heart now knows that joy is sweetened only by trials endured in the spirit of hope and faith.
I may be a woman of little faith, but I’m not worried, for God has enough for me. By His grace, I will reach that summit of wonderful joy.
LENT 9 ~ THIS IS THE DAY
This is the day the LORD has made;
let us rejoice in it and be glad. ~ Psalm 118: 24
LENT 10 ~ LANGUAGE OF GOD
When doubts come, dismiss them. Know that I speak to you in a language drawn from your own experience and from the resources of your own imagination and mind. The message nonetheless is Mine. It is I who am communicating with you in this way to hold you fast in My divine friendship, and to draw you into the sanctuary of My Heart, there to worship and glorify with Me the Father Who is the Source of all heaven’s gifts. ~ In Sinu Jesu, When Heart Speaks to Heart
There were countless times last year when I thought I was going mad from some thoughts in my head. They weren’t arrows of attack; they were thoughts so contrary to the reality we were facing at that time. Thoughts of miracles. Im-possiblities. Despite depressing developments, the never ending twine of bad news, these thoughts would make their way across my mind like some out-of-this world train, carrying dreams and hopes untainted by the present.
For the longest time, I feared that it was escapism, that I was running to this secret world of sprite winds and golden blue sunrises to escape the reality of the present. I feared that when the time came, that moment of immutable truth, I would crash harder, the landing made rougher by these thoughts.
But twice in recent months, just as I attempted to rein myself in, a little finger had pushed these lines towards my heart,
When doubts come, dismiss them.
Know that I speak to you in a language drawn from your own experience and from the resources of your own imagination and mind.
The message nonetheless is Mine. It is I who am communicating with you…
As yesterday’s silver~gold stream spills joy into my today, I know those thoughts were truly, truly my God’s, speaking to me in the only tongue I’d understand.
The language of my own life and of my knowing.
LENT 11 ~ AS OFTEN AS I DRAW BREATH
‘I love You, O my God’
by St. Jean-Marie Vianney
I love You, O my God, and my only desire is to love You until the last breath of my life. I love You, O my infinitely lovable God, and I would rather die loving You, than live without loving You. I love You, Lord and the only grace I ask is to love You eternally. . . My God, if my tongue cannot say in every moment that I love You, I want my heart to repeat it to You as often as I draw breath.
It is never easy to love one’s enemies – more so when they persist in reminding you of why they are not your friends and never can be.
Yet, it is written in stone,
But I say to you, love your enemies,
and pray for those who persecute you,…
for He makes His sun rise on the bad and the good,
and causes rain to fall on the just and the unjust. ~ Matthew 5: 44 – 45
On this blue~grey morn, hushed by the sweep of dawn rains, today’s Gospel reading brings 2 faces before me. They are not my enemies but I am surely theirs. They make no attempt to disguise their contempt for me and nothing pleases me more than not having to see them, for they can only live on the sustenance of my subservience.
But my Jesus is very clear.
For if you love those who love you, what recompense will you have? Do not the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet your brothers only, what is unusual about that? Do not the pagans do the same? ~ Matthew 5: 46 – 47
The lines prod me to do something.
Love your enemies
I’d rather plunge head first into a swamp, Lord.
But I say to you, love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you
I can certainly pray for them but what if today God is asking something more of me? The God Who has given me so much? Can I turn my back on my God?
Those 2 faces again. Reluctantly, I drag my will out of the swamp and place it in God’s hands. Tell me how You want me to love them, I tell the God Who didn’t have to love me but did.
Rising to my feet, the angel comes to stand before me. I look up and he gently places a prayer in my hands.
I love You, O my God, and my only desire is to love You until the last breath of my life. I love You, O my infinitely lovable God, and I would rather die loving You, than live without loving You. I love You, Lord and the only grace I ask is to love You eternally. . . My God, if my tongue cannot say in every moment that I love You, I want my heart to repeat it to You as often as I draw breath.
There is only one line I can earnestly say in all truthfulness. There is nothing of ‘enemy’ in it, thankfully, and I pray the line from my heart.
My God, if my tongue cannot say in every moment that I love You, I want my heart to repeat it to You as often as I draw breath.
Suddenly, the very moment I say the line, the sun tips over a huge pool of shine through the rain~pearled fir boughs. In an instant, the light renders the millions of rain diamonds a knife-bright gold. The timing and the sight stun me.
My God, if my tongue cannot say in every moment that I love You, I want my heart to repeat it to You as often as I draw breath.
To love God is to love my enemies.
And to love my enemies is to love my God.
If my tongue cannot say in every moment that I love You, I want my heart to repeat it to You as often as I draw breath.
If I cannot speak and show the 2 women I love them because it is sure to be taken a sign of acquiescence to their narcissism, to their perceived right to subjugate me to their will, I can certainly love them in the hiddenness of my heart. No turning the corner when I see them approach. No speedy shifting of my gaze. No need to jump into swamps.
If my tongue cannot say in every moment that I love them, then, as often as I draw breath, in the heart where no secret is kept from God, I can tell these women,
I love you
Because His sun rises on you as it does on me. Because His rain falls on you as it does on me. Because He loves you as He does me.
So, as often as I draw breath, in the place known only to the God I love,
I love you as well.
LENT 12 ~ OPEN THE PRISON GATES
Let the prisoners’ sighing come before You;
with Your great power free those doomed to death. ~ Psalm 79: 11
Yesterday, I told Jesus, Help me to pray the prayers You want me to pray. Then, I had a very brief and quick vision: It was daytime, perhaps in the morning. I saw a clear blue sky and a mountain range. And from behind it, a small, very bright sun rose quickly. Reaching the highest point in the sky, a burst of light came forth from the little sun.
