His world

Everything is a gift from the Lord
                                              Everything.
It is in the love for Him that I must diminish self, for self is of this world and not of His.

Sometimes its these simple truths I've forgotten, or perhaps never knew.  So many thoughts come rushing back to me, ideas made known and then forgotten. 

Why do I drift from His world to this so often?  

Why can't I stay rooted in His world? 

My miserable all...

I am kneeling at the kneeler here at the Adoration Chapel, very near our Lord.  I estimate He's about 5 feet away.  I am not worthy to be here, for so long a time, 2 hours.  I'm trying not to sit, but I know my legs won't make it.  I have the 5-7pm hours and the more Iv'e prayed about it and talked with others, perhaps returning to adore our Lord  every week at the same time is not necessarily a good thing.  Am I getting too used to coming here and has the whole Adoration for 2 hours become 'too common'?  For me, I think it has.  To be in front of God, it's just too overwhelming.  How can I act with reverence, week after week.  I know Pope Benedict has encouraged us to go to Adoration, but did he necessarily mean to open more 24 hour Adoration chapels, or just to attend a Holy Hour when one is given?  I love being in front of The Blessed Sacrament, but I feel that for two hours I cannot give our Lord, God, His due.  I am at odds with myself about this.  I refuse to allow God to just become another obligation in my day.  God is all, and He deserves my miserable all.

The Lord draws all men...

  I'm in a place that I've never been.  I am not a leader, but a true follower, but now here I am; leading a group of men and women who are striving to become Third Order Franciscans.  I will not ask 'Why me?'  I refuse to ask.  I will ask Him 'How', though.  How do I bring the best spirit of Francis to the group?  How do I keep it fresh?  We are going backward in time, into somewhat, for us, uncharted territory.  This coming Monday will be our first meeting and I'm not prepared.  The members are committed to following the old Roman Breviary instead of the Liturgy of the Hours.  We don't really have one!  My copy, purchased on E-Bay is still in the mail.  A reproduction of the original is $295.00.  We've decided to, when called for during the meeting, when praying the Our Father and the Hail Mary to recite them in Latin.  I will learn them both in the tongue of the Church.  Lord, You've given me a full plate, and I hope to fulfill Your every wish.  I know this is You, Lord, working in and through me.  The Lord draws all men to Him!  I can feel you drawing me to you through these difficult challenges you put before me.  How can I resist this life, Lord?  I would be worthless if I did. 

Reflection...

For more than a month now we've had a young Haitian girl (9 years old) named Jodelin staying with us, along with a nun, Sr. Cadet, also from Haiti.  Jodeline lost her leg below the knee in the earthquake, and she's here to receive a new prosthesis from the Children's Hospital.  There is so much to say about having them here for the last month, but the experience is still too real, too close to me right now to write about it in any detail.  For me, it's the New Testament come to life.  It's my Franciscan calling being lived out everyday, right here, in my home.  H has been bringing them to all the doctor's appointments while I've been at work.  Monday Jodeline gets her real prosthesis and then she is done, they'll be ready to return to Haiti.  I've only now been able to bring myself to write only this much about this experience, which God has graced us with.  He knows all of our weaknesses and uses them to give others strength.  I was and still am the most unworthy of vessels for this job, but I have seen the face of Our Lord so often that my whole way of thinking has been turned around.  Words without actions are worthless.  Into my world that I thought I knew stepped three women who showed me the meaning of love and action; Helen, Sr. Cadet and of course, Jodeline.

A different path...

