Catholic Meditations

Sancta Maria,
ora pro nobis.
Holy Mary,
pray for us,
your children here upon the earth,
sinful, sorrowful,
so often lost and lone.
Come to us when our hearts are heavy,
when we most need our mother,
and lead us to the fruit of your womb,
Jesus.
Holy Mary, Mother of God,
pray for us now and at the hour of our death, Amen.

Sancta Dei Genetrix,
ora pro nobis.
Holy Mother of God,
who was graced to know Jesus
like no other human,
whose kind and gentle advice is
Do whatever he tells you,
pray for us
now and at the hour of our death, Amen.

Mater dolorosa,
ora pro nobis.
Mother of sorrows,
You understand grief in that special way
that comes from offering up
the best and the brightest
gift of your heart,
without anger,
without curses.
Seeing your son in his sorrow and pain,
you suffered
like a woman in labor,
martyred alive
to become our mother.
Pray for us
now and at the hour of our death, Amen.

Refugium peccatorum,
ora pro nobis.
Refuge of sinners,
Thank you, o sweet Mary,
You who come looking for us,
lost in the night,
like a worried mother
seeking her lost child
In this time where the twlight grows so dim,
and so much is so confusing,
we need our mother,
take us by the hand,
and bring us to the foot of the Cross,
to Jesus your son,
where we may find the true light.
Sancta Maria,
Mater Dei,
ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc,
et in hora mortis nostrae.
Amen.

Susan E. Stone, 2004

Labels: Mary

O Lord,
You whose sacred heart is big enough
to contain the whole world,
Be this day
with those who are shattered,
shattered by the sound of explosions
taking away their peace,
their security,
their loved ones,
whose nights are shattered
by the memories
of fire
and noise and chaos
haunting them.

You who are our mercy,
look upon us, Lord,
and salve all the hurts
that need healing,
those whose lives are shattered by unrepentant sin,
those whose lives are shattered
by the sins of others,
those whose lives are shattered
by events beyond their control.

O Lord,
You know the truth of
all the griefs that need mourning,
all the anger that needs calming,
all the violence that needs your peace.

Lord,
As your touch in life
healed the blind,
may your touch open our eyes
to the message you give us,
to the truth of your love.

Have mercy on us,
and may each of us
be vehicles of your mercy,
this day and always,
Amen.

Sue Stone
sue_stone@stonesneatstuff.com

Eye of the Storm

Here I am Lord,
caught in a world
that dizzies me
with its darkness,
love of pain,
love of evil,
repudiation
of so much I once took for granted.

You are the eye of the storm,
the calm place I can come to,
a waterfall of grace
where I can come and wash myself clean
of the soil the world throws at me.

Here, I kneel at your cross
and know why
I face the challenge.
No dross,
no violence,
no twists in the morality
can convince me
that being here
and looking up into your eyes of love
is not worth the price.

O Emmanuel,
God with us,
who walked the dusty roads,
and understands
rejection,
fatigue,
hardship,
the cost of sin,
O Jesus,
O Bread of Life
who feeds me with your own precious self,
Be thou my strength.

Let me be your tool,
your lantern in this dark land,
filled with your light
so that all who see me
learn something
of a loving God,
and that there is more to life
than the darkness.

Amen.

Sue Stone
sue_stone@stonesneatstuff.com

Into your hands,
O Lord,
O Jesus,
O Emmanuel,
O Divine Mercy,
Into your hands,
scarred by your sacrifice of love,
I commend this day
the souls of those
overwhelmed with hate,
who will justify hurting for causes
that seem worthy,
in the name of freedom,
in the name of God,
in the name of truth.
Dear Lord,
let your light shine into their hearts,
scarred, hurt, twisted,
and in the miraculous touch
of your healing power,
may they learn your peace.

Into you hands this day,
O Lord,
Giver of Life,
Healer,
I commend the souls of those
who took the life of their unborn,
either in fear,
or thinking to do a kindness,
or panic,
or just inconvenience.
O Lord,
heal their hearts
of the evil that has touched it.
Gather home
all such victims,
innocent and unborn,
and may we,
who know the evil that is done,
be willing witnesses
for the sanctity of life.
Dear Lord,
let your light shine into their hearts,
scarred, hurt, twisted,
and in the miraculous touch
of your healing power,
may they learn your peace.

