Our Hearts Are Restless

CC0 Public Domain via Pixabay The current condition of the world forced me to turn over a conundrum in my head on the way to Mass after work.  You can probably, like me, list the locations of the last half-dozen major acts of international terrorism, the recent ethical and moral rulings of SCOTUS, and at least three of Pope Francis’ confusing statements.  There’s a lot happening in this world, and with the help of mass media, we see little that is good. Many of my friends and colleagues have no optimism left.  Accurately, perhaps, they predict an oncoming storm of chaos, fear, amorality, and death.  In the current day and age, many feel that the world is rolling down a steep hill, picking up speed as it nears destruction at the bottom.  Hope has faded into a dull resignation.  But when I hear comments like “This is the end of civilization as we know it” and “Martial law is coming”, and I listen to the underlying tone of despair, something in me...

Tomorrow is really exciting, and a bit scary.  Tomorrow happens to be a very special day, but not as special as the one that will follow thirty three days from tomorrow.  If you happen to know what I'm talking about, or you are an amateur numerologist perusing your liturgical calendar, you are now nodding your head and smiling a little. Tomorrow begins a very important journey for me.  On December 8, the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, I will renew my consecration to Jesus through Mary.  If you've seen me at all in the past year, you'll notice that I wear a silver chain bracelet on my right wrist.  That chain is a visible, concrete reminder of a promise I made to our Blessed Mother that I am hers, her slave, handmaiden, and child, now and forever.  I've given her my whole life and all that I do, all my stress and my prayer intentions, all my hopes and fears.  She is my Queen and my Mother, always! Perhaps you're making the Consecration too, thi...

Sometimes at adoration, I pray by writing to Jesus. It helps me focus on speaking to him rather than trying to control my thoughts as they wander all over creation.  I thought I'd share with you what I wrote this First Friday - it's just stream of consciousness but sort of the Ignatian method, where you put yourself into the Gospel scene and try to imagine it and talk to Jesus.  Here goes: "Could you not watch one hour with me?" I'm kneeling beside him in the garden, watching him wracked with grief and pain. His body tense, shaking, next to me. Tears from my so - powerful king. And the sweat of blood - it scares me, but I dare not interrupt his thoughts to ask if he's alright, if he needs anything.  "Father..." the cry of a son, full of love and pain and pleading. Father...I cry out too, begging that he be saved from whatever is tormenting him so terribly. The wind rustles the trees but the night is still. I dare not leave him to wake John or one o...