Be attentive to the small.
Diminutive things hide gift,
Less the glory,
Inviting in simplicity
And in need,
Making room for God to move
Upon the empty places,
To spend Himself.
God will not keep company
With vain glory,
Nor suffer the competition
Of the arrogant will.
The humble,
Empty of self,
Win the Heart of God.
Lift me to Your shoulder;
Carry me, henceforth.
I can see all things in a new way,
From my throne above the world.
Your Shepherd’s crook in view,
A sign of assurance,
Calming the sea, defeating the flesh,
Vanquishing the Foe.
Perched in Paradise,
I ride above the storm.
Battles won by stillness,
Flames quenched by Water from the Rock.
Carrying the one You love,
Bearing Your burden,
Loving Your labor,
Loving me.
I see the wound of Your Cross.
I see Blood,and Bone,
And I see me,
Carved in Your bruised
And beaten flesh,
Lifted to Your shoulder,
You carry me,
Onward and upward,
Unto greater heights,
Cross and throne,
One in God alone.
© 2012 Joann Nelander
O my Lord,
My Friend,
Your saints labored so
To remove the roof
That stood between You
And their friend in need.
Here in this morning,
It was You,
Who labored,
In Your Sacrifice.
To enter under my roof,
You forgave me,
That nothing
Might stand in the way
Of Your coming to me,
In my need.
To my delight.
I am ,now, tabernacle,
Ciborium and chalice.
I hold You,
Body,mind soul
And divinity.
Under my roof.
Here in my heart,
You labored,
And now rest.
What joy!
What sweetness,
Having You
For this moment
Of holy time,
That I may be healed.
©2012 Joann Nelander All rights reserved
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I offer You, O Lord,
The ground of my being,
The deep from wither
My thoughts and prayers arise.
O Holy Spirit,
Hover over the abyss within,
To grace the land
Rising out of my chaos,
Like the signal blessing
Of the dove of peace,
And a new beginning
Over the waters
After the Flood.
Free me from sin and disorder,
That my unique soul
May shout for joy,
Even for the wonder
That I am,
That You rejoice
To reveal me to be
In true humility,
That I may awaken
To give You due
Honor and praise.
Break up the clods
Of my ignorance
And self-satisfaction.
Plow my field cross hatch,
Plant my furrows with gospel seed.
Water me
That I may be a garden
Of hidden delights,
And a comfort to You
In Your rest.
Truth was never far away.
It stood erect,
And with resolve,
Waited for the moment
Of my will’s consent.
It was relentless,
Devoid of error,
Stalwart and persistent.
Truth was the beacon
On the high mountain.
It appealed to me
On the level of the good.
It drew me
As home beckons the lost.
I journeyed closer,
But as the light
Revealed my tatters
I drew back,
Trapped by my choices.
Truth is a wedding garment,
That clothes inwardly,
As well as out.
My espousals never produced
A marriage of Truth and the holy.
In its stead, I’d wed
What I wanted.
Now, I feared our distance,
And what I had become.
Desiring the right,
Even if I was wrong,
I gathered courage to my breast
And risked all in the quest.
I shed my rags
And found a covering of prayer,
A robe of humility,
And came to Love
In holy fear.
Now, I am
Full of resolve,
A stalwart knight
On Truth’s high mountain,
Carrying lighted torch
To the Dark Valley,
Into caverns of deception.
Standing tall before the Foe,
Truth girds my waist,
And undertakes to speak
Light in the darkness.
I am become an army
On the plain,
As Truth marches not alone.
It goes forth,
Drawing with it men of valor,
Choosing the death of Pride,
And living as Truth’s Bride.
©2012 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved
Ceaseless the prayer You desire of me.
Your Eyes behold me.
You wait for me to lift my eyes
From the world
To gaze heavenward,
To behold You smiling upon me.
You long for our eyes to meet
In an exchange of love
And longing.
Ceaseless prayer is no less
Than a return of Love’s attention,
Glances passed one to the Other,
Constancy of care,
Attentive watchfulness.
Hearts speak in wordless knowing
All the while willing to know and be known.
The Greater gifting the lesser
With nothing less than His own Life.
