He will come to us like the rain.
Hosea 6:3-6
Dear God,
Like the rains that flood the earth,
I want you to flood me.
Fill me with your refreshing water.
Drench me with your love.
I want to feel your love and grace fill every pore of my skin,
And soak right through to my very core, my soul.
I am an empty jar
waiting for you to pour your love into me.
I long to be like a watered garden
that is nourished and fed with your Word.
I need to grow beyond my stagnant and dehydrated life
to fresh beauty in your love.
This can only happen when your Spirit
recognizes my desire, my emptiness, and my thirst
and comes to me like the rain.
I wait in silent longing
for your rain to flow into my soul.
Amen.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
By His Wounds
But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed. Isaiah 53:5
While standing on top of a kitchen chair placed precariously at the edge of the grape vine arbor deck, I greedily stretched to reach the very last bunch of grapes in the corner, and the chair leg slipped off the edge of the deck and down I fell! Talk about crushed grapes; here I was lying in a pile of them! My daughter Mary who had been keeping me company while I worked by sharing her ideas about the differences between boys and girls in the 3rd grade, rushed to my assistance. "Oh Mama, Mama!" she cried, and then to Jack who was inside the house, "Jack, get out here right now! Mom needs you!" Mary is clearly in charge around our house, and Jack came running outside at the sound of her voice. I assured them that I was okay, and picked myself up as best I could to go change out of my grape stained clothes. As I walked in the door, the phone was ringing. It was Rose, my next-door neighbor. Her husband George had seen me fall and she was checking to see if I was all right and did I need anything. The Lord certainly does take good care of me by surrounding me with loving family and friends!
While I'm pretty sure that nothing was broken, and I am still able to use all of my limbs, it will be a while before the aches and pains of the multiple bruises and scrapes that I suffered in that fall, both to my body and to my ego, will heal. But they will heal, of that I am quite certain. Time does have a way of healing all of our physical wounds, but there are some wounds that require more than time alone to heal them, they require love as the ointment to bring healing about.
While contemplating the various places in which my body feels the pain most deeply, I can't help but compare them to the aches that Jesus suffered in His body while walking that horrific road to Calvary.
The pain in my upper back and shoulder that can be soothed with a little bit of heat and maybe a gentle massage, makes me realize that the pain of our sins that Jesus felt in his upper back and shoulder from the weight of the cross need our deep and constant love both for Him and for others, to bring about some relief.
With each movement of my swollen and bruised arms, I think of Jesus' beautiful arms, aching to hold me and comfort me. But, because they are attached to the cross by the nails of my sins, only my repentance can release them and fulfill His desire to hold me. I can work at releasing them and bringing his arms to embrace me by confessing my sins and resolving to resist future temptations.
When I look at the deep, purple bruise on my leg, and feel it's throbbing with each step I take, I can't help but think of the unbearable pain Jesus felt each time the weight of the cross caused his legs to buckle beneath Him, bringing Him to the ground. It's going to take my love for others, lifting them up when they fall down, to ease that pain in Jesus' legs.
The loss of dignity I suffered in my fall, lying in a pile of grapes, causing worry to my children and neighbors, will soon be forgotten. But how is it that Jesus will ever forget His loss of dignity at having been stripped of His clothes and laughed and jeered at by so many people? It's going to take a lot of love to heal that pain. I can begin by speaking kindly to and about others, by helping to restore the dignity that all people deserve by respecting the differences of others within the human race. I can stand up for the things I believe in firmly, yet lovingly, by remembering that God lives within everyone.
Feeling utterly exhausted after the fall, I longed to lie down and rest. How tired Jesus must be as well, after suffering all that torment and pain. I can make a quiet place for Him to rest while He heals, by quieting my heart in silent prayer, by reminding Him of my love for Him and by spending time alone with Him in my heart.
I feel better already, knowing that when I love others and spend time in prayer, I am loving Jesus and helping to relieve the pain of the indignities and physical anguish that He felt. Thank you Jesus, for this opportunity to feel a little bit of your pain and to work to relieve it for you.
