More lost than merry

Sr. Dorcee, belovedLeave a comment

We woke up to this kind of beauty this morning:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then I opened my Magnificat Advent Companion to the reading for today. God’s timing is always amazing:

Spiritual White Out

The weather report said blizzard, but we heard adventure.  A few days before Christmas, I headed down the shore with a friend, packing provisions and two golden retrievers in the SUV.  The drive was challenging, the roadway slick, and the snowfall heavy.  Within a half hour of our destination, we were driving in a white out.  We both peered between the windshield wipers trying to figure out our location.  The car’s GPS was no help, so I took out my iPad and hit an application to locate us.  Technology knew where we were, and a blue dot guided us the rest of the way.  While modern technology can guide us through weather storms, there are other storms that throw us off course.  Illness, relationship problems, and financial concerns are hardly adventures.  In those moments we can experience a kind of spiritual white out, uncertain where God is.  The birth of Jesus is not a sentimental story.  It is a radical promise that in sharing our life God knows exactly where we are.  It is in the blizzards of your life, not a manger, that Jesus is born again.  These days you may feel more lost than merry.  You might wish for a computer application to help you find the way.  Or you can believe that helping you find the way is the reason Jesus was born.  (Msgr. Gregory E.S. Malovetz)

Have hope

Sr. Dorcee, beloved3 Comments

We’re beginning the second week of Advent.  Some of you–perhaps most of you–are necessarily caught up in the swirl of Christmas planning and shopping, making your lists, fighting the crowds, trying to keep your kids focused, etc.  But have hope . . . because you are still living Advent.  How can I so confidently say that?  Because deep in your heart–or sometimes screaming in your head–is a desire to be done with all of this, a longing to just have unfettered time with your Beloved, to sit at His feet and love Him.  That desire of your soul is the truth of your being and the evidence of where your heart is fixed.  As my spiritual director has said to me, “That desire is the Holy Spirit.”  So the next time you are lamenting the duties of your day, take a moment and look deep into your heart that says, “Lord, I really do want You more than anything!  I long for You!”  Some days it’s more like an inarticulate groan, but take heart: “The Spirit himself intercedes for us with sighs too deep for words” (Rom 8.26)  Sigh.

Queen of Craftsmen: An Advent Song

Sr. Dorcee, beloved1 Comment

Queen of Craftsmen: An Advent Song

Blow on, exquisite blow,
The crystal hammers of her love,
Fasten the careful joinings of His bones.
Prophets have sung this craft:
How man may number
These bones, but never break any one of them.

What blueprint guides you, Queen of architects,
To trace sure paths for wandering veins
That run Redemption’s wine?

Who dipped your brush, young artist, so to tint
The eyes and lips of God? Where did you learn
To spin such silk of hair, and expertly
Pull sinew, wind this Heart to tick our mercy?

Thrones, Powers, fall down, worshipping your craft
Whom we, for want of better word, shall call
Most beautiful of all the sons of men.

Worker in motherhood, take our splintery songs,
Who witness What you make in litanies:
Queen of craftsman, pray for us who wait.

Mother Mary Francis, P.C.C.

“Be all here: and be holy”

Sr. Dorcee, beloved1 Comment

Sometimes I feel almost the same way about Ann Voskamp as I do about Amy Carmichael: “I just have to share this with you!”  Today’s post is full of her wonderful photos and, as always, makes a very important point–one we do so need to hear in the midst of this potentially very busy season.   I hope you can take a moment and read this: “The most important place to be . . . “

Even now . . .

Sr. Dorcee, beloved1 Comment
Take a moment–perhaps with a cup of tea and a lit candle–to sit quietly and read this editorial from this month’s Magnificat by Fr. Peter John Cameron.  If you don’t have time at the moment, print it out or bookmark it to read at a time when you have the space and quiet to read it slowly.  Don’t scan this quickly; it deserves the right pace to speak to your soul.   And may it speak deeply to your soul . . .

The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches that Jesus knew and loved us each and all during his life, and gave himself up for each one of us (see 478). Which means that from the moment Christ is conceived in the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Jesus is loving us and giving himself to us personally. He is calling to our hearts, wooing us with all his tenderness.At this very moment, the aged Simeon stands at his post in the temple… vigilant… filled with expectation… looking for Mary’s baby. Once the infant Jesus appears, no one will need to tell Simeon that this is the One he has been waiting for all his life.

For five years already a lame man has been lying by the sheep pool in Bethesda, too weak to hoist himself into the stirred up waters. Even now, Jesus begins his approach to him. It will be thirty-three years more before Christ stands beside the man, but even now he asks him the question we are all aching to hear: “Do you want to be healed?”

Any day now a mother and a father will give birth to a little girl who will grow up to acquire a bleeding disease that will baffle all doctors and afflict her for twelve years. Even now, Jesus is pitying her, healing her, and calling her “daughter.”

Who can say how long the leper has lived alone, lurking in the shadows? Yet even now something has happened that will not allow his tortured heart to give way to despair. So even now, from a distance, he starts searching the faces in every crowd, certain that some day Someone will appear to whom he will beg, “Sir, if you will to do so, you can cure me!”