The world becomes a room
Filled with the Light You shed
As I become a candle
Held in the Hand of God,
Melting in a pool,
Readied for a new mold,
True to the goodness
God gives me,
As He beholds
His creation from eternity
And says throughout Time
“It is good. ”
©2012 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved
From the Confessions of Saint Augustine, bishop
Let us gain eternal wisdom
The day was now approaching when my mother Monica would depart from this life; you knew that day, Lord, though we did not. She and I happened to be standing by ourselves at a window that overlooked the garden in the courtyard of the house. At the time we were in Ostia on the Tiber. We had gone there after a long and wearisome journey to get away from the noisy crowd, and to rest and prepare for our sea voyage. I believe that you, Lord, caused all this to happen in your own mysterious ways. And so the two of us, all alone, were enjoying a very pleasant conversation, forgetting the past and pushing on to what is ahead. We were asking one another in the presence of the Truth–for you are the Truth–what it would be like to share the eternal life enjoyed by the saints, which eye has not seen, nor ear heard, which has not even entered into the heart of man. We desired with all our hearts to drink from the streams of your heavenly fountain, the fountain of life.
That was the substance of our talk, though not the exact words. But you know, O Lord, that in the course of our conversation that day, the world and its pleasures lost all their attraction for us. My mother said: “Son, as far as I am concerned, nothing in this life now gives me any pleasure. I do not know why I am still here, since I have no further hopes in this world. I did have one reason for wanting to live a little longer: to see you become a Catholic Christian before I died. God has lavished his gifts on me in that respect, for I know that you have even renounced earthly happiness to be his servant. So what am I doing here?”
I do not really remember how I answered her. Shortly, within five days or thereabouts, she fell sick with a fever. Then one day during the course of her illness she became unconscious and for a while she was unaware of her surroundings. My brother and I rushed to her side but she regained consciousness quickly. She looked at us as we stood there and asked in a puzzled voice: “Where was I?”
We were overwhelmed with grief, but she held her gaze steadily upon us and spoke further: “Here you shall bury your mother.” I remained silent as I held back my tears. However, my brother haltingly expressed his hope that she might not die in a strange country but in her own land, since her end would be happier there. When she heard this, her face was filled with anxiety, and she reproached him with a glance because he had entertained such earthly thoughts. Then she looked at me and spoke: “Look what he is saying.” Thereupon she said to both of us: “Bury my body wherever you will; let not care of it cause you any concern. One thing only I ask you, that you remember me at the altar of the Lord wherever you may be.” Once our mother had expressed this desire as best she could, she fell silent as the pain of her illness increased.
O God,
who console the sorrowful
and who mercifully accepted
the motherly tears of Saint Monica
for the conversion of her son Augustine,
grant us, through the intercession of them both,
that we may bitterly regret our sins and find the grace of your pardon.
Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,
who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, for ever and ever.
– Amen.
Call to me, loudly command,
When you call me forth
From the grave of my sin,
I rejoice.
When, on the Last Day,
You call me forth from the tomb,
From my burial rest,
I shall jubilantly rejoice.
With the saints,
And angels to cheer me,
Invite and speak my name,
Command, “Come forth!”
Death shall cower and fall away,
And the perfume of sanctity
Attend me.
My cloud of witnesses
Testify to Your many mercies
Showered and shown me.
Then shall my heart sing
And the feet of my testimony dance
To the music of Your Kingdom
And the song of Mary,
Who sang lullabies in my rest
Upon Your breast.
©2012 Joann Nelander
Jesus, I place myself
In the holy confines
Of Your Sacred Heart.
Heart of my heart,
Draw heaven to me.
Surround me with friends
Of Your choosing,
That my mind might be full
Of the conversation of saints.
The world is so much with me.
It is temptress and shallow.
I long for the deep
Of Your thoughts,
To speak peace and refuge
In my wilderness.
You are the haven of my soul,
The Paradise once lost,
But now given
With my Daily Bread.
Exile holds no fear
For You surround me.
You are my consolation
And marrow of my bones,
Strength of my strength.
Your Holy Spirit comes to me
And turns my tears to laughter.
In a valley of vanity and pride,
Your Humanity and Humility
Take me by the hand and heart
To lead me home.
©2012 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved
Cover your eyes,
Lest you look on evil.
Stop your ears
Lest the fowl word assail.
The unthinkable
Has come to pass.
The forbidden
Have come to be.
The very air carries
The Tempter’s brood,
Sinister, in cloaked deceit.
Evil snakes in high places,
Surreptitious, in plans and plottings.
Look, and you will not see
The Perpetrator.
Sound the alarm,
But to meet mock outrage,
And the blind eye.
The pot once simmering
Has come to a boil,
No lid to contain,
No effort to constrain.
Prepare ye!
Prepare Ye!
With prayer,
And fasting,
Prepare ye!
From the Four Corners
Trumpet blasts,
Herald of battle,
A call to arms.
