When the tools are put in their places and the day’s work is done, When between Carmel and the Jordan, Israel falls asleep in the wheatfields and the night, As when he was once a young boy ant it began to get too dark for reading, Joseph enters with a deep sight into conversation with God. He preferred Widson and she had been brought to him for marriage. He is as silent as the earth when the dew rises, He feels the fullness of night, and he is at ease with joy and with truth. Mary is in his possession and he surrounds her on all sides. It is not in a single day he learned how not to be alone any more. A woman won over each part of his heart which is now prudent and fatherly. Again he is in Paradise with Eve ! The face which all men need turns with love and submission toward Joseph. It is no longer the same prayer and no longer the ancient waiting since he has felt Like an arm suddenly without hate the pressure of his profound and innocent being. It is no longer bare Faith in the night, it is love explaining and working. Joseph is with Mary and Mary is with the Father.
Today, November 14th the Church celebrates All Carmelite Saints. As a Lay Carmelite I considered all those saintly men and women in Carmel my family and my friends. They are mentors in my journey, intercessors, soul friends. I feel their presence in my daily life. I pray to them. I read their writings and learn so much about this great gift of spirituality which is Carmel and contains treasures of everlasting rivers of fresh and living water that satisfy our souls. I’m eternally grateful for their love, for their exemplary lives and for their intercessions not only to our Carmelite family but to the whole world.
Beloved Saints of Carmel, pray for us!
My Sisters, I’m from Bethany Where I met the Lord. Sister Agnes, who had followed me, Felt the melting of the heart. Yes, it was truly ineffable To prepare a feast for Him, While that adorable Master We offered a divine meal. “It was the banquet of love” Where Jesus gives himself, Because his good always prevails The soul who seeks it and who loves it: In the measure of his faith She reaches the Sovereign King.
To love, for a Carmelite, Is to surrender like Jesus A true love never hesitates, It wishes to give always more and more. Let us be a faithful image Of our Bridegroom sacrifices, Retrace in us the model Of this divine Crucified One. Looking at him night and day Let’s climb the austere mountain, It is the home of Love, His palace and his sanctuary. In this mysterious temple Sacrifice ourselves with a happy heart.
To love is to forget oneself Like the Angel of Lisieux To become lost in the one we love And be consumed in his fires. Sister Thérèse knew how to understand In its great simplicity This call so strong and so tender “Stay in my charity” “I love both the night and the day” Such was the divine song From the victim of love To Jesus, his mystic Bridegroom. “My vocation is love…” “I love both night and day.”
To love is, like Magdalene Never to leave the Lord But to stand in full peace At the feet of this divine Saviour. She listened in silence “The word He told him.” Better to savour his presence Oh, everything in her was silent. His soul finally took hold Jesus the One Necessary. Before this divine Being All the earth vanished. Buried in his love She surrendered without return.
To love is to be apostolic Zealous for the honour of the living God It is truly the ancient heritage That the great seer left us. Collected by St. Thérèse Who gave it to us in turn. Carmel became the furnace, The home of divine Love. Our saints had understood it so well… As they were enflaming souls! All in them gave Jesus Christ By radiating his bright flames. My Sisters, let’s be real Apostles of Charity.
To love is to imitate Mary Exalting in God’s greatness While her soul delighted Sang her song to the Lord. Your centre, o faithful Virgin, Was the annihilation, For Jesus, everlasting splendour, Hides in abasement. It’s always through humility May your soul magnify him. The Apostle in his infirmity Cried out, “I boast In the strength of the Redeemer Living and triumphant in my heart.”
To love is to testify To our Christ, to our King; And give our life as a pledge To better affirm our faith. Like our sixteen blessed, May we shed our blood Singing in our happy souls A hymn all grateful. Truth, speaking one day Says this supreme word: “The greatest proof of love Is to die for the One we love.” O my Sisters, “let us die every day” To make Him love for love.
“To the praise of his glory” Let us sacrifice ourselves always Because to win the victory God claims our help. Let us imitate our revered mothers In their zeal and fervor. We will come out of our miseries And our King will be victorious. We will redouble fidelity For this plan to be realized. By our generosity We will help the Holy Church And we will see love reigning, A foretaste of the divine abode.
