Hallelujah–New Hope for the New Year

GO, THEN, TO COMMUNION– CURÉ D’ARS

FROM THE EUCHARISTICMEDITATIONS OF THE
CURÉ D’ARS:

“GO, THEN, TO COMMUNION.
My children, go to Jesus with love and confidence. Go, to live by Him in order to live for Him.
Do not say that you have too much to do. Has not the divine Saviour said:
“Come to Me all you who work and are heavily laden; come to Me and I will comfort you”?
Can you resist an invitation so full of tenderness and friendship? You work each day.
Communicate then each day. Do not say that you are not worthy. What nonsense! It is true you are
not worthy, but you are in need. If our Saviour had had our worthiness in view He would never
have instituted His beautiful Sacrament of love, because no one in the world, not even the Saints
nor the Angels, nor the Archangels, not even the Blessed Virgin, are worthy of it. Since He wishes
to abase Himself to our misery, let us work then to merit to receive Him every day. This is what the
Christians did in the early Church.”

Picture Something Beautiful

Look Here

For Beauty’s Sake -Turn Off the News and Celebrate

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Hidden Jesus

Hidden Jesus,
You fill my heart with desire.
I feel the agony
Of this earthly foray.

In Your Presence
Faith fills the silence.
Truth like beauty
Say You passed this way.

Your footprints in Time
Dot the heavens.
While I stand in the vestibule of eternity,
As one holding paradise at bay.

Aching emptiness
Of temporal schemes and dreams,
But mask my loneliness
For yet another day.

Step over the threshold
Where angel guards Eden’s gate
To drip Your fingers
Into my life as now I pray.

Copyright 2014 Joann Nelander

Remembering the Seasons of My Soul

Old year passes,
Becoming yet another ghost,
Withered as leaves,
Crumbled, and carried aloft
By winter winds,
Too soon scattered
By the breezes of Time.

Is it truly spent,
Dead and long forgotten,
Living but in memory?
May not reflection
Call it from the grave,
Uncover the gain
Hold it fast
To live again?

How has its many waters
Blessed thee and me,
As sacred signs?
Will it, as muse, retain a power
For its having been,
And then no more?

What saints and angels
Sent my way,
Colored its day?
In sorrow,
Who came to hold my hand?
In joy,
Who shared my hearth?

Were there hugs, and smiles,
And laughter to tilt the scale of grief?
Can kisses and embraces be resurrected,
That fires of love be stoked
To warm and blaze anew?

Has my thanksgivings
Been recorded in the pyre,
Written in the embers now glowing
As tiger eyes flashing from the ash.

Years come, doomed , too soon to go,
But let them not hurry
To a crypt without a wake.
Drink the happy wine of memory,
Sip, as the seasons turn.
Contemplate and savor
The seasons of your soul.

©2011  Joann Nelander

Scott Hahn, The Catholic Paul