I love You, Lord. You embrace me in our communion of Eucharist. I believe in Your love for the sinner. I am that sinner. You come to me. I am empty and poor, yet You make my poverty Your paradise. Here I bring to You all You have given me.
Behold Your streaming waters tumbling over my rocky ground. Your light penetrates my depths; the caverns of my heart yield their darkness to You, O Holy Sun! Sit here beside me in silence, as praise becomes an uncontainable river within me. Flow from my humble abode to water Your thirsting world without. Delight, O Lord, at the crashing thunder as majestic waves rise before You in a crescendo of thanksgiving, finally pounding down upon the shore of my unworthiness. They ebb and flow and gather strength as I remember Your Mercies. All You have given me, I give now with gratitude.
Eagles dance in the air above our heads, grasping as claws hold fast, spinning in wedded bliss; their flight a symbol of our holy love.
Joann Nelander
Eucharist
All posts tagged Eucharist
Abandonment to the Will of God,
That’s the Call.
What is holding you back
From accepting the Cross?
Give God your plans.
Give God your anger.
Give God your pain.
Give God your way.
Give God the nails
That nail you to your will.
Allow the nails in His Hands
To hold you fast with Him.
Our mouths may praise
His Father with Him
In this the Holy Hour of Abandonment.
We call His Name
As the crowds cry “Crucify.”
This is the hour for prayer.
Then shall come the fruit of Crucifixion,
Then will God’s Justice descend,
Then will the rain fall.
In each heart that looks,
Cries, mourns,
Goes to their homes disheartened,
And yet believes,
A flower will grow.
God will yet feed the multitude,
Not with the bread of Mammon,
But with His Holy Flesh
Willing supplied,
The same flesh
Savagely devoured
By the mob.
As the praise goes up,
Then will His Reign begin,
Then will God bless the Land,
Then will the Father
Kiss the multitude
Who dared lift the Son
High above the Earth.
©2012 Joann Nelander
I am witness.
I am martyr.
You are silence in action,
No moving parts,
Yet accomplishing Your intent,
While I keep watch.
You rest upon Your Altar.
I rest in You.
You are Son.
You are Witness.
You are Martyr.
You are Living Testament,
Covenanting with Man,
Promising me.
Draw me.
Give me Your vision of holiness.
Cause me to desire.
Infuse wisdom
As answer to my pleading desire.
O, Happy Cause.
O, Moving Spirit.
Be one with the essence of me,
That fallen nature might drink
Of Your Eternal Spring.
By Joann Nelander
Copyright 2011
All rights reserved.
FROM THE EUCHARISTICMEDITATIONS OF THE
CURÉ D’ARS:
“GO, THEN, TO COMMUNION.
My children, go to Jesus with love and confidence. Go, to live by Him in order to live for Him.
Do not say that you have too much to do. Has not the divine Saviour said:
“Come to Me all you who work and are heavily laden; come to Me and I will comfort you”?
Can you resist an invitation so full of tenderness and friendship? You work each day.
Communicate then each day. Do not say that you are not worthy. What nonsense! It is true you are
not worthy, but you are in need. If our Saviour had had our worthiness in view He would never
have instituted His beautiful Sacrament of love, because no one in the world, not even the Saints
nor the Angels, nor the Archangels, not even the Blessed Virgin, are worthy of it. Since He wishes
to abase Himself to our misery, let us work then to merit to receive Him every day. This is what the
Christians did in the early Church.”
I am no one,
But see the army
Of saints and angels
Who implore Thee.You say “Feed my lambs,
Feed my sheep,”
And I am tempted
To think, I have nothing,
But, Lord, are You
Not the Whole Loaf,
And are You not
Eternal and ours?I will give
From my Ever Present Lord.
In my poverty,
You are my abundance.What I can not see,
I know is on the way.
You are not far off.
You have come,
And You are coming soon.
Emmanuel.© 2011 Joann Nelander
I fail and I fall.
“Yes, Father, it’s me, again.”
My prayers and tears reach Your heart with plaintiff sighs.
I reach for Love, as a baby grasps the finger,
Securing You to my heart,
Binding You by trifles.
A thousand little moments, like a knitter’s weave,
Trivial triumphs conquering like souls,
For made in Your image, I desire only You.
Of wooing, my begging be a part.
I turn, my God, to You, as a prayer with every care.
Prayer and tears, now, all one,
I nestle to Your breast and am all ear.
I listen as beat upon beat,
Love’s rhythm reassures me of the next,
And, of Your eternal constancy.
I listen, as for a whisper, and fear not
Whisper every care, and fretful prayer.
I reach for You with every breath,
And sigh when You draw nigh.
You answer with a mother’s warmth,
Bending low, picking me up, and pressing me
To Your consoling bosom.
“What is it my child. Am I not here? Haven’t I given you all?”
You kiss away my tears
And delight in the exchange.
I have given nothing but complaint,
Yet, You are full of smiles.
A thousand little moments knit our day.
I cry and You comfort.
I beckon and You bend in kind regard.
You draw me into that chamber,
In which I was formed,
That hallowed space,
In which my time began.