Arrows, tipped with prayer,
Fly heavenward,
Rising to hail the Almighty,
To bid bright Michael
To storm.
Let them descend as rain
To pierce the heart of Darkness
To rout the Foe
On the Terrible Day,
The Day of the Lord.
Mercy opens His Breast,
Revealing a Heart of Love.
Justice clothes the anawim
In plated armor.
Light from light
Fills the Earth
As Pentecost,
And Genesis meet.
A New Heaven
And New Earth to come,
As the King of All Nations
Arises in the East,
Prepared to mount His throne.
Prepare ye!
Prepare Ye!
With prayer,
And fasting,
Prepare ye!
©2012 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved
Man in his pride knows best.
So says the arrogant spirit
Because God made you
In His image,
You crack the door
Of your sciences,
For less than a peek,
And marvel at your prowess.
In awe, you assume
The accomplishment your own.
No thanks for eyes, ears,,
The touch, the smell,
The faculties of intellect
And will.
Mine, all it mine you say,
And set out in sinful disregard.
No honor to the Name,
Simple blasphemy your frame.
Wake up, O Dreamer
You revel in your ignorance,
While angels wait
To open your swollen,
Lustful eyes,
To your shame
And repentance.
O, Man,
Humbly gaze on Truth,
And purity’s delight.
Say but the word
That your soul may be healed.
©2012 Joann Nelander
The merciful Hand of the Lord
Is upon me.
It is a fearful thing
To fall into the Hand
Of the Living God
He metes out judgment,
And punishment due.
Why then, do I lift my voice
In praise and thanksgiving?
In an instant,
I saw my desert.
Fear and trembling seized me,
As my mercy-cry
Pierced the darkness.
Caught in my descent,
His Hand reached
Into my Hell.
It is in my nature to fall,
In His nature
To show mercy.
His end is my good.
Even in judgment,
Mercy shows His Face.
Punished, I am now free.
Seeing His mercy
In His rendering of scourge,
I trust,
As once I feared to do.
May His Hand always
Be upon me,
As fear of the Lord,
Befriends me.
©2012 Joann Nelander All rights reserved
From the treatise On the Trinity by Saint Hilary, bishop
The Father’s gift in Christ
Our Lord commanded us to baptize in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. In baptism, then, we profess faith in the Creator, in the only-begotten Son and in the gift which is the Spirit. There is one Creator of all things, for in God there is one Father from whom all things have their being. And there is one only-begotten Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom all things exist. And there is one Spirit, the gift who is in all. So all follow their due order, according to the proper operation of each: one power, which brings all things into being, one Son, through whom all things come to be, and one gift of perfect hope. Nothing is wanting to this flawless union: in Father, Son and Holy Spirit, there is infinity of endless being, perfect reflection of the divine image, and mutual enjoyment of the gift.
Our Lord has described the purpose of the Spirit’s presence in us. Let us listen to his words: I have yet many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. It is to your advantage that I go away; if I go, I will send you the Advocate. And also: I will ask the Father and he will give you another Counselor to be with you for ever, the Spirit of truth. He will guide you into all the truth; for he will not speak on his own authority, but whatever he hears he will speak, and he will declare to you the things that are to come. He will glorify me, for he will take what is mine.
From among many of our Lord’s sayings, these have been chosen to guide our understanding, for they reveal to us the intention of the giver, the nature of the gift and the condition for its reception. Since our weak minds cannot comprehend the Father or the Son, we have been given the Holy Spirit as our intermediary and advocate, to shed light on that hard doctrine of our faith, the incarnation of God.
We receive the Spirit of truth so that we can know the things of God. In order to grasp this, consider how useless the faculties of the human body would become if they were denied their exercise. Our eyes cannot fulfill their task without light, either natural or artificial; our ears cannot react without sound vibrations, and in the absence of any odor our nostrils are ignorant of their function. Not that these senses would lose their own nature if they were not used; rather, they demand objects of experience in order to function. It is the same with the human soul. Unless it absorbs the gift of the Spirit through faith, the mind has the ability to know God but lacks the light necessary for that knowledge.
This unique gift which is in Christ is offered in its fullness to everyone. It is everywhere available, but it is given to each man in proportion to his readiness to receive it. Its presence is the fuller, the greater a man’s desire to be worthy of it. This gift will remain with us until the end of the world, and will be our comfort in the time of waiting. By the favors it bestows, it is the pledge of our hope for the future, the light of our minds, and the splendor that irradiates our understanding.