After many months of prayer, prayer which came to me in many different forms and from many varied places H and I have decided to  take a slightly different yet parallel road on our journey to Heaven.  Our Lord called us to join the Secular Franciscan Order many years ago, and now He calls again, directing us to the path of Third Order Franciscans.  The reasons are too many to post; God draws us to Him and we respond, most times in ways we would never imagine.  In discerning this new path I have tried to humble myself in my thoughts and actions to the utmost of what I can know, meaning, I have tried to give everything over to Our Lord through Our Blessed Virgin Mother.  I am nothing, and in that nothingness I garner my strength.  When I think, even abstractly, that I am in charge, in charge without knowing I call it, when the will takes over my thinking, instead of letting the soul do the work, I become terrified.  I cannot do this, I cannot start a chapter.  Yes, not only to become TOF, but to start a chapter here at our parish.  Tomorrow, the 23rd, we'll be having a 'Meeting of Inquiry', just a small get together to see who might be interested in what we are doing.  Many people have inquired to us about the Third Order, knowing we are Franciscans, and if we could provide information to them.  The desire is there, in people we know.  I believe the Latin Mass has brought this idea of a Third Order into the beginnings of a birth, of sorts.  Pray for us as we begin again down the to Our God, following in the footsteps of Jesus, holding the hand of Francis.

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. 

...in prayer

 Trust.  This one word has seemingly filled my head since this past Sundays' Latin Mass gospel reading.  Matthew 8, 23-27.  Good, experienced fisherman all, and still they were terrified. Lord, save us, we perish.  We perish.  Am I perishing now?  I might be.  All my trust is in God, but after this gospel reading and the realization of how much God is asking of us, I don't know anymore.  Lord, save us.  Peter, James, John, they had Jesus right there with them, teaching them, opening their eyes; we, 2,000 plus years later, centuries of examples of tremendous trust by ordinary people and Saints, and we/I still am trying to go it alone.  
 
In my weakness, Lord, I cry out to you.

Not a voice that is heard, but a silent cry that wells up in bitterness, a bitterness in knowing that I have not done enough, have not tried hard enough to let go of this world I've vowed to let go of, to embrace Him who is asleep in the stern of my life, watching over me, and I almost ignore Him.  
  Why are you fearful, O ye of little faith? 
I'm fearful because I've not given everything over to Him.  I'm fearful that I'm fooling myself, in my so-called humbleness I'm actually just, smug.  I am still tossed constantly, as soon as the next squall comes up.  Will it take a million years for me to figure this out?  Probably.  As long as a part of me thinks above the slug-like existence that I know I am, I will not be at rest.  Always filled with uneasiness, I advance through the day.  Again, it is a realization that I must meet head-on, head-on, in prayer. 

O Lord,
help me to let go
of my firm grip
on this world,
and help me
to wrench the hands
from my soul,
that slow my journey
to You.

January

I haven't written much lately, for no reason other than I've nothing to say that basically hasn't been said.  There are so many bloggers, posters etc., out there, people who say things much better than I can that I just feel  posting for posting's sake is not for me.  That's not to say I don't keep up with my favorite sites; I do, and love what you all say, everyday.  If it weren't for the dyed in the wool, hard-core faithful, holding our Church together by example and prayer I can only imagine where we'd be.  The Traditions of the Church and it's teachings are under fire constantly, with the sole intent of bringing down our Mother Church.  Outside of our immediate family I don't know what we can do, really, other than to lead by example and keep the traditions alive.

You are the light of the world.

A city seated on a mountain cannot be hid.

Neither do men light a candle and put it

under a bushel but upon a candlestick,

that it may shine to all

that are in the house.  (Matthew 5)

That's from today's Gospel reading from the Traditional Latin Mass.  I can only get there on Saturday mornings and Sunday at 12:00 noon and that's not enough, I know, but that's all the Masses I can make.  Someday, if it's in His plan, I'll be able to go on the days when the TLM is available.  Right now I'm where He wants me, which is still working for my bread.  But even though He has left me there I will not be sad, will not put on the long face.  I'm there to do His will, which is to love.  To love.  So hard!  My fellow man, my co-workers!  Yeow!  But I do try, every day, although I fail at times quite miserably.  But it's funny; by all my failures the Cross becomes much clearer, the path to and from the Cross at times almost materializes before my eyes.  I call it the slow-down, the small gift of grace from God when He lets you see or feel the result of your action as He wants you to, not as you or the world sees it.  For me it's never anything major, just a change in thought, it seems, just a new realization.  I don't know, I get lost in words, sometimes, lost where there are no words to say.  Move on, k, move on from this and let Him work.

