Thorns and Roses

As I marvel before the interior life In awe I take in how it towers, alive A work of the will with grace as its source To enter this climb will unveil your core. I struggle to say how this image arrived Something about roses has pestered my mind But here I stand, Thumbelina in

My Own Litany of Littleness

From the desire to never do anything wrong, deliver me Jesus From the desire to always know the right thing to say, deliver me Jesus From the desire to know how to handle every situation, deliver me Jesus From the desire to never insult or offend, deliver me Jesus From the desire to have another’s

“I Choose All”

When I was first introduced to this quote of St. Thérèse of Lisieux, I likened it to her ‘little way,’ that all things are a means to Christ. The little inconveniences, joys, pains and sorrows. If it’s something hard, it helps you lean on him. If it’s something easy, you can thank him. The full

My Remedy

You don’t see the mess You don’t care about my brokenness You just stand right here with me, Then get down on your knees. You aren’t afraid of the work Not shocked by all my quirks. You seek to serve though I’m beneath And thus exhume my dignity. You clean what must be cleaned Restore

Almighty Space

Empty my hands O God So I’m free to receive All the plans you have for me That I could not conceive. I’ll keep these hands unoccupied And for you remain chaste. Drop everything I think I need So I can be your vase. Safe from the lust of greedy hands That pull me down

Generic Tolerance. Is This Freedom?

When you have nothing to guide you, it’s so easy to shoulder shrug your way through life, being led by whoever has the most heated argument or the most energetic explanation. You become a victim to other people who care enough to care.

“Rest”

I don’t understand, I don’t comprehend This ‘rest’ that you speak of My brain upends. Foreign tongues don’t make sense In blind repetition, Immersion’s what’s best For inspired recognition “Rest makes me vomit. Rest means I’m weak. Rest means I’m useless, Defenseless, obscene. To be futile is death No product to show For the end

Everything is Grace

“Everything is a grace because everything is God’s gift. Whatever be the character of life or its unexpected events—to the heart that loves, all is well. “ St. Therese of Lisieux I’m a 12 stepper. For those of you who know what that means, you get me. For those of you who don’t, I work the

Triune Identity

One, two, three – One, two, three Life is a dance with Thee One, two, three – One, two, three Gently you’re leading me. Dancing you romance me, Oh, how I long for Thee! Just keep your eyes on me Watching me, watching me. One, two, three – One, two, three Easily prodding me “Dance

“I Don’t Want This Owie!”

These words poured from my daughter as she struggled to fall asleep one night after scraping her elbow. It hit me soon after, how often I say something similar to the Lord! “Lord, I don’t want this struggle, I don’t want this sickness, this difficulty. Why can’t people just do things my way!?”  I’m afraid