Into your hands, O Lord,
I commend the souls
of those who victimize,
by word,
action,
indifference,
terror,
and their victims,
hurt,
frightened,
twisted,
sometimes lost.
Lord, you know
how evil begats evil
hurt begats hurt,
and you showed us how to break the chains
and find release.
Dear Lord,
let your light shine into their hearts,
scarred, hurt, twisted,
and in the miraculous touch
of your healing power,
may they learn your peace.

Susan E. Stone, 2004

Morning Prayer
This is the day the Lord has made -
Let us rejoice and be glad in it. Psalm 118:24

O Lord,
thank you for the gift of another morning.
teach us to see that
each dawn is a time to celebrate,
each evening to reflect,
each moment to cherish -
So often we forget how precious these moments are -
how brief is life,
how long is eternity -
and so much work to do in your name.

O Lord,
thank you for the gift of another morning -
another chance to be your hands on earth,
another chance to say the words I always meant to say,
smile the smile that lightens the load
of a frazzled friend,
a chance to actually help that poor one,
to give up something
to help another,
to let you know Lord how grateful I am
that you would care,
reach out and lead me home.

O Lord,
thank you for the gift of another morning -
help me Lord, to use it as you want me to.
In your hands, I commend my self this day,
and no matter if the day is sad,
or hard,
or unnerving,
or joyful,
or peaceful,
or exciting,
let me find you always,
holding my hand and leading me closer to you.

Amen.

Susan E. Stone, 2004

Witnesses
Eternal rest grant them, O Lord.

Each one of them
in their way,
a witness,
a martyr -
witness to the cruelty
people harbour deep in their hearts,
witness to the anger,
witness to what
they will excuse
in the name of God,
the merciful,
the ever loving.

Ironic,
how the executioners
prove their fealty
to the merciful God
by shedding blood
like Cain,
how the word
infidel
excuses all sin,
how righteousness
means answering the demons
howling in the night,
the djinn
masquerading as teachers of light.

Each one of these lives
irretriviably lost,
their place
empty,
the complex web
of friends and coworkers,
family and beloved,
casual acquaintences,
those who knew them when
collapses
under the weight
of the hand of evil
done in the name of righteousness.

Their words,
silenced forever,
to be remembered as victims
instead of friend,
companion,
lover,
beloved,
son,
father.

Such a tip of the iceberg, Lord,
the loss,
the hurt,
when persons are stripped of selfhood,
of life,
of potential,
in the name of God,
in the name of righteousness,
in the name of might.

Forgive us, Lord,
for all the spilled blood
spilled in hate
and anger,
greed,
lust,
desire for more,
desire for revenge.

Forgive us, Lord,
for turning our back
to the word you gave us,
for ignoring
the blood you spilled
to bring us healing,
for choosing
vengance over peace,
force over justice,
blood over righteousness,
ease over truth.

Into your hands, Lord,
we commend the spirits
of these poor men,
of all killed
in war,
and abuse,
and injustice,
and anger,
and selfishness.


O Lord,
hear our prayer,
and let our cry
come unto thee.

May the souls of the faithful departed
through the mercy of God
rest in peace.

Amen.

Susan E. Stone, 2004

I
I believe in God the Father almighty,
creator of heaven and earth,
in that place
before time began,
before space,
where like a mighty breath
you said,
"Let there be light,"
and time and space began,
and from the void, there was light,
and you saw it,
and it was good.

II
I believe in Jesus Christ, his only son,
Our Lord,
conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit
in the most profound Yes spoke by human lips,
who was born of the Virgin Mary
one dark night
when the celestial lights
lit up the sky in celebration
of an angelic chorus.
He suffered under Pontius Pilate,
For love he chose to suffer,
while the chorus of an angry mob sang of death,
in atonement,
a celebration of God’s care -
was crucified, died and was buried.
He descended to the dead..
O how the darkness howled
in that seeming triumph,
as Mary held her son
cold and battered and bloody,
as the shroud was readied,
as the stone was rolled in place.
And yet what a transformation,
there he preached to the prisoners,
led the captives free,
as the darkness howled in frustration,
unable to keep him.
On the third day he arose again.
The first fruits,
God incarnate,
Emmanuel,
ready to call us all home,
our interceder,
our healer,
our rescuer,
beloved,
sitting at the right hand of the Father.
where he will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead.