Heaven and rest contained
In one all holy Name.
Name me, my God,
And I will come into being,
Called forth from my darkness
Into Your marvelous Day.
All our moments measured by Your mercy,
I cry out for a heart made unto Your own,
That I may grow to give Your Love.
Love begetting love, for love alone.
I fail and I fall.
“Yes, Father, it’s me, again.”
My prayers and tears reach Your heart with plaintiff sighs.
I reach for Love, as a baby grasps the finger,
Securing You to my heart,
Binding You by trifles.
A thousand little moments, like a knitter’s weave,
Trivial triumphs conquering like souls,
For made in Your image, I desire only You.
Of wooing, my begging be a part.
I turn, my God, to You, as a prayer with every care.
Prayer and tears, now, all one,
I nestle to Your breast and am all ear.
I listen as beat upon beat,
Love’s rhythm reassures me of the next,
And, of Your eternal constancy.
I listen, as for a whisper, and fear not
Whisper every care, and fretful prayer.
I reach for You with every breath,
And sigh when You draw nigh.
You answer with a mother’s warmth,
Bending low, picking me up, and pressing me
To Your consoling bosom.
“What is it my child. Am I not here? Haven’t I given you all?”
You kiss away my tears
And delight in the exchange.
I have given nothing but complaint,
Yet, You are full of smiles.
A thousand little moments knit our day.
I cry and You comfort.
I beckon and You bend in kind regard.
You draw me into that chamber,
In which I was formed,
That hallowed space,
In which my time began.
Heaven and rest contained
In one all holy Name.
Name me, my God,
And I will come into being,
Called forth from my darkness
Into Your marvelous Day.
All our moments measured by Your mercy,
I cry out for a heart made unto Your own,
That I may grow to give Your Love.
Love begetting love, for love alone.
HOLY THURSDAY, is a day very dear to those who love the Mass and the most blessed Sacrament, for it is the day that Jesus gave us these great Gifts.
In the Mass of the Lord’s Supper celebrated in our parish, we remember and make present that Last Supper which Jesus shared with his disciples. We are in the upper room with Jesus and the Apostles and do what they did. Through the ritual of washing the feet (Jn 13:1) of 12 parishioners, we unite in service to one another. Through our celebration of this first Mass (Mt 26:26), we unite ourselves to Jesus and receive his Body and Blood as if for the first time. At this Eucharist, we especially thank God for his gift of the sacred priesthood.
After the Last Supper (which was the first Mass) the apostles and Jesus made a short journey across the Kidron Valley to the Garden where he asks them to pray and he experiences his agony (cf Mt 26:30). We too will process in Church with Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament to the altar of repose. The liturgy ends in silence. It is an ancient custom to spend an hour before the reposed Blessed Sacrament tonight. We are with Jesus in the Garden and pray as he goes through his agony. Our parish church will remain open until midnight. It was near Midnight that Jesus was betrayed by Judas, was arrested and taken to the house of the High Priest (cf Mt. 26:47).
Msgr. Douglas A. Raun
Pastor
St. Thomas Aquinas Parish
Rio Rancho, NM
“Higher than the Mountains”, a book of poetry and prayer. It is a respite for your quieter moments. It is for those who “are anxious and worried about many things” and who now desire “the better part”, the something, or Someone, clothed in the ordinary, hidden in your heart. While drawing from my life experience as wife, mother, nurse, and artist, I also find inspiration all about me, though it is in the stillness that I listen best. Then my own voice fades away, but not until I speak my heart to God. In solitude, the world does seem to stand aside for the whisper or thunder or just the beating of my heart.
I fail and I fall.
“Yes, Father, it’s me, again.”
My prayers and tears reach Your heart with plaintiff sighs.
I reach for Love, as a baby grasps the finger,
Securing You to my heart,
Binding You by trifles.
A thousand little moments, like a knitter’s weave,
Trivial triumphs conquering like souls,
For made in Your image, I desire only You.
Of wooing, my begging be a part.
I turn, my God, to You, as a prayer with every care.
Prayer and tears, now, all one,
I nestle to Your breast and am all ear.
I listen as beat upon beat,
Love’s rhythm reassures me of the next,
And, of Your eternal constancy.
I listen, as for a whisper, and fear not
Whisper every care, and fretful prayer.
I reach for You with every breath,
And sigh when You draw nigh.
You answer with a mother’s warmth,
Bending low, picking me up, and pressing me
To Your consoling bosom.
“What is it my child. Am I not here? Haven’t I given you all?”
You kiss away my tears
And delight in the exchange.
I have given nothing but complaint,
Yet, You are full of smiles.
A thousand little moments knit our day.
I cry and You comfort.
I beckon and You bend in kind regard.
You draw me into that chamber,
In which I was formed,
That hallowed space,
In which my time began.
Heaven and rest contained
In one all holy Name.
Name me, my God,
And I will come into being,
Called forth from my darkness
Into Your marvelous Day.
All our moments measured by Your mercy,
I cry out for a heart made unto Your own,
That I may grow to give Your Love.
Love begetting love, for love alone.
Joann Nelander Studio 