–
A drop in the ocean of the Lord,
Minuscule,
Tear-sized,
Hardly felt upon the cheek,
Brushed away
To fall into the river of Your love.
Once alone,
Barely a something,
Really “a nothing”,
A lonely singularity,
But felt upon a Heart.
The tears of others,
Conjoined,
Confusion,
Profusion,
Holy joy in headlong rush,
Whisked over rock and rubble,
Carried by unseen arms,
Pressed on
By force of a Holy Will.
Cascades’ roar arousing fear,
Bewilderment,
Mingled vigor,
Hope rises to the surface
And churns the deep.
Fate creates a splash
And a rivulet of escape,
An instant of choice,
Puddle or precipice?
I hang upon a prayer,
Borne aloft in new fall,
Truly free fall,
Onto the rushing stream,
And weeping humanity prevails.
One drop,
Now millions,
Energy,
Direction,
Momentum,
Kinetic kaleidoscope,
Mirroring Divine power.
The tide of many waters,
Convergence,
At the edge,
And then the fall,
Not like the first,
In free abandonment.
One drop,
Transformed by divine law,
Holy Obedience.
Tumultuous streams
Carve the land without,
And all within.
Fertile flood of holy tears,
Serve now His Plan,
A drop in the ocean of God.
Copyright 2014 Joann Nelander
,
Joann Nelander
lionessblog.com
I love analogies when they immediately shed a ray of light in my struggle for understanding. In the Our Father, Jesus teaches us to ask for His Father’s "Will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven." I got stumped trying to understand how His Father’s Will being done on Earth as it is in Heaven is possible while we are on this earth as we still suffer the effects of the Fall. Even with the gift of the sacraments, we are prone to sin again, and again, despite our honest resolve to turn away from sin and to sin no more.
Believing this request to be infinitely more than a simply desirable and beautiful rhetorical phrase, I asked Jesus, how can this be, when sin once committed can’t be undone, even by God. While great theological answers are beyond me, I was happily satisfied, when an image of my favorite handbag popped into mind.
Bits and pieces of old, worn, discarded remnants of seemingly useless cloth make-up my bag. The new creation is to me beautiful. Looking on it now with an internal gaze, I grasped a bit more of the wonder of Salvation and the Church’s cry, "O Happy Fault".
Sinners, despite their irrevocable falls, being infinitely loved by God, receive His answer to their prayer in Jesus. Their need draws God to themselves. The dilemma of Sin and our frailty, which is the contradiction to the Father’s Will for the perfection of Heaven He desires for the Earth, is solved by the coming of God, Himself. God comes! He comes, draws us to Himself, and in this, Heaven reigns on Earth with the Father’s Will. The answer is in the works, and we are the work. We, the bits and pieces, find a heavenly place in the Son.
I love analogies when they immediately shed a ray of light in my struggle for understanding. In the Our Father, Jesus teaches us to ask for His Father’s "Will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven." I got stumped trying to understand how His Father’s Will being done on Earth as it is in Heaven is possible while we are on this earth as we still suffer the effects of the Fall. Even with the gift of the sacraments, we are prone to sin again, and again, despite our honest resolve to turn away from sin and to sin no more.
Believing this request to be infinitely more than a simply desirable and beautiful rhetorical phrase, I asked Jesus, how can this be, when sin once committed can’t be undone, even by God. While great theological answers are beyond me, I was happily satisfied, when an image of my favorite handbag popped into mind.
Bits and pieces of old, worn, discarded remnants of seemingly useless cloth make-up my bag. The new creation is to me beautiful. Looking on it now with an internal gaze, I grasped a bit more of the wonder of Salvation and the Church’s cry, "O Happy Fault".
Sinners, despite their irrevocable falls, being infinitely loved by God, receive His answer to their prayer in Jesus. Their need draws God to themselves. The dilemma of Sin and our frailty, which is the contradiction to the Father’s Will for the perfection of Heaven He desires for the Earth, is solved by the coming of God, Himself. God comes! He comes, draws us to Himself, and in this, Heaven reigns on Earth with the Father’s Will. The answer is in the works, and we are the work. We, the bits and pieces, find a heavenly place in the Son.
I reach for You in the night,
On my bed, desiring.
