Here is a beautiful Way to end this year and begin 2018 with love, gratitude l
and faith, trusting in the grace of Almighty God.
https://youtu.be/ncGEKxkTOcc
THE HOLY INNOCENTS
O, my Savior, Jesus, Emmanuel,
With Your Birth,
The Father shed His Grace and Glory,
Upon the Earth.
Angels lit the sky,
And Heaven sang it’s welcome,
And a lullaby.
You slumbered at the Virgin’s breast,
While Death and Darkness,
Heard the death knell of its reign,
Rousing Herod to dread the same.
Striking with tooth and claw,
The Beast profane
Dispatched His might,
And slew all male babes of Bethlehem,
While Rachel cried in the Night.
At Abraham’s Bosom,
The Holy Innocents rested
With the Just,
While the Son of God and Man,
Grew, as did a tree,
That would on the Day,
Become a Cross,
And, with the of our Savior’s dying,
Serve, and bear our sins away.
© 2017 Joann Nelander
Feast
St. John was a fisherman with his father, Zebedee, and brother, James, at the Sea of Galilee. To the brothers, Jesus bestowed the title “sons of thunder.” This beloved disciple participated in many of Jesus’ more private events including the raising of Jairus’ daughter, the Transfiguration, and the tender bestowing of his Mother Mary to St. John at the foot of the cross. He is credited with writing the Fourth Gospel.
St. John, “the disciple whom Jesus loved,” was the only one of the apostles to die not of martyrdom but of old age, around the year 100. Still, he has been honored as a martyr from the earliest days after his death, because of an incident related by Tertullian, in which John, while in Rome, was placed in a pot of boiling oil but emerged unharmed. The love which Jesus bears is never barren. Of this his sufferings and death are the strongest proof. As St. John had the happiness to be distinguished by Christ in his holy love, so was he also in its glorious effects.
Via divineoffice.org
Take My hand,
The very same hand
That in infancy
Grasped My Mother’s finger,
Hugged her about the neck.
Look into My Eyes,
The very eyes
That held My Mother’s gaze.
Let me take you
To your child,
Never forgotten,
Buried in secret mourning,
No day without pain.
Your little one has a heart of love,
A soul of patience
A spirit of forbearance,
And one solitary prayer.
Playing on the lap of Our Father,
Whispering the heart’s desire
Into Abba’s listening ear,
Full of Love’s expectation,
Your babe smiles eternally
And waits for thee.
Take My hand,
The very same hand
That in infancy
Grasped My Mother’s finger,
Hugged her about the neck.
Now is a time to embrace
The gift I give you in Love.
©2012 Joann Nelander
Old year passes,
Becoming yet another ghost,
Withered as leaves,
Crumbled, and carried aloft
By winter winds,
Too soon scattered
By the breezes of Time.
Is it truly spent,
Dead and long forgotten,
Living but in memory?
May not reflection
Call it from the grave,
Uncover the gain
Hold it fast
To live again?
How has its many waters
Blessed thee and me,
As sacred signs?
Will it, as muse, retain a power
For its having been,
And then no more?
What saints and angels
Sent my way,
Colored its day?
In sorrow,
Who came to hold my hand?
In joy,
Who shared my hearth?
Were there hugs, and smiles,
And laughter to tilt the scale of grief?
Can kisses and embraces be resurrected,
That fires of love be stoked
To warm and blaze anew?
Has my thanksgivings
Been recorded in the pyre,
Written in the embers now glowing
As tiger eyes flashing from the ash.
Years come, doomed , too soon to go,
But let them not hurry
To a crypt without a wake.
Drink the happy wine of memory,
Sip, as the seasons turn.
Contemplate and savor
The seasons of your soul.
©2011 Joann Nelander
“We Are at War” and “The Angels are Better than Superman” -<strong>Dr Peter Kreeft – Angels & Demons
</strong>
To Be for Jesus
Yours, totally Yours!
The wonder of it!
To be, so small,
A little nobody,
And, yet, to hold the gaze
Of the Lord of the Universe.
It is not for my merit,
That You attend my supplication.
All I have read, or heard, or done,
Fills not a thimble,
Yet, straight from the Holy Font,
You knew me
And attended to my cry.
It is grace that holds sway.
Your grace.
I am graced,
Graced by Love,
Graced by Mercy.
I am that babe,
That waits to be picked up,
And seated with You on Your throne.
If I am to judge nations,
Let it be from a throne upon Your lap.
Having sinned,
I deserve not breath,
But, crying out,
With a heart,
Fixed onto Your own,
Trust drew You to me.
Love bends Your ear,
And inclines Your Heart.
Make my poor heart
Like unto Your own,
Rich in mercy,
Resplendent in Love.
Be for me, All.
O, Lord, fill my heart,
And mind,
With holy expectations
Of Your Mercy,
Drawn from the Heart of Your Love.
© 2017 Joann Nelander
The Blood and the Blood and the Blood!
O, Holy Blood,
Terrible and torrential,
Rain down rivers of Mercy,
To ravage the Defiler,
And assuage the anger of God.
Wash blasphemy from the tongue of Man,
And flood the souls of Men
With grace, pure, lovely, and above nature,
To inundate the depths of humanity,
And carry the Sons and Daughters of God,
High on baptismal waters
To crest in waves of praise,
And break on heavenly shores,
There to adore the Most adorable,
To love the Most Lovable,
And to glorify the Most Glorious Blood of Jesus, Savior.
© 2016 Joann Nelander
Haloed, Your Sun doth rise in the East.
He advances, heralded in glory.
Seraphim infuse the heavens with Anthems of Holy Love.
The earth trembles as His chariot mounts the sky And ring it ’bout in blackness.
Lightnings flash, spanning the horizon,
Announcing His Majesty ,
Declaring the coming of Light.
The long night’s o’er.
Here comes Eternal Good.
Now the reign of Dayspring and Morning Star.
Here comes in might the dawn of Justice,
Bowing to His Mercy,
Visiting those robed in garments washed in His Blood.
They rise up with the dawn,
All who have shown mercy in their time.
Come, O Sun of Justice,
Spill gladness and grace
To put to flight the Enemy.
Receive our “Amen, Alleluia”,
As we, Your Children of the Light,
Rise to meet You in the clouds.
© 2017 Joann Nelander
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