Fearless Love

Love, O Love without fear—
Where do You stand, O Love—
Where do I stand with You?
With love, shield my heart from fear.

Love, defining life and search,
Defining journey in every step,
In every step of life and heart,
Every beat of the Rhythm of Life.

Fearlessness—finding faith in darkness,
Hope without the Other in sight,
Love when all remains so empty,
Fearlessness in every step lit by lamp.

Love in perfection, Love in Truth,
Wait on my broken heart for my love,
Wait on my very compassion—that it may be my own,
Wait that I may truly love You,
Love in fearlessness, Fearless Love,
Perfect Love—You.

Two Types of Women

As a man, there are two clear types of women who live, and only one truly lives. One incites only the eyes of the passing man, causing the man to fall into a hollow pull of desire, a pit of desire as it were. She cultivates a garden of desire. Her need is of the flesh and her song is one of human concern. Her own heart may be veiled but all her gifts fail to be fully veiled from the man's view. She falls short of the call to love perfectly.

The other woman cultivates a garden not of desire—but of Hope. She cultivates a garden not to be trampled by the passing man but to be admired at a distance. She, in fact, knows the Gardener and accepts His direction, to prune here and cut back there. It's not that her garden is not beautiful...Her beauty is in the Hope of the fruits to come, not the flowers of the present. Her need is not to be fancied but to be fruitful, and her song is one of compassion for it's through a selfless Passion that she calls others too to a selfless gift to those in need.

Even so, her garden is one that is walled, not out of fear or disunity but for protection. And it is in this walled garden that she calls the man to devotion. For it is in Hope that devotion rightly rests. No further can the man walk and not stop to admire from a distance the beauty to be found in the Hope she radiates. It is the fragrance of Faith that she calls to mind the simple fact that her love is not hers alone—but of the One who sent her. She is a woman of faith. She loves because Christ first loved her. She is a woman of love in its fullest.

And so for a man there is one type of woman that incites lustful desire and another type of woman that calls the man to devotion and greater passion in Christ. I thank God every day for the latter of these two.

Little Things

What gracious things:
The small joys,
The unexpectant loves,
The Little Things.

What graces, blessings
What kindness
What friendships
Are found in the Little Things.

What peace is found
When we find time to let go,
To find the precious time
To rejoice in the Little Things.

Thank God
For the Little Things.

Returning to Timeless Messages

I have returned to a friend's message and other points of grace and could not help but share them, as I feel they ought to be shared. This isn't a turn of exhibitionism, but rather a magnification of the smaller workings that aren't my own.

To quote the friend:

"There is such a strange, paradoxical freedom in embracing the Cross... in stretching out your arms to be nailed, you are opening yourself, literally, in a gesture of true freedom, as if to soar as an eagle, but even yet more free, because you offer even your free will, which an eagle does not have; you accept and freely choose the Cross, though you may not like it, and in that is true freedom. A freedom that will set the Soul to true flight the morning of the Resurrection. God's timing, dear brother is perfect. We must trust and concede to it."

The problem is, quite frankly, I am stuck within His Passion. I am stuck at His Cross. More so, I am afraid I will run from that very Cross which sets me free... from the very act of Sacrifice which frees each of us with true freedom. I am John, John at the Cross. And yes, He has given me His Mother... but even that seems distant. I am lost to the terror before my eyes. I am lost even though He has given His Mother. I count everything else as a loss.

She is my compass. That through her, my thoughts and prayers are made fragrant. It is through her that I am able to soar freely in the freedom of the Cross. She, the Mother of our Lord is our Mother, too! Her "yes" can join to ours! And yet my "yes" has been drowned out...choked by these worldly concerns, my own preoccupations, my own pride, my own doubts.

I am a most unprofitable servant, still a wayward son.

My compass is stuck.

And, yet, in all of this I can see the glimmers of hope, even when I cannot share these glimmers with others around me, to others dear to me. I do see His plan within me. If only my perseverance in Him will win out.

These glimmers, how do I wish to share them! It is what compels me to carry on, to begin each day anew. Some days, they are obscured... others they burn brightly. It is the little things.

I want to share the little things, day by day. But the world seems too much, too much to overcome. But I must remember His is a battle that He has already won. All I can see is the rejection that He faced. Surely, I will be rejected, too. I must become accepting of this. For this reason, I know I am not ready, not ready for anything. I sense myself to be foolish.

Still, I see His plans in my heart. I question daily to know these aren't merely my desires... and in this, comes the hesitation. And in this I realize I must become a good son before I can even hope to become a good father. For this reason, I know I am not ready, not ready for anything.

And yet, He reaffirms these things to me in prayer: "to teach the one true Faith. How is to be done? With Charity... with Charity to all, to the little ones. It must all first be cemented in Hope... for without Hope no endeavour, blessed or ordained, ever gets off the ground. We must endure in Hope. This is what it means when we are to live a life, a vocation of Love."

These words came to me before Our Lord... and to Him they will return. I don't wish them to be hollow, but even in the Resurrection it seems I have lost the Way. How then can I teach the one true Faith? Just as much as I cannot earnestly write of love, if I don't first experience it. And it all seems dead to me. It feels as though I am charlatan. And, yet still: "praestet fides supplementum sensuum defectui."

Those words of encouragement remind me of my pastor's words that week of the message:

"Think of every pain and heartache, every difficulty and disappointment. Nothing, not even the sum total, can erase the ultimate victory that is ours in Jesus Christ. That is why we as Christians can never stop working at making our world a better place. As Catholics we can never love too much or do too much good. As followers of Jesus, the Risen One, we can always see good even in the midst of tragedy. We can see light even in the darkest corner. We can see hope and love everywhere because Christ has vanquished the darkness and the light fills us with radiance and joy."

In the end, we need the perseverance, the discipline, the hope of tomorrow to steal away to Him, our font of all blessings. All of this with a smiling face.

So Many Things...

So many things to contemplate, to resuscitate.
                    But all I want is to be thankful for you.

So many things to remember, to return nearer.
                    But all I want is to be thankful for you.

So many things do I think are needed, important.
                    But all that is important is in you.


What am I do with this, all the things given to me? What else but to share... and let settle where they may, with whom He deigns to be... and leave all of it, all of it up to Him—not me. How do I wish to see further, to see further the work... to see the completion of every toil and sacrifice, every "yes" as it was meant to be.

So many things to contemplate; so many things to let be.
Yes, I accept! I accept the grace given to me!