As an Orchid

My Lord Jesus,
As my eyes open
On a new day,
And sleep gives way,
I find You beside me.

As a lover,
You, have watched me sleep.
My stirrings,
During the long night,
Were covered
As with a blanket.

Chasing dreams,
I did not notice You,
Lying there upon Your Cross,
Waiting to be lifted into place.

Your forbearance frightens me.
What will it demand,
When dreams abandon me,
And leave me to Your Love.

Will my “yes”
Cause You to be raised
And die for me
On yet another day?

What You have done,
You are doing,
And still will do.
Such is the fearful Love
You waste on me.

To Love, I am a flower
Like no other.
Like one orchid,
Blooming among millions of orchids
In dense worldly jungles,
Never to be beheld,
Yet ravishing in perfection.

You cherish me,
As Your image,
Which the Beauty,
Growing in me,
Though unseen,
Will one day reveal.

Yes; A thousand times, yes!
I will be your Orchid this day.
All days!
You, upon Your Cross,
Me, in the world,
But not of it,
Mysteriously bound together.

Pick me!
Make of me a corsage,
One solitary bloom,
Graced beyond imaging.

Press me, then,
Onto Your Father’s Breast
To wear in proclamation
Of Your Life,
Spent upon a Cross,
Bringing me to Life.

As this day unfurls,
As a wave offering,
Remind me of the throne
I rest upon,
Worn as a treasure
Over our Father’s Heart.

By Joann Nelander

Chaplet of the Holy Wounds–Video

Awakening #ChristianPoetry

Awakening
I woke up with God today.
He was with me,
And I smiled.

I am smiling still,
For in His Presence,
I seem to glow,
On the inside, of course.

I hug Christ to me, all gratitude.
Being flighty like a bird,
Anxious to take to wing,
Precisely, because my spirit soars,
I count the grace of moment, a treasure,
and tuck it ‘neath my pinions.

Once aloft on wings of love,
I may be distracted,
Attracted by His good creation,
Or attacked by jealous gods,
Envying His majesty,
And hating His Intimacy
With so lowly a creature.

My God, thank You,
For this favor in Time,
That I may be refreshed,
And readied for Eternity,
Where I shall never
Lose sight of You.

Steel me, O Immanuel.
Sharpen my vision,
To see You with me always,
In Your hidden Presence
Within my soul.

© 2011  Joann Nelander All rights reserved

As an Orchid

My Lord Jesus,
As my eyes open
On a new day,
And sleep gives way,
I find You beside me.

As a lover,
You, have watched me sleep.
My stirrings,
During the long night,
Were covered
As with a blanket.

Chasing dreams,
I did not notice You,
Lying there upon Your Cross,
Waiting to be lifted into place.

Your forbearance frightens me.
What will it demand,
When dreams abandon me,
And leave me to Your Love.

Will my “yes”
Cause You to be raised
And die for me
On yet another day?

What You have done,
You are doing,
And still will do.
Such is the fearful Love
You waste on me.

To Love, I am a flower
Like no other.
Like one orchid,
Blooming among millions of orchids
In dense worldly jungles,
Never to be beheld,
Yet ravishing in perfection.

You cherish me,
As Your image,
Which the Beauty,
Growing in me,
Though unseen,
Will one day reveal.

Yes; A thousand times, yes!
I will be your Orchid this day.
All days!
You, upon Your Cross,
Me, in the world,
But not of it,
Mysteriously bound together.

Pick me!
Make of me a corsage,
One solitary bloom,
Graced beyond imaging.

Press me, then,
Onto Your Father’s Breast
To wear in proclamation
Of Your Life,
Spent upon a Cross,
Bringing me to Life.

As this day unfurls,
As a wave offering,
Remind me of the throne
I rest upon,
Worn as a treasure
Over our Father’s Heart.

By Joann Nelander

A Thousand Little Moments

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.

©2010 Joann Nelander

Your Way, My Way

I wept on the way, O Lord.
Gratitude overwhelmed me,
For I had, at last,
Found my way.

Bending to me,
Your inclination
Gave me courage.
My garments were not pretty,
For a King to gaze upon,
But You saw only me,
Your creature in need.

I stirred Your Passion,
For it was for me
That You searched,
Despite my dishevelment,
You recognized Your Image
Stamped in my being.

