Hi friends! Just wanted to give you a quick heads up that while I'm going to be continuing to talk about mental health and fandoms and the like, over the next few months, I am going to be doing quite a few entries on faith. This isn't a promotion or a series (although it may wind up looking like one), but just to let you know that I'm veering a little bit more toward talking some about faith.
The reason I'm telling y'all this is that I need some accountability. As usual, I spent over an hour in the presence of Jesus in the tabernacle after my meeting with Fr. B this week. I spent it offering prayers for many people I know who have needs, praying for healing for me, and just being silent before His Majesty. When I pray like this, I find that I get little gentle nudges from the Holy Spirit throughout my prayer time directing me how to pray. It's like I'm somehow a bit more open to His leading in the quiet of the church. One of the things that I have felt led to do many times is lie prostrate as I'm praying.
Yesterday was one of those days when I felt led to lie prostrate and pray. As I was praying, the words of the prophet Samuel "Speak Lord, for your servant is listening" went through my head and so I offered that up as a prayer and then lay silent, listening and waiting to see if the Holy Spirit would nudge me or speak to me in some way. And so He did. I don't hear audible words, but the nudge of the Holy Spirit was very, very clear and very very strong. What I felt Him commanding me to do is to meditate on the Psalms each day. Start at the beginning and read one each day. I agreed readily enough and then there was another strong nudge. Write about it each day and put it in the blog. I agreed, although with some trepidation. Still, I agreed, so here I am, about to start.
Would y'all help keep me accountable? This is a big task and I'm, quite honestly, a bit scared. I feel like this is a LOT that is being asked of me, but I've never refused the Holy Spirit and I'm not about to start now. I know for a fact that obedience to His nudges always winds up with me reaping some good from it, so it's to my benefit to be obedient. Please pray for me. I need prayers not only for the task ahead, but also for the strength to persevere. I know He wouldn't have asked this of me if I was unable to do it, but this isn't going to be easy.
Thanks everyone! God bless you!
Showing posts with label Eucharistic Adoration. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Eucharistic Adoration. Show all posts
Thursday, March 10, 2016
Saturday, January 30, 2016
Five Minute Friday: Quiet (or is it Silence?)
I'm linking up with Five Minute Friday over at my friend Kate Motaung's blog, Heading Home. No, I didn't do this in five minutes, but that's because I learned that five minutes is just not enough for me. So I do Five Minute Fridays my own way.
Today's prompt is QUIET and I thought I knew what to write, but it just didn't come exactly. This post is something I wrote but didn't publish a few months back. The prompt word is in the post, although it was initially written using a different prompt word which has the same meaning. Confused? Yeah, I know. Me too, friend. Me too. Want to join the FMF party and link up a post of your own? Check out the links in this paragraph for more info, write your post, publish it, and then go to this week's linkup and add your link! Easy peasy!
So without further ado, my post for this week...
I didn't do the Write 31 Days challenge as I had planned this year, but this post was written using the one of the prompts that my friend Kate Motaung had on her list of prompts for her series 31 Days of Five Minute Free Writes. I didn't write this in five minutes, but the prompt spoke to me and reminded me of a memory which I've recalled below.
2009
There is a hushed quiet here. Not even the fluorescent lights hum. The night outside is long since dark and getting darker as the wee hours approach. I am sitting once again in the perpetual adoration chapel of one of the local parishes in our diocese. It is a 30 minute or so drive from our home, but the distance is worth it.
It is here in this absolute silence that I am finding the strength to stay alive.
I come here to the chapel at this hour -- 10:00pm on Sunday night -- to adore Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament, to pray, to pour out my heart to Him, and to drink in the silence of this place which is such a 180 degree difference from the chaotic noise of family life. Over these past several months I have been coming here to renew and re-anchor my spirit so that I can fight through another week. I am a committed adorer. That is to say that I have signed up with this parish and committed to come each week at this time and spend an hour with Jesus. There is a married couple who share my hour, but they too enjoy the silence and while we wave to one another or say a brief, "hello" our words are few and the silence is plenty.
It is here in this place that I come to kneel at His feet and adore Him alone. It is here in this place that He meets me and through the silence speaks peace and love back to me. Each week I drink in this quiet and His voice and His face.
Until tonight. Tonight I come as normal and after the adorer before me leaves, find myself totally alone. The couple who shares my hour are out of town, so it is just me and Jesus. The silence is made complete and in it, despite His Presence before me in the Blessed Sacrament, I am struggling to hear Him or see Him. This week has been more than a fight and I have come to this place with fresh cuts on my skin, my emotions raw and ragged, and a head full of darkness. I have come to ask His forgiveness for what I am about to do. But the words don't come and all that comes out is me kneeling and crying aloud, my sobs and wails breaking the silence. There are no words for all that I feel and all I know to say to Him is, "Please Jesus... please... please... please..." Over and over again, my prayer goes up, begging His mercy on me.