At the moment, the woman destined to be the Gospel’s famous widow is a beautiful young maiden newly betrothed. She spends all her passion in preparing for her wedding – for the day she will be a bride. Yet the days of her marriage will not last long. And with the death of her husband, she will spend her life loving others with a total gift of self. Even now Jesus the Bridegroom is watching, commending her for giving all she has to live on.

Even now Bartimaeus in the abyss of his blindness is crying from his misery, “Son of David! Have pity on me!” The child born in the city of David is readying even now to restore his sight.

Even now Jesus is settling on the tree up which Zacchaeus will scurry. Even now Jesus plans to stop, and look up, and call Zacchaeus from his limb. Even now Jesus is promising him, “I mean to stay with you today.”

At this point in time, the Samaritan woman at the well has not yet married Husband Number One. Little does she know that she will have five husbands and another man besides. But even now Jesus is appealing to the thirst that is her life and promising to slake it with the gift of his very self.

Even now the mere lad Matthew hasn’t any idea about what he will be when he grows up. What leads him one ill-fated day to betray his religion, his nation, and himself in becoming a tax collector we will never know. But even now Jesus is making his way to Matthew’s tax collecting post and summoning him from his heart with the words, “Follow me.”

Even now something makes the centurion restless, uneasy. He cannot truly be himself until he professes, “This man was the Son of God!”

Just about now the little boy Peter is beginning to learn how to fish from his father. But even now Jesus sees him on the seashore and summons him to be a fisher of men. Even now Jesus is forgiving his sins and calling Peter “Rock.”

Even now Jesus is silently beckoning us all: Come to me, you who are weary and find life burdensome, and I will refresh you. Your souls will find rest in me. I am gentle and humble of heart. Do not live in fear. I have come that you might have life and have it to the full. If anyone thirsts, let him come to me. I am the way, and the truth, and the life. I am the Bread of Life. I call you friends. I am with you always.

Even now a wondrous star has arisen in the heavens of the far-off East. Even now Magi have left all else behind, and have begun to make their way to a manger, following a path laid out by the shining star’s luster. Let us go with them.

Rev. Peter John Cameron, O.P.
Copyright Magnificat

Christ in the unexpected

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Advent has begun, and things have probably already not gone according to plan.  (You couldn’t find those purple and pink candles in stores that do not sell them anymore . . .)   Here is a beautiful little meditation by Fr. Richard Veras on Christ coming to us in the unexpected:

In Advent the Church turns our attention to the two comings of Christ.  Both were unexpected.  No one expected God to take on flesh and become human; and Jesus warns us that the second coming will be at a time that we do not expect.  The Church also considers the coming of Christ that exists between the two comings, i.e., his coming to us in the present through sacraments, persons, and circumstances of our lives.  As his coming in the past and his coming in the future are unexpected, it would seem reasonable to expect that his coming in the present would happen in unexpected ways.  Reflect on how much of your present life is the fruit of events and encounters that you could not have planned.  Do you believe that these are not just accidents, but rather gifts of God’s love through Christ’s presence?  This would be the reasonable Christian belief.  May our faith and our reason lead us to be especially awake to Christ’s presence this Advent season, and may our hearts be humble and desirous enough to welcome his presence in the yet unimagined ways he will reveal himself.  May he grow in our lives as he grew in the life of Mary. (Magnificat Advent Companion 2008)

“Advent Summons”

Sr. Dorcee, beloved2 Comments

Advent Summons

Come forth from the holy place,
Sweet Child,
Come from the quiet dark
Where virginal heartbeats
Tick your moments.

Come away from the red music
Of Mary’s veins.
Come out from the Tower of David
Sweet Child,
From the House of Gold.

Leave your lily-cloister,
Leave your holy mansion,
Quit your covenant ark.
O Child, be born!

Be born, sweet Child,
In our unholy hearts.

Come to our trembling,
Helpless Child.
Come to our littleness,
Little Child,
Be born unto us
Who have kept the faltering vigil.
Be given, be born,
Be ours again.

Come forth from your holy haven,
Come away from your perfect shrine,
Come to our wind-racked souls
From the flawless tent,
Sweet Child.

Be born, little Child,
In our unholy hearts.

~Mother Mary Francis

“Love your helplessness”

Sr. Dorcee, beloved1 Comment

This is why I love Thérèse . . . when I come across these kinds of things she said: “Agree to stumble at every step, even fall, to carry your crosses weakly; love your helplessness, your soul will benefit more from it than if sustained by grace you accomplished with enthusiasm heroic actions which would fill your soul with personal satisfaction and pride.” I find such hope in her words.  How very often I feel my helplessness and am aware of my stumbling.  It is such a comfort to be in her company . . .

All my longing is known to Thee

Sr. Dorcee, belovedLeave a comment

Another little gem of a comment on Psalm 38:9  by Amy Carmichael:

Lord, all my longing is known to Thee, my sighing is not hidden from Thee.

“Only a simple word.  This afternoon, words would not come when I tried to pray, and this troubled me; and then it was as if He, Who is never far away, said, What does it matter about words, when all your desire is before Me? Perhaps you, too, find that words will not come when you wish they would.  So I pass on my comfort.

“In St. Augustine’s words: ‘To Him Who is everywhere, men come, not by travelling but by loving.’”