Now is the Right Time

Painting: Josef Kinzel, Abendläuten,1903

An Awakening

Painting used: John William Waterhouse, St. Cecilia

My Heart Goes After Shadows

'My God, how far I am from acting 
according to what I know so well!
I confess it, my heart goes after shadows.
I love everything better than communion with You.
I am ever eager to get away from You.
Often I find it difficult even to say my prayers.
There is hardly any amusement I would not 
rather take up than set myself to think upon You.
Give me grace, O my Father, 
to be utterly ashamed of my own reluctance!
Rouse me from sloth and coldness 
and make me desire You with my whole heart.
Teach me to love meditation, 
sacred reading and prayer.
Teach me to love what must 
engage my mind for all eternity.'

Blessed John Henry Cardinal Newman


Painting: Laurits Andersen Ring, in US public domain due to age

When my Heart is Parched

'Sometimes, 
when I read spiritual treatises.. 
my poor little mind 
soon grows weary, 
I close the learned book 
that leaves my head splitting 
and my heart parched, 
and I take up
the Holy Scriptures. 
Then all seems luminous. 
A single word 
opens up 
horizons to my soul.' 

St. Therese of Lisieux



Albert Anker painting, 1904

Notwithstanding Your Distractions

'Go to prayer, not to look
for what you fancy,
not to receive consolations,
but to remain in extreme reverence
and abasement in God's sight,
to pour out your misery
before His mercy,
to keep yourself,
notwithstanding
all your distractions,
in His holy presence,
wishing only and seeking only
His good pleasure
and His holy will.'

St. Jane de Chantal




Painting: Eduard Veith,
in US public domain due to age {{PD-1923}}

Awakening

'Often when a soul is distracted and forgetful of God, His Majesty will awaken it.'

St. Teresa of Avila

Painting:  The Sleeping Princess, Duncan, 1915; cropped

I am in a Dry Land

'O my Lord, 
I am in a dry land, 
all dried up and cracked 
by the violence 
of the north wind 
and the cold; 
but as You can see, 
I ask for nothing more.  
You will send me 
both dew and warmth 
when it pleases You.'

St. Jane de Chantal


Painting: Eastman Johnson, The Girl I Left Behind Me

He Has Been Waiting All Along

Yesterday I again wrestled myself into prayer.  I'm ashamed to admit how long it took me to get there, but finally I struggled through the day's distractions to find myself in front of an open Bible.  I looked at the page only to see what seemed like a spattering of random words.   What, whenever, surpassing, things, count, that, for.

This was worse than usual.

Meanwhile, a charming collection of junk mail had stacked up on my table.  Brightly colored pizza coupons.  A sale flier for... what is that, candles?  A catalog of, oh my goodness:  books.   I tried to concentrate.  I tried to pray.  I batted away stray thoughts that buzzed around like flies.  I repented.  I expressed sorrow.  I thought of how many meaningless things persistently shout for my attention.  I felt sad.  I felt hopeless.  I felt defeated.  I felt

interrupted.

Right in the middle of my self-beating, even as I realized that I'm not a person of discipline and routine and likely never will be, I had a sudden sense of something I cannot describe.  A kind of warmth. Amazing warmth.  If I could paint a picture of it, I'd show Jesus looking over at me with a tender, loving smile.  As if He were actually.... pleased!

If I could put words in His mouth (and really, it was almost as if I "heard" these), they would be "you have no idea how much you love Me." 

No, that was not a typo.   It wasn't "you have no idea how much I love you" (although I'm totally sure that is the case), but "you have no idea how much YOU love ME." 

How astonishing.  Could that possibly be true?  In the midst of my distractions and laziness and aridity, when my prayers are dry as dust?!  Oh surely not!  And yet - at the moment I felt this, I also had a strong sense of peace.  It was as if a veil lifted, and in an instant I could see oh, so much at once.   

The "much" started with, of all things, blogs.  I thought of this one, specifically, and of how I'd originally considered this as the blog wherein I could ramble about any and every random thought that crossed my mind.  Yet rarely, in the nearly two years since I started writing here, can I recall a post that didn't lead toward or speak of or include God.  It's not that I set out from the beginning to do this (I realized); it's that I write (or quote) what is truly on my mind.

Even though I've felt dry, lazy, and unspeakably distracted, I have made up my mind to come to Jesus and wrestle my way to Him.  How tender of Him to let me know that He is smiling on my little efforts.  How generous of Him to give me a glimpse of how much I really do love Him.  It's good to know the truth of it (and yes, I believe it is truth) that I love Him more than I realize.  If I hadn't gone through the motions once again, I would never have been in a position to see this.

He loves me beyond all imagining.  And I, distracted as I am, love Him.  I want to please Him.  By His grace (and His grace alone) I am growing, at least a little, in virtue.

He has been waiting for me to go through the motions.  He has been waiting all along.  