Knowing You present in the darkness,
Watching, loving, desiring me.
As I look to You,
My desire grows,
Believing I can attain You,
You, Who are beyond me of myself,
An impossibility on my own,
Yet I invite and hope, believing.
Presuming not the power of myself,
But wholly choosing You,
My Honored Guest, my Holy Quest
I beg Your residence eternal and supreme.
Prepare me for the Day
Of Your Perfect and Perpetual Presence,
When faith and hope are fed and satisfied
At the Banquet of Abundance.
Rejoicing and hungry no more,
Possessed and possessing You,
The end of my prayer,
Forever new ,
Forever beginning ,
Forever Day,
In the Eternal Now,
Then to live Life and Love,
Forever Knowing.
© 2016 Joann Nelander
In the silence God invites without words.
My prayers are often noisy affairs
Filled with faces, memories, love
And feelings of sorrow.
I am often overwhelmed
And moved to tears
By the poignancy of a fleeting thought.
My heart tells me
That what seems insignificant
Holds a treasure.
God’s gifts often come in disguise
Like the beggar at the door
Who is Christ.
The Spirit says minister
Here in this place, at this time;
Reach back through the years
To move the hand of God
By prayer.
I am with God,
The Lord of All,
Including Time.
I may have missed or misused
Moments to do good,
But God reigns in Eternity,
As present in the Past
As He is in my heartbeat.
God’s hands are not tied
By the flow of Time.
He is there
And here
And Eternal Now.
My lowly prayer,
Clothed in The Name,
Breaks down the wall that stands
Between my need or regret, and blessing.
Like the little donkey that carried the King of Kings,
My humble prayer
Sets in motion
The flow of grace to love,
To heal, to mend,
To restore and bless anew.
Joann Nelander
Who really died?
I never saw
The light of day.
Black descended,
Of a kind
I knew not,
And then no more….
How did I know you?
All I knew was you.
You flavored my becoming,
Your genes, my genes,
Your feelings,
Emotional rhythms,
Touching me
By blood connection.
All this,
And then no more…..
How did I feel you?
Warmth, gentle rocking
To and fro.
I felt you,
Heart-sounds
Surrounding me,
Pressing me,
Impressing me.
You whooshed at times
And hummed.
And then no more…..
How did I leave you?
I knew anguish
As once I knew you,
Your blood feeding mine,
I knew as parting,
Leaving behind mother
As gift withdrawn,
And bid goodbye.
Too young for endings,
Too soon to die,
And then no more…..
How now and by and by?
Sorrow and black
And then the Light.
New Day, as womb,
Enfolding me.
Life ending
Beginning yet again.
And I behold
The Face of God.
I live,
Knowing Love,
Yet still,
I wait for you.
Eternity has a door,
God knocks from His side,
I listen for you.
Pray but open the latch.
That you might die no more,
And free from sin,
Enter in.
There is yet more.
Who really died that day?
Consider the multitudes,
Throng upon throng,
Gathered across Europe,
Arm in arm.
Regard the throng,
Witness of flesh,
Standing tall,
Staring down terror and the terrible,
Arm in Arm.
A proclamation for peace,
For life, for freedom,
In the aftermath of death,
To face the future,
Arm in arm.
A call to arms:
Arms to embrace,
Arms to hold dear,
Arms to forge, in heart-felt resolve,
In the furnace of trial, tears and tragedy,
An alliance of hope,
Arm in arm.
Copyright 2015 Joann Nelander
A drop in the ocean of the Lord,
Minuscule,
Tear-sized,
Hardly felt upon the cheek,
Brushed away
To fall into the river of Your love.
Once alone,
Barely a something,
Really "a nothing",
A lonely singularity,
But felt upon a Heart.
The tears of others,
Conjoined,
Confusion,
Profusion,
Holy joy in headlong rush,
Whisked over rock and rubble,
Carried by unseen arms,
Pressed on
By force of a Holy Will.
Cascades’ roar arousing fear,
Bewilderment,
Mingled vigor,
Hope rises to the surface
And churns the deep.
Fate creates a splash
And a rivulet of escape,
An instant of choice,
Puddle or precipice?
