TO ST. JOSEPH

Your thick, wavy brown hair happily

  Blows in the breeze of God’s will;

Your warm brown eyes twinkle with

  Contentment, crinkling as you smile.

You protect the holy Babe from Herod’s

  Hellish hands, which are dripping with blood;

In obedience, you help the Holy Family

  Evade him and elusively escape to Egypt.

As a worker, you handle the wood of

  God’s creation with gentle strength;

With industrious ingenuity, you use

  God’s good gifts to serve others.

You shatter lustful temptation with your

  Carpenter’s mallet of holy purity;

Then, as God’s valiant soldier, you slay

  Selfishness with the sword of surrender.

In your loving example, you show little Jesus

  how to be a good son to His mother;

With your humble heart, you teach Love

  How to love, and the angels are amazed.

EASTER AT EMMAUS

Our heads hung low,

Saddened and perplexed

By the troubling events just

Three days prior in Jerusalem;

My companion and I were

Searching for the missing piece

Of the Messianic puzzle,

Not realizing that it was less

Than a stone’s throw away;

Then, when we turned around,

We found a man who was both

Wise and friendly, and He too

Was on the road to Emmaus;

As He spoke to us over the

Next several miles, the fire of

Heavenly hope began to rekindle

Within our souls once again,

So we invited Him to sup with us

When we arrived in Emmaus;

After the sun set over the hills,

The stars twinkled with delight as

The Son suddenly rose in our hearts,

For when He broke the bread,

He smiled His very gentle smile, 

And we felt as if we had been

Born again.

THE RESURRECTION

I turn around and before me you stand,

  one whose robe is dazzlingly white,

As you speak my name and say “Mary,”

  you forever shatter my deep dark night;

With great love, you bestow your peace upon me,

  through your wonderfully warm brown eyes,

Your merciful smile cheers my heart,

  so that my soul can most sweetly arise;

In the joyful breeze of the Holy Spirit,

  your flowing hair very gently swirls,

In my heart I totally surrender to you,

  and for you this is a treasure of pearls.

THE CRUCIFIXION

In a shadow of deep darkness, the Light

  of the world hangs crooked on the cross,

A jagged crown of razor-thin thorns is

  thrust maliciously into His throbbing head;

Bright-red blood and the fickle crowd’s

  sour spittle trickle into His stinging eyes,

He licks His cracked lips, and He tastes

  the bold bitter flavor of blood.

The Roman soldiers’ wild whips tore

  and radically ripped Jesus’ holy flesh,

And now the sticky crusted wounds cling

  to the weatherbeaten wood and ooze;

Knife-like nails puncture His hands and feet,

  and make them look like cored apples,

His shoulders slump down, crushed under

  the weight of every sin in human history.

The soldiers hellishly hammered the nails

  into Jesus’ flesh, as if He were an animal,

Indescribable pain blasted through the

  bones of His body like dynamite;

He now surrenders His body, mind, soul,

  and spirit to the will of His Father,

He lovingly practices what He preached,

  and He prays for His persecutors.

Jesus is high up, as if atop an isolated

  island, surrounded by a sea of hate,

A cacophonous chorus of insults assails

  His ears, and the smell of sin is in the air;

His mother, living in the dark night of

  unknowing, silently waits and watches,

She kneels in total surrender, while a 

  sword of sorrow slashes her heavy heart.

In the afternoon, Golgotha is enveloped

  in a mysterious murky darkness,

Then, when Jesus dies, the earth quakes

  in violent anger at the murder of its Creator;

Rumbling and roaring, buildings catastrophically

   crash and crumble to the ground,

The terrifying temblor forces the sanctuary’s 

  curtain to explosively burst apart.

That mysterious murky darkness remains

  in the hearts of Jesus’ faithful followers,

Their entire worlds are seriously shaken,

  and they are stunned and stupefied;

But on the third day, the nebulous fog

  of uncertainty will finally dissolve,

On the third day, a heavenly ray of Light

  will come, far brighter than the sun.

