The Holy Spirit
Is very much like
A sweet beautiful
Monarch butterfly
That is full of Love:
It glides in peace
Upon the swirling breeze
Of heavenly happiness,
And delightfully dances
With indescribable joy,
Bobbing up and down,
And to and fro,
Often unpredictably,
For the wind blows
Where it wills.
Vince Lombardi: “Never, ever, ever, ever give up!”
Just as
there is
no sin
that
God
cannot
forgive,
so also
there is
no person
that
God
cannot
make
a saint.
I have a tendency to
overreact to things,
to immediately assume
the worst, out of fear;
but Our Lady is teaching me
that I need to be patient --
since patience, as St. Augustine said,
is the companion of wisdom,
and so, when an accident happens,
I take fear, and I promptly surrender it
to Our Lady, so that she can place
it at the foot of the cross,
until with a calmer mind
I can bring it before the King
in my private audience with Him,
and allow Him to guide me;
in the meantime,
I am resolved to
have the divine sense of humor,
knowing in my heart
that the Divine Mercy
will never let me down:
patience leads to good humor,
and good humor leads to
divine mercy in the dark night.
The Spirit of Love
Awakens in my heart
Like holy fire,
Burning away impurities,
Enlightening my mind,
Sweetening my soul.
The Holy Spirit
Is very much like
A sweet beautiful
Monarch butterfly
That is full of Love:
It glides in peace
Upon the swirling breeze
Of heavenly happiness,
And delightfully dances
With indescribable joy,
Bobbing up and down,
And to and fro,
Often unpredictably,
For the wind blows
Where it wills.
The Holy Spirit
Is very much like
A sweet beautiful
Monarch butterfly
That is full of Love:
It glides calmly upon the
Swirling breeze of
Heavenly happiness,
And delightfully dances
With indescribable joy,
Bobbing up and down,
And to and fro,
Often unpredictably,
For the wind blows
Where it wills.
In silence,
I long to hear
God’s Word,
And feel
God’s presence;
So when worry wails,
When anxiety assails,
I remember that God
Smiles upon us,
Compassionately,
And holds the world
Like a precious pearl
In His holy hands.
Most sweet Lord Jesus,
pierce my inmost heart
with the most dear
and most bracing
wound of your love.
Pierce it with true, sincere,
apostolic, and most holy charity,
that my soul may ever yearn
and melt with love for you
and the desire to possess you.
May my soul be drawn toward you,
and overwhelmed with the hope
of entering your courts.
May it long to be dissolved
and to be with you.
Grant that my soul
may hunger for you,
the Bread of Angels
and the food of holy souls,
our supersubstantial Bread,
having in itself every sweetness
and good taste,
having the delightfulness
of all that charms my heart.
May my heart always long for you,
and find its nourishment in you,
on whom the angels long to gaze,
and may my inmost heart be filled
with the sweetness of your savor.
May my heart thirst for you,
the fountain of life, and of wisdom,
and of knowledge, and of eternal life,
the torrent of pleasure,
and the richness of the house of God.
May my heart always draw near to you,
seek you, catch sight of you,
be drawn to you, and arrive at your presence.
May my heart think of you, speak of you,
and do all that it does for the glory of your name,
with humility and care and affection and delight,
with eagerness and with deep feeling,
and with perseverance to the end.
Thus may you alone always be my hope,
all my confidence, my joy,
my rest and my tranquility, my peace,
all that charms me;
my fragrance, my sweetness,
my food, my nourishment,
my refuge, my help,
my wisdom, my portion,
my possession, my treasure.
In you may my mind and my heart
be fixed and secure and rooted forever
without any change.
Amen.
When there is a crash on the
Superhighway of sensations,
Time painfully slows down,
And we live in boredom,
Crawling lethargically along,
Bumper to bumper,
In the dreadful dullness
Of the traffic jam of life.
When we are behind schedule
In the crowded city of Chaos,
Time urgently speeds up,
And we live in anxiety,
Racing with our hair on fire,
Chasing and being chased,
In the nail-biting frenzy
Of the rat race of life.
But when there’s surrender,
And we give our lives to Him,
Time dissolves into eternity,
Love smiles upon us —
Then, nothing else matters,
We are attached to the Vine,
And our little branches are full
Of the sweet fruit of the Spirit!
As Jesus sits at table,
He lovingly shares with us
Clusters of nine grapes,
One for each fruit of the Spirit;
We eat them and they are
Sweeter than moscato,
And they lovingly burst forth in
Wonderfully delightful flavor;
But then we see others in need
At the far end of the table,
And so, in Love, we share
Our delicious fruit with them too,
So that Love is all in all,
And the more we share this
Most excellent fruit with others,
The more Jesus shares it with us.