I understood this to mean that yes, God would give me a prayer, and pray it I must.
Early today, God placed before me one of the women He wanted me to fight myself to love. Actually, I only saw her back as she was walking some distance in front of me – I was not treated to a hard look or even the usual scornful swish as she strode past me. Even then, my first reaction was disgust.
It was only a little later that I belatedly recalled the prayer I was to pray for her, I love you because Jesus loves you.
Today, Psalm 79’s Let the prisoners’ sighing come before You; with Your great power free those doomed to death, arrived once more at my consciousness, as it has since 2017. Each time that verse has caught my attention, it has always been for one of my superiors at work.
In 2018, after the verse came, I prayed for those who needed it. And then, I saw the word, Gates. I wasn’t told what it meant, and till today, I hadn’t come any closer to an answer.
Seeing the verse once more now, I wondered if my prayer for today was to once again pray for my superior’s release from the sin of loving money.
And then, as is always the case, I clean forgot about it.
Past 3 in the afternoon, I saw this man’s car and was a little surprised that he was still around. But I had a list of things to tick off and that was that.
Buzzing around town, about to pull into a parking lot, I saw another car. It belonged to one of the local business owners whom I had approached some weeks back for sponsorship. He hadn’t been happy to give and the brief encounter had left a bitter aftertaste. I avoided him after that, but here now was his car.
Without pausing to think about my annoying sensitivity to the slightest nicks, I took the plunge and prayed from the heart, I forgive you – although, honestly, that was the last thing I actually felt for him.
It was late in the evening that I recalled Psalm 79:11 once more. I remembered my desire to want to love God. Then, it came to me that God had used cars and registration plates to remind me to pray. Today too He didn’t bring me face-to-face with those who hurt me but who needed prayers. Instead, God showed them to me but He showed me their backs.
On each occasion except for one, I failed to pray. I gave in to myself – my feelings, my busyness – and the moment passed.
I could easily pray for my boss now that I remembered, and also the I love you prayer for the two women. But I had not prayed them at the moment of call.
So, I wanted to make up for it.
I looked about my day and there was scant little to offer, except that it had been a long and tiring day. So, I took each little difficulty and offered them to heaven.
Everything endured today I offered for prisoners, as mentioned in the psalm.
In a quiet moment, I suddenly understood the meaning of Gates: they were prison gates. Each one of the three people God had brought me today were prisoners behind different prison gates – money, pride, hatred, jealousy, revenge. Yes, they had hurt me, and it was very difficult to pray for them.
Yet, each one is loved by God. He loves them as much as He loves me. If I want to love God, I have to love them as well.
Because only love will open those prison gates.
LENT 13 ~ THE SAINT TO CALL ON
“Jude is my favorite of all the saints,” he says. “Patron saint of lost causes. The saint to call on when all hope is gone. The one in charge of miracles.” ~ Jandy Nelson
My country needs a miracle. As my heart scans the undulating sand dunes stretched out before me, I see no hope for my land. We have seen the government we voted in shockingly stolen from us. The sordid past once again occupies the seats of power and authority. Everything we fought for is gone. And yet, each day, we seem to lose more and more. And more. Corruption is rife. Money buys loyalty.
I know the importance of hope, but there is none left in me to summon.
Heart aching for my country, I consecrate her to St. Joseph. Please save my land, St. Joseph, I pray. Every fibre of my being wants to give up and to leave this country and start a new life somewhere else, but I’ve never run away and won’t start now.
I call out to the night for hope. I seek and call, over and over. Please give me hope, I beg of heaven.
Then, someone strikes a match in the dark.
Patron saint of lost causes.
The saint to call on when all hope is gone.
The one in charge of miracles.
St Jude
LENT 14 ~ EYES ON HEAVEN
Today, in response to a question about my ailing country, St. Therese of Lisieux spoke to my heart,
Let us go forward in peace, our eyes fixed on Heaven, the one goal of all our works.
It was telling. I had begun to fret once more – which meant that my eyes had strayed from heaven. I needed to keep busy. So, I asked God, What do You want me to do?
This time, another saint I cherish, St. Margaret Mary Alacoque, brought me heaven’s whisper,
The Heart of Jesus is closer to you when you suffer than when you are full of joy.
Whatever I do, it must not be to flee from this suffering, or to ask that it be lifted. That will come, but for now, I must suffer this pain, with my eyes on heaven, in patience and hope.
And one day, through the intercession of all the saints who are family to me, the miracle of a new dawn will finally break, truly and resolutely, over my country.
LENT 15 ~ HOLD ON A WHILE
Hold On A While
by Amos Russel Wells
When all the sky is very black
And all the earth is blue,
And all the fiends are on your track
And howling after you;
When courage falls and hope decays
And fair ambition dies,
And all your dreamland is ablaze
Beneath the ebon skies;
When you would fain renounce the goal,
Nor plod another mile,
Oh, straighten up your drooping soul,
And—just—hold on—a while!
Hold on a while! the darkest night
May bring the fairest day.
Hold on a while! the good, the right,
Will always find a way.
Hold on! for is Jehovah dead?
His love an empty song?
Hold on! have heaven’s armies fled
Before the hosts of wrong?
Hold on! for still some strength remains,
Nor yield you till you must;
A newer life may flood your veins;
Born of a larger trust.
A newer life—hold on for that!
A lily from the mud!
The greening peak of Ararat
Emerging from the flood!
The clouds are shattered by the sun;
The earth is all aglow;
Away the howling devils run,
And back to hell they go!
Hold on for that! Do what you can,
Nor prove a craven elf;
For heaven never helped a man
Until he helped himself.
And when your fondest hopes are dead
And fate has ceased to smile.
‘Tis then it pays to lift your head
And—just—hold on a-while.