THE DARK NIGHT OF THE CROSS

Staggering and stumbling

On the rocky Via Dolorosa,

My hands wearily and weakly

Cling to the splintered cross;

A Roman soldier lashes me

With a whirling crackling whip,

Which like a wildcat’s claw

Rips and tears my poor flesh;

My knees buckle and I fall,

My battered head striking the

Stubborn and unforgiving ground,

Forcefully thrusting the thorns

Deeper into my wounded skull;

My soul silently suffers

In the dark night of the cross —

And yet I’m doing this all for you,

Just for you, because I love you,

So dearly, so deeply, so divinely.

THE AGONY OF UNREQUITED LOVE

I love you, I love you

so very much,

more than you

can possibly imagine,

yet you carelessly

turn your back on me

and you ignore me,

living your busy life

as if I never existed;

now I kneel here

in this olive garden,

with my warm hands

clasped tightly together,

so deeply and so greatly

in love with you,

and my heart is breaking

because I want to share

my life with you,

my heart is nearly broken 

because I love you,

and I painfully weep

hot tears for you,

and my sweat turns into

drops of blood --

all because of you.

SILENT NIGHT: AN ANGEL'S PERSPECTIVE

Here we find the epicenter of the holy earthquake

that destroys the sin of the centuries.

In jubilation, I swiftly and silently cruise through

the cool, crisp air on this holiest of holy nights,

Up above, high in the heavens, is the star of all stars,

powerfully pulsating with bursts of joy;

Below, in the countryside, the shepherds’ fires

crackle with contentment near Bethlehem,

For the Christ child, the Prince of Peace, has been

born in a lowly little stable in the city of David.

I am flanked by a merry multitude of fellow angels,

as we prepare for our descent into little Bethlehem,

From the cloud tops we cascade downward towards

the manger, like a waterfall of invisible light;

The shuffling shepherds who were so startled to

behold us now adore their newborn king on bent knees,

And the majestic magi marvel at the humility of the

Blessed Babe, the long-awaited holy Messiah.

St. Joseph thoughtfully covers the mild mother Mary,

to help heat her on this very chilly night,

The joyful Virgin warmly welcomes little Jesus,

covering Him with her tender kisses and caresses;

Blissful baby Jesus beams a bright smile, covering all

present with His most peaceful benevolence,

And we angels swirl and dance, and exultantly sing

and rejoice and praise the glory of the good God.

The holy family will live in the dark night of the unseen,

centered in the Light of Limitless Love.

TRANSFIGURED BY DIVINE MERCY

The storm strikes

In the hour of terror,

And the dark one

Ferociously tempts me,

Speedily swirling

In the winds around me,

Faster and faster,

Roaring loudly,

Trying to intimidate me

And make me act rashly.

But Our Lord Jesus

Takes His time,

And asks me to surrender,

To focus in a special way

On His sorrowful passion,

To have great trust

In His divine mercy —

And so he transfigures

The hour of terror into

The Hour of Divine Mercy.

OUR LADY OF JOY

As she serenely stepped out of the upper

  room, she rejoiced in a fresh new day,

She looked about her peaceful surroundings,

  drinking in the delicious goodness of God;

Clusters of clouds casually wafted by, so low

  that they brushed the pinnacle of the temple,    

They passed by like eager pilgrims, Eucharistic

  white against the bright blue morning sky;

Later that morning, she and the Apostles were

  deeply immersed in prayer when, suddenly,

She inhaled the sweet scent of God’s presence,

  and joyfully breathed in the Lord’s love;

The balmy breeze of grace swirled around her

  and compassionately caressed her,

She reflected on God’s glorious grandeur,

  and His magnificence soaked into her soul;

Then, the Word rushed into them all,

  as the Holy Spirit swiftly swooped down,

The bold beautiful breeze of heavenly hope

  placidly filled the sails of their souls;

The Paraclete, like a powerful, whirling wind,

  spectacularly sparked the wicks of their

Souls, and ignited the fire of love, which

  rippled through and rhymed in their hearts;

Then, Our Lady’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;

With peaceful confidence, her heart,

  like a fiery supernova, exploded with

Feelings of love, joy, and peace,

  of patience, kindness, and generosity;

Her smiling eyes then beheld the

  flaming fire of Love resting on all, and as                                                           

She serenely surrendered all to the Spirit,

  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 Jesus’

  magnificent mercy and love;

The Light of the World had scattered

  and defeated the dreary dark night.

