Dear Father in Heaven,
I am confused. And yet everything is so clear, so sharply clear it cuts my heart like a razor. I see You there, with your eyes looking deeply into mine and we both know. We both know and your tears and my tears they mingle as we mingle when the Eucharist is in my mouth. We know each other's pain. Rachel weeping for her children.
If I could take my arms and draw everyone under thirty-five to me and I could protect them and tell them about how things used to be in America. There were little pockets of sweetness once--little pockets of sweetness and you could block out the marijuana and acid and Ac/Dc and the snaky, slithering Mic Jaggar and his demonic stage presence. In the sixties and seventies when I was young, you could hide and watch I love Lucy and Dick Van Dyke and Gilligan's Island. The tide of corruption and filth of our culture was slowly coming in, but if you wanted to, you go run ashore higher.
Now, there is nowhere we can go. Nowhere to turn off the culture unless you live in a cloister. We are being boxed in with unspeakable horrors.
Jesus, let me draw them into my heart and protect them? Even one. I want to be your heart for these little ones.
We knew this time was coming. And we know the outcome and it is bad and then very, very good. And though I know we can now lift up our hearts for our redemption draweth nigh (if not for the world, for at least our personal souls), it still means that a claw is being torn into our innocent children's flesh and they are being preyed upon as road kill. Before the light, it is getting very, very dark. And we will not be able to see ahead of us. We only have faith that You can see us.
Oh my heart cries, "Where are Your shepherds, Lord? What do we do in these times?" It seems they have no plan.
I can hear the little ones perishing. I hear them through Your ears and I see them perishing through Your eyes and I feel them perishing through Your heart. How can You bear it?
To watch the wolves devouring these little lambs, I want to turn away. So many people turn away Lord. But I can't. You won't let me. You want me to rescue the lambs, to be Your arms and to be Your safe harbor where they can be protected.
Give me the grace to know how to do that. Give me the wisdom to know where and how to fight. I want to fight like an archangel and a mother. Let me fight with love and courage and wisdom.
Let me not live to be loved by anyone but You. Let me no longer fear what others think. Let my words and my actions glorify You that one day I may rest at Your feet and anoint them with oil and brush them with my hair. That You will lift me up and we will dance. But till them my heart will be remembering the future and my feet and hands will be here on earth loving the little lost ones for You.
The sheep are wandering. Oh send St. Peter and our Blessed Mother to help us. Open our eyes and open our ears. Save us from this flood. Let me reach my arms out to You and grab You that I may grab others and pull them to You.
Father and Beloved, Savior and Lord.
I am confused. And yet everything is so clear, so sharply clear it cuts my heart like a razor. I see You there, with your eyes looking deeply into mine and we both know. We both know and your tears and my tears they mingle as we mingle when the Eucharist is in my mouth. We know each other's pain. Rachel weeping for her children.
If I could take my arms and draw everyone under thirty-five to me and I could protect them and tell them about how things used to be in America. There were little pockets of sweetness once--little pockets of sweetness and you could block out the marijuana and acid and Ac/Dc and the snaky, slithering Mic Jaggar and his demonic stage presence. In the sixties and seventies when I was young, you could hide and watch I love Lucy and Dick Van Dyke and Gilligan's Island. The tide of corruption and filth of our culture was slowly coming in, but if you wanted to, you go run ashore higher.
Now, there is nowhere we can go. Nowhere to turn off the culture unless you live in a cloister. We are being boxed in with unspeakable horrors.
Jesus, let me draw them into my heart and protect them? Even one. I want to be your heart for these little ones.
We knew this time was coming. And we know the outcome and it is bad and then very, very good. And though I know we can now lift up our hearts for our redemption draweth nigh (if not for the world, for at least our personal souls), it still means that a claw is being torn into our innocent children's flesh and they are being preyed upon as road kill. Before the light, it is getting very, very dark. And we will not be able to see ahead of us. We only have faith that You can see us.
Oh my heart cries, "Where are Your shepherds, Lord? What do we do in these times?" It seems they have no plan.
"Where there is no vision, the people perish." Prov. 29: 18
I can hear the little ones perishing. I hear them through Your ears and I see them perishing through Your eyes and I feel them perishing through Your heart. How can You bear it?
To watch the wolves devouring these little lambs, I want to turn away. So many people turn away Lord. But I can't. You won't let me. You want me to rescue the lambs, to be Your arms and to be Your safe harbor where they can be protected.
Give me the grace to know how to do that. Give me the wisdom to know where and how to fight. I want to fight like an archangel and a mother. Let me fight with love and courage and wisdom.
Let me not live to be loved by anyone but You. Let me no longer fear what others think. Let my words and my actions glorify You that one day I may rest at Your feet and anoint them with oil and brush them with my hair. That You will lift me up and we will dance. But till them my heart will be remembering the future and my feet and hands will be here on earth loving the little lost ones for You.
The sheep are wandering. Oh send St. Peter and our Blessed Mother to help us. Open our eyes and open our ears. Save us from this flood. Let me reach my arms out to You and grab You that I may grab others and pull them to You.
Father and Beloved, Savior and Lord.
