Loving You

I am with you,
As One Who has always loved you,
Loving you as you began your life’s journey
To the kingdom of Heaven,
Your true home,
Loving you all the days I have appointed you.
Loving you unto dying and your death,
Loving you as the breath of life.

I have played upon the strings of your heart,
So that you would hear My music,
Even midst dissimilitude and dissonance.
Let not the unbelieving of the world,
Let not discordance and strife of flesh,
Let not the deceiver of Men,
Draw a curtain before your eyes.

Fix the gaze of your soul upon Me,
Here in your heart,
I reign, holy and at rest,
Upon the throne
At the center of your being.

Do Me homage
As you arise at the break of day.
Bow before Me
With the rising of each sun.
Dance with Me,
Following My lead.
Cry with Me in the sorrowing.
Plead for sinners in their fall.

Lend the hand of prayer
To uphold the weak and weary.
You journey as one
In the One Who is All Love.

Peace, My child.
Peace and refreshment,
Here at my altar.
I polish and perfect you,
That you may be
A monstrance of humility,
Fading from prominence,
As I send out my splendor
As grace and blessing.

All is gift to the one
Who receives with the seasons,
Yielding to the winds that blow upon the soul,
Welcoming the water of spring rains,
And the summer torrents,
Allowing blankets of snow
To still you in repose,
Awaiting new life, My Life.

© 2015 Joann Nelander

One Last Touch

Lord, You have been growing me.
It’s been 75 years plus a bit, since my conception.
All those years and not one day without love.

Not one day without the play of wind,
Or warmth of golden beam,
Or sustenance given though unseen.

Not one day without a kiss of sun,
Or breeze,
Or butterfly.

Not one day the more or less than You decree,
Simply the glee
Of being me.

Lord, You have been growing me.
I count my days blessed and witnessed from above,
The stuff as given and mysterious as stars.

When I am fully grown,
Incline to lift me from the earth,
And with Mercy’s parting splendor,
Render one last touch.

© 2016 Joann Nelander

David the King: Reflections on the Spirituality of I & II Samuel – Bishop Robert Barron–Video

Come, O Creator

Depravity now has its day,
The festering city
Erupts to spew abuse,
First on its children,
And then on those
Who come to its aid.

Perversity mocks virtue,
Opening it’s robes,
To welcome strangers for a night,
No home, no family, no love.

Let Sin not reign,
Call out again.
Seek liberty of spirit,
Spurn license,
And licentiousness.

Love the enemy
Within and without.
All men have sinned,
All suffer,
Abused and abuser.

Come, O Creator of Man.
Come holy plan.
Fight the battle
With heavenly hosts.
Build on these ruins,
A nation that is pure and just.

Copyright 2014 Joann Nelander

Kindling and Sacrifice

Light a fire in my lowly heart
That I may love Thee
More and more.

Accept my straw as kindling.
Ignite me as a sacrifice.
To be consumed.

Breathe on me in the furnace
Of your desires
For this child of Your creation.

Blaze to transform
By grace and Thy Holy Spirit,
My base metal into the finest gold.

Enflame my yearning heart
That love may burst forth,
Forevermore.

copyright 2014 Joann Nelander

EASTER MORN

Holy Mother Mary,
I invite Your presence in my life.
As you look on my days,
Listen to my prayers,
Watch my growth through the years,
Touch me with the graces
Of.your Motherly prerogative,

You who walked the way of the Cross
With your Holy Son,
From the instant of His Incarnation
In your sacred womb,
Be beside me
In my every moment.
Meet me in my joys and sorrows
And impart your maternal blessing.

May my soul grow holy,
As you rush to lift me,
When I fall,
Just as you interceded
For Jesus in His Passion.

He fell under the weight of my sins,
And you cried out to heaven.
Hear now my heart
Beseeching thee.

Standing by His Cross,
See me in His Suffering
And receive me as your own.

Take the moments,
And all the years,
Of my existence,
In your arms,
As you did the Body of your Son,
When He was lowered from His Cross.
He wrought my Salvation
In that fearsome Hour.

Wrap my years in His shroud
And when I wake,
Rejoice in this,
My Easter morn.

Truth’s Army, Truth’s Bride

Truth was never far away.
It stood erect,
And with resolve,
Waited for the moment
Of my will’s consent.

It was relentless,
Devoid of error,
Stalwart and persistent.

Truth was the beacon
On the high mountain.
It appealed to me
On the level of the good.

It drew me
As home beckons the lost.
I journeyed closer,
But as the light
Revealed my tatters
I drew back,
Trapped by my choices.

Truth is a wedding garment,
That clothes inwardly,
As well as out.
My espousals never produced
A marriage of Truth and the holy.
In its stead, I’d wed
What I wanted.
Now, I feared our distance,
And what I had become.

Desiring the right,
Even if I was wrong,
I gathered courage to my breast
And risked all in the quest.

I shed my rags
And found a covering of prayer,
A robe of humility,
And came to Love
In holy fear.

Now, I am
Full of resolve,
A stalwart knight
On Truth’s high mountain,
Carrying lighted torch
To the Dark Valley,
Into caverns of deception.

Standing tall before the Foe,
Truth girds my waist,
And undertakes to speak
Light in the darkness.

I am become an army
On the plain,
As Truth marches not alone.
It goes forth,
Drawing with it men of valor,
Choosing the death of Pride,
And living as Truth’s Bride.

©2012 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved

Here I Am

Here I am, beneath your heart,
My heart beating in happy harmony,
As my frame perceives
The gentle throbbing within your breast,
Serene.

I began in secret and in darkness,
A mystery, even to myself.
Day by day, nature shapes my clay,
As you await the blessed dawn of my birth day.

What I know, I know by existence.
I am now all trust,
Simply growing,
Simply becoming who I am.

Comfort, you give comfort.
Love, you are all I know of love.
As you wait for me, my mother,
The eyes of my soul are wide open.
I behold you, smiling upon me.

Expectant, vigilant and gleeful,
Mother of my moments,
You cradle me.
You are my home of sweet delight.

© 2011  Joann Nelander

Virgin Mary Consoles Eve by Sr. Grace Remington, OCSO

H/T Artist – Sr. Grace Remington, OCSO

This painting is so consoling, I just have to share it again since Advent brings us closer and closer to the precious moment of our Savior’s birth.  He comes to save Fallen Man, and with such a gentle hand.

*Notice the feet in this painting.

 

“Virgin Mary Consoles Eve”


Crayon and pencil by Sr. Grace Remington, OCSO
Copyright 2005, Sisters of the Mississippi Abbey

podcast –http://amongwomenpodcast.com/guest/sr-grace-remington-ocso/

Peter Kreeft > Quotes

“Our culture has filled our heads but emptied our hearts, stuffed our wallets but starved our wonder. It has fed our thirst for facts but not for meaning or mystery. It produces "nice" people, not heroes.”
Peter Kreeft, Jesus-Shock

Read more Here

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