  Maybe, to sum up, it's for me, a matter of Him drawing and me reaching.  Sounds simple, uh?  Heck no! For the Holy Spirit, perhaps, but for me, no.  I reach now from a place so different than before.  We've peeled away the outer skin, stripping away the excess.  No more cable t.v.  A big one, that.  Not just not watching the television, but turning the cable off completely.  We are surviving, and quite well, thank you.  No newspaper delivery.  All these things, for us, just became obstructions to God.  We (H and myself) needed more silence in our lives, and less distractions and all has gone well.  We are also back in formation again, pursuing the call of the Third Order Franciscans.  St. Francis' Rule of 1221 for the Third Order is just too sweet to not taste.  God is so very, very good.  He levels the road ahead for you, just so you can carry the Cross further for His Son.  Blessed Virgin Mary and all the Saints, stay with me on the road, prop me up as I try to prop up, in my own sloppy way, my brothers and sisters here on earth. 

Waiting...

The clock is ticking, and that's about it.  H is asleep on the couch, our son is home, asleep in his room upstairs.  Our daughter is on her way, will get in about midnight.  The house is in the low hum of  night, waiting, seemingly, as I am for my daughter, tonight, and Him tomorrow night.  We have been waiting our whole lives for him, but more fervently this past month.  In my dreams, at Advent beginning, all the books I would read and the prayerful times spent were all laid out and lined up before me, dreams but not reality.  One book, not finished.  Advent fast, semi-falling apart right here at the end of the Silent Wait.  I will re-group, here tonight, in the quietness as I wait for Celena.  10:45.  This is the time for Night Prayer, and I will answer its call.  And then perhaps a Rosary as I sit in the rocker and wait in silence for her and for Him. 

Octave Day of the Immaculate Conception

(taken from The Saint Andrew Daily Missal, circa 1951)

  The date of Mary's Nativity on September 8th caused her Conception to be celebrated during Advent, the season when the Church awaits "the Emmanuel whom a virgin shall conceive" (Communion of the Wednesday in Advent Ember Week).
  Devotion to the Mother of God holds an important place in the liturgy of Advent.  One may say that the period comprising Advent, Christmas and Epiphany constitutes the real season or month of Mary.
  The Church does not yet possess Jesus, but she already has His Mother, "the beginning of Christ" as Bossuet calls her.  This period represents the first phase of the existence of the Saviour on earth.  The divine Infant rests gently in Mary, a living tabernacle which the pious sculptors of the middle ages wished to honour when they made a statue of the Virgin as a tabernacle where the Eucharist would be preserved. -During this season of Advent let us fix our eyes on the Virgin who is to give us Christ.

Darkness

Lord, I thank you for the gift of the darkness, for helping me to appreciate the gift of Your Light.


             (219 hours without power)

Adoration

...and you are right there, behind the small, round glass.  You.  Jesus Christ/God.  At times I'm able to barely wrap my mind around the reality of it and then...it slips away.  It's like taking two steps backward. 
  He is there and I'm here.  Two pews and an open area separate us. But it may as well be 2000 plus years. When it comes to the Blessed Sacrament I'm at a loss for words or feelings.  Maybe because it's so personal, just Jesus and me, and maybe one or two others, lost in their own journey.  My journey, well, I don't know.  I'm continually amazed and grateful for the graces that I've received.  Once one realizes that nothing comes to us but from God, that He is behind all else that is, that one can rejoice in even the dark times, for even then His light will shine, when one feels and acknowledges the graces that flow then one can say a step has been taken on that journey.  I have re-consecrated myself three times now to Jesus thru Mary, and each time, in the months thereafter, I've felt something inside of me open up more and more.  Not so much as an opening up as a giving away, a giving away of myself.  Here, have some more.  I don't really know what I'm doing, but just take some more of me.  And He accepts, gladly, with open arms.  God loves a giver.
  Me and Him.  Some voices in the back, now whispering, perhaps new to Adoration.  I am truly blessed to be here, quiet time with Him.  And later tonight 10-11, in a small Adoration Chapel, filling in for a woman who's travelled half-way around the world to visit her daughter, a nun, in a part of Africa that is not a good place.  She'll be gone for three months, and we've taken over her time slot.  It will be good to be there, as it is good to be here.  Him, drawing me close. 
(written Thursday, the 22nd of September.)

