THE TERROR OF DEMONS

Pride is a red dragon that tries

To kindle our sinful souls with

The flaming fires of falsehood,

Causing our egos to swell with

The helium of haughtiness;

But thanksgiving is a weapon,

A weapon of heavenly wonder,

Used by the Holy Family when

There was arrogance in the air;

So when we are praised for some

Fine worldly accomplishment,

Then we too should turn to the

Lord God, and, with a little smile,

We should frequently thank Him

For each of His gracious gifts,

And seeing our happy hearts filled

To the brim with gratitude, behold,

The devil dragon flees in terror.

FALLING

At the Last Supper,

Judas left you.

He betrayed you.

But don’t we

Betray you too? -- 

When we make excuses,

And skip the prayers,

And skip the masses,

And skip the Eucharist?

For then we are falling,

Down, down, down,

Headlong towards

The open-throated

Abyss of doom

Which vomits forth

The flames of folly.

Instead, let us

Return to Him, 

Our Father of Love,

To make a fresh

New start to our

Broken lives,

Let us fall

To our knees

And surrender to Him,

Let us fall

Into His loving arms

And embrace Him,

Let us fall,

Fall in love with Him,

Down in adoration falling.

KEEP FIGHTING THE GOOD FIGHT

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.

MY GUARDIANS

Temptation tries to throttle me,

So why should I face him alone?

My guardian angel patiently waits 

Until I confidently cry out to him,

Asking him to protect me

From all danger and all fear,

And joyfully joining him are the

Mighty and powerful archangels,

Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael,

They create a giant bubble,

Formed out of Our Lord’s

Fountain of Living Water,

And it shields me from the

Fiery darts of the evil one.

A JUGGLER'S LIFE

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 BUTTERFLY

The Holy Spirit

Is very much like

A sweet beautiful 

Monarch butterfly,

Delightfully dancing

With indescribable joy,

Bobbing up and down,

And then to and fro,

Gliding calmly upon the

Sweet swirling breeze of 

God the Father’s will and

Into the heart of Jesus.

BE STILL, AND KNOW THAT HE IS GOD

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.

TO ST. IGNATIUS OF LOYOLA

It took a cannonball

For God to get your attention,

To teach you what it is 

To be a true knight --

A knight of Christ;

And so He guided you

In founding the Jesuit order,

And as the Light shone through

The colorful prism of your mind,

You discovered God’s beauty,

God’s goodness, God’s truth;

May your Spiritual Exercises

Draw us more deeply into

The Sacred Heart of Jesus,

To be intellectually illumined,

To be socially sympathetic,

To be aesthetically alive,

To be spiritually strong.

CARRYING MY CROSS

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.

SACRED ART

Inspired by St. Francis of Assisi & St. John Paul II

Our Heavenly Father is the

Divine Artist, who paints

On the canvas of our souls; 

When we surrender to Him,

He very gently and delicately dips

The brush of the Spirit into 

The palette of the virtues,

And He colors our lives with Love;

But when we smudge our painting

With the charcoal pencils of our sins,

Then He paints over our faults with

The Blood of His Son’s Love,

For God is beauty,

And if we are patient,

He refines us and perfects us,

Making us a masterpiece.

THE VINE

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.

Christmas Day

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.

LECTIO DIVINA: TO JESUS THROUGH MARY

The whispering voice of

Our Lady of Love

Joyfully and peacefully

Fills my heart with Beauty;

Then, the strong clear voice of

The Father of Love

Patiently and kindly

Fills my heart with Goodness;

Next, the enthusiastic voice of

The Spirit of Love

Generously and faithfully 

Fills my heart with Truth;

Finally, the compassionate voice of

Jesus, The Lord of Love,

Gently and silently

Fills my spirit with Divine Mercy,

And so I spiral through the Scriptures,

Ascending higher and higher

Into the realm of Divine Wisdom.

THANKSGIVING

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.

FIRST HOLY COMMUNION

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.

THE DIVINE ARTIST

Inspired by Bishop Robert Barron

I thirst for Beauty,

Dazzled by her loveliness,

But when I find her,

I realize that I also hunger,

Hunger for Goodness,

So I try to establish a 

Meaningful relationship

With Beauty, looking for

Goodness in her,

Yet even these two things 

Do not give me fulfillment,

For I also need to find Truth;

But when all three blend

Together in holy harmony,

Then, only then, do I find

The Love, the Joy, and the Peace

That I have been searching for –

In the touch of the Divine Artist.

TO MY GUARDIAN ANGEL

Guardian Angel, please pray for me,

Because the devil tempts us to obsess,

We must evade the evil of worldly idols,

And not dream of what to possess;

Thirsting for things can thicken anxiety,

Which can seem to never cease,

We struggle and tuggle with all our might,

And banished is all our peace.

The diabolical dragon swoops down,

Determined all good to destroy,

With the flaming fire of enslaving greed,

He seeks to kill all devotion and joy;

But as our trustworthy guide from Heaven,

With love you sing a sweet prayer,

And your petitions rise like a happy dove

Higher and higher up into the air.

When the evil one tries to pour words of

Corrosive poison into our innocent ears,

Teach us to think of the Lord Jesus crucified,

So that banished are all our fears;

When we dance with delight with temptation,

Help us the crucifix recall,

For the cross crushes the devil’s teeth,

And into hellish Styx he will fall.

Meditating on the gore of Golgotha,

Our hearts like tearful candles melt,

Knife-like nails puncture his palms,

And blood trickles to where Our Lady knelt;

Then our foolish obsessions are obliterated,

By the power of His holy love,

And we are magnificently made new,

By His grace flowing from above.

Trying to lure us into obsession,

The devil deceptively dangles his bait,

But seeing you push us out of harm’s way

Only fuels his mad fury and hate;

We escape the avalanche of avarice,

That can crush the soul like snow,

You lead us on a path filled with Light,

So that our life in the Spirit will grow.

TO ST. MICHAEL THE ARCHANGEL

You are the great warrior angel,

Ready for the spiritual battle,

Always sober, vigilant, and alert,

You wait and watch for the enemy;

Then in the midst of black terror,

You slay the red dragon of fear,

And brandish the sword of the Spirit,

The glorious golden sword of Love;

Teach us to become brave soldiers,

Soldiers of Jesus Christ the Lord,

Nourished by the holy Bread of Life,

Refreshed by His sweet new wine.

TO POPE BENEDICT XVI

As you bashfully smile,

you extend both arms

and wiggle your fingers:

your welcoming wave

is a gentle greeting to

the pilgrims at St. Peter’s.

A prudent theologian,

you write the most

eloquent of encyclicals;

being a classical pianist,

you speak wisely about

true beauty and true art.

In your own quiet way

you shepherd the flock,

for you’re a very holy man;

you’re an obedient son,

a simple man of Love,

a humble genius.

LIFE IS WORTH LIVING

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.