At the moment
You lift Your saintly friends
From the Earth,
And plant them
In the Heaven of Your Being,
At that precious moment,
And by that fateful act,
You endow upon
The sons and daughters
Of Your Covenant,
Remaining in this world,
More, not less.
When Your friends
Journey forth,
All the Earth
Is, henceforth, blessed,
And not, otherwise,
Disposed or deprived.
As Your Servants,
Enter Your Realms of Light,
Their charisms become infinite,
In their capacity to bless.
When the smallest of the small
Cries out,
In the name of Your forever Friends,
These other Christs
Answer with Your power to succor.
In the Now of Your Essence,
They share Your Glory.
In Heaven,
There is only one glory,
Which cannot increase.
United to You,
Who, are unchanging,
This new rain falls to
the Earth,
And it’s consenting
creatures, here,
Can and do change,
In the shower
Of Your abundant dew fall.
We are, henceforth,
The beneficiaries of new riches,
Streaming from Your Side,
The Door, by which Your saints
Entered Eternity.
Glory upon glory falls,
As golden droplets,
Upon the land
Of sunrise and sunset.
Your gifts do not cease
With the death
Of those who are Yours.
Heaven is united to earth,
And in the celebration
Of their new birth,
Rejoices.
©2012 Joann Nelander
Who has died and gone to the side of Christ,
That does not make intercession,
For all the people
He has failed in life?
Who can stand in Purgatory’s flame,
And cease to cry out
For loved ones
Left in Time?
God hears the cry of the poor,
And who is poorer
Than the abandoned,
And detained at the threshold of Heaven,
Awaiting the forgiveness of those,
Who are careless of their fate?
No one goes to Heaven alone.
The cleansed and the holy,
Grab the tassles
Of your prayer shawl.
Lower your eyes.
Beat your breast.
Forget yourself.
Remember the family of God.
Together let us
Praise the Living God,
Who waits in Mercy for mercy,
For He calls all
To be His own.
©2012 Joann Nelander
Forsaking the Land of Shadows, yet again,
And prostrate before You,
I enter with my candle,
Wick, barely alive,
Smoldering,
Awaiting the gentle breeze,
That will kindle my flame
To blaze forth, anew.
Praise rises in my soul,
As a lifetime of thanks given,
Recall to memory
The reason for my trust.
Can Faith be called blind,
When a thousand thousand yesterdays
Form the foundation of our friendship?
Now, I look upon You,
Upon the Altar of Adoration.
Beauty captures my attention.
The monstrance, a delight to my eye,
All aglow,
As it catches the early rays of morning.
Golden shafts stream from its center,
Whispering “Glory.”
The pedestal,
Ornate with pomegranates, grapes and lilies,
Celebrate the gift of Your Creation.
Yet, You, in Your splendid Humility,
Reside in true beauty, Unadorned, and at rest,
Your work accomplished,
Awaiting only my disfigurement.
What will You with me?
Transfigure in longed for alchemy of Spirit.
By heartfelt confession and remorse,
At Your Word,
Spoken in Persona Christi,
I wash my robes clean
In the Blood of the Lamb.
You do not horde Your beauty,
But send it forth,
To renew all creation,
And, forgetting not the least,
Remember me.
Copyright 2012 Joann Nelander
“It is finished.”
“Into Your Hands,
I commend my spirit.”
The Tree of Eden,
Poison swallowed,
By the Tree of Golgotha.
Christ, the New Adam,
Mankind begun anew,
Fellowship restored and more.
Freed from the husks of pigs
Returned to the Father’s House.
Witness the death of Death.
Lay Your Head upon my lap,
That I may hold You,
Rock You,
Cradle You in my arms.
I arrange Your Hair,
And wash the Blood,
Clinging to You,
Mourning over You,
As Mother Mary.
Open side of Jesus
Receive me.
Hide me,
In the cave of Your Heart.
I throw off my idols.
My sin is finished,
Nailed to Your Cross.
“It is finished,”
My war against You,
The burden and the price,
Life born in Your dying,
And swaddled in faith’s Dark Night.
The Church born
From Your pierced side.
As a fountain for the Ages,
Spilling forth
The wine of Crushed Grapes.
New Day!
Eternal Spring!
“Into Your Hands,
I commend My Spirit.”
Love has the last word.
Copyright 2012 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved
RAnn of This That and the Other Thing hosts Sunday Snippets–A Catholic Carnival. Click to find out how to submit your favorite posts of the past week.
Join or simply read what other Catholics are thinking and saying.