~Saint Elizabeth of the Trinity Poetry
“What numbers of saints we have in heaven who have worn this habit of ours! We must have the holy audacity to aspire, with God’s help, to be like them. The struggle will not last long, but the outcome will be eternal.” ~ St. Teresa of Avila
Here we are, in our meeting place. Our secret garden, in a beautiful day of June late afternoon.
I find You in the flowers. I find You in the birds, the trees, the ducks, the butterflies. All rejoice and praise You. Your presence is here with me among the lilies. Your fragrance is everywhere. Your love and tenderness follows me wherever I go.
Nature is Your playground. The sky is Your canvas. I stop and let all these precious moments stay with me forever.
They console my heart.
You know my heart is aching
from the losses of three dear friends.
Three beautiful souls that recently departed
To Your loving arms.
May You welcome them in your Kingdom,
where there are no more tears and pain.
Blessed them with Your everlasting love and peace.
Your Heart I seek. I want my heart to become a shrine for Your Sacred Heart. A place where You can rest and I can rest in You. My Jesus, my All and my God.
~ My short poem to Jesus
Nothing can separate us from the love of God.
If God gave the soul his whole creation she would not be filled thereby but only with himself.
From the creation, learn to admire the Lord! Indeed the magnitude and beauty of creation display a God who is the artificer of the universe. He has made the mode of creation to be our best teacher. ~ St. John Chrysostom
The whole earth is a living icon of the face of God. ~ St. John Damascus
God passes through the thicket of the world, and wherever His glance falls He turns all things to beauty. ~ St. John of the Cross
I asked the whole frame of the world about my God; and he answered, I am not He, but He made me.
St. Augustine of Hippo
Let us protect Christ in our lives, so that we can protect others, so that we can protect creation!
~ Pope Francis
Come, Love, to the vineyard In the morning dew, There we’ll watch in silence, If vineyards bloom anew, If the grapes are growing, Life with vigor glowing, Fresh the vine and true.
From the heights of Heaven Holy Mother descend, Lead unto your vineyard Our beloved friend. Dew and rain let gently Drop from His kind hand And the balm of sunshine Fall on Carmel’s land.
Young vines, newly planted, Tiny though they be, Grant them life eternal A gift of peace from Thee. Trusted vintners strengthen Their frail and feeble powers, Shield them from the enemy Who in darkness cowers.
Holy Mother grant reward For your vintners’ care Give them, I beseech you, Crown of Heaven fair. Don’t let raging fire Kill these vines, we pray, And grant your life eternal To each young shoot some day.
~ A poem by St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross (Edith Stein), O.C.D.
Wild air, world-mothering air,
Nestling me everywhere,
That each eyelash or hair
Girdles; goes home betwixt
The fleeciest, frailest-flixed
Snowflake; that’s fairly mixed
With, riddles, and is rife
In every least thing’s life;
This needful, never spent,
And nursing element;
My more than meat and drink,
My meal at every wink;
This air, which, by life’s law,
My lung must draw and draw
Now but to breathe its praise,
Minds me in many ways
Of her who not only
Gave God’s infinity
Dwindled to infancy
Welcome in womb and breast,
Birth, milk, and all the rest
But mothers each new grace
That does now reach our race —
Merely a woman, yet
Whose presence, power is
Great as no goddess’s
Was deemed, dreamed; who
This one work has to do —
Let all God’s glory through,
God’s glory which would go
Through her and from her flow
Off, and no way but so.
I say that we are wound
With mercy round and round
As if with air: the same
Is Mary, more by name.
She, wild web, wondrous robe,
Mantles the guilty globe,
Since God has let dispense
Her prayers his providence:
Nay, more than almoner,
The sweet alms’ self is her
And men are meant to share
Her life as life does air.
If I have understood,
She holds high motherhood
Towards all our ghostly good
And plays in grace her part
About man’s beating heart,
Laying, like air’s fine flood,
The deathdance in his blood;
Yet no part but what will
Be Christ our Saviour still.
Of her flesh he took flesh:
He does take fresh and fresh,
Though much the mystery how,
Not flesh but spirit now
And makes, O marvellous!
New Nazareths in us,
Where she shall yet conceive
Him, morning, noon, and eve;
New Bethlems, and he born
There, evening, noon, and morn —
Bethlem or Nazareth,
Men here may draw like breath
More Christ and baffle death;
Who, born so, comes to be
New self and nobler me
In each one and each one
More makes, when all is done,
Both God’s and Mary’s Son.
