Suffering…

SUFFERING
I wonder what the world would be like
If there were not innocent people
Making reparation for us all…?
Today the passion of Christ is being relived
In the lives of those who suffer.
To accept that suffering is a gift of God.
Suffering is not a punishment.
God does not punish.
Suffering is a gift- Tho,
Like all gifts,
It depends on how we receive it.
And that is why we need a pure heart-
To see the hand of God,
To feel the hand of God,
To recognize the gift of God
In our suffering.
Suffering is not a punishment.
Jesus does not punish.
Suffering is a sign-
A sign That we have come so close To Jesus on the cross,
That He can kiss us,
Show that He is in love with us,
By giving us an opportunity to share
In His passion.
In our Home for the Dying
It is so beautiful to see
People who are joyful,
People who are lovable,
People who are at peace,
In spite of terrible suffering.
Suffering is not a punishment,
Not a fruit of sin,
It is a gift of God.
He allows us to share in His suffering
And to make up for the sins of the world.
~~ Mother Teresa

 

Light…

 Though every sun shall spend its fire

And galaxies shall dim to shade,

The Light by whom these lights were made

Shall never flicker, never fade.

In us arise, O Light of Lights.

Burn brightly in the caverned heart.

Consume the shade that fear supplies,

And peace and truth instead impart.*

*Hymn taken from the Evening Prayers for Wednesday, April 18th in Magnificat.

 

I Am Bread…

I Am Bread

I lie here in unknowing Upon a plate of glass. I stare unblinking at the face That hovers through the Mass. I am by nature silent. That is my state in life. I know no better than to stay. I have not ease nor strife. Yet even if I had a mind I’d lie upon that plate In wonderous expectation; Amazement at my fate. For have I not been chosen? I, just lowly bread, Been chosen by the grace of God When angel words be said To change from water, wheat and oil; To transubstantiate. To look at me you’d never guess The awesomeness I wait. And if I did indeed have thought What, but “Thy Will Be Done”; For who in wildest dreams could dare To hope to be God’s Son? No longer just a grain of wheat My old life quickly passes. I die to self completely So God can feed the masses.by Dorothy E. Wimsatt