CLOSING PRAYER OF THE DIVINE MERCY CHAPLET

Eternal God,

In whom mercy is endless,

And the treasury of compassion

Inexhaustible,

Look kindly upon us

And increase Your mercy in us,

That in difficult moments

We might not despair

Nor become despondent,

But with great confidence

Submit ourselves to Your holy will,

Which is Love and Mercy itself.

Amen.

DIVINE ARTISTRY

The canvas of my life

Is messy and sloppy,

Because I make mistakes,

So very many mistakes,

With my clumsy brushstrokes,

But, indeed, I am blessed,

Because the Divine Artist

Dips His cross-shaped brush

Into His most precious blood,

And paints and colors my life

With His divine mercy,

Patiently, joyfully, lovingly,

And transforms my life into a

Magnificent masterpiece.

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.

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 and trust,

He refines us and perfects us,

Making us a masterpiece.

THE QUARTERBACK

The evil one pressured me,

Viciously trying to sack me

For an eternal loss,

And as a young quarterback,

In fear I rashly forced my passes,

Resulting in many interceptions;

But my Coach guided me,

Gently and encouragingly,

And He taught me well,

Advising me to play it cool,

To try and be more flexible,

Especially under pressure;

And so, I gradually matured,

And when Temptation and Fear

Pursued and tried to tackle me,

I calmly and courageously

Took evasive action,

I left my comfort zone —

The comfort of the pocket —

And I became a scrambler,

A fearless, patient scrambler,

Who trusted the offensive line

Of Divine Providence,

And this created opportunities,

Many little opportunities to love,

And so with great persistence,

And with great patience,

And with long consistent drives,

Through the wondrous grace of God,

This resulted in touchdowns,

And the ultimate victory,

In the Super Bowl of Life.

THE IMMACULATE RECEPTION

With murderous

Menacing eyes,

Blitzing linebackers

Aggressively attack

The line of scrimmage

With their worldly temptations,

And threaten to tackle me hard

And intercept my attempts 

To remain in Jesus’ love,

So I quickly step back

Into the crumbling pocket,

And though distracted

By the waving arms

Of the wild intruders,

I place myself in God’s holy presence,

I am filled with the Spirit,

I joyfully sing to the Lord,

I give thanks to Him always,

I pray, hope, and don’t worry,

I am courageous and not afraid,

I do whatever He tells me,

I have great trust in Divine Mercy,

I am filled with patience and wisdom,

I have the divine sense of humor,

I have true joy in the dark night,

I surrender my life to Him,

I fix my gaze on the Passion,

I come to Him and I am refreshed;

So I throw a prayer of love

With all my might

High into the Heavens,

Confident that Our Lady will

Snatch it from all the defenders,

Which she always does;

She leaps ever so high into the air,

Like the most elegant ballerina,

Making the Immaculate Reception,

Then she flies like an angel

Down the sideline and 

Kneels in the end zone,

Bringing my heartfelt prayer

Before our Lord and King.

Touchdown.

THE STADIUM IN THE DARK NIGHT

I quietly and invisibly

live my faith,

and accept life’s

incessant curveballs;

I am obedient to my

Manager’s wish for

bunt singles 

instead of home runs.

The people of the world

are sitting in the box seats,

busied with food

and other amusements;

living in another world,

they have no idea

what I’m doing

in the batter’s box.

But Our Lord, Our Lady,

and the heavenly court

happily cheer me on

from the upper deck;

I live my life in the

shadow of the cross,

living in the dark night

of the unseen.

THE PINCH HITTER IN THE DARK NIGHT

I always wanted to be a starter

and have all the glory, but,

instead, the Divine Manager is

wisely asking me to be a

good and faithful pinch hitter

in the dark night;

Our Lady explains to me

that as a pinch hitter

my priority should be

to wait for the interruptions —

to look forward to the interruptions —

because that’s a way that

I can make God first in my life;

she reminds me that

through the powerful

Prince of Patience

I will have the time

for whatever God wills --

then, when my time

finally comes, I’ll be ready:

as the opposing pitcher

fires a fastball right down

the middle of the plate,

I will steadily stride forward

with holy strength,

and with a swing that is

smooth and confident,

yet filled with humility,

I will line a single to center field;

I will look at Our Lady,

who will be cheering me on

from the dugout and

as I stand on first base,

I will cheerfully smile at her,

and my heart will be rhyming

to the rhythm of the Spirit.

