The Life of Prayer

 

O Lord, grant that I may seek You, not only at certain moments during the day, but also at every instant of my life.
~ Divine Intimacy

 

jesus sacred heart20

Art source unknown

 

A soul who longs for a life of intimacy with God is not satisfied to limit its relations with Him to the time of prayer, but tries to extend them throughout the whole day. This is a rightful desire, for one who loves tries to prolong continuously his relations with the beloved. This is true, therefore, of a soul who loves God; and its desire is the more easily realized, since God Himself is always with us; He is always present and working in us. We are treating, it is true, of a presence which is spiritual and invisible; it is, however, real and not merely affective and moral, as is the presence of a loved one in the heart and mind of a lover.

If God is always with us, why can we not be always in continual contact with him? This contact is realized by thought and love, but much more by the latter than by the former. In fact, it is impossible to be always thinking of God, partly because the mind becomes tired and partly because our many occupations demand all the application of our intellect, which cannot pay attention to two different things at the same time. The heart, on the other hand, can always love, even when the mind is busy elsewhere; and it never grows weary of tending toward the object of its love. Since supernatural love does not consist in sentiment, but in an intimate orientation of the will toward God, we know that this turning is possible, even during the performance of duties which absorb all our attention. The will can strengthen this orientation of itself toward God precisely by the desire to fulfill each duty for love of Him, to please Him and give glory to Him. St. Thomas says that the heart can always tend Godward by “the desire of charity,” that is, by the desire to love Him, to serve Him, and to be united to Him in every action. “Prayer is nothing but a desire of the heart; if your desire is continuous, your prayer is continuous. Do you wish never to cease praying? Then never cease desiring” (St. Augustine).

~ A Meditation by Father Gabriel of St Mary Magdalen, O.C.D.

Prayer Time

The traffic goes on and on.
Talk about rush hour!

Lord,
I don’t want it to be this way,
I long for stillness for both of us,
for us to meet and embrace in a holy emptiness
filled with your Spirit. I don’t want
these endless, trivial interruptions,
these mundane comments, this sheer nonsense—
like confetti thrown all over us
as we walk away from the consecration
of our nuptials, into the world and our work there.

You are very patient. You take no notice
of my repetitive slogans. My captive mind
that reiterates so boringly these matters of no moment
and dallies down side roads
looking at silly signposts and place names,
seeming to disregard you.

I say “seeming”
for all the time I am so deeply and intricately
intertwined with you, so absolutely yours,
(as you are mine) that there’s no separation now
for all eternity.

Amen, and Alleluia.

~ A poem by Barbara Dent, O.C.D.S 

We Need Silence

 

winter north

(Photo source unknown)

 

Silence will heal the wounds inflicted by the endless words that swarm around us, exhaust us, tire us beyond all tiredness. We need silence in our noisy, work–filled life, as a child needs its mother’s milk. We need to be alone with God.
We need to have a desert, be it only a corner of some apartment, some house, where we can go and rest with God. We need to follow him to some hill, to some garden where he himself was also wont to pray when he was tired and weary and distressed.
We need silence in order to be able to listen to our brothers, to listen with the heart. We need silence to open our souls to our brothers, making an inn for the thousands who may be living in palatial homes but have no place to lay their burdens of loneliness.
We need that silence to be able to speak a few words charged with our love, charged with Christ.

~ A Meditation by Catherine de Hueck Doherty

 

Silent God

This is my prayer —
That, though I may not see,
I be aware
Of the Silent God
Who stands by me.
That, though I may not feel,
I be aware
Of the Mighty Love
Which doggedly follows me.
That, though I may not respond,
I be aware
That God—my Silent, Mighty God,
Waits each day.
Quietly, hopefully, persistently,
Waits each day and through each night
For me,
For me—alone.

~ A poem by Edwina Gateley, ‘Psalms of a Laywoman’

 

 

 

Journey Inward

 

journey inward by elizabeth wang

Art by Elizabeth Wang

 

Somewhere along the road of life, by the grace of God, my soul awoke. And it was hungry, hungry for God.

