May my heart be Your paradise on earth, empty of self, save for You, Who are the wellspring of my very being, the great I Am Who Am. Cloth me in Your Heart and dream Holy dreams that create Your life in me. I am empty awaiting the waters of life to inundate my poor, longing soul. Speak peace Beloved. I gaze into Your Soul in its anguished Gethsemane. All ages await your healing Death on the Cross the Father laid upon your bosom in a bath of blood and tears. Fill Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow as with Mary”s “Fiat” her womb became Your world.
Life, precious ointment of Love, consume the death You find in me.
Thoughts from the Quiet:
If I can’t find my balance, Lord, at least help me set a rhythm to my life. Let me return to You each day as though I’d never been away. Flow in upon me, wash over me and carry away the debris of daily life. Flotsam and jetsam too much for me, float like foam upon your waves. My sands pristine and ready for tomorrow. With eyes of faith, I see Your footprints on the shore.
From Flannery O’Connor’s letter to Alfred Corn on May 30, 1962:
Even in the life of a Christian, faith rises and falls like the tides of an invisible sea. It’s there, even when he can’t see it or feel it, if he wants it to be there. You realize, I think, that it is more valuable, more mysterious, altogether more immense than anything you can learn or decide upon in college. Learn what you can, but cultivate Christian scepticism. It will keep you free — not free to do anything you please, but free to be formed by something larger than your intellect or the intellects of those around you.