III
I believe in the Holy Spirit,
the Lord, the giver of life,
the breath of the Father upon the waters,
the comforter,
the fire from above,
the love
that groans out in prayer
when we know not what to say,
the kindler,
our gift from the Father.

IV
I believe in the holy catholic church,
Christ’s body here on earth,
our hands for his work,
our hearts for his light,
our voice for his word,
the communion of saints,
we, sharing,
loving,
aiding,
together, God’s children,
leaven for a hard world,
salt to preserve,
light to enrich,
the forgiveness of sin,
that healing touch
that washes us clean,
breaks the chains of darkness,
frees us by his love
to be his children,
the resurrection of the body,
in glorious form
for life everlasting! Amen.

Susan E. Stone, 2004

Labels: Discipleship

See the Child

See the child,
victim of a war
not really understood
by mother or child,
only that some one decided
they should die
or leave.
And here she is,
refugee,
with no money,
no home,
trying to salvage
a numb and broken heart.

See the child,
propped up in an emergency room,
groggy and gagging as they pump his stomach,
brokenhearted,
lost,
unsure of why he is here,
or why he should care,
or why tomorrow should matter,
or if it will even be there.

See the child
long ago deserted by a mother
with too many mouths to feed
and too little money,
owner of little else
than a dazzling smile
and hopes for the future
carted off by the police,
just another faceless face,
an embarassment on the street,
being carried off to be disapeared.

See the child,
shattered before birth,
now medical waste,
unwanted.

Into your hands Lord,
we commit them,
all the children,
battered,
abused,
neglected,
left for poverty,
left to die,
bereft of hope
bereft of tomorrow.

Open our eyes, Lord,
that these are your children,
help us not to let them pass by,
unseen,
unsung,
forgotten.

Wake our hearts
to the misery of those
who need our hands,
who need our care,
who need our courage.

Let us see with your eyes,
love with your heart,
and be the tools of your hand,
this day and always,
Amen.

Susan E. Stone, 2004

Blood: A Meditation

The sword falls,
exposing a thin red line
separating life and death,
today and forever,
goodness in a neighbor's eyes and the face of evil in human form.
See it cut,
opening a red stream
pouring out over the earth,
a river of grief,
and loss,
and sorrow and confusion,
exhilaration,
adulation,
oppression,
the mark of Cain
ever with the human race,
as men see themselves
as more worthy,
more deserving,
more needy,
more right,
wallowing in the river
no matter the price
as demons howl.

The whip rips the flesh,
the thorn pierces,
the hammer rends,
this blood trickles down
like all the other blood,
yet where it touches,
light grows
to combat the dark,
light to heal the anger in the neighbor's eyes,
to heal the hurt of the lost and bereaved,
to stand with the homeless,
the oppressed,
the needy.


All those touched by this light
offer up your hands,
hands for the light to use.
Pass it on,
this light given to us in blood,
in love,
in redemption.
Pass it on,
hand to hand,
word by word,
to heal the mark of Cain,
the death march of time,
and quell that demon howling,
the song of grief
that has been mankind's birthright
since the fall.


Susan E. Stone, 2004

Reality Check

O Lord,
how often you open my eyes
and let the scales fall off
to see how imperfect
my self-image is,
how far from the person
I wish I was,
how many miles I must go
before I become
that truly kind and good soul
I wish I was.

Here,
where I see each one of those flaws
in a harsh light,
the temper,
the willingness
to strike back when hurt,
the ability to create crisis
when patience would do instead,
and all those other flaws
I am prone to,
here, in the dust,
where I have to acknowledge
these realities,
this place of tears
and remorse,
and grief,
You reach out your hand,
to lift me back up,
loving me still
for all my imperfections.

Thank you Lord,
for your healing touch.
Forgive me for making you work so hard.

Amen.

Susan E. Stone, 2004