LENT 16 ~ THY HAND UPON MY HEART
Yesterday wasn’t the best of days. The sullen hours were pierced and torn by a thousand nails. I wasn’t the only one who felt that way. It seemed as if almost everyone was at the mercy of something unseen. It upset me to feel this way, especially when exactly a week earlier, God had blessed us with beautiful news. I was annoyed with myself for not being able to summon enough gratitude and thanksgiving to counter these strange yellow nails.
Strangely, I also felt my angel smile brightly through it all. What is there to smile at? I asked him reproachfully. Something is tearing my day apart – and I’m helping it.
His response was a cheeky grin.
Day pressed its secrets into the night’s ear. And yet, a robin remained at his perch in the dark, determinedly singing his last notes for the day. Despite how I was feeling, the oddity registered. I had never heard the robins here sing so late.
I rose in the hours of pre-dawn today, to hear a lone koel part the dark skies with his call to the unseen sun. Once more, I paused. Never before has a koel in these parts sung this early before.
What’s with the birds, I wondered. Still, his notes sweetened my heart and I went to my day with a lighter step.
At work, the stained nails of yesterday raised their hackles in greeting. They were not done with us yet. But it didn’t occur to me to pray them away. I was too fixated upon frustrations uncoiling once more within me.
The later hours of the day brought even sweeter unexpected news. Dark turned to light. My heart sang with joy for my child.
Hold on a while! the darkest night
May bring the fairest day.
Hold on a while! the good, the right,
Will always find a way. ~ Amos Russel Well
But something remained still in nearby shadows. As I laughed and skipped past it, it stood still, watching. Waiting.
Detesting any form of limelight, I’ve always strived to work away from the public eye. But today, I had no choice, and thus reluctantly took my place in centre court. As expected, I slipped up in public. It was such a minor gaffe, honestly, and I gamely grinned through it. I was too happy then. Seeing the light in my child’s eyes lit even more timbrels of joy in me.
But as I moved to leave, that unseen shadow, waiting its time, reached out and clawed at me. Immediately, turmoil sprang to feral life within me, this time in the form of shame. As hour slipped into hour, the shame deepened, to the point of humiliation, as the reel of events played on loop. In vain I tried to hold on to the raft of thanksgiving as the waters churned even more.
Suddenly, I thought of Jesus, stripped to be flogged. Is this from You, Lord? I pressed. Is it You asking me to be part of Your Passion this Friday?
Yet, even as I asked, I recoiled from it. The pain of the public humiliation was just too much. But something in me for once refused to pay heed to my rebellion.
Jesus, if You wish me to bear this cross, give me the strength for it.
If not, place Thy Hand upon my heart and take this shame away.
No prizes for guessing which prayer I hoped Jesus would answer.
For some reason, from time to time, an unseen finger took my chin and turned my face towards the evening sky. The air was filled with the sounds of a day preparing for its rest. The last birdcalls rang out like elfin bells, boughs swayed gently yet cheerily in the warm honey scented breezes.
Once again, the urge to look at the sky came. The sunset skies now wore bands of orange weeping into gold tinged blues. The sudden beauty of it took my breath away, and with it, for scant seconds, the hidden churning.
Into that sudden quietening, a realization was slipped into me.
I was under attack.
The shame, the relentless amplification of it – it was an attack. Nails tearing into everyone from yesterday – an attack. I hadn’t recognised it for what it was, so I didn’t pray the prayers for it. But I had prayed. I had fought a little and prayed words that were so hard for me.
Thank you, Lord, when frustration threatened to black out my joy.
I love you because my Jesus loves you, for the woman who hates me.
If You wish me to bear this cross, give me the strength for it, for shame I’d rather not bear.
Each prayer had been a stone in the river of tumult, forming a path across it. As I prayed, I made my way across the raging river. Sometimes, I slipped and fell. But my happy angel had leaned down each time, hand held out to me.
And on that last stone,
If it be Thy Will, place Thy Hand upon my heart and take this away.
Then, peace slipped in.
LENT 17 ~ JUST TODAY, THIS HOUR
I thought to myself, Look at that. It’s not so difficult, the trick is to think small. I shouldn’t think of a whole book at once, that’s too big, too scary. I should think of it as one page at a time. And if I make each page the very best I can, when I put them all together to make a book, it will be the best book I can do. It’s not think big like everyone tells you, it’s think little, the same way you cross the beach in the sand, slogging along, one little step at a time, until you’ve made it.
And that thought carried over to, Maybe it’s not a lifetime – that’s not how to think about it. It’s just today. If today is the best I can make it, the lifetime will take care of itself. If this hour, right now had kitty petting, dinner cooking and book reading in it, and the next had a bubble bath and a call to my mom, and the next had painting with a cup of tea, an old movie and a walk in the woods, if I put all those hours together, what a lovely Red Letter life that would make. ~ Susan Branch, Martha’s Vineyard, Isle of Dreams.
I’ve always been the sort to borrow trouble from tomorrow. Maybe it has something to do with my growing up years. From the time I was very young, I learned to mistrust today’s happiness because tomorrow always brought sadness of some sort. No matter how happy I was today, I learned to scan the skies of tomorrow, to anticipate the dark clouds, to familiarise myself with their shape and form so as to soften the blow when it finally, inevitably fell.
It never occurred to me that the tides of my young life had been orchestrated. That sorrow was always hot on the heels of my happiness simply because I had been raised by people who could never bear for me to be happy. Every bubble had to be pricked and burst. Every sun blotted out as soon as it rose – lest I think I was too good, too smart, too blessed and got carried away.
Nothing I did was ever good enough. Every success was attributed to someone else – but every failure mine, and mine alone. Every little dream and achievement was held up against an impossible gold standard.
And each time, it was too little, too small.