Carrying my cross,
I take lumbering steps
up the steep mountain;
I grumble with every step,
like Job, wondering why
the Lord is asking me
to shuffle along, dragging
this heavy wood with me
wherever I go.
But then I come to
a dangerously deep
crevasse that threatens
to end my journey,
and even with a
giant Herculean leap,
I know that I would fall
down, down, down,
into the black throat
of the abyss below.
Suddenly, a white Dove
darts right past me,
causing me to jump back
from the edge of the cliff;
as I do so, the cross falls
forward so that its top
now rests on the other side,
forming a wooden bridge.
After I carefully crawl
to the other side,
I look back at the cross,
wondering if I should
kick it down over
the edge of the cliff,
but, instead, I choose
to slowly pick it up,
embrace it, and
faithfully follow
in the footsteps of Jesus.
Your beautiful
Mystical poetry
Warms my heart,
And your lovely
Musical compositions
Delight my spirit;
Your wonderful
Artistic creations
Are far sweeter than
The most delicious
Moscato wine,
And when I drink in
The glory of God,
My contemplative soul
Peacefully rejoices.
Inspired by Pope St. John Paul II
O Lady of Love,
Pray for me,
Pray for us,
For all of us,
Everywhere!
Amen.
You are The Vine,
and I am a little branch.
When I am proud,
I stubbornly cut myself
off from you, Lord,
and I remain in self-love,
without your grace
my branch dries up
and my fruit shrivels,
as my soul slowly dies.
But when I am humble,
I remain in your love,
and your delicious grace
surges through me and
thus my fruit sweetens,
as I am born again.
I am just a little branch,
but you are The Vine.
Inspired by St. Francis de Sales
A Joyful Mystery
As I arrive at the church,
angels with beautiful
trumpet-like voices
announce to us
the coming of the Lord --
here, now, today;
He will come to visit us,
and our sleepy souls
will be wonderfully reborn;
Our Lady will joyfully
present us to Him,
and we will discover Him
in the deepest depths
of our souls.
A Luminous Mystery
Afterwards, the holy Word
is lovingly proclaimed,
and our spirits are baptized
by Divine Mercy;
we drink deeply of the
new wine of the Spirit,
and our lives are
forever transfigured
by the Light of the Word
and, very soon, by the
Most Holy Eucharist as well.
A Sorrowful Mystery
But then, after we experience
the beauty of the Last Supper,
we are saddened by
Jesus’ sorrowful Passion,
and we recognize that it is we,
and not Our Blessed Lord,
who deserve to be executed and exiled;
as the priest slowly raises the Host,
we see Him, hanging cruelly on the cross,
crowned with crooked thorns,
and crushed under the weight
of our multitudinous sins,
the sins of everyone, everywhere,
in all of human history.
A Glorious Mystery
However, we ultimately experience
Divine Mercy in the dark night:
we very humbly kneel
and wait at the communion rail,
where the good God comes to us! --
and we taste the magnificent glory
of Heaven on earth,
and our spirit resurrects,
from the grave of our pride,
from the grave of our selfishness,
and we experience divine union
with the Divine Mercy;
after returning to our places,
we offer sincere our prayers to Him,
and they ascend to the highest Heaven
on the wings of happy angels,
and then the Holy Spirit descends
silently into our souls,
freely and generously giving us
His delicious and delightful fruit:
love and joy and peace,
and all the other fruits of the Spirit;
and so, we are born again,
and the Queen of Love
sweetly smiles upon us all.
Christmas Day
Baby Jesus is born,
And through Our Savior
We can be born again daily;
Day by day each of us awakens,
Day by day the evil one tempts us,
Day by day Divine Mercy is victorious,
As we surrender to the God of Mercy,
As we trust the God of Goodness,
As we embrace the God of Love;
Thus, we are born again daily
If we choose life with Him,
So every day can be like
Christmas Day.
When we’re thanks-living,
We choose for living,
We choose for giving,
Lovingly for-giving.
Thanksgiving,
What a wonderful
Gift from God,
It seems to me like
An inexhaustible
Spiritual ocean of the
Dazzling, magnificent
Divine Mercy.
When we’re living,
In thanksgiving to God,
We’re living for giving,
Lovingly for-giving.
Inspired by St. Francis de Sales
Dearest Jesus,
I place myself in your holy presence,
And I beseech you to inspire me
By the power of the Holy Spirit,
For the glory of God the Father.
O Lord, I recognize my unworthiness,
And I humbly ask pardon for my sins.
My heart is ready, O God,
My heart is ready --
Jesus, I trust in You!
Vive Jésus!
Amen.
Dedicated to my delightful daughter
The long, arduous journey
was finally over,
More challenging than going
from London to Dover;
Clarissa Candela opened
her deep, dark eyes,
She got out of bed not
expecting any surprise;
For the last 33 days it’s been
a time for new prayers,
Almost like climbing a beautiful
resort’s elegant stairs;
Going upward towards God
in an imperceptible way,
She didn’t notice any spiritual growth
when she knelt down to pray.