Again, look overhead
How air is azured;
O how! Nay do but stand
Where you can lift your hand
Skywards: rich, rich it laps
Round the four fingergaps.
Yet such a sapphire-shot,
Charged, steeped sky will not
Stain light. Yea, mark you this:
It does no prejudice.
The glass-blue days are those
When every colour glows,
Each shape and shadow shows.
Blue be it: this blue heaven
The seven or seven times seven
Hued sunbeam will transmit
Perfect, not alter it.
Or if there does some soft,
On things aloof, aloft,
Bloom breathe, that one breath more
Earth is the fairer for.
Whereas did air not make
This bath of blue and slake
His fire, the sun would shake,
A blear and blinding ball
With blackness bound, and all
The thick stars round him roll
Flashing like flecks of coal,
Quartz-fret, or sparks of salt,
In grimy vasty vault.
So God was god of old:
A mother came to mould
Those limbs like ours which are
What must make our daystar
Much dearer to mankind;
Whose glory bare would blind
Or less would win man’s mind.
Through her we may see him
Made sweeter, not made dim,
An her hand leaves his light
Sifted to suit our sight.
Be thou then, O thou dear
Mother, my atmosphere;
My happier world, wherein
To wend and meet no sin;
Above me, round me lie
Fronting my froward eye
With sweet and scarless sky;
Stir in my ears, speak there
Of God’s love, O live air,
Of patience, penance, prayer:
World-mothering air, air wild,
Wound with thee, in thee isled,
Fold home, fast fold thy child.
~ A poem by Fr. Gerard Manley Hopkins, S.J. (1844-89)
Happy Birthday Blessed Virgin Mary! ❤ Ora Pro Nobis!
That we are entering an age of martyrdom must be obvious to anybody with a nose on their face and eyes in their head! When it comes, the name of God, Our Lady, and your patron saint should be on your lips. Your patron saint is very close to you, a creature like you.
What characterizes a saint?
A saint is a lover of God; that is, a lover of all human beings.
A saint listens to the Lord and lets his words penetrate the heart. He doesn’t respond with “if”s and “but”s.
The saints were free. Those who do the will of God are free, for when you do your own will, you are bound.
When you go in search of God, hold on to the hand of your saint. He or she will lead you to God as no one else can.
~ A Meditation by Catherine Doherty
You are our letter, written on our hearts, known and read by all, shown to be a letter of Christ administered by us, written not in ink but by the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets that are hearts of flesh. ~ 2 Cor 3: 2-3
Suffering is not only physical; it can be mental or spiritual as well. In proportion to the love of God and others that grows in the soul, a massive transformation takes place through suffering. This is the threshold of a mystery into which God gently leads you.
If you follow him into his pain, it changes you. If you keep your hand in God’s hand, love will grow. He who holds his hand in the hand of God knows love, for God is love.
And there, I think, is something very profound, very mysterious and deep.
. . .we even boast of our afflictions, knowing that affliction produces endurance, and endurance, proven character, and proven character, hope, and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out into our hearts through the holy Spirit that has been given to us. ~ Rm 5:3-5
~ A Meditation by Catherine Doherty
In sorrow and suffering, go straight to God with confidence, and you will be strengthened, enlightened and instructed. ~ Saint John of Cross
O God, what will You do to conquer the fearful hardness of our hearts? Lord, You must give us new hearts, tender hearts, sensitive hearts, to replace hearts that are made of marble and of bronze. You must give us Your own Heart , Jesus.
Come, lovable Heart of Jesus. Place Your Heart deep in the center of our hearts and enkindle in each heart a flame of love as strong, as great, as the sum of all the reasons that I have for loving You, my God.
O holy Heart of Jesus, dwell hidden in my heart, so that I may live only in You and only for You, so that, in the end, I may live with You eternally in heaven.
~ A prayer to the Sacred Heart of Jesus by St. Claude de la Colombière,, S.J.
“On awaking, enter in the Sacred Heart of Jesus and consecrate to It your body, your soul, your heart and your whole being, so as to live but for Its love and glory alone.” ~ Saint Margaret Mary
A Very Blessed Feast of The Sacred Heart of Jesus to All! ❤