I hang upon a prayer,
Borne aloft in new fall,
Truly free fall,
Onto the rushing stream,
And weeping humanity prevails.
One drop,
Now millions,
Energy,
Direction,
Momentum,
Kinetic kaleidoscope,
Mirroring Divine power.
The tide of many waters,
Convergence,
At the edge,
And then the fall,
Not like the first,
In free abandonment.
One drop,
Transformed by divine law,
Holy Obedience.
Tumultuous streams
Carve the land without,
And all within.
Fertile flood of holy tears,
Serve now His Plan,
A drop in the ocean of God.
Copyright 2014 Joann Nelander
Who really died?
I never saw
The light of day.
Black descended,
Of a kind
I knew not,
And then no more….
How did I know you?
All I knew was you.
You flavored my becoming,
Your genes, my genes,
Your feelings,
Emotional rhythms,
Touching me
By blood connection.
All this,
And then no more…..
How did I feel you?
Warmth, gentle rocking
To and fro.
I felt you,
Heart-sounds
Surrounding me,
Pressing me,
Impressing me.
You whooshed at times
And hummed.
And then no more…..
How did I leave you?
I knew anguish
As once I knew you,
Your blood feeding mine,
I knew as parting,
Leaving behind mother
As gift withdrawn,
And bid goodbye.
Too young for endings,
Too soon to die,
And then no more…..
How now and by and by?
Sorrow and black
And then the Light.
New Day, as womb,
Enfolding me.
Life ending
Beginning yet again.
And I behold
The Face of God.
I live,
Knowing Love,
Yet still,
I wait for you.
Eternity has a door,
God knocks from His side,
I listen for you.
Pray but open the latch.
That you might die no more,
And free from sin,
Enter in.
There is yet more.
Who really died that day?
O eyes of my soul,
Eyes of my spirit,
Eyes of my heart,
See!
See the glory revealed
In all creation.
See the Son
Hidden in the least
To the greatest.
Recognize the Christ,
Lord of all.
Lord over the earth
Lord over the sea
Lord raised above the heavens.
Enthrone Him, King,
King of your soul,
King of your spirit,
King of your heart.
As light illuminates,
See that you are a new creation.
See Christ, in this moment,
As in the breaking of the Bread.
Copyright 2013 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved
Consider the multitudes,
Throng upon throng,
Gathered across Europe,
Arm in arm.
Regard the throng,
Witness of flesh,
Standing tall,
Staring down terror and the terrible,
Arm in Arm.
A proclamation for peace,
For life, for freedom,
In the aftermath of death,
To face the future,
Arm in arm.
A call to arms:
Arms to embrace,
Arms to hold dear,
Arms to forge, in heart-felt resolve,
In the furnace of trial, tears and tragedy,
An alliance of hope,
Arm in arm.
Copyright 2015 Joann Nelander
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
It seems…
I am always talking to You,
That I am always with You,
And have no doubt
You are with me,
Listening and silent.
I am an endless monologue.
You, hovering Spirit,
Wordlessly eloquent
Abide.
You are Presence and Truth,
Listening and silent,
Thunderously silent,
Save for the stirring of my heart,
And the sometime rush of thought,
Coming, as it were,
From the bowels of my being
With frightening conviction,
And challenging my reticence
To speak aloud
The thoughts of solitude.
Reluctant always
To go about,
And leave the cloister of my heart,
Where in Your chambers I find,
And hold dear,
Private audience with the King,
The world without is a noisy charade,
And woos the pride of me take center stage.
Where suddenly I realize
I have been talking much, too much,
To my regret.
I, naggingly, suspect
I have diminished
What was my treasure
And ceased to learn.
Cacophany of me,
I cease to learn,
And simply rearrange,
That with which I am familiar.
Where do prophet, poet and a would be recluse
Find voice if not in You,
Rejecting even audience
To find You in my silence,
Your silence.
©2012 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved
Kindle editions:
Christmas would be a lovely time to present a gift of poetry, prayer and praise.:
Prayers, prose and poetry of Sr. LaDonna M. Pinkelman OSF, gleaned over a period of many years of journaling. Franciscan Flowers ll continues where she left off in her previous work, Franciscan Flowers, to offer her gifts of prayer, poetry and prose, in the hope of inspiring love, and trust for the Lord, and further act upon her desire to participate in the new evangelization called for at the beginning of the Third Millennium by Pope John Paul ll, and echoed by Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI and Pope Francis. Being even the smallest part of this brings her great joy.