Its hunger became a fire, a fire that consumed me and ate me up with its intense, devouring heat. I could not rest anywhere except in motion, that long, endless journey that every soul must undertake if she is to meet her God.

It is a strange journey, across arid plains and verdant valleys, across dried parchment-like deserts. A journey of many crossroads and endless sharp turns that confuse and make one clamour for a rest.

But the hunger for God knows no rest. So I go on and on and on.

Yes, it is a strange journey, that slowly makes me shed all the baggage I took for it, baggage I took before I knew that it would be too heavy a load for this kind of journey.
I don’t know where I felt it—somewhere back there by some crossroad.

Now I am baggageless, but still too heavily burdened. My hunger drives me on. For speedy traveling. I must start to shed my clothing.

There on this stone I lay the cloak of selfishness that kept me warm. It is cold without it, but I can walk faster, as my hunger urges me to.

Here on this branch, I hang my dress of selflove and compromise with the world. I shiver now in earnest, but my feet have wings. Yet this sheltered rock begs for my underwear.

Slowly, reluctantly, I shed my undergarments, one by one. Here goes self-indulgence. Tidily, next to it, I lay greed for possessions and love of ease and comfort. Next, not so tidily, go helter-skelter all the things in me that are not God’s.

Lord, behold I stand naked before thee, with wings on my feet. Wings on my feet! Now my journey inward will be swift.

But it is not. For I still stumble and fall and walk haltingly, inches instead of miles, while the hunger for God flays me and urges me to make haste.

Oh, I had forgotten my shoes, the heavy, comfortable shoes that have shielded my feet. Shielded my feet from the cutting stones, from the sharp pebbles. I must unlace my shoes, my comfortable stout shoes, the last covering of my naked soul. The last stronghold of my non-surrender to God.

I hesitate. The narrow path upward is so hard. It has so many sharp stones. So many knife-edged pebbles. But the hunger for God flames in me, a furnace of fire unquenchable, the fire of love, of passionate, utter love of God. I must go on, on that journey inward that alone will bring me face to face with him for whom I hunger constantly, without ceasing.

Quickly, I bend and with hasty, clumsy fingers unlace one shoe, then the other. My eagerness expresses my hunger. Recklessly I throw one shoe this way, the other that, not caring where they fall.

Now I am free, I am free and naked, and my feet have wings, huge wings that carry me across sharp stones and knife-edged pebbles without harm. Now the brambles and thorns that edge the path turn and point the other way.

I am a naked soul, free and untrammelled, driven by the hunger of my love for God, driven by my love for God, on and on, on this journey inward.

I did not know it would be so easy, once I shed all my garments. But now I know, for my hunger is being assuaged, satiated, filled, even as I fly on winged feet along the steep path upward. It is being filled, that hunger of mine, so much, so well, that I can feed others with the surplus of the food given to me so abundantly.

God meets half way the soul that starts on its journey inward, provided that the soul, driven by hunger of love for him, strips itself naked.

That is the secret of his love and of his kingdom, which begins even on this earth. But the price, I repeat, is nakedness complete, even unto discarding shoes.

 

~ A Meditation by Catherine De Hueck Doherty

Listen to yourself so as to find the path to God within the frail walls of your humanness.
Listen to yourself, for it is you alone who will lead yourself to him, or away from him.
Listen to yourself, listen to God, when you have led yourself to him.
Listen well, for if you hear his voice you will be wise with the wisdom of the Lord, and then you will be able to hear the voice of men, not as a surging sea, or as a mob.
But each man’s speech is his own, a treasure given to you beyond all expectations, because you led yourself to him and listen to his voice.