Today, on this green~gold day of a thousand chattering breezes, more than 40 years after I was taught those lessons, my God Who loves me reminds me instead that,
It’s not think big like everyone tells you,
it’s think little
one little step at a time, until you’ve made it;
Not a lifetime,
It’s just today
This hour.
LENT 18 ~ TWO WAYS TO LIVE
There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as if everything is. ~ Albert Einstein
There’s nothing more enervating than a world-weary person who’s seen it all. They either annoy you by pretending an interest in your doings, or they cast a pallor over your joys and excitement, leeching the light out of your spirit.
I had not met too many of such people, and of the few in my life, scant patience I had with them. They lived their own lives in greys and painted everything else likewise. I kept well away from them.
But today, edging closer and closer to fifty, my heart has softened a little. I understand at least one reason why some people are this way:
A lack of thanksgiving
Some spend their whole lives waiting for the ‘biggie’, that anything smaller fails to register. And some struggle with gratitude and giving thanks because life has been one long pull of heartache and grief.
Thanksgiving doesn’t come easy for many of us. Caught in the bog of pain and yearning, it can be so much harder.
But as I’m slowly learning, it’s thanksgiving that opens the eyes of our spirits to the greatest miracle there is –
Life itself.
LENT 19 ~ NIGHT OF FOUR CROSSES
We have in our day no prince, prophet, or leader,
no burnt offering, sacrifice, oblation, or incense,
no place to offer first fruits, to find favor with You.
But with contrite heart and humble spirit
let us be received;
As though it were burnt offerings of rams and bullocks,
or thousands of fat lambs,
So let our sacrifice be in Your presence today… ~ Daniel 3: 38 – 40
I had been praying with blessed oil for physical and mental healing of a few people. Then, I missed the prayers two days in a row. Today, I went back to the blessed oil – but with an odd knowing – I am to pray differently. As if the missed days were some sort of marker, a break to indicate a transition of intention. So, I trace the Cross on my forehead today and pray a special Protection Prayer for all I carry in my heart – beloved family and friends, – and well, for the not so beloved by me too.
Restricted Movement Order issued. A few steps removed from complete lockdown. From being cheery and carefree yesterday – despite knowing about the order – today – a strange urgency and uneasiness descends upon me late this morning.
On business in the city, far from home. I’ve got to get home, I’ve got to get home. No panic. Just urgent.
In the face of the pandemic, I had asked my husband a few days ago if we needed to stock up on essentials, in case we went into lockdown. No, we’re fine, he replied confidently. I left it, trusting him.
Today, I’m away from home in the morning, and he calls me and tells me he’s gone and bought us enough supplies.
This wasn’t what we discussed yesterday. My stomach tightens at what made him change his mind.
I’m driving back in the afternoon. Uneasiness increasing. I probe it, trying to discern the reason. I tell myself it’s to do with the Restricted Movement Order, but deep inside I’m not so sure. I pray for the safety of all in my heart. Anxiety increases.
Jesus, place Thy hand upon my heart, I pray. If it’s from You, tell me what to do. If not, take it away.
In a slice, the tension vanishes.
I reach home. Life goes on. I’m my old self again.
Hours later, returning home with my husband late at night after a quick trip to the town, I think of the empty church in the city and in many places the world over. Masses and prayer services cancelled. This was prophesied centuries ago, I tell my husband as I alight from the car.
Looking up at the dark night sky, the Southern Cross constellation catches my eye. Nothing new. Every time we get home at night, I see it when I get out of the car. I pause and gaze awhile at it. As I always do.
But as I shut the car door behind me, I catch sight of a second Southern Cross. My husband has busied himself with his roses. I turn back to the sky, trying to puzzle out what I’m seeing. A mirror image of the first constellation. I must be mad.
I call for my calm and practical husband and he comes. And he sees it too.
Then, he raises his finger towards the dark sky, dotted by a million diamonds. There’s a third Cross, he points out.
And he is right. Out of all the stars, yet another set of 4 especially bright ones, unmistakably positioned as a Cross.
I am calm. No fear nor excitement. Fully alert.
Look, says my husband again. There’s a fourth.
Four Crosses in the southern night sky.
LENT 20 ~ A TIME TO TRUST
Restricted Movement Order.
It feels good to be at home and not at work where I’m unhappy. Good to be away from the senseless, endless, inane chatter. Away from the stress and terrible work weeks we’ve had.
The sun dapples kisses on the grounds and the winds hold trysts among the greening trees. Everything is in bloom. Every day, a new zinnia blooms, a new rose. Even the Desert Rose is about to bloom. The girls’ marigolds are coming up too. They’ve never planted Mary~golds before, and are happily awaiting the first flowers.
In this little sunny spot bordered by pretty blossoms, it’s easy to feel as if God has cupped it out of the land just for us. Sitting beneath the whispering star tree and the purple~crusted brooches it wears, looking out at the green grass and all the loveliness before me, the anxiety over the pandemic falls silent. Despite the dark news, despite the worrying updates, peace blankets over the fears and the worries.
Last night’s 4 Crosses in the sky feel like 4 swords, belonging to 4 warriors – all those I’ve consecrated my country to. But that is my thought; God hasn’t spoken to my heart yet. Some who have heard about it saw it as a warning and advised vigilance. Others felt joy. God is watching over us, said my cousin.
I believe all of them are right. It is not a time for merrymaking nor for careless and irresponsible cheer. The sprawler’s revelry must end. It is a time of quiet and waiting. We must take up our positions in the watchtowers and along ramparts. All the signs and words written on my heart from years ago are slowly converging.
Prepare
This is the year
Go indoors
The warning will only be given once
A promise is about to be fulfilled. We stand in vigil at the cusp. There is only one prayer for the moment, and that is,
Jesus, I trust in You.