O eyes of my soul,
Eyes of my spirit,
Eyes of my heart,
See!
See the glory revealed
In all creation.
See the Son
Hidden in the least
To the greatest.
Recognize the Christ,
Lord of all.
Lord over the earth
Lord over the sea
Lord raised above the heavens.
Enthrone Him, King,
King of your soul,
King of your spirit,
King of your heart.
As light illuminates,
See that you are a new creation.
See, in this moment,
As in the breaking of the Bread.
Copyright 2013 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved
You are before me,
Drawing me ever closer.
I am lost in loving,
Beseeching and begetting
By Your grace.
You call me
"The apple of Your eye".
Look, then, upon my world.
Perfect it,
Through this, my prayer.
Color the ghettos of sin
With hues of charity.
Bring a springtime of purity,
That earth may be as heaven,
Peopled with Children of God.
My loaves and fishes
Can feed the poor and hungry.
Though they be few, You are mighty.
Grace, Grace, O Holy Grace,
Behold me,
As I feast on Thee.
copyright 2014 Joann Nelander
O crystalline waters of grace,
Pure outpouring of the Trinity,
Vessel of redemption,
Into which has been entrusted
The manifestation of the Son of man,
And Son of God,
Pour into me your holy contemplations
That my soul may behold the Light
That transformed humanity with your "Fiat."
Restoring paradise to the fallen.
Ground of His Coming in the Flesh,
Visit me
Who is pregnant with Promise,
As I await the flowering
Of the seed of your faith,
Jesus,
Taking root in me.
O Women, my Mother,
Nurture the Word spoken to my heart,
That Love may again fulfill
The Will that caused Hope
To spring up in the soil
Into which His Cross
Has been planted.
Water me,
Who drinks
From the streams
Of your remembrances,
As I behold in my soul
The water and the Blood.
Copyright 2014 Joann Nelander
Keeping watch with Christ seems to be my lot in these early hours of the morning. I always rejoice despite my sleepiness when I hear these words of Night Prayer:
Protect us, Lord, as we stay awake; watch over us as we sleep, that awake, we may keep watch with Christ, and asleep, rest in his peace.
Lord, give our bodies restful sleep
and let the work we have done today
bear fruit in eternal life.
The blessing puts all things in perspective:
May the all-powerful Lord grant us a restful night and a peaceful death.
– Amen.
O my Lord, God Almighty,
Rule on the throne of my life.
Set right.
Set straight.
Set at peace.
Subjugate all within my sphere.
All that I have,
All that I desire,
All that I am,
I will to You.
copyright 2014 Joann Nelander
It seems…
I am always talking to You,
That I am always with You,
And have no doubt
You are with me,
Listening and silent.
I am an endless monologue.
You, hovering Spirit,
Wordlessly eloquent
Abide.
You are Presence and Truth,
Listening and silent,
Thunderously silent,
Save for the stirring of my heart,
And the sometime rush of thought,
Coming, as it were,
From the bowels of my being
With frightening conviction,
And challenging my reticence
To speak aloud
The thoughts of solitude.
Reluctant always
To go about,
And leave the cloister of my heart,
Where in Your chambers I find,
And hold dear,
Private audience with the King,
The world without is a noisy charade,
And woos the pride of me take center stage.
Where suddenly I realize
I have been talking much, too much,
To my regret.
I, naggingly, suspect
I have diminished
What was my treasure
And ceased to learn.
Cacophany of me,
I cease to learn,
And simply rearrange,
That with which I am familiar.
Where do prophet, poet and a would be recluse
Find voice if not in You,
Rejecting even audience
To find You in my silence,
Your silence?
©2012 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved
Who really died?
I never saw
The light of day.
Black descended,
Of a kind
I knew not,
And then no more….
How did I know you?
All I knew was you.
You flavored my becoming,
Your genes, my genes,
Your feelings,
Emotional rhythms,
Touching me
By blood connection.
All this,
And then no more…..
How did I feel you?