A Prayer in Aridity

'Dearest Jesus... I am now incapable
 of praying, of practicing virtue.
The fire of love seems almost extinguished.
Yet you know I long to love You,
to love You ardently and give You
a thousand proofs of tenderness
whilst I have the opportunity...
Give me special grace
not to give way now in these moments of
fatigue, desolation, sadness, and dejection,
nor to slack effort, but to keep close to You
at whatever sacrifice....
Into this darkness that is about me,
let a ray of light from
Your loving Sacred Heart shine....
I long to desire no sensible consolation in loving,
provided You feel my love.
That is enough for me.'

                                                                        

  prayer from THE LIVING PYX OF JESUS, Pelligrini, Australia, 1941, pp. 471-472

Painting:  Marcus Stone, Loves Daydream End
(I originally posted this at 'A Prayer Corner')

Go Through the Motions

I sometimes must wrestle myself into prayer.  It often seems that I'm waging an all-out battle against distractions, laziness, daydreams, aridity, and sudden inexplicable desires to latch onto any shiny bit of trivia that will keep me from praying.   

This makes no sense. 

God Himself, the Creator of the universe and the One Who loves me beyond all imagining, is waiting to comfort and heal and bless and listen to me.  He is, quite literally, waiting. 

And I, in effect, ignore Him so I can turn my attention to....... what?

Let's see.  In just the last few days, I've put off prayer in order to focus my attention on junk mail, crossword puzzles, television, a book just borrowed, idle chatter, tiredness, a fleeting headache,  various Internet links, and at least one catalog order that suddenly "had to" be placed right then and there and not half an hour later. 

Interesting.  I don't see anything at all there about my family or the work I've needed to do.  All I see is a list of totally inconsequential things that suddenly become of paramount importance when weighed against spending time with, well... with the Author of Life.

See what I mean?  It makes no sense. 

This morning I was graced with a glimpse of the senselessness.  Weakly, I asked God for help.  That's when the thought crossed my mind:  "at least go through the motions."  Don't feel like taking time for prayer?  Take a few minutes anyway.  Don't feel inspired?  Pick up a prayer book and mouth some words.  The Bible and Breviary seem to weigh a ton today? ("oh...hooow will I ever liiift them?!").  Pick one up anyway.  Make the effort.  Do something.  If your heart feels wired shut, at least open your mouth. 

Go through the motions.  

So I did.  With a heart that felt like dried, fissured, ancient rock, I tried to focus while my mind flitted .... somewhere.  With mind unengaged, heart uninvolved, attention scattered to dusty winds, I went through the motions. 

Then it happened.  Like a lamp in a house whose electricity had been out, suddenly I knew I was connected.  It felt as if chains were shattered, and indeed - I think that's true.  But that would not have happened if I hadn't begun by going through the motions. 

And does this post even make any sense?  Possibly not, but regardless - I'll hit "publish."  With a prayer for anyone else who might be having trouble making the decision to take a few minutes in prayer.. and with a prayer for myself as well. 

After all, tomorrow's another day. I know how this goes:  it is a daily battle. I will face it again, and again.  

I pray for grace to go through the motions.

Wyczolkowski Wiosna painting

Feeling Cold in Prayer?

"We must not gauge our love by what we feel, but rather by what we are ready to do.  Indeed, it often happens that God tries the most advanced by letting them experience a coldness and deadness in prayer such as ordinary people do not experience, and none could endure in such times if their love for God were not very deep and strong."  

(from In Love With the Divine Outcast, compiled by A Religious, Pellegrini, Australia, 1934, p. 186)

The emphasis in the above is mine.  "God tries the most advanced..."

I pray that this will bring many of us great hope.

Jozef Israëls painting in US public domain

This post is linked to Catholic Bloggers Network Linkup Blitz 

Hope for the Dry Times

'One single act done with dryness of spirit

is worth more than many done with sensible devotion.' 

St. Francis de Sales

Painting: Joseph Stieler, Anna Hillmayer 1829

Comes the Winter..

                  'I see that all the seasons are to be found in your soul; 

                  for at one time you feel the winter of sterility, 

                  distractions, disgust, and weariness; 

                  at another time the dews of the month of May, 

                  with the odour of the holy little flowers....  

                  In heaven it shall be all a springtime of beauty, 

                  all an autumn of enjoyment, 

                  all a summer of love.  

                  Winter there shall be none;

                  but here winter is necessary 

                  for the exercise of abnegation 

                  and of the thousand beautiful little virtues 

                  which are practiced in the time of barrenness.  

                  Let us keep on always at a quiet little pace...' 

                        St. Francis de Sales, letter to St. Jane de Chantal

                        Painting:  Jules Breton, Last Flowers, in US  public domain

Be Led Gently

"Take no notice of that feeling you get of wanting to leave off in the middle of your prayer, but praise the Lord for the desire you have to pray.  That, you may be sure, comes from your will which loves to be with God.  It is just melancholy that oppresses you and gives you the feeling of constraint.  

Try occasionally, when you feel yourself oppressed in that way, to go to some place where you can see the sky, and walk up and down a little... 

It is essential that the soul be led gently."

                                                                                   - from a letter of St. Teresa of Avila

(August Hagborg painting in US public domain)

Tune our Hearts to Brave Music

"God of our life,
there are days
when the burdens we carry chafe
our shoulders and weigh us down; 
when the road seems dreary and
endless, the skies gray and threatening;
when our lives have no music in them, 
and our hearts are lonely, and 
our souls have lost their courage. 