While standing on top of a kitchen chair placed precariously at the edge of the grape vine arbor deck, I greedily stretched to reach the very last bunch of grapes in the corner, and the chair leg slipped off the edge of the deck and down I fell! Talk about crushed grapes; here I was lying in a pile of them! My daughter Mary who had been keeping me company while I worked by sharing her ideas about the differences between boys and girls in the 3rd grade, rushed to my assistance. "Oh Mama, Mama!" she cried, and then to Jack who was inside the house, "Jack, get out here right now! Mom needs you!" Mary is clearly in charge around our house, and Jack came running outside at the sound of her voice. I assured them that I was okay, and picked myself up as best I could to go change out of my grape stained clothes. As I walked in the door, the phone was ringing. It was Rose, my next-door neighbor. Her husband George had seen me fall and she was checking to see if I was all right and did I need anything. The Lord certainly does take good care of me by surrounding me with loving family and friends!
While I'm pretty sure that nothing was broken, and I am still able to use all of my limbs, it will be a while before the aches and pains of the multiple bruises and scrapes that I suffered in that fall, both to my body and to my ego, will heal. But they will heal, of that I am quite certain. Time does have a way of healing all of our physical wounds, but there are some wounds that require more than time alone to heal them, they require love as the ointment to bring healing about.
While contemplating the various places in which my body feels the pain most deeply, I can't help but compare them to the aches that Jesus suffered in His body while walking that horrific road to Calvary.
The pain in my upper back and shoulder that can be soothed with a little bit of heat and maybe a gentle massage, makes me realize that the pain of our sins that Jesus felt in his upper back and shoulder from the weight of the cross need our deep and constant love both for Him and for others, to bring about some relief.
With each movement of my swollen and bruised arms, I think of Jesus' beautiful arms, aching to hold me and comfort me. But, because they are attached to the cross by the nails of my sins, only my repentance can release them and fulfill His desire to hold me. I can work at releasing them and bringing his arms to embrace me by confessing my sins and resolving to resist future temptations.
When I look at the deep, purple bruise on my leg, and feel it's throbbing with each step I take, I can't help but think of the unbearable pain Jesus felt each time the weight of the cross caused his legs to buckle beneath Him, bringing Him to the ground. It's going to take my love for others, lifting them up when they fall down, to ease that pain in Jesus' legs.
The loss of dignity I suffered in my fall, lying in a pile of grapes, causing worry to my children and neighbors, will soon be forgotten. But how is it that Jesus will ever forget His loss of dignity at having been stripped of His clothes and laughed and jeered at by so many people? It's going to take a lot of love to heal that pain. I can begin by speaking kindly to and about others, by helping to restore the dignity that all people deserve by respecting the differences of others within the human race. I can stand up for the things I believe in firmly, yet lovingly, by remembering that God lives within everyone.
Feeling utterly exhausted after the fall, I longed to lie down and rest. How tired Jesus must be as well, after suffering all that torment and pain. I can make a quiet place for Him to rest while He heals, by quieting my heart in silent prayer, by reminding Him of my love for Him and by spending time alone with Him in my heart.
I feel better already, knowing that when I love others and spend time in prayer, I am loving Jesus and helping to relieve the pain of the indignities and physical anguish that He felt. Thank you Jesus, for this opportunity to feel a little bit of your pain and to work to relieve it for you.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Pondering Pages/True Devotion to Mary
Lara at Holy Mothering had the great idea to share a love for books in this weekly MEME format...
I have been considering consecrating myself to Mary through the intercession of St. Louis de Montfort. BothJamie and Lara have done this and written about it on their blogs. I have found their stories about the impact this has had on their lives to be fascinating and inspiring. Last year, before I even knew what total consecration was about, my sister Cindy and I attended a morning of prayer and reflection hosted by my very dear friend, Fr. Don. Just before the consecration, Fr. Don cautioned everyone not to come forward for the consecration unless they were well prepared and fully understood what they were undertaking. I gratefully stayed in my seat as I really had no idea what was going on. So, I thought I had better be prepared when Consecration day rolls around this October 17th. To help myself prepare, I read St. Louis de Montfort's True Devotion to Mary. It was a sweet and sentimental book with a powerful message. In fact, the message was so powerful that I have decided to forgo consecration again this year.
After reading the True Devotion to Mary, I just couldn't drum up the fervor for consecration that I felt I should have if I were to follow through. I don't know what it will take to bring about that deep devotion for my beautiful Mother that I think I lack in my heart. But I trust that my desire for it will be fulfilled in God's time. In the meantime, I think I would be doing a grave disservice to Mary by consecrating myself to her just because other people have found joy in doing so. I have been recalling the words of Fr. Don when I was considering joining a religious order as a lay member. He told me that instead of looking outwards and wanting to do things that I found interesting and holy in other people's lives, I should really be looking inward, and go deeper into who I already am. With that in mind, I think that consecrating myself to Mary needs to be a desire deep within my heart, and until I am sure of that desire, I will wait for consecration. For now, I can live with this decision, and I hope that Mary can as well.