His Time

  Some much needed time off from work, and the rain falls.  No matter.  Everything that needed to be done has been, the picking up and putting away, the raking and the mowing.  Whatever is left is all for me, for my nothingness of importance.  You know, those annoying thoughts that gnaw at you, the ones you never find the time to address.  I'm learning, or trying to learn, to give those thoughts up to Him, to take them away from my time and let Him deal with them in His time.  Very hard to do, but I'm getting better at it.  It all begins with having God front and foremost at all times.  Front and foremost.  Again, not so simple.  The last thing satan would want is for any of us to have Him at the center of our thoughts constantly.  Harder to make inroads there.  But inroads he makes, and when he can't get in he throws up obstacle after obstacle, one barricade after another.  The world around us is where that lion prowls, and he is having his way, for now.  Let him be.  The signs point closer to our end, to the beginning of His coming, and I feel whoever makes it through these dark times will come out the stronger.  Maybe we'll see it and maybe not.  But to play and dally in this smoke-filled world is not for me.  One cannot hide a light under a bushel basket.  We must bring Him forth now. 
  Summer becomes Fall.  No hurrahs, it just is. We plan our garden in early spring, envision the rows, green with bounty.  Our garden of life, our lives, planned and planted out in the early spring of our youth, of our lives.  Usually before we even know of His time, of how it encompasses all, we think we are in charge, we are the gardener.  We are not.

For though the fig tree blossom not

nor fruit be on the vines,

though the yield of the olive fail

and the terraces produce no nourishment,

Though the flocks disappear from the fold

and there be no herd in the stalls,

yet will I exult in my saving God.

Habakkuk  17-18

  The quietness of a grey, wet afternoon surrounds me and I think, This life I could embrace, this beginning of a contemplative life, yearning for nothing but constant prayer, to soar with the angels as I hear God's voice.  But no, that is not for me.  I'm here, in late afternoon merely quietly praying, recharging my batteries for what is to come.  God has called me to be out in the world, to put my best unworthy self forward for all to see, to see the glory of Him shining in me.  I must pray through distraction, turn my cheek and give them my beard to pull and then explain to them why I did that; to love God, family and country with my whole heart, with my whole mind and with my whole soul.  Look, always in three's.  Bless the Holy Trinity.     

                                        

 

The Erratic Man

  My brothers, count it pure joy when you are involved in every sort of trial.  Realize that when your faith is tested this make for endurance.  Let endurance come to its perfection so that you may be fully mature and lacking in nothing.
  If any of you is without wisdom, let him ask for it from the God who gives generously and ungrudgingly to all, and it will be given him.  Yet he must ask in faith, never doubting, for the doubter is like the surf tossed and driven by the wind.  A man of this sort, devious and erratic in all that he does, must not expect to receive anything from the Lord.    Evening Prayer, Reading, James 1:2-8


After going through a day doing jobs I don't like and feeling at times just plain cooked,  H and I finish our day with Evening Prayer, and this reading pierces me like a two-edged sword.  How could I have travelled the road all day in misery when the spirit of Francis is leading me down this road?  The first sentence says it all;  Count it pure joy when you are involved in every sort of trial.  For me, how completely Franciscan!  I've come to realize that our faith is tested not just in the areas of faith but in all areas, all things.  Trials of any sort test one's faith, but to throw all of God's wisdom and teaching away as soon as an issue arises is just like the case of the doubter, who, like the surf is tossed and driven by the wind.  I didn't expect to see myself there, but there I was.  Am I devious?  I don't know.  Erratic, yes.  And today, driven by the wind.  I forgot all about Francis, all about Our Lord.  I've come to the realization that I've only scratched the surface of myself, of my faith.  I see now that many strong people have held me in strong hands for way too long.  