My Christmas and New Years efforts:
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
Thank you The Purple Treehouse for the invitation to haiku with you.
Here’s my fun shot at the form:
Tiny dancers flight,
Wind blown snow, pirouetting,
Tumbling, now, to rest.
©2011 Joann Nelander
The Purple Treehouse – poetic forms- week 4
What are you saying, dear Lord?
You Who speak with Your poor creature.
Give voice to Your desire.
Place Your lips to my ear.
How do You speak?
Will I hear a voice?
See a vision?
Feel Your stirrings in my soul?
Will there be thunder as on Sinai
Or the breeze of Carmel?
Can I see in my blindness?
Hear, despite ears that have inclined to foreign gods?
Barnacles of perversion weigh on me.
Encrustations of sin hamper my ascent.
Give me feathers,
And wings of desire,
That I might rise, weightless and free,
Drawn by Your Love for me,
As music on the Wind of Your Spirit.
©2011 Joann Nelander
O happy Babe!
Babe of All Perfection,
Your little heart, so full of love,
Your face radiant,
Reflected in Your mother’s gaze.
Your soul, ablaze!
Hearth of longing and compassion,
The Family of Nations comes to adore You
©2011 Joann Nelander
RAnn of This That and the Other Thing hosts Sunday Snippets–A Catholic Carnival
Join us or enjoy reading what other Catholics are thinking and saying.
RAnn of This That and the Other Thing hosts Sunday Snippets–A Catholic Carnival
Join or simply read what other Catholics are thinking and saying.
I’m getting back into the swing of things with:
Like a little lamb, I follow,
Though the way be set by trial ,
My shepherd walks before me.
His rod, His staff, His smile.
By Joann Nelander
Letting go, letting God, still holds a clallenge.
A lifetime of learning hasn’t made it easier, just more imperative, as my way just gets in my way.
RAnn of This,That and the Other Thing hosts Sunday Snippets — A Catholic Carnival
Join us or just check out our posts. This is a great way to share your posts from the past week.
Here are my snippets from the week:
RAnn of This,That and the Other Thing hosts Sunday Snippets—A Catholic Carnival. Join us or just check out our posts. This is a great way to share your posts from the past week.
Here are my snippets from the week:
Tough As Nails – Address to God
Incredible Man Adopts 50 Babies – video
With this instruction of St. Columbanus, I include a prayer I posted earlier this week, because it seemed to apply.
From the Instructions of St Columbanus
Perpetual light in the temple of the eternal High Priest How happy, how lucky are those servants whom the master finds awake when he comes! How blessed it is to be wakeful and watching for God, who created all things, who fills them with being and exceeds all of them in greatness!I am a lowly creature but I am still his servant, and I hope that he will choose to wake me from slumber. I hope that he will set me on fire with the flame of his divine love, the flame that burns above the stars, so that I am filled with desire for his love and his fire burns always within me!I hope that I may deserve this, that my little lamp should burn all night in the temple of the Lord and shine on all who enter the house of God! Lord, I beg you in the name of Jesus Christ, your Son and my God, give me a love that cannot stumble so that my lamp can be lit but can never go out: let it burn in me and give light to others.And you, Christ, our gentle saviour, in your kindness light our lamps so that they shine for ever in your temple and lighten our darkness and dispel the shadows of the world.I beg you, my Jesus, fill my lamp with your light. By its light let me see the holiest of holy places, your own temple where you enter as the eternal High Priest of the eternal mysteries. Let me see you, watch you, desire you. Let me love you as I see you, and before you let my lamp always shine, always burn.Beloved Saviour, show yourself to us who beg a glimpse of you. Let us know you, let us love you, let us love only you, let us desire you alone, let us spend our days and nights meditating on you alone, let us always be thinking of you. Fill us with love of you, let us love you with all the love that is your right as our God. Let that love fill us and possess us, let it overwhelm our senses until we can love nothing but you, for you are eternal. Give us that love that all the waters of the sea, the earth, the sky cannot extinguish: as it is written, love that no flood can quench, no torrents drown. What is said in the Song of Songs can become true in us (at least in part) if you, our Lord Jesus Christ, give us that grace. To you be glory for ever and for ever. Amen.
You, My Lord, light up my darkness. I join my voice to the bright “Hosannas” of adoring angels. With the elect of Heaven here at my side, I call upon these holy saints and angels to remember before the throne of God all who labor in Your vineyard. Make me Your monstrance that I may carry You in my heart and be Your light to all I meet today. Amen.
by Joann Nelander
Into Stillness 