In the meantime, I would like to honor my beloved Blessed Mother on the feast of her birthday with my own words...
Radiant Mother,
prayerfully standing
clothed in blue
you are the image of pure beauty
but something is hidden underneath
your beauty
something I can't understand
despite my best efforts
there is a sword that pierces your heart
deep pain and sorrow surround you
but you don't complain
you remain silent
you ponder your world without a sound
your hands are constantly
folded in prayer and
you forever maintain
a slight smile on your face
as if you know a secret
perhaps your secret
is that your prayer of love
brings you joy
and you quietly reflect that
joy to the world
attracting us to the peace
that you have found
I love you, my beautiful Mother,
and I long to join you in that quiet,
reflective prayer
I want to draw peace from the
hole of emptiness
that is within my own heart
teach me your secret
dearest Mother
help me to hold the pain inside
hidden in silence,
and to only reveal
the joy that exists
within my heart
to the world around me
Amen.
I have been considering consecrating myself to Mary through the intercession of St. Louis de Montfort. BothJamie and Lara have done this and written about it on their blogs. I have found their stories about the impact this has had on their lives to be fascinating and inspiring. Last year, before I even knew what total consecration was about, my sister Cindy and I attended a morning of prayer and reflection hosted by my very dear friend, Fr. Don. Just before the consecration, Fr. Don cautioned everyone not to come forward for the consecration unless they were well prepared and fully understood what they were undertaking. I gratefully stayed in my seat as I really had no idea what was going on. So, I thought I had better be prepared when Consecration day rolls around this October 17th. To help myself prepare, I read St. Louis de Montfort's True Devotion to Mary. It was a sweet and sentimental book with a powerful message. In fact, the message was so powerful that I have decided to forgo consecration again this year.
After reading the True Devotion to Mary, I just couldn't drum up the fervor for consecration that I felt I should have if I were to follow through. I don't know what it will take to bring about that deep devotion for my beautiful Mother that I think I lack in my heart. But I trust that my desire for it will be fulfilled in God's time. In the meantime, I think I would be doing a grave disservice to Mary by consecrating myself to her just because other people have found joy in doing so. I have been recalling the words of Fr. Don when I was considering joining a religious order as a lay member. He told me that instead of looking outwards and wanting to do things that I found interesting and holy in other people's lives, I should really be looking inward, and go deeper into who I already am. With that in mind, I think that consecrating myself to Mary needs to be a desire deep within my heart, and until I am sure of that desire, I will wait for consecration. For now, I can live with this decision, and I hope that Mary can as well.
In the meantime, I would like to honor my beloved Blessed Mother on the feast of her birthday with my own words...
Radiant Mother,
prayerfully standing
clothed in blue
you are the image of pure beauty
but something is hidden underneath
your beauty
something I can't understand
despite my best efforts
there is a sword that pierces your heart
deep pain and sorrow surround you
but you don't complain
you remain silent
you ponder your world without a sound
your hands are constantly
folded in prayer and
you forever maintain
a slight smile on your face
as if you know a secret
perhaps your secret
is that your prayer of love
brings you joy
and you quietly reflect that
joy to the world
attracting us to the peace
that you have found
I love you, my beautiful Mother,
and I long to join you in that quiet,
reflective prayer
I want to draw peace from the
hole of emptiness
that is within my own heart
teach me your secret
dearest Mother
help me to hold the pain inside
hidden in silence,
and to only reveal
the joy that exists
within my heart
to the world around me
Amen.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Sun and Weeds
the sun
kisses
weeds in the meadow
licking
early morning frost
from the leaves
in a passionate
act of love
known only to me
and the
unseen wildlife
kisses
weeds in the meadow
licking
early morning frost
from the leaves
in a passionate
act of love
known only to me
and the
unseen wildlife
Friday, September 4, 2009
Retreat of Distractions
Like a deer that longs for running streams, so my soul longs for you, my God. Psalm 42
Feeling frustrated and worn down by my busy life, I took a retreat from ordinary activities and spent a day in silence with God, hoping that He would satiate me with the nourishment of His sweet love. Sitting in a wooded grotto, rosary in hand, I prayed before the statue of Mary without much devotion. The wooded location was beautiful, with only a few mosquitoes to annoy me, but I couldn't seem to bring about much feeling in my deadened heart. Before long, those annoying mosquitoes got on my nerves and I left the quiet sanctuary and I walked to the sunny outdoor Stations of the Cross. Meditating with the beautiful words of St. Alphonsus Liguori while contemplating the raised artwork on the cement stations, my heart quickened a bit as I felt a little more love for Jesus and his love for me, until the wasp nest with hundreds of wasps flying in and out, scared me away.
