Daffodils

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In the midst of a snowstorm 

I remember the long forgotten daffodil bulbs 

planted last fall,

just waiting to burst forth into bloom 

at the first touch of the warmth of spring, 

and I smile. 

Like the daffodil, 

we are all waiting to burst forth

 into new life

 at the gentlest touch 

of our beloved Creator's hand.

Stretch out Your hand, O Lord! 

Bring us to new life in You! 

Re-create our souls to bring glory to You alone!

The Walking Prayer

After reading "The Diary of a Country Priest" by Georges Bernanos, I feel as if I am transported to the novel setting of long ago France as I hang on to the final words of the story:

"Does it matter? Grace is...everywhere."

Those words reverberate in my heart as I leave my office for my daily luncheon walk around the Marquette College Campus. Suddenly, it feels like I'm traveling the roads that M. le Cure so loved in the novel. With the St. Joan of Arc Chapel in the background, the setting is nearly believable...

The pounding of my footsteps on the salt-covered pavement was the only noticeable sound aside from the roaring freeway traffic in the distance, which I could imagine was a far-off breeze in that long ago time.

All of the college students who usually fill the campus during the noon hour with their animated discussions as they hurry to class had gone home for Christmas break.

The frigid wind kept trying to blow my scarf from my neck, but I grasped it tightly to keep out the cold with one hand, while my other hand moved the beads in my pocket. With each step of my feet I breathe out a prayer...

Hail Mary...
step, step, step,
full of grace
the Lord is with thee...
step, step, step,

Can God hear my prayer more clearly through the noise of my feet, I wonder? Does the rhythmic sound catch His attention in this strangely silent environment? Or, is the muffled whisper of my words behind my woolen scarf--now damp from the heat of my breath--all that He requires to hear my heart? Does it matter whether the air is warm or cold, whether the walkways are bustling with activity or quietly abandoned?

I can feel Him in the air, in my breath, in my heart-His grace is here, always.

I continued on, quickly now, towards the warmth of my office, away from the desolate silence of this frigid space, hoping to hold His loving grace within me throughout the remainder of my busy day. And I kept on praying as I left my imaginary France behind for the reality of my urban life, but it didn't really matter where I was, for...Grace is everywhere.

Blessed art thou among women...
step, step, step
and blessed is the fruit of thy womb,
Jesus...

Read You to Sleep

Snow silently falls during dark of night leaving behind a shimmering, glistening blanket in the morning sun.

Out you go to cover yourself with that white wonder; rolling in it, sliding in it, building a friend of snow with Santa hat and stick arms, until you are completely worn out by the enchantment of cold and white.

After a hot dinner and a warm and fragrant bath, you curl up beside me, your head on my shoulder. I hold you close, your damp hair chilling me. I draw the blanket a bit tighter around us, and I read to you about your day...

"Snow falls, and once again the wonder of childhood is upon us. At first a few separate flakes float down slowly, one by one, then more, faster and faster, filling our eyes with dazzling, dancing whiteness. The movement is more mysterious because it is silent: dancing, wild dancing, with no sound, like voiceless singing! If it made even the tiny tap of hail it would seem to fall into our world, but the silence is absolute; it is we who are walking in another world, a world in which we are ghosts. The falling flakes touch our faces with unimaginable lightness and melt on the faint warmth of our blood, at once elusive and intimate." ~Caryll Houselander-The Passion of the Infant Christ

I feel a new heaviness in your head and hear a quiet rhythm to your breath. Glancing up from the book, I see your drooping eyelids succumbing to the peaceful words and the quiet love in my voice. You simply cannot stay awake for one...more...word.....

Sleep well, my dear, and dream of snow dancing all around you. Tomorrow we will read again of the glory of God's love for you in the joys of nature, in the beauty of life, and in the sweetness of friendships. Your whole life will be a never-ending story of the heavenly delights that await you as I read you to sleep.

Slush and the Cross

We were anticipating a foot and a half of snow in our neck of the woods today. The excitement of the children as they watched for word of school closings was contagious. But, the bulk of the snow stayed to the west of us, and we got lots of snow mixed with rain-heavy slush! And the kids went to school. But me...I have a day off of work, a day to myself! And the snow still falls in fat flakes from the overcast sky. It's beautiful. And treacherous. And it revived my soul from the darkness of self-centered pity and brought me to think of others. And I am grateful.

I am grateful that my family was able to attend Mass for the Holy Day of the Immaculate Conception last night as the snow was driving down hard. A woman we didn't know walked into church and let out a sigh of relief that she had arrived safely. She asked Paul and I if we could give her a ride home after Mass, as she had taken the bus to church. We were glad to help and our simple act of service removed a splinter from the cross she bore.

I am grateful that I awoke early today, before husband and children, and went outside to shovel the slush from the walks and driveways, not only clearing those of my own house, but also those of the houses of my elderly neighbors on either side. My arms and back ache like His arms and back must have ached from the weight of the wood. The blisters and callouses that cover the palms of my hands from the heavy load I bore in each lift of the shovel reminds me of the wounds in His hands. The hour I spent shoveling was an hour of prayer and love for others, like the love He gave in taking our nails.

I am grateful that daily Mass was still held today. There I was in the empty church, alone. Right before Mass was to begin, I was joined by two others who braved the elements. Father Dave arrived and said Mass for the three of us. Regardless of the obstacles that the weather had caused, there were four people gathered at Mass to worship the Lord, just like the small group that gathered at the foot of the cross and would not leave Him in His hour of need regardless of the obstacles of hatred that surrounded them.

As I spend the remainder of my day in my warm house, baking cookies for our parish youth group, this too will remind me of His love. He feeds our hungry souls with His very body. I will bake to feed the hungry souls of our youth who yearn to know Him, even if they aren't aware of it yet. The love I serve them in the cookies will draw their hearts to His love, will bring them closer to Him.

Today I am grateful for slush. I am grateful to be of service to others. I am grateful to have a heart that loves. Without Him and the love he bore for all of us on His cross, none of this would be possible, my heart would remain cold and bitter. But it is through His love that weather related difficulties are transformed into joyous service.

Thank you Lord, for slush, and thank you for Your Love on the Cross.