May the God of Now, the Divine "I AM," invite you into each moment, into each circumstance and experience of your life. May you enter the NOW of your life and stand with the God who is already there. May you become aware that you are never alone and may you share this Now God with all those who are searching. May the God of Now, the God of Presence, bless you.
In the leaving,
in the letting go,
let there be this
to hold onto
at the last:
the enduring of love,
the persisting of hope,
the remembering of joy,
the offering of gratitude,
the receiving of grace,
the blessing of peace.
Author: Jan Richardson
https://www.janrichardson.com/
May there always be a little light in your darkness.
May there always be a little faith in your doubt.
May there always be a little joy in your sorrow.
May there always be a little life in your dying.
May there always be a little hope in your despair.
May there always be a little courage in your fear.
May there always be a little slow in your hurry.
(Macrina Wiederkehr/The Song of the Seed)
Blessed Are You Who Bear The Light
Blessed are you
who bear the light
in unbearable times,
who testify
to its endurance
amid the unendurable,
who bear witness
to its persistence
when everything seems
in shadow
and grief.
Blessed are you
in whom
the light lives,
in whom
the brightness blazes ___
your heart
a chapel,
an altar where
in the deepest night
can be seen
the fire that
shines forth in you
in unaccountable faith,
in stubborn hope,
in love that illumines
every broken thing
it finds.
in unaccountable faith,
in stubborn hope,
in love that illumines
every broken thing
it finds.
Author: Jan Richardson
From Circle of Grace/
http://www.janrichardson.com/index.htmlichardson.com
janrichardson.com
Now God says to us
What He has already said to the earth as a whole
Through His grace-filled birth:
I am there. I am with you.
I am your life. I am your time.
I am the gloom of your daily routine. Why will you not hear it?
I weep your tears - pour yours out to me.
I am your joy.
Do not be afraid to be happy; ever since I wept, joy is the standard of living
That is really more suitable than the anxiety and grief of those who have no hope.
I am the blind alley of all your paths,
For when you no longer know how to go any farther,
Then you have reached me,
Though you are not aware of it.
I am in your anxiety, for I have shared it.
I am in the prison of your finiteness,
For my love has made me your prisoner.
I am in your death,
For today I began to die with you, because I was born,
And I have not let myself be spared any real part of this experience.
I am present in your needs;
I have suffered them and they are now transformed.
I am there.
I no longer go away from this world.
Even if you do not see me now, I am there.
My love is unconquerable.
I am there.
It is Christmas.
Light the Candles! They have more right to exist then all the darkness.
It is Christmas.
Christmas that lasts forever.
"The Eternal Year"
According to a story reportedly written by Leo Buscaglia, "On a cold day in December, some years ago: A little boy, about 10 years old, was standing before a shoe store on the roadway, barefooted, peering through the window, and shivering with cold.
"A lady approached the young boy and said, 'My, but you're in such deep thought staring in that window!'
"'I was asking God to give me a pair of shoes,' was the boy's reply.
"The lady took him by the hand, went into the store, and asked the clerk to get half a dozen pairs of socks for the boy. She then asked if he could give her a basin of water and a towel. He quickly brought them to her.
"She took the little fellow to the back part of the store and, removing her gloves, knelt down, washed his little feet, and dried them with the towel.
"By this time, the clerk had returned with the socks. Placing a pair upon the boy's feet, she then purchased a pair of shoes for him.
"She tied up the remaining pairs of socks and gave them to him. She patted him on the head and said, 'No doubt, you will be more comfortable now.'
"As she turned to go, the astonished child caught her by the hand, and looking up into her face, with tears in his eyes, asked, 'Are you God's wife?'"
“Light looked down and saw darkness. “I will go there,” said light.
Peace looked down and saw war. “I will go there,” said peace.
Love looked down and saw hatred. “I will go there,” said love.
So the God of Light, The Prince of Peace,
The King of Love, Came down and crept in beside us.” (Rev. John Bell)
Photo by JH.. ~ View from CSA Hermitage
O God of all seasons and senses, grant us the sense of your timing
to submit gracefully and rejoice quietly in the turn of the seasons.
In this season of short days and long nights,
of grey and white and cold,
teach us the lessons of endings;
children growing, friends leaving, loved ones dying,
grieving over,
grudges over,
blaming over,
excuses over.
O God, grant us a sense of your timing.
In this season of short days and long nights,
of grey and white and cold,
teach us the lessons of beginnings;
that such waitings and endings may be the starting place,
a planting of seeds which bring to birth what is ready to be born—
something right and just and different,
a new song, a deeper relationship, a fuller love—
in the fullness of your time.
O God, grant us the sense of your timing.