I left my natural surroundings to find God in the adoration chapel. Distractions mounted as some workmen had chosen this day for construction inside the convent and the constant pounding of hammers kept me from falling asleep as I often do at adoration, but also kept me from focusing on Jesus present in the Holy Eucharist.
I left Jesus alone with an elderly nun in the back row before my hour was through, and walked across the street to the lake to search for bits of sea glass along the lake shore. I walked for hours upon the rocks, feeling them wear right through my shoes bringing pain to my feet and the muscles in my legs. My obsessive search for the treasured bits of softened glass came to symbolize my obsessive search for the part of my soul that had become buried under distractions and false idols these past few months. I wondered if God could ever find a home within my aching and sorrowful heart, or had I pushed him away by my neglect. My time of silent reflection was interrupted by some drunken men stumbling down the bluff and I thought with or without God in my heart, I had better leave.
In the early evening hours, I curled up on a park bench overlooking the lake to lose myself in a book and try to forget the emptiness that had taken residence inside of me. Streams of sailboats dotted the horizon, slowly moving back and forth against the brilliant blue backdrop of lake and sky. The scene was lovely but a chill in the air soon entered my bones and I knew it was time to leave. I felt stuck in my sadness and no amount of silence in the presence of God could change that. I wanted to feel Him within me so desperately, the kind of feeling that would linger forever, but it was time to accept the fact that it was just not meant to be.
As I was walking along the seminary path in the dusk, I spotted a doe and her two fawns in the field. The fawns were nursing enthusiastically, tails wagging for joy. Suddenly, the doe shook the fawns away and they all continued to graze on the grass. I think God must have meant for me to witness this scene. Maybe His chasing me away all day was just like the mother deer and her babies. Could it be that I was only meant to share a small amount of time alone with God, and then I was meant to go back to my business of every day life, caring for my family and my clients at work? I thought that perhaps, just as the mother deer lovingly nurtured her babies for a short time, God also meant to lovingly nurture me for a short time and then He expected me to be satisfied enough to carry on with bringing His love to others.
Dear God, I long to feel You within me day and night. I want your sweet consolations to constantly bring me comfort. Help me to accept the fact that I must draw my strength from small moments of grace and give me the courage to carry on with those tidbits of love that you share with me. Amen.
Feeling frustrated and worn down by my busy life, I took a retreat from ordinary activities and spent a day in silence with God, hoping that He would satiate me with the nourishment of His sweet love. Sitting in a wooded grotto, rosary in hand, I prayed before the statue of Mary without much devotion. The wooded location was beautiful, with only a few mosquitoes to annoy me, but I couldn't seem to bring about much feeling in my deadened heart. Before long, those annoying mosquitoes got on my nerves and I left the quiet sanctuary and I walked to the sunny outdoor Stations of the Cross. Meditating with the beautiful words of St. Alphonsus Liguori while contemplating the raised artwork on the cement stations, my heart quickened a bit as I felt a little more love for Jesus and his love for me, until the wasp nest with hundreds of wasps flying in and out, scared me away.
I left my natural surroundings to find God in the adoration chapel. Distractions mounted as some workmen had chosen this day for construction inside the convent and the constant pounding of hammers kept me from falling asleep as I often do at adoration, but also kept me from focusing on Jesus present in the Holy Eucharist.
I left Jesus alone with an elderly nun in the back row before my hour was through, and walked across the street to the lake to search for bits of sea glass along the lake shore. I walked for hours upon the rocks, feeling them wear right through my shoes bringing pain to my feet and the muscles in my legs. My obsessive search for the treasured bits of softened glass came to symbolize my obsessive search for the part of my soul that had become buried under distractions and false idols these past few months. I wondered if God could ever find a home within my aching and sorrowful heart, or had I pushed him away by my neglect. My time of silent reflection was interrupted by some drunken men stumbling down the bluff and I thought with or without God in my heart, I had better leave.
In the early evening hours, I curled up on a park bench overlooking the lake to lose myself in a book and try to forget the emptiness that had taken residence inside of me. Streams of sailboats dotted the horizon, slowly moving back and forth against the brilliant blue backdrop of lake and sky. The scene was lovely but a chill in the air soon entered my bones and I knew it was time to leave. I felt stuck in my sadness and no amount of silence in the presence of God could change that. I wanted to feel Him within me so desperately, the kind of feeling that would linger forever, but it was time to accept the fact that it was just not meant to be.