~ A poem by Catherine De Hueck Doherty 

Vo Väzení (In Prison)

 

“God has saved me many times. He was really merciful to me. He turned all my difficulties, illnesses, even my imprisonment into great spiritual values. He is able to turn human muck into spiritual treasure.” ~ Ladislav Záborský 

 

Vo Vazeni (In Prison)

Art by Ladislav Záborský (1921-2016)

 

A much-admired Catholic painter of religious themes, Ladislav Záborský arguably most famous canvas, that of Christ as a Worker, was first shown at an exhibition in Košice in March and April 1949. Before long, it became widely known throughout Slovakia. Záborský’s success also became the source of his difficulties with the State Security apparatus. His painting was declared corrupt and a ban was imposed on the further depiction of Christ as a worker. His situation steadily worsened, and in June 1954 he was accused of treason and sentenced to seven years imprisonment. On Christmas day in 1957 he was conditionally freed. Once in his own home he lost little time in transcribing from memory poems he has composed without pen or paper while in Valdice prison. A small collection of these was published in Zvolen, Slovakia, in 2003 under the title Združenie Jas (Association of Light). Since 1957 he has had a highly productive career as a religious artist and a designer of stained-glass windows for churches, primarily in eastern Slovakia.

~ An excerpt from the book ‘The walls behind the curtain’ by Harold B. Segel

 

“… such nice thoughts just like the Holy Spirit had inspired me and dictated those words to me, so I wanted to write them down. I borrowed some soap and soaped the outer side of my basin. I also borrowed a comb and broke one tooth of it. I was afraid that they could catch me. I wrote my poems on the outer side of basin, you know, since it was soaped it glinted in the light under the window and I had only a couple of hours to memorise it because days were short and some of my poems were almost two pages in length. In my opinion, it was a miracle that I managed to memorise it so quickly and word by word. Then I recited those poems every day because I didn’t want to forget even one word and to break their rhythms.”
~ Ladislav Záborský

 

Vo Vazeni (In Prison)

Art by Ladislav Záborský (1921-2016)

 

Vo väzení (In Prison)

That I sit here alone and do not hear the voice of culture?
It is not so entirely empty here.
I am, after all, the hero in a great theater
the director of which is God himself.
I also have a film showing any time:
I just have to turn on the living spring of my imagination,
because I have in my head a projector of many films.
The most beautiful books are human souls
in which beneath the surface flows a strange life.
I even have a radio in this empty cell of mine,
when the voice of God reads in my soul and awakens feelings
with open arms.
Because heaven broadcasts continuously throughout the entire world,
you merely have to listen and know how to understand.

~ A poem by Ladislav Záborský, translated from Slovak by Harold B. Segel

 

Vo Vazeni (In Prison)

Art by Ladislav Záborský (1921-2016)

 

“Five months in the isolation cell were for me spiritual exercise. Board and accommodation were assured. Exercitation was led by the Holy Spirit. He dictated me those poems. I wrote them down as rapidly as possible and until night I learnt them by heart. Those poems helped me live in jail.”
~ Ladislav Záborský

 

Matthew 5: 11-12

 

 

The Infant Jesus of Prague

 

infant of prague

Miraculous Infant Jesus of Prague is at the Shrine of Our Lady of Victories in the Mala Strana district of Prague, where the image of the Holy Infant Jesus has been venerated ever since the 17th century (photo source unknown)

 



W
e, who are small, have been shown the face of the Infant. This Infant, who is our Savior, was hidden in Nazareth for 30 years, then walked the roads to proclaim the Good News, died on the cross, and rose again. What does he tell us? Everything can be destroyed except love. That love is in you and no one can take it from you. Have confidence, have courage, and become true adorers through the power of Jesus Christ.

~ By Catherine De Hueck Doherty


 

jesus with the ancient brown habit of carmel

Statue of the Child Jesus with the ancient Brown Habit of Carmel (source unknown)

 



The Infant Jesus of Prague

It is snowing. The huge world is perhaps death.
This is December.
But how warm it is in the small room!  
The fireplace filled with burning coals
Colors the ceiling with a drowsy reflection,
And all you can hear is some water softly boiling.
Up above, on the shelf, over the two beds,
Under his glass globe, a crown on his head,
One of his hands holding the world, the other ready
To protect those children who trust in it,
Kindly in his long solemn dress
And magnificent under that large yellow hat,
The Infant Jesus of Prague reigns and rules.