As the beacon of dawn
gradually conquered the night,
The sinful, fearful darkness
was very quickly put to flight;
The angels unfurled the banner
of God’s light across the sky,
As on the freeway Clarissa
calmly drove in the desert so dry;
Her pilgrimage was to the beauteous
monastery chapel of Our Lady of Solitude,
And since she could see the cupola,
her arrival was a certitude;
With holy sunbeams striking a
stained glass window from afar,
The chapel looked like a lighthouse
reflecting Bethlehem’s star.
Clarissa got out of her car, and a
sweet smile danced across her lips,
Her long, dark hair through the comforting
breeze ever so gently whips;
Looking at the chapel, she saw arches
and columns in a style European,
And the dappled desert stone, rustically
elegant, also made it look Galilean;
The cupola, topped with a simple cross,
was Our Lady’s jeweled crown,
And the t-shaped tau on the gable
declared good St. Francis’ renown;
Clarissa looked up, twirled around,
and saw an immense sky so blue,
She had never seen such beauty clothed
in such peace, ‘tis so very true.
Then she entered the chapel
experiencing a spiritual thirst,
Truly there were not many people
at mass on this January First;
Their few voices were humbly and
quietly raised almost inaudibly aloft,
And the Franciscan priest said mass
in a voice that was very, very soft;
The devout Poor Clare nuns were
all engaged in the deepest prayer,
And, honestly, the mass was so silent
that it was exceedingly rare;
When Clarissa’s 33 days of prayers
of consecration were finally done,
Might she be in danger of ending
as uneventfully as she had begun?
But St. Louis de Montfort’s
Consecration to Jesus through Mary,
Was recommended by her wise old
Irish pastor Monsignor O’Clary;
He had preached quite a fine homily
about this special devotion,
Saying, “It can really change your life,
if you have the notion”;
But now let me share with you
one rather noteworthy fact,
St. Louis’ closing prayer is
really a form of holy contract;
She knelt before Our Lord’s
beautiful crucifix near the altar,
And she dearly hoped that her
heart would not ever falter.
Midway through this closing prayer,
Clarissa’s heart was passionately,
Preciously pierced by the sweet sword
of the Spirit; her soul, suddenly
Brimming with God’s majestic mercy,
soared in a spiraling celestial
Crescendo of God’s love for her;
fearing that her heart, like a fiery
Supernova, might explode with emotion,
she silently slipped out
And sat quietly, alone, on the sofa
located in the pilgrims' parlor;
Here she serenely surrendered all
to the Spirit, like a noble
Knight of Christ, Through Our Lady,
The Queen of All Hearts.
Then like a giddy geyser she gushed
torrents of light-hearted laughter
And happy, heavenly tears; this golden
cascade of pure love poured
Over her soul like a warm, wonderful
waterfall of holy honey; deep down
Inside, the Spirit was strumming on
the harmonic harp of her heart, and
She was deliciously, delightfully deluged
by this overwhelming ocean of God’s love for her.
Afterwards, Clarissa softly strolled
back into the chapel to finish her
Closing prayer; approaching the altar,
with awe, she beheld the crucifix
Where Christ the Courageous heroically
hangs; from the back of the church
She felt his love as a light, blissful,
balmy breeze; but as she
Drew closer to that crucifix, she felt
His love magnificently magnified as it
Ignited into an intense, surging storm
of explosive, electric joy;
Kneeling before that same crucifix,
as a bold, brave warrior, she battled
Through her emotions until
word by word, slowly,
Meaningfully, she finished
her prayer of consecration.
Every year for the rest of her life
this holy devotion she would pray,
She would always return to Our Lady
of Solitude on the very same day;
Just as Our Lady had very few truly
remarkable days in her saintly life,
Clarissa had few days in which intense
joy pierced her soul like a knife;
Although she never again experienced
a cascading heavenly waterfall,
Every so often a raindrop of pure,
holy love her heart would enthrall;
In the twinkling of an eye the sword
of the Spirit would pierce her soul,
As if to remind her that perfect love
in Heaven must always be her goal.
I have a tendency to
overreact to things,
to immediately assume
the worst, out of fear;
but Our Lady is teaching me
that I need to be patient --
since patience, as St. Augustine said,
is the companion of wisdom,
and so, when an accident happens,
I take fear, and I promptly surrender it
to Our Lady, so that she can place
it at the foot of the cross,
until with a calmer mind
I can bring it before the King
in my private audience with Him,
and allow Him to guide me;
in the meantime,
I am resolved to
have the divine sense of humor,
knowing in my heart
that the Divine Mercy
will never let me down:
patience leads to good humor,
and good humor leads to
divine mercy in the dark night.