Warmth, gentle rocking
To and fro.
I felt you,
Heart-sounds
Surrounding me,
Pressing me,
Impressing me.
You whooshed at times
And hummed.
And then no more…..
How did I leave you?
I knew anguish
As once I knew you,
Your blood feeding mine,
I knew as parting,
Leaving behind mother
As gift withdrawn,
And bid goodbye.
Too young for endings,
Too soon to die,
And then no more…..
How now and by and by?
Sorrow and black
And then the Light.
New Day, as womb,
Enfolding me.
Life ending
Beginning yet again.
And I behold
The Face of God.
I live,
Knowing Love,
Yet still,
I wait for you.
Eternity has a door,
God knocks from His side,
I listen for you.
Pray but open the latch.
That you might die no more,
And free from sin,
Enter in.
There is yet more.
Who really died that day?
©2013 Joann Nelander
From a sermon by John the Serene, bishop
Love the Lord and walk in his ways
The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? How great was that servant who knew how he was given light, whence it came, and what sort of man he was when he was favored by that light. The light he saw was not that which fades at dusk, but the light which no eye has seen. Souls brightened by this light do not fall into sin or stumble on vice.
Our Lord said: Walk while you have the light in you. What other light did he mean but himself? For it was he who said: I have come as a light into the world, so that those who have eyes may not see and the blind may receive the light. The Lord then is our light, the sun of justice and righteousness, who has shone on his Catholic Church spread throughout the world. The prophet spoke as a figure of the Church when he cried: The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?
The spiritual man who has been thus illumined does not limp or leave the path, but bears all things. Glimpsing our true country from afar, he puts up with adversities; he is not saddened by the things of time, but finds his strength in God. He lowers his pride and endures, possessing patience through humility. That true light which enlightens every man who comes into the world bestows itself on those who reverence it, shining where it wills, on whom it wills, and revealing itself according to the will of God the Son.
When this light begins to shine upon the man who sat in darkness and the shadow of death, in the darkness of evil and the shadow of sin, he is shocked, he calls himself to account, repents of his misdeeds in shame, and says: The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? Great is this salvation, my brethren, which fears neither sickness nor lethargy and disregards pain. We should then in the fullest sense not only with our voice but with our very soul cry out, The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? If he enlightens and saves me, whom shall I fear? Even though the dark shadows of evil suggestions crowd about, the Lord is my light. They can approach, but cannot prevail; they can lay siege to our heart, but cannot conquer it. Though the blindness of concupiscence assails us, again we say: The Lord is my light. For he is our strength; he gives himself to us and we give ourselves to him. Hasten to this physician while you can, or you may not be able to find him when you want him.
What of tears?
What of feelings of deep emotion?
What of the thoughts that seem to interfere
When one encounters the One to Whom we pray?
Don’t let them get in the way.
What is a poor body to do,
But quake before the awesome Presence?
What better use of tears
But to purify the vessel.
Allow the thoughts to bathe therein,
Outside the city
And realms of sin,
In the arms
Of One Who loves you
Through and through.
Who really died?
I never saw
The light of day.
Black descended,
Of a kind
I knew not,
And then no more….
How did I know you?
All I knew was you.
You flavored my becoming,
Your genes, my genes,
Your feelings,
Emotional rhythms,
Touching me
By blood connection.
All this,
And then no more…..
How did I feel you?
Warmth, gentle rocking
To and fro.
I felt you,
Heart-sounds
Surrounding me,
Pressing me,
Impressing me.
You whooshed at times
And hummed.
And then no more…..
How did I leave you?
I knew anguish
As once I knew you,
Your blood feeding mine,
I knew as parting,
Leaving behind mother
As gift withdrawn,
And bid goodbye.
Too young for endings,
Too soon to die,
And then no more…..
How now and by and by?
Sorrow and black
And then the Light.
New Day, as womb,
Enfolding me.
Life ending
Beginning yet again.
And I behold
The Face of God.
I live,
Knowing Love,
Yet still,
I wait for you.
Eternity has a door,
God knocks from His side,
I listen for you.
Pray but open the latch.
That you might die no more,
And free from sin,
Enter in.
There is yet more.
Who really died that day?
Into Stillness 