You clutched me to Your bosom,
Covered me with Your mantle.
And carried me to the Inn Keeper.

In Your Church,
The treasures You deposited,
Ministered to my wounds.
Deep and resistant,
As the lesions were,
They yielded,
As I lingered long,
In the bed of my sorrow,
Beholding the cause
For my joy.

Your Way is all about me,
Though narrow,
So as to thread
The eye of a needle,
It is like Your broad Smile.

Graced virtue, Your gift,
Accompany me.
The world is as the meadows
Surrounding Your dwelling among men.

Flowers, in due season,
Spring up in my soul,
And fruit, You wait for,
Following the budding
Of my prayer,
Will be rich for Your taking.

I am the love you seek,
And the Love You,
From the beginning,
Have given.
For it is
In Your nature to Love
And in my nature
To be loved.
This is Your Way, my Love.
This is the Way I choose.

©2012 Joann Nelander All rights reserved

Fortnight For Freedom

A call to prayer for our great nation by our bishops has gone forth.  Now it is for the people to pray.

H/T  USCCB

 

The fourteen days from June 21—the vigil of the Feasts of St. John Fisher and St. Thomas More—to July 4, Independence Day, are dedicated to this “fortnight for freedom”—a great hymn of prayer for our country. Our liturgical calendar celebrates a series of great martyrs who remained faithful in the face of persecution by political power—St. John Fisher and St. Thomas More, St. John the Baptist, SS. Peter and Paul, and the First Martyrs of the Church of Rome.  Culminating on Independence Day, this special period of prayer, study, catechesis, and public action will emphasize both our Christian and American heritage of liberty. Dioceses and parishes around the country have scheduled special events that support a great national campaign of teaching and witness for religious liberty.

Sunday Snippets — A Catholic Carnival

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:

Draw Close to God

The Breech

Intention



Sunday Snippets — A Catholic Carnival

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:

I Can Come to You



One Shot Wednesday – Week 29

As an Orchid

My Lord Jesus,
As my eyes open
On a new day,
And sleep gives way,
I find You beside me.

As a lover,
You, have watched me sleep.
My stirrings,
During the long night,
Were covered
As with a blanket.

Chasing dreams,
I did not notice You,
Lying there upon Your Cross,
Waiting to be lifted into place.

Your forbearance frightens me.
What will it demand,
When dreams abandon me,
And leave me to Your Love.

Will my “yes”
Cause You to be raised
And die for me
On yet another day?

What You have done,
You are doing,
And still will do.
Such is the fearful Love
You waste on me.

To Love, I am a flower
Like no other.
Like one orchid,
Blooming among millions of orchids
In dense worldly jungles,
Never to be beheld,
Yet ravishing in perfection.

You cherish me,
As Your image,
Which the Beauty,
Growing in me,
Though unseen,
Will one day reveal.

Yes; A thousand times, yes!
I will be your Orchid this day.
All days!
You, upon Your Cross,
Me, in the world,
But not of it,
Mysteriously bound together.

Pick me!
Make of me a corsage,
One solitary bloom,
Graced beyond imaging.

Press me, then,
Onto Your Father’s Breast
To wear in proclamation
Of Your Life,
Spent upon a Cross,
Bringing me to Life.

As this day unfurls,
As a wave offering,
Remind me of the throne
I rest upon,
Worn as a treasure
Over our Father’s Heart.

By Joann Nelander

Visit One Stop Poetry- Where Poets, Writers and Artists Meet. to lift your spirits, to brighten your mood or just to get away from the ho-hum humdrum. Join the poets on  One Shot Wednesday

Feed My Lambs

I am no one,
But see the army
Of saints and angels
Who implore Thee.

You say “Feed my lambs,
Feed my sheep,”
And I am tempted
To think, I have nothing,
But, Lord, are You
Not the Whole Loaf,
And are You not
Eternal and ours?

I will give
From my Ever Present Lord.
In my poverty,
You are my abundance.

What I can not see,
I know is on the way.
You are not far off.
You have come,
And You are coming soon.
Emmanuel.

By Joann Nelander

Prayer and the Indwelling Christ

Your gaze have made it very easy,
praying that is.
Yet, for such as me,
it’s still very hard,
not seeing You across the table.