"Flood the path with light,
turn our eyes to where the skies
are full of promise.
Tune our hearts to brave music; 
give us the sense of comradeship
with saints and heroes of every age;
and so quicken our spirits that we
may be able to encourage the souls 
of all who journey with us on 
the road of life,
to Your honor and glory."
                 (St. Augustine)



(painting: The Fern Gatherer by Charles Lidderdale, 1877)

From Those Dark Plantings

Looking over some of my stored-away "breadbox letters" recently, I came across a copy of a letter I sent to friends some years ago.  This came right on the heels of the darkest period of my life... 

"This winter I forgot how to hope for Spring.  Not only was I in grief over the death of a loved one, but I felt that God Himself had moved far away.  He had not done so, of course - my perception of His distance was only a feeling.  Jesus was near, even though I had no awareness of His presence.  I loved God simply by an act of will.  I found myself face to face with every word I'd ever written or spoken about choosing to love the will of God. 

I've begun to see God's wisdom in allowing me to go through such profound darkness devoid of any sense that He was with me  As a result of this desolation, I now know that even in the harshest of spiritual winters, we can choose God.  We can, no matter the depth of winter, choose to live for Him.  We can do so in consolation and we can do so just as freely in spiritual barrenness.  There is great freedom in such realization.

I write this on a day bursting with the beauty of Spring.  Just last night I stood in a meadow filled with fireflies. These glowing creatures flickered in trees around and the effect was magical; I felt like a child in a wonderland.  The scent of flowers overwhelmed me - honeysuckle and clover and various unidentified varieties of weeds.  The entire world seemed to have burst into such exquisite beauty that it was almost too much for five little senses to bear.  I was surprised to find myself wondering what this same meadow would have been like in February, with trees barren and stark, with ground ice-encrusted, with no sign of fireflies and no pungent scent of flowers.

Plants need their seasons of dormancy as much as they need the warmth and sunlight of summer.  I've thought in recent weeks of how a seed might feel (could it do so) during long months with no sign of the sun.  Nothing would appear to be happening.  All might seem empty and hopeless.  Yet the appearance of such lifelessness would be far from the truth.  The truth is:  'unless the grain falls to the earth and dies, it remains just a grain.. but if it dies, it produces much fruit.'  (John 12:24).  The burial of a seed in the ground is not the end of the plant - it is a beginning.  The seed must lie hidden beneath the soil before a plant can spring forth, and then time must go by before that plant produces leaves... flowers... fruit...

It would appear that God's seasons are part of His "lesson plan."  I have begun to see His cycles of planting, budding, growing, blooming, fruit-bearing, dormancy and new growth as an unmistakable parable...."

I pray to plumb the depths of this parable and bring forth fruit for my Lord Jesus Christ.

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Trusting the Connection

From the breadbox, 1997:

My dear friend,

I was struck by your saying that you awake crying out 'I want to love you, God.'  What a heart-cry, and all the more powerful in aridity.

When I'm in spiritual aridity, I sometimes feel as though the 'phone lines' have all suddenly fallen silent and I feel disconnected.  Have you ever been speaking with someone on the phone when there's a problem and you can hear the other person perfectly but they can't hear you at all?  I think aridity in prayer is a bit like this, only we are the ones who cannot hear the other Person - God, in this case.  

I feel sometimes as though I am talking, praying, continually pleading 'hello?  Is anyone there?  Did You hang up...?'  And there seems to be no 'response.'  No sense of anyone being there at all.  Like all the lines have gone dead, or have been cut.  

Faith, I guess, is when we stay on the line even though we have no perception that He IS on the other end.  We stay connected nonetheless; we stay connected through the lines of faith.  Sometimes we plead for some sign, sometimes we put down the 'phone' to distract ourselves with something else for awhile.  But always we come back to speak again and say 'I trust that You are there!  I shall proceed as if I were deeply aware of Your presence, a presence I cannot at this moment perceive.'

 He is there.  He hears me, and He hears you, and I pray that when our faith again comes into the 'light,' we will find that there has been much, much growth in all our seasons of dark.
                                                                                                                  Nancy
(public domain photo)

Pressed Ice

A recent breadbox expedition yielded the following treasure from "Jane"..... 

"I was feeling very discouraged with myself for not feeling a greater love for Jesus.  Theoretically I knew that the 'feeling' is a gift from Him and not an indication of our actual love.  But still I was concerned that I just didn't love Him enough.  Then I came across something St. Gertrude had written about experiencing the same fear.  She complained to Him that her heart was just a block of ice.  I couldn't get that idea out of my mind.  I implored Him to pick me up since I was just a block of ice and press me to His lips.  In that way, I would be able to refresh Him and quench His thirst.  That thought filled me with such joy, I went around all day rejoicing that I was indeed a block of ice, for as long as I am totally at His disposal, I can refresh Him.  Now when I recognize that He is keeping consolations from me, I just smile to myself - knowing that as long as I trust Him patiently, my piece of ice will bring Him greater joy by my submission to His will..."  (Jane)