He is all alone in front of the hearthside shining on him
Like the host hidden within the sanctuary,
The Child-God watches over his small brothers until
The day comes.

Unheard like breath which is exhaled,
Eternal existence fills the room, equal to all those 
innocent naïve poor tots!
When he is with us, no harm can come.
We can sleep, Jesus our brother, is here.
He is ours, and all these good things as well:
The marvellous doll, and the wooden horse,
And the sheep, are there, all three of them in that corner.

And we sleep, but all those good things are ours!
The curtains are pulled . . .  Outside, somewhere
In the snow and the night a kind of hour ring.
The Child in his warm bed contentedly understands
That he is sleeping and that someone who loves him is there,
Moves a bit, murmurs indistinctly, puts his arm out,
Tries to wake up and cannot.

~ A poem by Paul Claudel, from Corona Benignitatis Anni Dei

 

*For more information about the history and devotion to The Infant Jesus of Prague please check at:
https://carmelitesofboston.org/prayer/carmelite-devotions/miraculous-infant-of-prague/

 

Wishing you all a very blessed Feast of The Infant Jesus of Prague!

 

When the Lord was Baptized in the River Jordan…

 

icon of christ baptism

Baptism of Christ (mosaic, 10th c, St. Mark’s, Venice, Italy)

When the Lord was baptized in the river Jordan;
On that bright day before all the people,
The Heavens on high became wide open,
And the angels drew near to the water.

At once St. John was filled with fear
On feeling the Heavens breathing so near.
The Spirit Almighty as a dove descended,
To rest on Christ, God’s Son beloved.

In this way God sanctified the waters,
And when the Lord rose up from it,
A strange voice was heard from Heaven:
“This is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased.
Listen to what He will tell you about Me.
Obey Him so that you can find joy in Me.
Obey Him so that you can crush every devil,
And be received as my sons in Heaven.”

Dear brothers we were baptized also;
Sanctified by the Spirit Almighty
And, in Christ’s army we are called to fight,
And in eternity to glorify His love and might.

When the Lord was baptized in the river Jordan;
On that bright day before all the people,
The heavens on high became wide open,
And the angels drew near to the water.

~ A poem by St. Nikolaj Velimirović of  Žiča 

Wishing you all a very blessed Feast of the Baptism of the Lord!

Little Acts of Love

jesus and the children2

Art source unknown

 

Let’s make a resolution to be gentle with one another, to speak words that build one another’s confidence and trust, to see only what is godly in one another, and to guard our thoughts against accusations that can tear the bleeding body of Jesus Christ. We are restorers of life, first within our own hearts, then this year we each decrease, and that the presence of the humble and majestic Christ grows in each of us through the power of the sanctifying Holy Spirit.

Let us pray for one another and keep the door of our hearts open to receive more and more life. Let no one be afraid, for God is melting, through the power of the Incarnation, the fear that is in all of us.

Nothing can overcome you. Let God dwell in you, move in you. Let him consume you. He alone is trustworthy. He is the only one who will never hurt or disappoint you. Embrace every minute of every day with childlike trust, and pray for faith and more faith.

Life is short. Our most important focus from now until we see God face to face is to be consumed by love in order to love. All things in the world fade, but love is eternal.

~ A Meditation by Catherine De Hueck Doherty

At Sunset

Night after night these sunsets spread their thrill,
confound me in my
dreaming for an hour.
I lift my mind in wonder to the power
of color glorified by light until
I know the miracle each western hill
sees when the scattered clouds come into flower—
petals of shining roses and a shower
of flushed gold falls, and my wild heart is still.