LENT 21 ~ THE LAST BASTION
Every family, every faithful, every religious community: all united spiritually at 9 p.m. in the recitation of the Rosary, with the Mysteries of Light. ~ Pope Francis, for the Solemnity of St. Joseph, March 19 2020
The one Lent observance God called me to this year is the Recitation of the Luminous Mysteries. That is a personal sign for me, a confirmation of the voice I heard 4 years ago during our nightly Rosary,
The Luminous Mysteries is the Illumination of Conscience
There are shepherds assigned to us – our leaders, our parents, our care providers. Many of these lights that are supposed to illuminate our path ahead are beginning to stumble, waver and flicker. Many lights too are going out, one by one, leaving us in a gathering and deepening darkness of the soul.
But on this Feast of St Joseph, we pray to seek the guidance of the simple yet wise, brave and holy foster father to Jesus who braved the darkness of his times to keep The Child King and His Mother safe. We pray that even if all our shepherd-lights blacken, one light will remain in a clear and powerful illumination.
The light of our conscience. The last bastion for these times.😜
LENT 22 ~ BURN AND BEAM ALWAYS
To Jesus Abandoned
O Divine Jesus, lonely tonight in so many Tabernacles,
without visitor or worshiper,
I offer You my poor heart.
May its every throb be an act of love for You.
You are always watching beneath the Sacramental Veils;
in Your Love You never sleep
and You never weary
of Your vigil for sinners.
O lonely Jesus
may the flame of my heart
burn and beam always in company with You.
LENT 23 ~ A TIME TO HEAL
One thing good about Martha’s Vineyard being seasonal is that every year when the tourist season ends and everyone goes home, the island has a chance to heal from the summer onslaught. ~ Susan Branch
In this time of lockdown or Movement Control Order, it is all too easy to focus on the dark and the negative. On the mounting death toll. On the risks. On the endless what-if’s. I’ve lived too much of my life under the shadow of fear and I won’t go there now. Nonetheless, I’m not buying into the bliss of intentional ignorance either. That’s irresponsible. We must do what we must to be safe and to keep others safe too.
It is a time of genuine worry and fear. But there’s something else too. Something beautiful out of all this pain and uncertainty.
It is a time of healing
We need to heal from our dependency on the heady brew of the conveniences of daily life. We need to heal from takeaways, home deliveries and online shopping, just to name a few. They have made things so easy for us, and many of us have come to depend quite a bit on such services. And that’s fine.
But sometimes, we take our dependency too far. We make excuses to use these services to avoid going out even when it’s safe to do so. We deprive ourselves of a good walk in the sun. We choose to instead stare and pin pictures of spring blooms instead of stepping out and feasting on the many surprises which surround us. We send each other online bouquets or use florist services instead of making up a small posy of blooms from our own little plots.
When we return home tired from work, the takeaway beckons enticingly, and we tell ourselves we need a break, that a meal prepared from scratch, even a simple one, is too much of trouble. It’s fine when it’s an occasional option, but sometimes, we let ourselves go and make it a habit, and too soon, it becomes something we cannot do without.
In my little town where we are free from at least the stress of traffic and long lines, many of my townspeople have come to overly rely on food services and food vendors for their daily meals. Eating out is not a luxury here. From the wealthiest to the poorest, almost everyone either dines out or sends out for food. On the rare occasion that people cook, there’s again that heavy reliance on ready made dips and marinades.
They want Grandma’s cooking but someone’s got to do all the heavy lifting for them.
Over time, little by little, we begin to lose all that was bequeathed to us from generations before. We either forgo gardens or we procure the services of professional gardeners. We search out restaurants and cafés for the warm memories of old kitchens and food cooked with love. We don’t trouble ourselves cooking for our kids and family. We prefer to work than to return home to the whining and groaning of our kids. We hire home tutors and use that as an excuse to remain longer at work because that’s so much easier on our tempers than to struggle with our children over homework and exam preps.
But with a lockdown, with restricted movement, all our previous refuges have to be vacated. We can’t go to work. Restrictions take away the luxury of some of the services that have become an unhealthy staple in our lives. It’s a terrible time. But even with Stay At Home orders, life still needs to go on. We need to make important financial decisions. But kids need to learn too. Family needs to be fed. House needs to be cleaned. Other needs need to be met as well. But no one’s there any more to do it for us.
We’re on our own
It can be daunting, it can be frustrating. Some days can be hour after hour of mistake after mistake. But times like this can also be beautiful. Just like that beautiful island that benefitted from tourist dollars needs the rest of the year to heal from the effects of tourism, we too need this downtime to heal from certain conveniences that might have made life easier but also eroded life of value.
We heal by going back to basics. We heal by simplicity. We heal by doing things ourselves as opposed to always depending on someone else.
We heal by taking the time to do things. We heal by stepping back from rush and speed and instead, begin to savour moments.
We’ve been given a gift. Let’s take it. Let’s go home to heal.
LENT 24 ~ WHEN WE CAN’T
Prayer to one’s Guardian Angel when unable to assist at Mass
O Holy Angel at my side
go to the church for me,
kneel at my place at Holy Mass,
where I desire to be,
At offertory in my stead,
take all I am and own
and place it as a sacrifice
upon the altar Throne.
At Holy Consecration’s bell
adore with Seraph’s love,
My Jesus hidden in the Host,
come down from heaven above.
And when the priest Communion takes
O bring my Lord to me,
that His sweet Heart may rest on mine
And I His temple be!
LENT 25 ~ WE WILL NOT FEAR
God is our refuge and our strength,
an ever-present help in distress.