I call upon you, O God,
in my distress.

The porch on Easter Morning

   He is risen.
These words ring out to me in the form of the new life that is spring, the calling of birds to one another, the new awakening after a long sleep, as us who have slept so long, to finally feel the warmth of the Risen Lord once again. 
Here, thick fog covers the land and only daffodils and tulips break the grey barrenness of late April.  But in my heart, soul and mind the Son is burning again, for He has Risen.

Lent

  Hello, everyone.  All's quiet on Road Beyond 50.  I've sat down a few times to post but to get from my heart to the keyboard just seems fruitless.  "I will provide you with the words..."  well, He hasn't yet and that's OK.  It is Lent and maybe this has become part of my fast, my loss of words on my journey home to the Risen One.  I'm still reading your posts, though, and they all fill me with wonder and hope.

  On Saturday mornings we go to the 7:00am Latin Mass.  During the week I'm not able to get to Mass unless one is offered at night, which right now my parish is doing, 7:00pm Tuesdays and Thursdays during Lent.  I've only been to one, after our shortened Knight of Columbus meeting.  Right now, in this time of my life, if I have the choice, I do not attend a Norvus Ordo Mass.  Believe me, not attending Mass is not easy for me, as it is not easy for any of you.  But this night, that is not what I'm writing about.  Whatever Mass we attend is our own business.  In the end it is between us and God, and only he knows where we've been on our journey to Him.  This morning, before Mass, during my Rosary, He made His presence very known to me, really for the first time during my Rosary.  I would have to describe my spiritual life as quiet; mostly me speaking to Him, or to His Son, or to our Blessed Mother.  More to Her, lately, as we finish our consecration. Me speaking, and they listening.  But really, it is , the desert.  And that's ok, I understand that, I really do.  He gives me many insights, answers to questions I don't even ask.  And yes, every once in awhile He does make His presence known in a big way, but very rarely.  This morning, He came.  As I began my Rosary in the early morning darkness of the Church it was as if He were next to me in the pew, saying the Rosary with me.  St. Martha's has a Crucifixion scene set up near the communion rail, off to one side.  Beautiful statues in bright colors, depicting the death of Our Lord.  The soldiers, Mary Magdalen, weeping on the ground, Blessed Mary, supported by John, his head covered by his hooded cloak.  Jesus, between the two thieves, His eyes aimed to heaven.  But what struck me, what burned into my mind was the thoughts that had to be going through the minds of the people there that loved Jesus dearly, to see Him hanging from the cross after all that had happened to him since His arrest.  The anguish, the confusion, the sorrow in their hearts.  I knew as I said each Hail Mary that Jesus Himself, although scourged, beaten, crowned with thorns and hanging from a tree, He knew what was happening.  It was all Him and the Father by then.  But the pain felt by the one's who loved Him I felt, really, for the first time.  The Father, for whatever reason, turned my stony heart to a loving heart.  For the first time in my life I truly and honestly loved Our Lord Jesus Christ.  How would you feel if that was your good friend hanging on that cross?  Somebody you loved beyond all telling?  And this happened to him?  In an instant the door was opened just a crack, and He gave me a peek, and a peek was all I could handle.  It was if a stopper had been pulled out.  So many unspoken thoughts made sense.  Unspoken and unwritable here.  And then, not one revelation but another, as I knelt, beads in hand.  A scene of our elderly, perhaps of some I know, but it didn't matter.  The intense loneliness of some of those men and women, who had lived good productive lives, then retired.  Perhaps they lost a spouse, and their children cooked for them then.  Still love and family there.  But later, as they get older, probably a nursing home.  No more home cooked meals by a daughter or daughter in law.  Unknown food cooked by unknown hands. That is were my vision started and ended, in a flash. Why I was given that, I don't know.  Why did He show this to me now?  I will pray about these two startling gifts that He gave me today, graces poured out by the Blessed Virgin Mary.  I will pray about that unbelievably strong yearning of love that I felt this morning, and why do I have such a stony heart.  I will pray to God to allow our Mother to tear me down to nothing, to the nothing that I really am, to strip me of every vicious excess.  I will let the vision of the elderly linger with me, for that is what it should do, because for some reason, unknown to me, the two scenes He pointed out to me this morning, in the silence of His church, mean something more than what I can understand now.  He may do something for nothing, but I don't think  He ever does anything without a reason.

