Saturday, December 10, 2005

O Come! 

O come!
O Jesus
O Light
O Hope of mankind,
God with us,
Who came as the poor child
of poor parents,
King of the universe
embracing his people,
You who come so often
in the guise of the irritating,
the unpleasant
the lowly
the needy
the ugly
the hurt
Come to me today,
as surely as you came that nativity night
and fill my heart
with the light of your love
that I may see with your eyes,
love with your heart,
touch with your touch,
when you come again in glory,
King of the universe,
Righter of wrongs,
Merciful judge,
Lord or Lords,
you might look into my heart
and say
"Yes, I know you.
Come to the wedding feast.".

Susan E. Stone, 2005

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Wednesday, December 07, 2005

To the Immaculate Heart

O Heart who knows well
how to love,
as generous as human heart
can be,
channel of God's grace
for this sad world,
ark of the covenant,
who carried within you
the one who created you,
You who offered your love,
Your generous heart
no matter the cost,
the sorrow,
the grief,
or how many swords would pass through
simply because the Lord asked it,
simply because you loved greatly,
Simply because that was you.

Mother of my Lord,
Heaven's brightest rose,
Full of Grace,
Pray for us now, and at the hour of our deaths,

Susan E. Stone, 2005


In Your Rest 

Jesus said to the crowds:
“Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me,
for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.”
Matthew 11: 28-30

In your arms O Lord
let me cast all my weariness,
In your eyes I see love,
in your touch,
in your voice,
and in your presence,

O Lord,
how could I know
that there was just a Jesus shaped hole
in my heart,
that only you can fill,
although so many times
I have tried to fill it
with friends
and work
and money
and things
and hobbies
and pleasure
and yet,
only you can take that emptiness
and turn it into joy.

In your rest,
I find my hope.
In your peace
I find my tomorrow
and in your joy
I know
that you are the one good thing
I need,
and when all other pleasures fail,
and friends turn away,
and things wear out,
you will still be there,
the same today as yesterday,
waiting to take me to tomorrow.

Deo gratias.


Susan E. Stone, 2005

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Tuesday, December 06, 2005


Jesus said to his disciples:
“What is your opinion? If a man has a hundred sheep and one of them goes astray, will he not leave the ninety-nine in the hills and go in search of the stray? And if he finds it, amen, I say to you, he rejoices more over it than over the ninety-nine that did not stray. In just the same way, it is not the will of your heavenly Father that one of these little ones be lost.” Matthew 18:12-14

There are moments that I am amazed
at the strong hands unsought
that lift me up out of the morass
I find myself,
out of the dark crevass
where I am wedged,
lost and confused.
Can I speak
of the gratitude within my heart
for the touch of my shepherd
when the valley seems so dark,
the shadow of death
seems so near,
and dawn seems forever away?
Yours are the waters
that purify me,
that sooth my soul,
Yours is the bread of life,
the green pastures
that restore me,
that transform me,
that shape me
after your will.
Yours is the staff that defends me,
and in your shadow,
under your watchful eye,
I am safe,
even as the enemy would devour me.
Yours the goodness and mercy
that rescues me,
that calls me,
that saves me.
Let me dwell in your house,
walk in your ways,
rest myself safe in your loving arms,
This day, and always.

Susan E. Stone, 2005

Monday, December 05, 2005

Walking With Job, verson 2

O Lord,
there are times,
after the storm,
the bomb,
the earthquake,
the sickness,
the accident,
the crime
people shake their fists
and say,
"If you loved us,
how could you do this to us,
put us in a world
where terror happens,
put us in a world
where disaster
rips out our hearts,
put us in a world
where sickness steals our love,
the evil that men do
empties our lives?"

How we long to blame
when hurt,
how we long to kill
the very thing
which stole our joy,
our lives,
our security,
and yet,
how does one take revenge
on the shaking earth,
or sue the storm,
or arrest the plague?

