When Nino gets angry, he blows his top,
He wants control, but without it he’ll pop,
His selfish attitude must come to a stop.
Patience will help him win in the clutch,
Broadening his boundaries to not need so much,
The Holy Spirit he must reach out to touch.
Nino the Donkey thought
he was much better than all,
His diamond-studded saddle
made him feel rather tall,
His pride did nothing but fill him
with the most bitter gall.
Nino should focus so much
more on his good deeds,
Instead of wearing the most
fashionable fancy tweeds,
He would be better off thinking
about other people’s needs.
Everyone runs here and there calling for Merri,
They all need her help for their work at the dairy,
With so many interruptions, she has no time to tarry.
But Merri’s sincere surrender is gentle and sweet,
She turns her life over to Jesus and doesn’t miss a beat,
Living in the present moment, she washes the Lord’s feet.
“I just don’t get
Why Catholics
Even bother with
Talking to the saints:
I always speak directly
To Jesus when I pray.”
“But, my dear friend,
Although He doesn’t
Need to go through others,
It delights Him to do so:
We saints know better than
Anyone that we are merely
Ambassadors of Christ --
Yes, Jesus is truly the
Great God of Generosity,
But, even more, He is
The Great Lord of Humility.
Not seventy times,
But seventy-seven,
And even though
I blew right by
That number
Many years ago,
You still show me
Your forgiveness,
Over and over, and
Over and over again --
But why? Why are you so
Magnificently merciful?
Because you, Lord God,
Are Divine Mercy itself,
And your holy rays of
Red and white burn
Through the darkness,
Deep into my soul,
Gently caressing it with
Tenderness and Love.
I’m nothing more than
a hole in the ground,
and nobody notices me,
and I’m okay with that.
But when I receive the
Body of Christ, an invisible
spring of living water leaps
up out of my peaceful soul.
These crystal clear waters
of pure love surge upwards,
with unbounded freedom and joy,
praising the King of Heaven.
Gentle St. Mother Teresa
Said that Jesus came to her
In the distressing disguise
Of the poorest of the poor,
And, of course, she was right;
However, is it possible that
Jesus also comes to us
in the distressing disguise
Of the inconvenient,
Of the unexpected,
Of the cross?
This equation is like a golden key,
That will certainly set our spirits free;
Prayer prepares the soul for God’s holy gifts,
While surrender cleanses and also sifts;
These open the door to true heartfelt love,
Which only comes from the good God above;
When love is tested in the deep dark night,
In the morn it shines as mercy so bright.
Inspired by the writings of Venerable Fulton J. Sheen
“Is life worth living?”
You wonder out loud;
For much of the time,
You’re lost in a crowd.
Life is worth living,
The bishop was right;
We find our mission,
And walk in the Light.
I am weary,
my eyes bleary;
I drag around,
without a sound;
I have no home,
so off I roam;
I beg for food,
my shoes are glued;
on the mend,
I seek a friend.
Worldly
anxiety
chokes
all joy,
and
strangles
all peace.
When liberty is
divorced from responsibility,
it dreadfully descends in a
dizzying death spiral of
selfishness.
But when liberty
is married to responsibility,
it courageously spirals upward
in a heroic flight of
freedom.
We must avoid the
stale cookies of selfishness,
for they crumble
into complaints;
but with the Eucharistic
bread of thanksgiving,
we can then live like
the holy saints.
Q-war-reling:
even the fearful word
forebodes a future filled
with deep darkness;
impatience heats to
simmering anger
then it boils over into
raging revenge
then it ignites into
bloody battles
then it explodes into
world wars.
A HOUSE BUILT ON ROCK
A humble home was built
On a foundation of faith,
In the Town of Trust,
In the Province of Prudence,
On the rugged rock of
Divine Mercy:
The wild waves awoke
Like ferocious beasts
And beat against the
Formidable fortress,
Wailing with watery fists,
But all to no avail --
Nothing could harm
This holy house of Love.
A HOUSE BUILT ON SAND
A castle of carousing was built
On a lazy beach in
The City of Cool,
In the Province of Popular,
On the slippery sand of
Foolish fragile fear:
Then, a voracious tidal wave,
Like a savage swarm of
Paranoid piranha,
Chewed apart the castle,
And a furious flood
Of thick red blood
Poured out in torrents,
Turning the green one red.
Inspired by Venerable Fulton J. Sheen
The divine
sense of humor
makes us laugh,
Without it,
life is just
lived to the half;
We are happy,
and we smile
with good cheer,
For the Lord’s
perfect love
casts out all fear.
Like an aggressive squadron of
Enemy fighter jets, a flurry of
Problems is rapidly approaching
My sector in attack formation;
In my anxiety I am tempted to take
Them on all at once, but, instead,
I veer off to the right and one breaks
Off from the pack and follows me;
I take my adversary into the Light
And he is utterly blinded by it, so
I launch the missiles of patience
And love until he is destroyed;
One by one, I do the same with
The other challenges until, finally,
The spiritual airspace is clear, then
I praise the King of the Universe.
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.
I returned to Jesus,
like Magdalene,
sobbing, my tears
trickling, I kissed
the wounds
on His hands,
on His feet,
on His side,
on His head,
the wounds that I,
yes, I myself,
inflicted upon Him,
and with gentle
compassion
He raised me up
on the third day,
embracing me
with His Holy
Spirit of Love.
We all deserve execution,
To be nailed on a cross of wood,
We all deserve exile in hell,
For only God is purely good;
He chose to take our place in death,
Bloodily stabbed into the tree,
He paid the price to rescue us,
For only He can set us free.