Taken from Guerrillas of Grace by Ted Loder
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Who wait for the night to end.
bless them.
Who wait for the night to begin
bless them.
Who wait in the hospital room
who wait in the cell
who wait in prayer
bless them.
Who wait for news
who wait for the phone call
who wait for a word
who wait for a job - a house - a child
bless them.
Who wait for one who will come home..
who wait for one who
will not come home
bless them.
Who wait with fear
who wait with joy
who wait with peace
who wait with rage
who wait for the end
who wait for the beginning
who wait alone
who wait together
bless them.
Who wait without knowing
what they wait for or why
bless them.
Who wait when they
should not wait
who wait when they should
be in motion
who wait when they need to rise
who wait when they need to set out
bless them.
Who wait for the end of waiting
who wait for the fullness of time
who wait emptied and
open and ready
who wait for you,
O bless.
https://www.janrichardson.com
Jan Richardson, Circle of Grace
Advent
By Lucy Rose Johns
We are waiting for these aches and pains to be healed.
We are waiting for the hunger within to be satisfied.
We are waiting for love to touch us.
We are waiting to be understood and really listened to.
We are waiting for decisions to be easy.
We are waiting to be inspired to love unlovable people.
We are waiting for financial cares to be resolved.
We are waiting for serenity to accept the things we cannot change.
We are waiting for courage to change the things we can.
We are waiting for wisdom to know the difference.
We are waiting to be appreciated.
We are waiting for justice.
We are waiting for the answers.
We are waiting for the dawn of a new day.
We are waiting for things to get easier.
We are waiting for a time of rest, peace, quiet.
We are waiting for patience.
We are waiting and waiting.
We are waiting
In joyful hope for the coming of the Lord!
The Grace of Gratitude
I speak from my heart telling God why I am grateful,
being very particular and naming specific things:
gifts, people, events, blessings
How do I wait with gratitude?
The Grace to See
I walk with God through the experiences of my day
(or past year) giving thanks where I have grown,
and noticing where I have stumbled.
Where do I need the gift of light?
How do I wait with a discerning heart?
The Grace of Freedom
I ask for the grace to awaken my memory to anything from
my day (or past year) where God is inviting me to greater
freedom and peace.
I spend some time listening to my heart.
How do I wait in peace… in silence… listening?
The Grace of Mercy
I ask to feel hope, knowing that God will always give me
forgiveness. I ask God’s mercy in personal words that come
from my heart.
How do I wait in hope and with trust this
Advent Season?
The Grace of Transformation
I listen to my heart for invitations to change the way I pray,
live, work, love, play, relate, serve, or define success.
What deep desire within me is waiting to be
uncovered, discovered, or recovered this
Advent Season?
I pray the Our Father that God’s Kingdom reign in my life.
Examen adapted by William Watson, S.J.
Advent Reflections
I Will Light the Candles This Christmas
Advent Hands (by Catherine Alder)
I see the hands of Joseph.
Back and forth along bare wood they move.
There is worry in those working hands,
sorting out confusing thoughts with every stroke.
“How can this be, my beautiful Mary now with child?”
Rough with deep splinters, these hands,
small, painful splinters like tiny crosses
embedded deeply in this choice to stay with her.
He could have closed his hands to her,
said, “No” and let her go to stoning.
But, dear Joseph opened both his heart and
hands to this mother and her child.
Preparing in these days before
with working hands
and wood pressed tight between them.
It is these rough hands that will open
and be the first to hold the Child.
I see the hands of John,
worn from desert raging storms and
plucking locusts from sand ripped rocks
beneath the remnant of a Bethlehem star.
A howling wind like some lost wolf
cries out beneath the moon,
or was that John?
This loneliness,
enough to make a grown man mad.
He’s waiting for this, God’s whisper.
“Go now. He is coming.
You have prepared your hands enough.
Go. He needs your servant hands,
your cupping hands to lift the water,
and place his feet upon the path to service and to death.
Go now, John, and open your hands to him.
It is time.”
I see a fist held tight
and fingers blanched to white.
Prying is no easy task.
These fingers find a way of pulling back to old positions,
protecting all that was and is.
Blanched to white.
No openness.
All fright. But then the Spirit comes.
A holy Christmas dance begins
and blows between the twisted paths.
This fist opens
slowly,
gently,
beautifully,
the twisted fingers letting go.
Their rock-solid place in line has eased.
And one by one the fingers lift True color is returned
And through the deepest of mysteries,
The holiest of holies,
O longing of longings
beyond all human imagining
this fist,
As if awakened from Lazarus’ cold stone
dream
Reaches out to hold the tiny newborn
hand of God.