Help us, God,
you, who have also been through
the grieving process,
as the Son, betrayed,
the Son who saw friends and loved ones die,
who knew all those things
life brings that makes us want to rage,
strike out,
hit back.
O God, you the Father,
who saw what this world did to your son,
who saw the rejection,
who saw the murder,
and yet,
for love refused to strike.
O God, you the Spirit,
you who moved upon the face of the deep,
you who quickened and brought life,
who filled the hearts of those who would listen,
how often did you see
the message rejected,
the concept misunderstood,
the word twisted into personal agendas,
and yet you keep breathing your word
of hope and love
even in the midst of sorrow
and anguish,
and despair.

O Lord, you know our pain!
How often have your arms wrapped around us,
when we, like Job,
beat our anger against your chest,
in our frustration,
our grief,
our fear,
our loss,
until at last,
anger spent,
those of us who will listen
to your soft voice
come to see
that we do not have the answers,
except that the world turns,
and the sun rises,
and we are much smaller than the universe,
and we are not God.

O Lord,
in our smallness,
and anger,
and grief,
remind us that
You have given us the gift to grow,
and to choose,
and to accept or reject.
Help us choose the light,
even when it hurts, and blinds our eyes.
Help us choose to grow,
even when the growth comes after great pain.
Help us choose to love

Susan E. Stone, 2005


The Wood of my Cross

But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the exceeding greatness of the power may be of God, and not from ourselves; we are pressed on every side, yet not straitened; perplexed, yet not unto despair; pursued, yet not forsaken; smitten down, yet not destroyed; always bearing about in the body the dying of Jesus, that the life also of Jesus may be manifested in our body. II Corinthians 4: 7-10

that I may know him, and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of his sufferings, becoming conformed unto his death;. Phillipians 3:10

Whosoever doth not bear his own cross, and come after me, cannot be my disciple. Luke 14:27

Today, Lord,
I feel the rough wood of the cross you have asked me to bear,
the pain you have given me,
a gift,
a gift to teach me,
a gift of joining,
a gift of love.

On days like this, Lord,
I find the path winding back to the garden,
shadow-wreathed in the moonlight,
that spring evening among the olive trees,
where you prayed in such agony of heart.
Let me kneel beside you,
and watch,
and too offer my prayer up to the Father,
not my will but yours.

Or, as the pain crescendos,
I find myself watching,
as the scourge crashes down upon your back,
stripes borne for my sake,
and know how much you understand my little pain,
and as part of your body, Lord,
my pain connected to yours,
a sharing,
a bearing
that connects me to the reality of what you gave,
and what will be.

And now,
here I sit at the foot of your cross,
bearing the cross you have given me,
contemplating the life of you
who has called me to entwine myself to him,
grafted on by your loving hand,
contemplating the pain of sin,
and realize, once again,
how in suffering I am drawn closer
to that reality of what you were willing to bear
for my sake,
and I embrace this cross,
your gift,
and in your suffering,
my suffering is redeemed
from meaninglessness
into your glory.

Deo Gratias.


Susan E. Stone, 2005


Sunday, December 04, 2005

Meditation on the Nativity 

O Lord,
how often we think we are rich,
living in plenty,
but our hearts, instead,
are living in the barrens,
a desert haunted
by dry winds ripping at our souls,
waiting for the rain from Heaven
that makes the desert bloom,
that brings the peace we long for,
looking for it in so many wrong places,
forgetting the source,
forgetting the call,
forgetting you.
So much like how the world
once turned its back
on a stable,
and a child,
and the song of angels,
leaving no room at the inn
like we too often
leave no room in our lives,
though how our hearts long to be filled,
were made to hear that song,
to know that child.

Touch our ears, O Lord,
that we might hear that song,
Touch our hearts, O Lord,
that we might realize the emptiness,
Touch our eyes, O Lord,
that we might realize the true poverty
which is life without you,
This day, and always,

Susan E. Stone, 2005

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