As I was walking along the seminary path in the dusk, I spotted a doe and her two fawns in the field. The fawns were nursing enthusiastically, tails wagging for joy. Suddenly, the doe shook the fawns away and they all continued to graze on the grass. I think God must have meant for me to witness this scene. Maybe His chasing me away all day was just like the mother deer and her babies. Could it be that I was only meant to share a small amount of time alone with God, and then I was meant to go back to my business of every day life, caring for my family and my clients at work? I thought that perhaps, just as the mother deer lovingly nurtured her babies for a short time, God also meant to lovingly nurture me for a short time and then He expected me to be satisfied enough to carry on with bringing His love to others.
Dear God, I long to feel You within me day and night. I want your sweet consolations to constantly bring me comfort. Help me to accept the fact that I must draw my strength from small moments of grace and give me the courage to carry on with those tidbits of love that you share with me. Amen.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Love on the Cross
"I love You Jesus, my love, with all my heart; I am sorry that I have offended You. Never permit me to offend you again. Grant that I may love You always; and then do with me as You will." The Way of the Cross-St. Alphonsus Liguori
Jesus, you love me so much that you took all of your love for me and the world and you put it on the cross. It took your sweat, your blood and your tears. Your pain was so intense. Your love cost you everything.
Now, you are asking me to take all of my love and join you on the cross. I’m afraid. I am not strong enough. Do I love you enough to follow you to the cross? Do I love others enough to sweat, bleed and cry for them? Can I tolerate this intense pain?
Help me to say “Yes”, Lord. Take my hand and lift me up onto the cross beside You. Help me to give all of myself, everything, for love.
Amen.
Jesus, you love me so much that you took all of your love for me and the world and you put it on the cross. It took your sweat, your blood and your tears. Your pain was so intense. Your love cost you everything.
Now, you are asking me to take all of my love and join you on the cross. I’m afraid. I am not strong enough. Do I love you enough to follow you to the cross? Do I love others enough to sweat, bleed and cry for them? Can I tolerate this intense pain?
Help me to say “Yes”, Lord. Take my hand and lift me up onto the cross beside You. Help me to give all of myself, everything, for love.
Amen.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Lullaby
Well I love my baby
sweet and fair
you've got the sky in your eye
the sun in your hair
I rock you to sleep most every night
and sing you this song
while I hold you tight
Sleep my baby
the angels keep you from harm
and your father above
cradles you in his love
safe and warm
sleep my baby
nestled in your mama's arms
sleep my baby
the angels keep you from harm
My baby
you'll be sleepin' soon
kissed by the golden stars and moon
I have just one wish for you
may your every dream come true
Appalachian Lullaby
I don't have any little babies in my household anymore. My last baby is now 8 years old. I am so grateful to be done with the diapers, and the colic, the temper tantrums and the potty training. I do miss the breastfeeding, baby curled up close, skin touching skin, mouth clicking rhythmically as a little drop of milk slips out of the corner of the rosebud mouth while eyes roll dramatically to the back of the head as sleep comes on (often for both baby and me!) That really was my favorite part of mothering so far. I also miss the bedtime stories and the lullabies.
For many years, I had the habit of kneeling beside my children's beds at night and saying the traditional bedtime prayers with my five little ones. But lately, I started to think that maybe they were getting too old to be praying "Now I lay me down to sleep" and "Angel of God" every night. I was thinking that maybe it was time for them to develop their own ways of praying to God with their own words. So, we started an examination of conscience at bedtime and spent a few minutes in silent prayer to thank God for the day and to tell Him that we were sorry for our sins. Before I knew it, I let them take that silent time with God by themselves, and our family bedtime ritual fell by the wayside, as so many honored rituals often do.
Then, a few nights ago, eight year old Mary, who still loves to snuggle in the evening, asked me if I would sing her a lullaby. How could I resist? I sat at the edge of her bed, tucked her up to her sweet chin in her downy quilt, and stroked her face with my finger, just as I did when she was a baby, and I quietly sang her favorite lullaby, soft and low. Soon, her eyelids fluttered one last time, her breathing slowed and sleep overcame her. I left her with a sign of the cross on her forehead and a tender kiss on her cheek.
