The angels seek the lazy,
inviting them into the Light,
But the lazy are sound asleep,
and their sad souls are dark as night;
The good angels show compassion,
and they stretch out their loving arms,
Yet since the lazy ignore them,
they sound the angelic alarms.
I’m like a ridiculous painted clown,
Juggling to-do’s, up and down and
Back and forth, my life is a frantic
Intertwining of past, present, future,
In a tangled jungle of multitasking,
Weighed down by the heavy stress
Of guilt over my imperfect past and
Of worry over unknown tomorrows;
But life is so much easier when I
Zero in and focus on the great I AM,
Living perpetually in the present,
Juggling one little ball at a time:
Blessed are the single-hearted,
For they shall surely see God.
The Spirit of Love
Awakens in my heart
Like peppermint fire,
Burning away impurities,
Enlightening my mind,
Sweetening my soul.
A Tribute to Venerable Fulton J. Sheen
In stature the bishop was rather short,
But spoke with power like a judge in court;
Sometimes his sharp eyes were piercing swords,
Other times his smile was warm, like the Lord’s;
His divine sense of humor won us all,
Yes, “Uncle Fultie” always had a ball;
His Shakespearean drama shook the soul,
Yet leading us to Heaven was his goal.
The wild tempest is unleashed
and approaches us all at night,
Like a fierce, hungry cannibal,
it swallows the moon in a bite;
Awake, awake my dearest souls:
the near occasion of sin beware!
Away, away, while there’s still time,
before you are caught in a snare!
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.
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.
It was a memorable day for me,
The greatest of my young life;
I still remember the class photo,
Me and another boy were the only
Ones dressed in suits of white,
And I loved wearing white
For the first time in my life.
Then inside the old church,
I recall wondering to myself
What Jesus would taste like;
When the time came to go forward,
I stood in line, and when our turn came,
We kneeled at the communion rail,
Waiting for the good God to come.
There He was, my Lord and my God,
And He was dressed in white too;
I meekly opened my small mouth
To welcome the King of Kings,
And then Baby Jesus was gently
Placed by His Holy Mother
On the manger of my tongue.
You are The Vine,
and I am a little branch.
When I am proud,
I stubbornly cut myself
off from the Vine,
and I remain in self-love,
and without your grace
my branch dries out
and my fruit shrivels up,
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.
When we’re thanksliving,
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.
The Holy Spirit,
The Light of the Universe,
Travels at the speed of eternity,
And when He passes through
The Sacred Heart of Jesus,
The Dove of Divine Mercy is
Transfigured into dazzling rays
Of red and white that pierce
My soul and energize it with
The Holy Lightning of Love.
Our fruit is very sweet,
And He is very happy,
When we remain attached
To the one true Vine.
Joy warms us with light,
Peace conquers fear,
Patience stops time,
Kindness multiplies smiles.
Generosity feeds the world,
Faithfulness makes us a Church,
Gentleness purifies the heart,
Self-control shuts out darkness.
But Love, yes Love, wondrously
Binds them all together into
Majestic harmony as our souls
Drink of the Lord’s Divine Mercy.
Inspired by Pompeo Batoni’s masterpiece
The lecherous elders saw her,
with eyes wanton and wicked
they saw the lovely Susannah
as she innocently bathed in the
warm water of the silent garden,
but when she rejected the lurid
scheme of these unjust judges,
their vicious vile hearts burned
with lust and anger, and so
they perniciously plotted to
melt down her golden reputation
in the fiery furnace of calumny;
but still, she trusted,
Susannah trusted in God --
then, the Spirit of the Lord rushed
upon a youth named Daniel
who, though very humble,
spoke with the authoritative
passion of the prophets of old,
and his wondrous wisdom
amazed the people who listened --
and, lo, in the twinkle of an eye,
Justice struck down the elders
like a holy hammer from Heaven.
Inspired by Caravaggio’s masterpiece
David, youthful and ruddy,
God’s brave little warrior,
Bends over to see the stupefied
Expression on Goliath’s face;
The beheaded giant attempts to
Utter one last word to the victor,
But the smooth stone piercing
His bloody brain prevents him;
The future king is as calm and
Collected as a sage prophet,
Truly he is God’s holy champion,
The faithful and fearless one.
You watch with piercing pistol eyes as
Stephen is brought before the Sanhedrin,
The leaders flog him with false witness,
And revengefully rush at him;
They drag him outside the city,
And lay their cloaks at your Pharisaical feet,
Then, with hellish hate, they hurl
Spear-like stones that crush his body;
Horribly hideous thoughts float through
The black ocean of your mind,
And you are obdurately obsessed with
Driving Christianity into total oblivion;
You track and hunt down the Christians
With dreadful determination,
You throw them into prison,
Seeking to snuff out the sparks of the New Way.
