The White Way of Delight

"Oh, Mr. Cuthbert," she whispered, "that place we came through--that white place--what was it?"

"Well now, you must mean the Avenue," said Matthew after a few moments' profound reflection. "It is a kind of pretty place."

"Pretty? Oh, pretty doesn't seem the right word to use. Nor beautiful, either. They don't go far enough. Oh, it was wonderful--wonderful. It's the first thing I ever saw that couldn't be improved upon by imagination. It just satisfies me here"--she put one hand on her breast--"it made a queer funny ache and yet it was a pleasant ache. Did you ever have an ache like that, Mr. Cuthbert?"

"Well now, I just can't recollect that I ever had."

"I have it lots of time--whenever I see anything royally beautiful. But they shouldn't call that lovely place the Avenue. There is no meaning in a name like that. They should call it--let me see--the White Way of Delight. Isn't that a nice imaginative name?"

-from Anne of Green Gables by Lucy Maud Montgomery


















This morning I awoke to a breathtaking sight
every naked tree branch was covered
with the white frost of a winter morning

It was as if the Holy Spirit had traveled
through the night, breathing his heavenly mist
upon the trees, covering them with the white
perfection of heaven

The frost clung to the branches
and sparkled against the blue sky
waiting for the sun to touch them
with the warmth of love
and melt the frozen dust from their tips

For a few hours I was in the
heavenly White Way of Delight
and my heart ached with a
"queer, funny, pleasant ache"

Heavenly Father, thank you for "The White Way of Delight" that pleases me so. Thank you for the foretaste of the beauty of heaven.
Amen.

Praise for Extra-Ordinary Time

Joining in Praise with Jennifer at My Chocolate Heart

I love ordinary time. I love routine and repetition. It feels so normal. Normal is good. But sometimes, upon closer inspection those normal and routine events are anything but ordinary. They are the extraordinary signs of the presence of God and for those I give praise.

1.A gentleman holds the church door open for me and greets me with a smile. That gentleman is an 8th grade boy, one of my son’s friends. The rest of his class walked right by me without a glance in my parental direction, but this one boy, he took an extraordinary chance and revealed God’s goodness to me in his act of kindness and for this, I praise God.

2.It’s not news to my regular blog readers that I struggle with depression, it’s an ordinary, seasonal, hormonal part of my life. But when someone new comes along, and spots it in my words just.like.that. and then reaches out with a loving and concerned email, it becomes an extraordinary sign of God’s love. Praise God for Mary P. who responded to my comment on YIM Catholic this week.

3.Daily Mass is an ordinary part of my family’s life, but every once in a while, something extraordinary happens there. This week God showed His sense of humor through my daughter who was full of spirit and life. I praise God for Mary’s bathroom rendition of “I Am Woman-W-O-M-A-N” that brought an extraordinary smile to my face this week!

4.In this week when the world watches the small island of Haiti with broken hearts and whispered prayers, I praise God for all of the extraordinary heroes who are able to lend a hand and come to the aid of all of those who are distraught and suffering. The words of Archbishop Dolan resound in my ears..."Haiti is the broken, bloody body of Christ."

5.And finally, I praise God for this extraordinary song, Beauty Will Rise whose lyrics touched my heart in an extraordinary way and made me think of all of the suffering souls in that poor country. This song was written by Steven Curtis Chapman after the tragic death of his daughter, but the lyrics really apply to the situation in Haiti...

It was the day the world went wrong
I screamed til my voice was gone
And watched through the tears as everything
came crashing down
Slowly panic turns to pain
As we awake to what remains
and sift through the ashes that are left
behind

But buried deep beneath
All our broken dreams
we have this hope:

Out of these ashes... beauty will rise
and we will dance among the ruins
We will see Him with our own eyes
Out of these ashes... beauty will rise
For we know, joy is coming in the morning...
in the morning, beauty will rise

So take another breath for now,
and let the tears come washing down,
and if you can't believe I will believe
for you.


Please God, quickly bring us to the day when beauty will rise from the ashes of Haiti. Until then, we continue to praise You, for without You, we could not take another breath. Amen.

Fearless

I brought all of my shame to you
I withheld nothing
It was the bravest and the most foolish
Thing I had ever done

Others had spurned me
Turned their backs
As if the very sight of me
Was a disgrace

But you were fearless

You watched my tears
Fall upon my trembling hands
You reached out and lifted my chin
Forcing me to look into your eyes

You drew me closer
And held me gently
Your quiet love and kind words
Gave me strength

And now, because of you, I too, am fearless

"Do Not Be Afraid"John 14:27

My Priesthood and a Stranger

This is one of the most amazing stories I have ever heard about the power of prayer. I found it on Spiritual Motherhood for Priests blog. I dare you not to get goosebumps!

