LENT 33 ~ Sea of Mercy

Being Renewed

          As the hours wrapped themselves to sleep, I sought the Lord for the last two of ten. Do I continue to say, Jesus, Save Babies, or is there something else?

          I picked up Divine Mercy In My Soul by St Faustina Kowalska to continue my reading.

          Almost immediately, I sensed the answer lay in those pages, but a screen shielded it from me. I turned the page. Maybe I’m doing this wrong. I prayed on, Do I focus on my sins instead, in these remaining days of Lent?

          Instantly, my eyes saw the words:

Tell the whole world about My inconceivable mercy ~ # Entry 699, Divine Mercy In My Soul 

          I was not done, and God was not done with me yet, either.

          I turned back to the page where I sensed a veil. Tell me what to pray, Lord.

          That very second, the veil lifted:

Sept 19, 1936…my soul was immersed in the whole sea of God’s mercy  ~ # Entry 694, Divine Mercy In My Soul 

          Second of ten – I immerse souls in the whole sea of God’s mercy.



          I experienced an emptying yesterday. After so many long years since I bade farewell to someone I loved, I discovered the well had filled to the brim again. So long since the passing. The depths of a grief so deep, it stunned me; it was almost as it was when the wounds were freshly scored into my soul, old, old years before.

          And I emptied this well of sadness. Reached right into its depths and tipped every tear into St Joseph’s hands. Placed my head in his lap and opened my heart, every shadow of it, and told my Lord, Forgive me, I’m sorry, but had I known this grief would come, I wouldn’t have let him go. In an afternoon of exceptional stillness, disturbed only by the rush of strong breezes running through different leaf-shutters, I took every forward step taken, every progress on the pier of pain, every solution to troubles, the ultimate freedom…… and returned them all to my Lord, saying I didn’t want any of them at the price I had to pay – to give up the one person I loved beyond words. Why couldn’t there have been some other way?  I asked my Lord. Why did it have to be death?

          Had I known, I wouldn’t have let go. I wouldn’t have let go. I wouldn’t have let go.


          I wept from my heart. Yet, it was not a sorrow tinged with bitterness. It was an old sorrow, worn and frayed, watered by memories and yearning. A grief from years before. I was not seeking answers. Not every grief is about answers. And He knew that. I was merely broken and hurting for a while. The urn of sadness needed an emptying, and my Jesus took everything I gave Him. All of the tears, all of the blessings.

          Every single thing that needed to be turned over to heaven’s safekeeping.

          Every single thing that should not have been returned.

          I gave and gave till nothing remained.


          And Jesus took everything, turning down none, not even what should not have been returned. No anger, no whip of rebuke did I receive for my weakness, for He is Lord Who Knows. Every grief-path we stumble down is known to Him. Every shadow in which we hide our pain He sees. Ours is a God who knows grief doesn’t always make sense to us.


          It is because He knows grief better than anyone else.  He doesn’t turn away from it, mock it, nor render it trivial. For Him, sorrow is not a shame to be buried, hidden. The mourner’s dirge repulses Him not.

          In the wind-tossed afternoon hours of the yesterday, He took my grief. Every tear, one by one. Held my heart in His hands as I wept over each broken dream, and crushed hope. Held me, my Lord did, as I tipped the urn till it emptied.

          And later, as I slept, in quiet an angel came, a grace from God he bore. The angel brought me an ancient prayer said by thousands the world over ~

          Eternal Father, I offer you the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity of Your Dearly Beloved Son, Our Lord, Jesus Christ, in atonement for our sins and those of the whole world. 

          Not for me the comfort of an angelic vision or some other supernatural remedy. In a million years, I would never be able to explain why, in the depths of this particular tumult over the loss of a love I once had, it is this grace of a humble prayer, begging God’s mercy, that makes its way from heaven’s bosom to my pain. This prayer to dry my grief. Against my heart to press.

          To hold as a crutch, and to rise from my ash heap.

          The prayer of Mercy is unseen hands on my face, gently turning me from my pain towards the anguish of others. And it is the prayer-grace from an angel-soul who knows me so well to know that the only remedy for my  wound is to reach out and tend to others wounded worse.

          And so I wipe my eyes, and whisper the prayer the little angel had pressed against my soul ~

          Eternal Father, I offer you the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity of Your Dearly Beloved Son, Our Lord, Jesus Christ, in atonement for our sins and those of the whole world.