Week One

Who was there, Lord,
in that first week of Lent?
When I, at the prayer service,
(not even a Mass)
listened, dissapointed, (in myself)
as a deacon spoke of you.
I hope he was a deacon but it was not my church
and I did not know the man.
Who was there?
Was I, as I went away angry, for not having been satisfied,
not fulfilled?


I had forgotten about the desert.


My Lents have always been filled with someone elses dreams,
of stories of such spiritual times
of joy, of trials.
Mine were mostly nothing to rejoice about,
to tell ones friends about.
Again, I'd missed the point.


I had forgotten
the silence of the silence.


The silence that enwraps you at times you don't expect,
like when that passage from the Bible strikes a chord.
As this past Thursday evening when at Adoration
one hour slipped to two...

...and the slow re-dawn of silence.

The Fount of Grace

Oh God,
so hollow is my cry to you
yet you hear, for no reason than
out of love
for me.

  The statue of the Blessed Virgin rests to the side of the small Latin Mass altar.  She is on the globe and her bare foot is standing on the neck of the serpent, right behind his head.  His head is raised up, mouth wide, fangs dull white in the quiet light of the church.  The master of lies has been slithering through the lives of men since ancient times, since being swept away, since failing the test.  Look around.  What times are these that we live in, where does not satan show his vile head?  He is in our neighborhoods, in our government and even in our churches.  Does he believe it is time for him to really raise his head, to come in for the kill?
  All graces flow through  Mary, our Mother.  We must go to Her now more than ever before.  Satan knows that too, more than anyone, and will confuse us in every way to make us think that She is irrelevant, that God is gone, Jesus is no more...
  The dark one's final destination is Mary, who waits for the word from God to finish this epic battle. It is the ages old battle for souls, and the devil's hatred of God drives him to destroy us, since he cannot touch God.  For us, it is our souls that are at stake, and always has been. 

For even with my sandals on
trodding through deep snow
and my hood pulled up
to focus thoughts
still
the mind will wander
where only darkness waits.
And ideas that are blown like dust,
left behind when morning comes,
 prayers and strength
return
to lead me to the Fount of Grace.

Week 1

WEEK I

SUNDAY

Evening Prayer I

Ant. 1  Like burning incense, Lord, let my prayer rise

           up to you.

Such beautiful words, and coming (or beginning) where they are, front and center at the start of The Four-Week Psalter.  I don't analyze the Office much, H and I just do them, and it's enough to just let the readings and psalms sink into the fiber and be there, to swim just beneath the surface all day.  Some days the readings are read and they go, fading from sight and mind like an old conversation, while other days the voice of the Apostle will stay with me all day, pointing out my faults and reminding me of things I don't even know.  Lately, maybe because I've added Mid-Day prayer to my lunch half-hour the feel of the whole reading seems to be of caution,of wariness and do not fall!  Guidance, always guidance.  6 months from now I'll probably feel much different, Maybe then, the theme will be one of rejoicing, but I doubt it.  The darkness of the world is only becoming more prevalent, I'm afraid, and our God seems only more than content in letting His plan run it's course.  No matter.  Whoever has ears ought to hear.   Ant. 2  You are my refuge, Lord; you are all that I desire in life.  For me a summing up of where I try to stand, but usually am not.  Where is that Ant. at 9:45am at a busy day at work?  Usually far from my mind.  Those are precisely the times we should remember them, but, at the same time, if we forget, we must let God take over, consciously or unconsciously, and let Him guide us, whether we know it or not.  I only know if this has happened when, at the end of the day, during my examination of conscience God gives me the grace to see His work in the day that has passed, to see the good (if any!) and the bad.  In the silence of silence He speaks, showing us, bending our will to His ways.