As the hour slowly comes to a close, I dry my tears and gaze upon Him in silence as I wait for AB's godfather to come and relieve me. He is a committed adorer too and has the hour after mine. When he enters, I say hello quietly and instead of answering when he asks how I am, I gaze one final time upon His face as I genuflect and make the sign of the cross and then leave in silence.
The car is quiet but for the thoughts racing through my head. The tears that fell so swiftly during the last hour threaten to come again, but don't. The numbness has set in and I am driving away from the chapel and trying to think of where to go and what I need to accomplish the task of ending my life. I drive down the street, my hands and feet going through the motions independent of my brain. Just two blocks from the church, I approach a red stop light and my foot makes the car stop. As the car stops, I am suddenly thunderstruck by what I can only describe as a powerful gut punch in my spirit.
"Come back."
What? My brain stops racing and my heart begins pounding. I look up and the light is still red.
"Come back to Me."
I swallow hard and suddenly feel as though I can hardly breathe. What??
"Come back to Me."
Lord? No, this is madness. I look up at the light again. Why is it still red? There's no traffic coming the other way.
"Come back. Come back to Me."
I can't, Lord. I can't do this anymore. Please don't make me do this anymore... I gaze at the light in a panic. Still red.
"Come back to My Presence."
Gulp. I am shaking all over, my heart racing and breaths shallow and quick. I am surely losing my mind completely. I'm at a red light, for crying out loud! But the powerful gut punches to my spirit keep coming. The light turns green, but I can't move. I sit there frozen and overwhelmed, my brain's former path toward destruction now derailed and confused.
"Come back to Me."
Okay, Lord...help me Jesus...please... My hands fumble with the steering wheel, but I eventually manage to turn off on a side street and turn around to go back.
When I enter the chapel, I drop to my knees on the closest kneeler and sob aloud, not caring that AB's godfather is trying to pray or that I am meant to be silent. I am so caught up in this moment of pouring my heart out to Him, that I don't even hear AB's godfather get up and come to kneel beside me until I feel his hand on my shoulder. I look up and see that he is praying. He says quietly, "I've been praying for you since you left..." and that unleashes another torrent of tears. He hands me a box of tissues and when I've finished cleaning my face, we pray together in silence and somewhere amidst those prayers, the idea of ending my life fades to a more manageable distance.
After his relief arrives for the next hour, we stand outside the chapel under the silence of the darkened sky and talk about what has been going on with me. He asks if I am going home and I say yes. Then we hug goodbye and he says he'll keep praying for me and for Gray too.
I drive the 30 minutes back to our house, turning over the events of the last couple of hours in my mind. The car is quiet and I find that I am grateful for gut punches that come amidst the silence.
Today's prompt is QUIET and I thought I knew what to write, but it just didn't come exactly. This post is something I wrote but didn't publish a few months back. The prompt word is in the post, although it was initially written using a different prompt word which has the same meaning. Confused? Yeah, I know. Me too, friend. Me too. Want to join the FMF party and link up a post of your own? Check out the links in this paragraph for more info, write your post, publish it, and then go to this week's linkup and add your link! Easy peasy!
So without further ado, my post for this week...
****
2009
There is a hushed quiet here. Not even the fluorescent lights hum. The night outside is long since dark and getting darker as the wee hours approach. I am sitting once again in the perpetual adoration chapel of one of the local parishes in our diocese. It is a 30 minute or so drive from our home, but the distance is worth it.
It is here in this absolute silence that I am finding the strength to stay alive.
I come here to the chapel at this hour -- 10:00pm on Sunday night -- to adore Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament, to pray, to pour out my heart to Him, and to drink in the silence of this place which is such a 180 degree difference from the chaotic noise of family life. Over these past several months I have been coming here to renew and re-anchor my spirit so that I can fight through another week. I am a committed adorer. That is to say that I have signed up with this parish and committed to come each week at this time and spend an hour with Jesus. There is a married couple who share my hour, but they too enjoy the silence and while we wave to one another or say a brief, "hello" our words are few and the silence is plenty.
It is here in this place that I come to kneel at His feet and adore Him alone. It is here in this place that He meets me and through the silence speaks peace and love back to me. Each week I drink in this quiet and His voice and His face.
Until tonight. Tonight I come as normal and after the adorer before me leaves, find myself totally alone. The couple who shares my hour are out of town, so it is just me and Jesus. The silence is made complete and in it, despite His Presence before me in the Blessed Sacrament, I am struggling to hear Him or see Him. This week has been more than a fight and I have come to this place with fresh cuts on my skin, my emotions raw and ragged, and a head full of darkness. I have come to ask His forgiveness for what I am about to do. But the words don't come and all that comes out is me kneeling and crying aloud, my sobs and wails breaking the silence. There are no words for all that I feel and all I know to say to Him is, "Please Jesus... please... please... please..." Over and over again, my prayer goes up, begging His mercy on me.
