Waxing Proud

I left You long ago,
To wander in a world of choices,
Bombarded by alluring voices.

I left at home
All cords that bound,
Proudly casting off all staked to holy ground.

I soared mounting the wind,
On Icharus’ wings waxed proud,
Till sun and heat spoke Truth aloud.

I left You long ago.
Now in swift descent I fall,
Humbled, hoping to be caught by Lord of All.

Sunday Snippets – A Catholic Carnival

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.

Please think about joining us or simply read what other Catholics are thinking and saying.

I’ve been gathering strength (goofing off) for the year ahead; so here’s all I have:

Counting Stars

Fallen and Forgiven 

A Thousand Little Moments

"Praying Hands" (study for an Apostl...

Image via Wikipedia

I fail and I fall.
“Yes, Father, it’s me, again.”
My prayers and tears reach Your heart with plaintiff sighs.

I reach for Love, as a baby grasps the finger,
securing You to my heart,
binding You by trifles.
A thousand little moments, like a knitter’s weave,
trivial triumphs conquering like souls,
for made in Your image, I desire only You.

Of wooing, my begging be a part.
I turn, my God, to You as a prayer with every care.
Prayer and tears, now, all one.
I nestle to Your breast and am all ear.

I listen as beat upon beat,
Love’s rhythm reassures me of the next
and of Your eternal constancy.
I listen, as for a whisper, and fear not
to whisper every care and fretful prayer.

I reach for You with every breath,
and sigh when You draw nigh.
You answer with a mother’s warmth,
bending low, picking me up, pressing me
to Your great and consoling bosom.

“What is it my child. Am I not here? Haven’t I given you all?”
You kiss away my tears
and delight in the exchange.
I have given nothing but complaint,
yet You are full of smiles.

A thousand little moments knit our day.
I cry and You comfort.
I beckon and You bend in kind regard.

You draw me into that chamber,
in which I was formed,
that hallowed space,
in which my time began.

Heaven and rest contained
in one all holy Name.
Name me, my God,
and I will come into being,
called forth from my darkness
into Your marvelous Day.

All our moments measured by Your mercy,
I cry out for a heart made unto Your own,
that I may grow to give Your Love.
Love begetting love, for love alone.

By Joann Nelander