Therefore we fear not, though the earth be shaken
and mountains plunge into the depths of the sea. ~ Psalm 46: 2 – 3
LENT 26 ~ A QUIET GIFT COMES
I had been waiting for this day, this 25th of March. Feast of the Annunciation. Since 2016, I have been nudged to alertness regarding this date, this Feast, the day Mary said Yes to God.
From Monday, when I began my simple 3 day novena to prepare for the feast day, my chest would tighten every time I thought about it. Was it anticipation? Perhaps. But I cannot be sure, because there was an underlying anxiety. An undercurrent of premonition.
But the 25th of today dawned incredibly beautiful. Deep azure skies, a strong sun. Flowers in wild and joyful bloom, dancing in rhythm to the mischievous winds toying with them. Even my morning’s frisson of unease evaporated in the face of such sunny happiness.
Yet, I continued to gently press my heart against Heaven. Give me Thy sign.
And then, it came. But it was nothing like I had been stiffening and tightening up for.
Instead, an unseen gentleness quietly led me on a little journey down an old lane of memory. I was brought back to verses that have never failed to quieten and still me.
Then the LORD said: Go out and stand on the mountain before the LORD; the LORD will pass by. There was a strong and violent wind rending the mountains and crushing rocks before the LORD—but the LORD was not in the wind; after the wind, an earthquake—but the LORD was not in the earthquake; after the earthquake, fire—but the LORD was not in the fire; after the fire, a light silent sound. ~ 1 Kings 19: 11 – 12
I know it should have been obvious to me, but it wasn’t. Not until today.
I had always wondered what on earth that strong and violent wind, that earthquake, that fire – referred to. I would scan headlines and reports about Mother Earth revolting, laying my heart against each one, trying to find a common rhythm that told me I had found the answer.
But each attempt was futile. I was brought to the gates and each time, left there, not allowed in. Until today. Today, the gates opened slightly. And even from the humble spot where I was, I suddenly understood what had been hitherto hidden from my spirit of understanding.
The gates I had been made aware of in Lent of 2018 referred to Mary, the Mother of Jesus.
And the wind, the earthquake, the fire – all now referred to inner churnings in my life.
There had been strong and violent winds, earthquakes, fire even, in my personal and professional life for many years. I had struggled with and through each one, sometimes pulling through, often failing. Each fall went on to generate another set of wild winds, a series of earthquakes, endless fires as I fought fear, tears and frustrations.
But early this year, I began to sense something had changed in me. Outwardly, I seemed to be the same. Some days I even fooled myself. Yet, it was evident that I was no longer who I was. Although I worked very hard at my job, although the pace was terrible this year, something else held fort within me, holding me back from the edge of the cliff. I knew that something was the December dream which warned of a complete and no-turning-back burnout.
Suddenly, with that dream, I knew that I could no longer allow any external wind, earthquake or fire to destroy me and my body and my peace of mind. No matter what blew or shifted or raged, I had to take charge.
I had to flee to the hills of my God and my faith.
And so I did. Many days, it sure didn’t seem like it, but if I forgot one day, I made amends the next day. Slowly, I learned something that has always been so hard for me – saying No, saying Stop. I did it at work. I did it at home too. Sure, that didn’t make some people too happy with me, but they needed to hear it.
And now with the Covid-19 Movement Control Order in place, today extended by an additional 2 weeks, although I am working from home, I no longer have to contend with the worst of outside winds, earthquakes or fires. A clear break has come.
Today, on the Feast of the Annunciation, Our Lady came to softly tell me it was time to eradicate, obliterate even the few inner winds, earthquakes or fires which may come to life from time to time as I navigate the roads of fear, worry and tension of this terrible pandemic. She came today to tell me it is time I leaned against Her and the communion of saints who are family to me, in order to fight myself, to fight back against the winds, earthquakes and fires of my emotions and temperaments.
To still all that breaks, shifts and rages within me.
Because it is in that ensuing peace and stillness that I will finally hear the small, still sound of my God.
And with that victory, I will finally lean forever against the Heart of my beloved Jesus.
LENT 27 ~ THE SIGN IS GIVEN
I was roused from sleep early this morning with the words,
… will die from this
‘This’ referred to Covid-19. And I was told the family member who would succumb to it.
Then, I was taken back to an old dream of 2016, of a white map in the sky, pointing to a time of coming terror. In that dream, my gaze was directed to 3 continents in succession. Not together. I saw them one after the other.
First – Africa
Second – Europe
Third – Asia
Almost a year later, in 2017, another series of events on a single day. And through them, I was made aware of the need to consecrate the world to Jesus – through Mother Mary.
Several times, I brought up this dream of the white map to some people dear to me. Together we tried to make sense of it. Each interpretation made complete sense. Yet, I was always left feeling that our views were not quite on the mark; that there was something more.
Yet another year later, in 2018, suddenly the mists parted a little.
Africa. Europe. Asia.
wasn’t referring to continents specifically. It was pointing to 3 consecutive years.
2017. 2018. 2019.
3 years before the explosion of events, leading to the Covid-19 pandemic in the 4th year.
In the dream of the map, everything had been covered in white. I sensed it meant something but didn’t know what it signified at the time of the dream. In 2018, interiorly I understood that it referred to a coming winter. Sure enough, soon winter began to appear at unexpected times and in unexpected ways, in Nature as well as metaphorically.
But this morning, I finally saw what that white of winter actually meant. It was the time of being indoors as one would in the winter. And that winter was this pandemic. A winter being experienced by every country on God’s earth.
One by one, slowly things were revealed and illumined this morning.
The death
The map
And finally, When Communism comes again. This prophesy was given to a seer of the Garabandal apparitions which began in 1961 in Spain.
When Communism comes again, everything will begin to happen. ~ Conchita Gonzalez
When Communism comes again, it will be the marker indicating the time we have been alerted to in many different ways. A time of sorrow. A time of revelation. Of unmasking. There are several predictions about this time when the unimaginable begins to happen, and I concurred with at least one.