On the dusty road to Damascus,
You relish your recent conquest over the Christians,
You are smugly satisfied with your success
Against those religious rebels;
But then there is a blinding flash,
Infinitely brighter than a bolt of lightning,
Catapulted from your horse,
You clumsily crash to the ground and collapse;
Then you unmistakably hear that familiar
Gentle voice of Christ the Courageous,
He tenderly and mercifully asks,
“Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?”
Suddenly you are struck blind,
And you are entirely enveloped in darkness,
It appears as if God has blown out the sun,
As if it were a giant candle in the sky.
Pondering and perturbed, you are praying quietly,
In a home on Straight Street,
Lost in your thoughts, you rhythmically
Stroke your black mustache and beard;
Your heavy heart weeps in dismay,
As your brashness has led to your bitter blindness,
Now the hero who was persecuting the rebels
Is himself converting into a rebel;
Scattered at your feet are the shattered
Pieces of your old way of life,
A day ago those puzzle pieces all fit together,
Like the pillars in Solomon’s Portico;
But now a key piece of the puzzle is missing:
The messianic centerpiece,
You repentantly fast and pray,
As Ananias approaches with the missing piece.
Gazing at the Circus Maximus, you know
That your time in this world is very short,
As you reflect back upon your life,
You realize how much you’ve changed;
Through the limitless love of the Lord,
You have become a very humble man,
And through the Prince of Peace,
You are filled with the fruits of the Spirit;
After so many years, you long to
Give the kiss of peace to the saintly Stephen,
You hunger and thirst to embrace your
Magnificent Messiah, Jesus the Just;
The sun sets in Rome’s crimson sky,
Surrounded by clusters of woolly clouds,
This flock of lambs is ready to follow
The shepherd-sun down into Vatican Hill.
Born in the breathtaking majesty of the Alps,
you became the Bishop of Geneva most brave;
You fought bloodless battles against the Calvinists,
and your gentle eloquence many souls did save.
Others preached with a barrel full of vinegar,
and for their listeners this wasn’t at all funny;
But you had the sense to sweeten your sermons
with the most delightful and delicious honey.
In your classic book you show us, the laity,
how to make our ordinary lives a success;
Teaching us to find God in the present moment,
our worried minds are relieved of great stress.
The Dark One
Attacks me,
So I put on the
Armor of God,
And live the fruits
Of the Spirit:
Thanksliving,
And I am safe;
This quick shift
From offense
To defense,
Helps me to
Hold my ground
On Jesus the Rock.
Inspired by Jacopo Bassano’s masterpiece
Just a moment ago,
before I struck the rock,
the people used their mouths
to stone me with sarcasm,
to run me through with ridicule,
to crucify me with cruelty --
but if they would see You here,
the Holy One, the great I AM,
they would never do this to You;
yet now, with those same mouths,
they thirstily drink the water,
refreshing their parched throats,
strengthening their tired bodies --
but what they really need,
what they really and truly need,
to refresh and purify their souls,
is Your gracious gift of Living Water,
an endless ocean of Divine Mercy.
To be
Or not to be,
That is the question:
Whether ‘tis nobler
For Mommy to surrender
To the slings and arrows of
Sacrificial love,
Or by aborting,
End me.
To die from guilt while
contemplating abortion:
To sleep, to sleep
No more!
Perchance to have dreams --
Or eternal nightmares --
Of what I am about to do
To my innocent baby;
When I have shuffled off
The mortal coil of his
Umbilical cord and
Allowed him to be
Dis mem ber ed,
I dread something worse
Than death: Hell,
The undiscovered country;
Thus, conscience can make
Heroes of us all --
Soft you now,
It’s never too late,
So my fair baby shall live
In the compassionate arms
Of The Divine Mercy.
Inspired by Jacopo Robusti Tintoretto’s masterpiece
A lonely little baby in a basket
floats freely in the current of
the Nile River, his brown eyes
wandering to and fro, innocently
wondering where his mother is;
the Spirit delicately leads the
young one towards his new home,
and in a short time the babe feels
his journey come to a gentle halt;
when the basket opens, he looks up
and sees a pretty face, but unlike
any that he has seen before, painted,
but with a light, elegant touch;
then the Egyptian woman’s
eyes open wide in wonder,
and her beautiful lips curve
into a warm, sweet smile,
and for the first time in
her life, she is in love.