Lord, That I May See

Two posts I read today that both voiced some thoughts in my head and placed some challenging ones there: When Righteous Anger Goes Wrong http://redcardigan.blogspot.com/2007/06/puritan-is-person-who-pours-righteous.html Child http://holyexperience.blogspot.com/2007/06/child.html

A song from Atrium that I sing to my daughter: I see the light of Christ in you The love of God come shining through And I'm so blessed to be with you O holy child of God Tonight I sang this to her, in our quiet moment of nursing and rocking. And I realized that, as I was gazing down at her, that there was another, nestled so tiny inside of me, to add to the song. I was singing that song to my two children now. And I was filled with delight in the richness of the blessings that You have given to me, O Lord. In April at the Liturgy of the Light celebration in the 3-6 Atrium, the most moving part for me was the moment of the above, short and simple song. All the children sang it together using the hand-motions. The motion for when "in you" and "with you" is sang, is a slow, sweeping motion, arm outstretched, palm upturned, to all the other children sitting around you, as if you were touching them. As the candlelight sparkled in the children's big eyes, they s...

I am so tired. Not just tired, but weary. The kind of weariness that feels like it is sapping your entire body, seeping though every inch and filling it with heaviness. Sometimes I feel as if I can't even open my eyes all the way. Yet sleep does not come easily now. Either I cannot sleep because I have so many things to accomplish, or I try and I cannot for some inexplicable reason that I cannot understand at all. There is, of course, the pregnancy to blame it on. But, these past two weeks have been worse than the earlier ones. And truly, some weeks I felt this way before I was even pregnant. Pregnancy has accentuated it in some way, but when I think about it I believe that I have been weary since the birth of Turtle 15 mos. ago. Not every day, just many days, that now seem to blur together into one big overwhelming mass. I remember when Turtle was around one month old, my husband's aunt asked me how I was feeling. "Good, just tired," I replied. Then she said the word...

My favorite part of being an assistant in a Catechesis of the Good Shepherd atrium is working with the Good Shepherd lesson with the children. And the children that speak to my heart again and again are especially the littlest ones, who perhaps have not yet fully realized who "the sheep" are. There are the practical little ones who tell me about how the Good Shepherd takes his sheep to the vet when they are sick. There are the pensive little ones who are beginning to make the connection between us and sheep and say things like: "The Good Shepherd gives His sheep food . . . and water . . . and apple juice! I like apple juice!" There are the quiet ones who murmur that they don't know when the meditation questions are raised, but still they move the sheep oh-so-close to the Shepherds feet, touching Him with their noses when they are "led out." Then, the ones that humble me the most are the ones who just KNOW. The confident ones that say absolutely unhesit...

There are two poems that I have read called Leisure, both of which were an inspiration for this blog and its title. Here is one of the poems by William Henry Davies. LEISURE What is this life, if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare. No time to stand beneath the boughs And stare as long as sheep and cows. No time to see, in broad daylight, Streams full of stars, like skies at night. No time to turn at Beauty's glance, And watch her feet, how they can dance. No time to wait till her mouth can Enrich that smile that eyes began. A poor life this is if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare.

There was a little girl at the park today . . . She pulled at my heart. Too plump, jagged teeth, pale, unhealthy skin, clumsy . . . She wore a lime green shirt that said " I'm on the Honor Roll in TALKING". That shirt bothered me. She did talk . In a highpitched squeal she jabbered, "Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby" at my little girl. Turtle, like the sunny child she is, laughed and smiled and crowed back for a while. But her attention was pulled in many directions in that sunshine-filled park -- so much to see and do! As Turtle turned away, the girl in the green shirt floated off. She came back from time to time, squealing "Baby" repeatedly and, at intervals, said "I think she wants to play with me" and "I can make any baby smile." And there was just something indefinably sad and pathetic in her high voice and pale chubby face. I couldn't put my finger on it. Children ran screaming through the park, chasing and laughing, absorbed ...

This, like the post below, was written in Assisi, 3 years ago. It makes me ache with wistfulness to read this now. Just to have lived in this joyful moment, replete with an unearthly peace, makes everything hard or sorrowful in my life worthwhile. __________________________ I praise you, O my Lord, for color and light, for smell and hearing, for peace and silence. I praise you for birdsong, for snails, for fresh white flowers, daffodils and blooming trees. I praise you for the green of the grass, the blue of the sky, the rose and sand of ancient stones and the blue-gray of soft mist. I praise you for incense, for gold and for the rhythm of soft prayers. I praise you for cool splashing water wet upon my lips and hand and for the musical voice of a little child. I praise you, Lord, for Assisi. Peace envelops the town. The aire breathes with a hush of holiness. Sun and misty rain glisten on roofs and cobblestones. Birdsong fills the air with sweet and joyous melody. the scent of grass and...