But what was conveyed to me in the dark pre-dawn hours of this morning was that the marker of Communism coming again is Covid-19, originally named the Wuhan virus, after the city of Wuhan in Communist China. Where it all began.
Ask for a sign from the LORD, your God;
let it be deep as the nether world, or high as the sky! ~ Isaiah 7: 10 – 11
I asked for a sign on the Feast of the Annunciation yesterday. Covid-19 is that sign.
LENT 28 ~ LET NO LEAF BE LOST
Shall we all be saved? Shall we go to Heaven? Alas, my children, we do not know at all! But I tremble when I see so many souls lost these days. See, they fall into Hell as leaves fall from the trees at the approach of winter. ~ St. Jean Marie Baptiste Vianney, the Cure of Ars
Yesterday, I wrote about a dream I had in 2016. A white map in the sky. A warning. Yesterday, the meaning of the white in the map was made clear. It referred to winter. Not the winter we know. Not just the winter of spirits either. But a winter of actual withdrawing from the world and remaining indoors.
The winter of stay-home orders and of lockdowns due to Covid-19.
On this Friday of repentance and atonement, I am choosing to offer up my day for the leaves which may fall as this winter nears. May they be pierced and warmed by the Son’s saving rays, as my sinner’s heart has been. May those leaves come to know what it truly means to be loved and cherished, as I have learned through my own brokenness.
May the approaching winter bring a light and warmth never before seen nor felt.
Let no leaf be lost.
LENT 29 ~ HE IS GOING HOME
In the darkness of Thursday morn, the day following the Feast of the Annunciation, I was roused from sleep. In the silence that followed, someone sat by my heart and lifted the veils a little.
One of it concerned someone I love with all my heart. I learned that this old man would die.
The whole of that Thursday, all through its hours, my heart remained calm and steady, accepting of that death if it were to truly happen. For ever so long, I’ve fought heaven, demanded that I be allowed to return home, to love and care as I’ve always done.
But one day, years ago, in the midst of my anguished cry to heaven, I felt and heard the breath of Jesus upon my ear, saying,
There will be different ways to love
In the years that followed, I began to understand that I would never return to my old home. Because to do so would only bring death upon my own family here now.
It took a few more years before I could quieten the rebellion in my heart against that knowledge, but when I did, I slowly learned that God wanted me to now love through prayers, sacrifice and consecration.
Only when I had fully accepted that did Jesus gently lead me towards yet another revelation. That this man will return to me with his old arms raised in the joy of absolute freedom and forgiveness – but only through the gates of death. Because only death could free this beloved man from the fetters that have imprisoned him from birth, right up to the present hour.
And so, that is why, even when I was told on Thursday that he would die soon, even through my tears, my heart is ready for it.
LENT 30 ~ BE SEALED WITH THE SPIRIT
In the afternoon hours of Thursday, a fear began to press itself into the creases of my spirit. Try as I might, I could not determine its reason for appearing. It didn’t seem to be about the death I had been told of. But it was definitely about the pandemic.
Fear at such a time is understandable, expected even. Yet, I knew that while what I was sensing was related to the terror and deepening worries about so many things spreading across the globe, the fear seemed to be about something else.
Something I could feel but not see.
I rose early on Friday and went to my promise.
Mother, I prayed to Our Lady of Fatima, I consecrate the world to Jesus, through Thee.
Please protect us. Please save us.
Life went on in the new monastic rhythm of busyness intertwined with quiet alertness. The sun danced its light upon us as we cleaned the home, taught the kids their lessons. As we worked in the garden, as we prepared meals.
But the quiet thread of fear continued to weave its seam through it all.
By late afternoon, this fear had grown bolder. I felt my chest tighten. Again, I searched for the source of this reaction. Again, the air kept its own counsel.
Then, I remembered a prayer, and urgently reached for it.
Jesus, lay Thy hand upon my heart
Immediately, the constricting fear and tightness evaporated. I knew then that whatever had come, it wasn’t from God.
Once more, the day and its little calls continued. Again, I returned to my duties, but with an alert eye trained on the distance even as I pondered the many things laid against my heart since the morn of Thursday.
By night, the tightness had returned, reaching into my throat with a firmness of intent. I knew instinctively that it wasn’t a physical condition; my spirit was reacting to something. I started to share about it with my husband, but somehow, the words evaporated and the moment passed.
Late at night, busy reflecting and writing, an alert popped up in a small window at the base of my laptop screen. It was a message from a website I might have visited at least a year ago, not something recent. And the message was,
Be sealed with the Spirit
The moment my puzzled gaze took it in, the tightness disappeared.
I couldn’t believe it.
Be sealed with the Spirit
It’s been two days and no shadow has drawn close to my gate since. The fear, the tightness – has left.
I watch the news, read words of pain and fear. All over the world, people weeping, in anguish over lost jobs and lives. I could turn a deaf ear, dismiss the panic as manufactured, busy myself elsewhere. The choice is mine.
But I don’t – because I can’t and I shouldn’t. That fear I experienced wasn’t from God but God let that fear touch me for a reason. And that reason is the love I profess is of no value if I pull my hands away from the wounds of my brethren. Because I wound my Jesus if I withdraw into my security and comfort when others around me the world over are losing every comfort and security they’ve ever known.
And so, I return to where He wants me to be – in the pain of His people. Where each life left on earth is in need of the same healing benediction laid upon me,
Be sealed with the Spirit
LENT 31 ~ IN WINTER, CHOOSE LIFE
During the worst moment of the illness, I thought I could die and I was scared of leaving alone my wife and letting my son grow up without a father like me ~ Pierpaolo Sileri, Italian Deputy Minister of Health upon recovering from Covid-19.