This is one of the most inspiring stories from the booklet, Adoration, Reparation, Spiritual Motherhood for Priests. A miraculous story of spiritual motherhood:

We all have the prayers and sacrifices of others to thank for what we are and for our vocations. In the case of the famous Bishop Ketteler, one of the leading figures of the German episcopate in the 19th century and one of the prominent founders of Catholic sociology, he owed his gratitude to a simple nun, the lowest and poorest lay sister in the convent.

The year was 1869 and a German diocesan bishop was sitting together with his guest, Bishop Ketteler from Mainz. In the course of their conversation, the diocesan bishop came to the topic of his guest’s extremely blessed apostolate. Yet, Bishop Ketteler explained to his host,

"I owe thanks for everything that I have accomplished with God’s help, to the prayer and sacrifice of someone I do not even know. I can only say that I know somebody has offered his or her whole life to our loving God for me, and I have this sacrifice to thank that I even became a priest."

Keep reading...

The Seventh Station

The Seventh Station-Jesus Falls the Second Time

"My most gentle Jesus, how many times You have forgiven me; and how many times I have fallen again and begun again to offend You! By the merits of this second fall, give me the grace to persevere in Your love until death. Grant, that in all my temptations, I may always have recourse to You. I love You, Jesus, my Love, with all my heart; I am sorry that I have offended You. Never let me offend You again. Grant that I may love You always; and then do with me as You will." The Way of the Cross, composed by St. Alphonsus Liguori






















(The Seventh Station of the Cross
Cathedral of St. John the Evangelist, Milwaukee)


I have been greatly blessed with a fabulous spiritual director and friend, Fr. Don Hying who is the Rector of St. Francis de Sales Seminary in Milwaukee. He never fails to look inside my heart and get right to the crux of my struggles. Then he lifts me up with his profound words of wisdom and I am encouraged to continue to follow the narrow path of the Lord. Recently, I complained to him about my lack of fervor in prayer, in fact, it has truly been a lack of desire for prayer, and he shared his very insightful thoughts with me about his favorite station of the cross, the Seventh Station.

As Jesus made that tragic journey along the Via Dolorosa to his crucifixion, whatever energy he might have had at the beginning was surely depleted by the time he suffered his second fall under the weight of the wood that transversed his back. There he lay, face in the dirt, dripping sweat and blood, scraped knees embedded with gravel, shoulders aching, in fact, everything aching! Our sin did that to him. The weight of our many sins crushed Him to the ground. And the excruciating pain that he endured wasn't simply physical, but it was also a mental, emotional and spiritual trauma. What he wouldn't have done to just end it right there! Yet the Seventh Station was only the halfway point to the end. He still had so far to go. Somehow, he had to pick himself back up and continue all the way to the end, to the brutal crucifixion.

Our lives can be like that as well. We come to mid-life and we're halfway done with our time on earth. We've experienced so much of the joys and sorrows of life. There are times when those sorrows weigh us down so heavily that we become tempted to give up right then and there. Prayer becomes dry. Chores become meaningless. Joy seems non-existent. We wake in the morning and long to pull those covers back over our heads and stay right where we are. But God is not done with us yet. Somehow, we have to pick ourselves up, swing our feet out of bed and onto the floor and rise to face another day. Somehow, we have to continue with our prayers, our chores and our lives. We have to move past the Seventh Station.

We can't possibly know how long it will take us to reach the end of our journey. We don't know what pains may still be waiting for us as we carry our own crosses through life. All we can do is continue on in faith and trust, day after day, holding on to our hope in Christ Jesus and his great love for us.

How fortunate we are that we can look to Jesus and his experience of the Seventh Station. We are not alone in our failures and struggles. Jesus lived it as well. He found the strength to get up again after he fell and to carry on, to continue his torturous journey to the end. He will help us if we but ask for His assistance. When we fall, we only need to lift a hand to the Lord, and He will be reaching down to lift us up. He will lift our cross onto His shoulder and help us to carry it. He will walk every step of our own way of the cross with us and when we reach the end, He will be there to guide us into heaven.

-as seen on Catholicmom.com

Frozen Lake

lake frozen over by ice
steam rising in a mist
like the breath of God
wanting to melt the cold
longing to soften the hard

how often my heart resembles
that frozen lake
solid, unmoving, cold
failing to reach out to others

breath Your steamy mist
into my heart, Oh God
make it tender, supple, and warm
so love can grow
and blossom within

Epiphany

distant lands
call to unrelenting dreams
wander the way
to answer the call

weary and worn travelers
fall beneath the star
baby in His mother's arms
could this really be all?

leaving gifts of treasures rare
work their way back home
hearts now gladdened by the King
it's love that they have found!

plans have changed
hopes refreshed
mysteries revealed
three very blessed pilgrims' joyful hearts resound!