THE LEADOFF HITTER IN THE DARK NIGHT

My heart is ready, O God:

   Tuus totus ego sum;

I take batting practice,

   and the crisp crackle of

my maple-wood bat echoes

   throughout the stadium.

Then, leading off the game, I hear a soft

sweet voice: “Do whatever He tells you”;

therefore, when I see the Spirit signal,

   I gently lay down a regal bunt that

humbly dies to itself in the grass as I run

   to first base like a strong driving wind.

As I stand on first base, with a

   smile on my face from ear to ear,

my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,

   for in my surrender I start to love;

however, The Beast, seething in hot

   anger, already plans his revenge.

When I return to home plate,

   The Beast strikes me out

over and over and over again

   with the flaming fastballs of fear,

and I fall, carrying a heavy cross,

   dizzy with discouragement.

My Manager benches me in the chapel,

   but lovingly teaches me to fast from fear

and leave my worries in His loving hands,

   so for three days I return to the chapel, 

for ten minutes daily, to ask for His guidance,

   and receive the Spirit's gift of Divine Mercy.

When I return to the lineup, The Beast

   scornfully glares at me from the mound

with his mean menacing black eyes;

   but I hear a papal voice encourage me:

“Non abbiate paura,” and again,

   louder, “Non abbiate paura!”

By God's grace, I stand with great trust in

   the batter’s box, and I hit a line drive

whose sparkling trail is red and white,

   quickly shattering the dark night,

and as the ball falls for a base hit,

   the angels playfully dance around it.

THE CLOSER IN THE DARK NIGHT

My Merciful Manager

hands me the ball,

and I take the mound     

in the ninth inning   

since our team is    

ahead by one run.    

After going to confession,        

I devoutly pray Lectio Divina          

for thirty minutes, and then,

free from all affection for sin,

I say an Our Father and Hail Mary

for the Holy Father’s intentions:        

thus, I pitch a supersonic fastball

that crisply crackles in my

All-Star catcher’s glove --     

the first hitter strikes out,

with an aggressive         

swing and a miss.

Next, during the Offertory

at Holy Mass, I offer up the

intention for a plenary indulgence —

for a specific individual, or for

whomever Our Lady chooses:

I swiftly snap off a    

knee-buckling curveball --    

the second hitter in the lineup        

strikes out, frozen    

like a cement gargoyle        

as he watches the baseball        

bend over the strike zone.  

Finally, I receive Holy Communion

and, in a total gift of self, I devoutly

seek union with Our Lord and King:        

and so, I release a knuckleball        

that dives through the air    

like the Dove of Divine Mercy --         

the third hitter in the lineup        

strikes out, waving his bat            

helplessly, hopelessly,            

missing it by a foot.

Suddenly a happy soul        

speeds across the dark sky

like a bright shooting star,              

streaming red and white 

in unimaginable exhilaration,                   

escaping the pains of Purgatory        

and finding the pleasures of Paradise;        

then my All-Star catcher,

the sweet Lady of Love,        

leaps into my waiting arms,        

joyfully embracing me  

with the kiss of peace,     

to celebrate yet another

heavenly save in the

Kingdom of Divine Mercy.

THE STARTING PITCHER IN THE DARK NIGHT

San Padre Pio: “Lord, give me my weapon.”

When I squeezed the rosary beads with

My tense fingers, my soul was bone dry;

I pitched too fast, in a hurry to get the

Game over with as soon as possible.

I pitched my prayers with fear, and they

Wildly eluded the spiritual strike zone;

I needed you, Madonnina, to teach me how to

Pray the Holy Rosary and Divine Mercy Chaplet.

You taught me to pray more passionately,

Through the loving power of the Holy Spirit:

Swift sparkling fastballs in holy meditation.

Calm compassionate curveballs in holy contemplation.

So I’m learning to pitch my prayers with

Sincere love, for all nine innings,

And you, my darling catcher, faithfully

Bring my prayers to The Divine Mercy.