As I heard this man’s words, I marvelled at him. In the cold and dark of his fear, he chose to care about his wife. He chose to care about his child.
His worst moment was the best of all. Because in his winter of fear, he chose Life.
LENT 32 ~ THERE WAS A FOURTH
Prayer to St. Michael, St. Gabriel and St. Raphael
Most Holy Trinity, I thank Thee for having formed the hosts of Thy ministers in Heaven so marvelously, and for having adorned their leader so magnificently. Be Thou adored and loved in the beauty and grandeur of Thy ministers: be Thou praised in their jubilant songs of praise and thanksgiving, through all eternity. Amen
O holy princes of Heaven, Michael, Gabriel and Raphael, I praise you for the love with which the Most High has loved you and placed you so near to His own throne. Be mindful of our necessities, and at the head of the Holy Angels, do battle for the Church of God upon earth, that Satan may be forced to yield ever more, and the Kingdom of light and grace, virtue and the holy love of God, may flourish in splendor, and its beauty be acknowledged by all. Amen.
…do battle for the Church of God upon earth. Battle. Weapons. Swords?
Four swords
belonging to
St Michael, St Gabriel and St Raphael
And a fourth.
LENT 33 ~ STEP INTO THE BREACH
Yesterday a woman from Crema phoned me to get news about her grandmother who is hospitalized and in serious conditions at the Sacco. She told me of her other grandmother, who died of Covid, and of her mother, who is in intensive care in Crema, and then she said, “You see, Doctor, at the beginning I was praying, but now I’ve stopped.”
I answered, “I understand, ma’am. Do not worry. I will be the one praying for her.” ~ Dr. Amedeo Capetti, A Letter from the Trenches, Luigi Sacco Hospital, Milan
An insistent whisper beats against my heart,
Step into the breach
LENT 34 ~ BLOW THE SPIRIT OF MY MOTHER
When the virus reaches the lungs, their mucous membranes become inflamed. That can damage the alveoli or lung sacs and they have to work harder to carry out their function of supplying oxygen to the blood… ~ The New York Times
And about I guess it was about 3 o’clock in the morning I got to the point where I couldn’t even breathe, and I tell you I felt like I had a man laying on my chest and the weight of this man was so heavy that he was taking my breath. I mean, it was like I couldn’t even breathe. And then all of a sudden I felt this — I felt air blown into my lungs and I know as a believer that God was there with me, and He began to blow air in my lungs and I took a deep breath…the doctor came in the next morning and informed him that he had hardly any fluid left in his lungs… ~ Clay Bentley, Covid-19 survivor
I felt air blown into my lungs
5 years ago, on the 2nd day of my Passion of Christ novena, I felt a voice say,
Blow the spirit of My Mother into the realms.
I didn’t understand what ‘realms’ referred to; I didn’t know how to blow either.
But yesterday, reading that account of Clay Bentley, seeing the words, I felt air blown into my lungs, I suddenly remembered the Voice that told me to blow the spirit of Mary into the realms.
Like everyone else, I had learned that the Sars-CoV-2 virus which causes Covid-19 can severely damage the lungs, impairing its ability to supply oxygen to the blood.
What if there was something I could do to help stricken lungs to heal and function well again?
Step into the breach
Blow the spirit of My Mother into the realms
And so I’ve begun. I’m praying Hail Marys, offering each one for a Covid victim in need of the Holy Mother’s spirit. I don’t know if it’s what I’m meant to do, but ailing lungs need help.
The Hail Mary prayer is that help. It is the heavenly ventilator needed by so many.
Hail Mary, full of grace,
The Lord is with you
Blessed are you among all women
And blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus.
LENT 35 ~ HE HAS HEARD
In my distress I called upon the LORD
and cried out to my God;
From His temple He heard my voice,
and my cry to Him reached His ears. ~ Psalm 18: 7
An unearthly hush has descended here. Even the breezes caress the leaves in gentleness and silence. Only the birds delightfully chirp on unhindered. The First Friday of the month of April, the month of the Holy Eucharist. Ten days to Easter.
What silence is this, I ponder and wonder, yet not really seeking an answer, for so very beautiful it is, this silence, this peace. Just being swathed in it suffices. Suddenly, nothing else matters, except being in the moment.
What silence is this?
Softly, softly, it comes. It is the silence when heaven has heard.
LENT 36 ~ LISTEN
Morning after morning
He opens my ear that I may hear ~ Isaiah 50: 4
LENT 37 ~ OUR ARROWS
He made me a polished arrow,
in His quiver He hid me. ~ Isaiah 49: 2
You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable. ~ Kahlil Gibran, On Children
This time of sheltering has been, more than anything, my time with the family, with my husband, with my children. For the first time, despite working from home, I can truly say family has come the absolute first for me. For the first time, my front gate has kept out most of the unsavoury elements of my working life. For the first time, I am minimally aware of my immediate boss’ dark and negative aura.
But I hate it that Covid-19 has achieved this. I hate that it has to be this way, at this cost.
Yet, it is what it is.
Against the backdrop of sorrow and fear, we live in a joy~blessed cloister with our arrows.
Carved out of this tragedy of a pandemic, is our foretaste of heaven.
LENT 38 ~ WILL I SEE MY LORD AGAIN?
Tonight, I ask the question that burns on many hearts,
Will I see my Lord again?
For some of us, Easter is an almost certainty. But for many, even the morrow is in doubt.
Will I see my Lord again?
LENT 39 ~ UNLESS
Unless there is a Good Friday in your life, there can be no Easter Sunday.
~ Venerable Fulton Sheen
LENT 40 ~ IN SILENCE
In silence, we wait.
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