Now for a time the soul is visible,
luminous wings lift out on either side
and I am faint who house this beautiful 
gold bird; my clouds of thought are glorified.
Color and light possess me. I am one
with stars and moonlight and the dying sun.

~ A poem by Sister Miriam of the Holy Spirit (Jessica Powers), O.C.D.

 

sunset today

Today’s Sunset ~ photo taken by me (no filters)

 

photo sunset 2

Another awesome photo I took of the sunset ❤ The wonders of God!

 

photo sunset 3

“Miracles are a retelling in small letters of the very same story which is written across the whole world in letters too large for some of us to see.”
― C.S. Lewis  (photo taken by me)

 

 

A Friendship Lost


“We don’t always know the reason why friendships are severed, but one thing is for sure, it leaves a void in those who were part of it.”

 

angel tears by josephine wall

Angel tears, art by Josephine Wall

 

I remember the time not long ago
When we laughed and shared it all.
We were the very best of friends,
Or at least that’s what I thought.
I often wonder why friendships end.
What happens to sever that tie?
How can someone once so close
Just wave you off with a goodbye?
I must have been lacking.
I must have been wrong.
I wasn’t the friend to you
That you were to me all along.
I thought I was loyal.
I know I was true,
But something went wrong.
Now there’s nothing to do.
A friendship lost
Is a very sad thing.
The angels weep instead of sing.

~ A poem by Brenda J. Metz

 

 

Being Broken

Jesus was broken on the cross. He lived his suffering and death not as an evil to avoid at all costs, but as a mission to embrace. We too are broken. We live with broken bodies, broken hearts, broken minds or broken spirits. We suffer from broken relationships.

How can we live our brokenness? Jesus invites us to embrace our brokenness as he embraced the cross and live it as part of our mission. He asks us not to reject our brokenness as a curse from God that reminds us of our sinfulness but to accept it and put it under God’s blessing for our purification and sanctification. Thus our brokenness can become a gateway to new life.

~ A meditation by Henri J. Nouwen

In Too Much Light

 


I recognize in You, O little Jesus, the King of heaven and earth; grant that I may adore You with the faith and love of the Magi.
~ Divine Intimacy


 

three kings with mary and baby jesus

The Magi  (Unknown artist)

 

The Magi had one only star to follow,
a single sanctuary lamp hung low,
gold ornament in the astonished air.
I am confounded in this latter day;
I find stars everywhere.

Rumor locates the presence of a night
out past the loss of perishable sun
where, round midnight, I shall come to see
that all the stars are one.

I long for this night of the onement of the stars
when days of scattered shining are my lot
and my confusion. Yet faith even here
burns her throat dry, cries: on this very spot
of mornings, see, there is not any place
when the sought Word is not.

Under and over, in and out, this morn
flawlessly, purely, wakes the newly born.
Behold, all places which have light in them
truly are Bethlehem.

~ A poem by Sister Miriam of the Holy Spirit (Jessica Powers), O.C.D.

 

Wishing you all a very blessed feast of The Epiphany of Our Lord!

 

 

 

The Place of Splendor

garden and child

Little one, wait.
Let me assure you this is not the way
to gain the terminal of outer day.

Its single gate
lies in your soul, and you must rise and go
by inward passage from what earth you know.

The steps lead down
through valley after valley, far and far
past the five countries where the pleasures are,

and past all known
maps of the mind and every colored chart
and past the final outcry of the heart.

No soul can view
its own geography; love does not live
in places open and informative.

Yet, being true,
it grants to each its Raphael across
the mist and night through unknown lands of loss.

Walk till you hear
light told in music that was never heard,
and softness spoken that was not a word.

The soul grows clear
when senses fuse: sight, touch and sound are one
with savor and scent, and all to splendor run.

The smothered roar
of the eternities, their vast unrest
and infinite peace are deep in your own breast.

That light-swept shore
will shame the data of grief upon your scroll.
Child, have none told you? God is in your soul.

~ A poem by Sister Miriam of the Holy Spirit (Jessica Powers), O.C.D.