 Oh Lord, hear my cry
deep in this desert. 
You, who in so many words, said,
"Come, follow me," stretch out Your hand
to us who yearn for light.

Wash me first

The last few weeks have been the Season of Septuagesima, which is the three Sundays leading up to Ash Wednesday.  This is used in the Traditional Latin Mass.  We haven't been going steady to the Latin Mass for even a year yet, so we are still learning all the differences that exist between the L.M. and the Norvus Ordo.  These three Sundays are used to prepare for the Lenten season.  A good idea, I think.  For me, the season of Lent was a lot more cut and dried; one gave up something for forty days, and then began again after.  The whole event was forgotten about after Easter.  That was before God called...
Now, things have changed, and for me, Lent has become much more serious, as well it should be.  It seems like my life for the last five years has been one type of fast or another, or a time of penance for a decision that must be made. Ash Wednesday is nearly here and I'm no closer to my Lenten observance than I was three weeks ago.....
  Well, Ash Wednesday has come and gone, and God, in His mercy, has shown us a path, a way to begin our journey through Lent.  Lately it always seems to do with food and H and I are brought even closer together by sharing in this Lenten discipline, as we do all things.  Coffee one year, (a rough one, that), desserts another, (not so bad, but bad enough), but in hindsight these abstinence's were only small things, stuff even.  H and I have been looking into the Third Order Franciscans, which is very different from our Secular Franciscans.  A bit more stricter.  More devoted to the Latin Mass.  This way of living, Franciscan-wise, seems to fit our spirituality and gives us a deeper sense of peace and purpose than the Rule of the modern day Seculars.  But we are only exploring these options.  We are praying about it.  But we have adopted some of the fasts and abstinence rules that they use for our Lenten fast.  These include no breakfast, Monday thru Saturday.  No meat Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday, and of course, Friday, but milk and dairy is allowed.  On top of our Fasting on bread and water on Wed. and Fri. it makes for an interesting week.  I'd never known how much food is such a intrusive part of my life.  I can tend toward gluttony at times if I don't watch out.  How heavy-feeling I can become when I eat three decent meals a day.  With the discipline of Lent that has all changed.  With no breakfast I go from 5:30 in the evening until 12:30 the next day, which is lunch without eating.  A long time for me to go with only a couple of cups of coffee in between.  But something does happen during that long stretch, especially in the morning.  Is it me;  no, I am nothing, I know that.  I feel it is the Holy Spirit, moving in where the tendencies toward my over-indulging were.  We are called to God for a reason and He gives us the means to get there, we just have to make use of those ways.  Fasting is one way.  Instead of being unknowingly dependent of our food, we become more dependent on God.  It's like our bodies, no our souls know that,  and in turn we search and yearn for Him.  The turning inward, the turning inward with love.  The Ancient Fathers in the Old Testament knew the power of fasting.  Fasting and Prayer.  
  The clong of the heavy wind chime fills the silence of night.  I think of what I just wrote, and how it really doesn't tell the whole story, not even close.  How can I explain the quietness that fills me up even in the middle of a crazy workday?  How even now, in the semi-silence of the night, how His presence is here, closer than ever.  How to explain the unexplainable?  How to listen and respond, how to write about that.  I cannot.  And so begins the journey through the desert, following Our Lord Jesus.  A good way to live one's life, in the desert, with Our Lord.

Oh Lord Jesus, 

you but command and I come.

I will help carry your cross

but wash me first,

cleanse me in the 

discipline of Lent

then lead me down the path

less known.