I began to tiptoe back downstairs, but thirteen-year-old Joe and ten-year-old Jack listening from their bedroom, stopped me. "Mom, we want a lullaby, too," they told me. "Are you sure?" I asked in disbelief. They nodded emphatically. So, I tucked them both tightly into their beds like I hadn't done in years, and began the song again. I brushed the golden, shaggy hair from their foreheads, and ran my finger across their cheeks and chins. I could see the glimmer of faint smiles come across their faces even though the room was dark. Soon, they also drifted into a pleasant sleep. I made the sign of the cross on their foreheads, kissed their sweet cheeks, no longer chubby, but now becoming somewhat chiseled with the strength of adolescence, and sighed my own breath of contentment as I left them in their slumber.
It felt so good to return to those pleasant days that I had thought were long over for me. This morning Joe asked me if I would do it all over again tonight. I told him I wouldn't miss it for the world! I guess you never outgrow those tender moments of love with your children, hearts gently beating with the warm glow of family love, peace overcoming everyone. A lullaby really is a prayer, isn't it? It's like the words of the great St. Augustine when he said that singing is praying twice. My lullaby was both a prayer of longing for a future with God and a prayer of gratitude in remembrance of the love of days gone by. I can't wait until tonight so I can sing a bedtime prayer to my children once again.
sweet and fair
you've got the sky in your eye
the sun in your hair
I rock you to sleep most every night
and sing you this song
while I hold you tight
Sleep my baby
the angels keep you from harm
and your father above
cradles you in his love
safe and warm
sleep my baby
nestled in your mama's arms
sleep my baby
the angels keep you from harm
My baby
you'll be sleepin' soon
kissed by the golden stars and moon
I have just one wish for you
may your every dream come true
Appalachian Lullaby
I don't have any little babies in my household anymore. My last baby is now 8 years old. I am so grateful to be done with the diapers, and the colic, the temper tantrums and the potty training. I do miss the breastfeeding, baby curled up close, skin touching skin, mouth clicking rhythmically as a little drop of milk slips out of the corner of the rosebud mouth while eyes roll dramatically to the back of the head as sleep comes on (often for both baby and me!) That really was my favorite part of mothering so far. I also miss the bedtime stories and the lullabies.
For many years, I had the habit of kneeling beside my children's beds at night and saying the traditional bedtime prayers with my five little ones. But lately, I started to think that maybe they were getting too old to be praying "Now I lay me down to sleep" and "Angel of God" every night. I was thinking that maybe it was time for them to develop their own ways of praying to God with their own words. So, we started an examination of conscience at bedtime and spent a few minutes in silent prayer to thank God for the day and to tell Him that we were sorry for our sins. Before I knew it, I let them take that silent time with God by themselves, and our family bedtime ritual fell by the wayside, as so many honored rituals often do.
Then, a few nights ago, eight year old Mary, who still loves to snuggle in the evening, asked me if I would sing her a lullaby. How could I resist? I sat at the edge of her bed, tucked her up to her sweet chin in her downy quilt, and stroked her face with my finger, just as I did when she was a baby, and I quietly sang her favorite lullaby, soft and low. Soon, her eyelids fluttered one last time, her breathing slowed and sleep overcame her. I left her with a sign of the cross on her forehead and a tender kiss on her cheek.
I began to tiptoe back downstairs, but thirteen-year-old Joe and ten-year-old Jack listening from their bedroom, stopped me. "Mom, we want a lullaby, too," they told me. "Are you sure?" I asked in disbelief. They nodded emphatically. So, I tucked them both tightly into their beds like I hadn't done in years, and began the song again. I brushed the golden, shaggy hair from their foreheads, and ran my finger across their cheeks and chins. I could see the glimmer of faint smiles come across their faces even though the room was dark. Soon, they also drifted into a pleasant sleep. I made the sign of the cross on their foreheads, kissed their sweet cheeks, no longer chubby, but now becoming somewhat chiseled with the strength of adolescence, and sighed my own breath of contentment as I left them in their slumber.
It felt so good to return to those pleasant days that I had thought were long over for me. This morning Joe asked me if I would do it all over again tonight. I told him I wouldn't miss it for the world! I guess you never outgrow those tender moments of love with your children, hearts gently beating with the warm glow of family love, peace overcoming everyone. A lullaby really is a prayer, isn't it? It's like the words of the great St. Augustine when he said that singing is praying twice. My lullaby was both a prayer of longing for a future with God and a prayer of gratitude in remembrance of the love of days gone by. I can't wait until tonight so I can sing a bedtime prayer to my children once again.
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