Your eyes follow me.
I know You hear me.
“It’s not You, it’s me”,
as faulting lovers say.

Your gaze never leaves me,
I can feel it
in the depths of my being.
I am never alone.

You wait,
as I turn to trifles,
or beat down troublesome giants.
You dwell upon my last words,
feeling my joy or pain
through every season of my soul.

Though my words can stop mid-sentence
or conversation cease,
still You know the whole.
With the patience of eternity, my God waits.

Eventually, I turn back to You.
Your eyes sear my soul,
O, that my heart could return that gaze.

On the best of days,
unless You bind me to You, I flit.
A thousand trumpets vie for my ear
and I am torn.

New love has a magic,
erasing the world, and becoming all.
Re-ignite that flame in me
To shut out causes, fears and strife.

Your Presence felt is strength and consolation,
Your tug is joy
and Your conversation sweetness.
If pain be the messenger
that draws me back to You,
so be it.
Better the torment of an earthly purgatory
than the foretaste of hell.

If it seems I sit at our table alone,
the note of sadness betrays the truth.
I miss you and the missing is from You.
You beckon anew.

Sup with me.
Dwell with me.
Gaze on me.
I am not alone.
My Christ is with me.

By Joann Nelander

Reflecting on a Newborn

Joy was my initial response
to a day of silence,
more exactly, a day of listening.

The sense I had was of God’s delight.
He was looking on me as we do a newborn,
full of love  and enchantment.
He wanted me to share this delight.
He wanted me to recognize that it was me
who delighted Him.

I had an image in my mind of angels and saints,
those present at the Mass,
passing by and looking on me
as they would a precious newborn.
(I had just consumed the Eucharist.)
Each holy spirit approached,
giving me a blessing I would grow into,
or seen another way,
by which I would grow.

The Father wanted me to know
how much it delighted Him
to see me rise after a fall.
I am a sinner but I will be a saint,
if I allow His love to form me,
and continue to rise after each fall.
It would be nice if my falls were infrequent,
but if they be a thousand,
He would grace me a thousand times,
each time I washed my robe clean
in the blood of Christ,
confessing my sins and beginning anew,
a newborn.

By Joann Nelander

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

For Fear Apart

Why apart? From the in-gathering, all embracing Mother Church you flee, to remain apart all the while, calling and yearning for your God.  You flee and I run after you, pursuing you at every turn, and twist and fall. I reach and you pull your hand away.  Why not stay?  My Body yearns for you. My members long to know you.

I wait upon your prayers with angels ready to dispatch.
O, Pardoned Soul, you seek your God in myriad ways, I am here, wedded to My Bride, always at her side. promised never to depart. You hold yourself apart.

You’ve built a chapel in your heart for others that play God,
I call and draw you by Love within the chapel of your heart.
You sigh as I tug at heart strings tight and taunt.  You resist Me for fear they’ll break. I woo, I’m told to wait.  You say you are not ready for Love’s music.

“Measure me Your Love,” you say.  “Give comfort, strength and sure supply, but do not on my ‘Yes’ rely.”

Perhaps the Bride, the Church, who bears My Word forth unto all centuries, has words you n’er obey, in dread fear of the “ought” you can not bear. You will your will be done on earth and choose to judge all heaven.   You want only love’s first glance, the sweet embrace and kiss upon the cheek, nothing too dear, nothing too deep.  It seems a bitter end, to lose yourself in giving all, O Measured One.

You know Love comes with a Cross, a Cross you fear to carry. You choose to stay apart and skirt the Cross. Alas, the world without has crosses, too.  They may come disguised in promised delight, but soon you’ll drag that empty dream uphill.  How long one longs and labors longingly and all alone beneath the weight of vanities profane,  I do not say. I only await a cry, a plea, glance of recognition.  When our eyes meet, then our hearts meet;  at long last your leap into the arms of One Who grasps you in your fall.

Be mine as Church joined to Husband.  At last the Lord of All can leap the walls you’ve built about yourself to know you now within His Sacred Heart, bearing your cross in His,making all things new and all your burdens light. Count now as joy life without measure.

Fear not my Church.   She is My Spouse, My very Body; I ,the Head.
I woo and wait,  now, as Groom upon the altar.  You must give yourself away.

 

by Joann Nelander