As the hour slowly comes to a close, I dry my tears and gaze upon Him in silence as I wait for AB's godfather to come and relieve me. He is a committed adorer too and has the hour after mine. When he enters, I say hello quietly and instead of answering when he asks how I am, I gaze one final time upon His face as I genuflect and make the sign of the cross and then leave in silence.
The car is quiet but for the thoughts racing through my head. The tears that fell so swiftly during the last hour threaten to come again, but don't. The numbness has set in and I am driving away from the chapel and trying to think of where to go and what I need to accomplish the task of ending my life. I drive down the street, my hands and feet going through the motions independent of my brain. Just two blocks from the church, I approach a red stop light and my foot makes the car stop. As the car stops, I am suddenly thunderstruck by what I can only describe as a powerful gut punch in my spirit.
"Come back."
What? My brain stops racing and my heart begins pounding. I look up and the light is still red.
"Come back to Me."
I swallow hard and suddenly feel as though I can hardly breathe. What??
"Come back to Me."
Lord? No, this is madness. I look up at the light again. Why is it still red? There's no traffic coming the other way.
"Come back. Come back to Me."
I can't, Lord. I can't do this anymore. Please don't make me do this anymore... I gaze at the light in a panic. Still red.
"Come back to My Presence."
Gulp. I am shaking all over, my heart racing and breaths shallow and quick. I am surely losing my mind completely. I'm at a red light, for crying out loud! But the powerful gut punches to my spirit keep coming. The light turns green, but I can't move. I sit there frozen and overwhelmed, my brain's former path toward destruction now derailed and confused.
"Come back to Me."
Okay, Lord...help me Jesus...please... My hands fumble with the steering wheel, but I eventually manage to turn off on a side street and turn around to go back.
When I enter the chapel, I drop to my knees on the closest kneeler and sob aloud, not caring that AB's godfather is trying to pray or that I am meant to be silent. I am so caught up in this moment of pouring my heart out to Him, that I don't even hear AB's godfather get up and come to kneel beside me until I feel his hand on my shoulder. I look up and see that he is praying. He says quietly, "I've been praying for you since you left..." and that unleashes another torrent of tears. He hands me a box of tissues and when I've finished cleaning my face, we pray together in silence and somewhere amidst those prayers, the idea of ending my life fades to a more manageable distance.
After his relief arrives for the next hour, we stand outside the chapel under the silence of the darkened sky and talk about what has been going on with me. He asks if I am going home and I say yes. Then we hug goodbye and he says he'll keep praying for me and for Gray too.
I drive the 30 minutes back to our house, turning over the events of the last couple of hours in my mind. The car is quiet and I find that I am grateful for gut punches that come amidst the silence.
Friday, December 19, 2014
Five Minute Friday: Adore
Note: This post is my weekly contribution to the Five Minute Friday community that is hosted by Kate Motaung on her blog Heading Home. Click here
for more information about Five Minute Friday and how you can get
involved! To link up with all the other entries for today's prompt word,
click here.
****
2009
It is late on a Sunday night and the humid air outside has only the barest of breezes to cool me as I walk from my car to the chapel door. It is my usual hour to come here. I have been coming here every Sunday night at this time for a few months now. This place, once foreign to me, is now very familiar. I punch in the code on the door lock and turn the handle.
As I enter the small chapel from the outside, I see Him immediately. He is there before me, resplendent and beautiful in the golden monstrance upon the altar. I take a breath, dip my fingertips in the small font of holy water beside the door, bless myself, and fall to my knees on the cold, hard tile. I have needed this moment all week. After a few moments of silent prayer and greeting to Him, I rise from my knees and sign in at the table to my left, before entering one of the half a dozen or so pews that face the altar.
This is my hour to adore. I share it with a married couple, but even though we technically share the hour, I wouldn't miss it for anything. It is here, adoring Him present in the Blessed Sacrament that I may pour out my heart as I sit at His feet. It is here that I may be still and quiet after the craziness of my day. I kneel, take up my rosary, and gaze at him as I begin my prayers and meditations. For the space of twenty minutes, I am caught up in adoration, completely unaware of anything but Him and this moment we are sharing. Everything else fades away -- all sounds, all smells, all sights -- all but the beauty of His face. Everything except for Him fades to a haze and even my troubles and the depression that has been dogging me for the last couple of months seems nonexistent.
I breathe in and breathe out. The rosary beads slip between my fingers, one after the other as my lips barely move, marking the time with the familiar prayers. My mind is meditating on the mysteries I am contemplating and my gaze is transfixed on Him. O my Jesus, I adore You! I breathe in and breathe out. My fingers come again to the rosary center piece and I conclude my prayer with the sign of the cross. Normally I would move, take a seat in the pew, and perhaps read scripture or some other spiritual reading, but tonight I remain kneeling, unable take my eyes off of Him.
I adore.
I gaze upon Him and He gazes upon me. We remain there in this moment together and when, at last, I tear my face away from His, I feel a peace settle over me like a warm blanket. I sit in the pew, but instead of reading, I just sit with Him.
I adore.
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