Come, Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful, and kindle in them the fire of your love. Send forth your Spirit, and they shall be created, and you will renew the face of the Earth. Amen.
I first learned this prayer in January, when I began my Bible-in-a-year plan (PDF link). I pray it before and after each day’s readings, so I added it to my prayer repertoire in no time. It’s become one of my favorites.
Those of you who know me in real life probably know that the Holy Spirit and I are good friends. I have a natural talent for public speaking. Sometimes my heart is pounding inside, but it doesn’t show. (Public speaking tip: Don’t ever apologize for being nervous. The audience usually can’t tell.) That translated itself well to lectoring. I have problems with pride, though, so whenever someone compliments me on my lectoring, I always say, “Well, I have good material, and the Holy Spirit and I have an arrangement. I’ll go up to the altar and read the words on the page, and He’ll make them come out right.” And that’s the truth. With His words before me and His gifts within me, I’m gold.
So, naturally, Pentecost is one of my favorite feasts. (Who am I kidding? I love them all!) I wore my red skirt (a hand-me-down from Maura’s mom) to match the liturgical colors. We so seldom see red that it’s always cause for celebration, even (especially?) when it’s for martyrdom. I struggled to get out of bed, though. There’s no noon Mass over breaks, so I have to switch to 10am or 7pm. Seven o’clock is really late for me, so I chose 10 this week. Since I wash my hair on Sundays before church, that meant waking up at 6am. Ouch. In my early-morning stupor, I debated sleeping in and just going at 7, but I decided to offer it up for a friend of mine who has all but gone apostate. It was much easier to get going after that.
Continue reading “The Fire of His Love”
Tags: Catholicism
I was thinking a few weeks ago while I got dressed. I had slept soundly, in the manner my mom described as “sleeping like a rock.” Rocks have it good. I had asked my guardian angel to help me sleep, and he/she/it had come through. I started asking my guardian angel to help me sleep a few months ago on Spring Retreat. Pat Y. was escorting me back to Grady House after Compline on Saturday night. (He was staying in the “scandalous” coed house, too.) I mentioned that I’d slept terribly on Friday night, so he suggested praying to my guardian angel that no matter how little sleep I got, it would be substantial, and I’d feel rested. I did; it worked.
So, since my train of thought was on retreats, I thought about Fall Retreat. That was when I finally understood the meaning of grace. God’s grace gives us the help we need to fulfill His plans for us. Grace is like a booster seat to holiness.
It’s an odd image; I thought the same thing when it popped into my head. Then I envisioned a long banquet table, filled with the most scrumptious food, including fruit–the fruits of the Spirit. We in our fallen sinfulness are like children seated at the table. We reach and reach toward the food, but we can’t quite get it. Grace is the booster seat that lifts us up to the table, so we can enjoy the meal. Only God, at the head of the table, can lift us up to it.
Tags: Catholicism, Christianity
My soul has been unsettled in the past few days. Compline begins with a brief examination of conscience. There’s nothing like a daily examen to keep you aware of your sins. After consulting St. Mark the Evangelist’s website, I decided to go for confession and adoration yesterday.
Confessions started at 3:15pm. Afternoon confessions are so great. I’m as much a fan of reconciliation as one can reasonably be, but dragging myself out of bed on a Saturday morning to go bare my soul before the Lord is asking a bit much for a laywoman.
I left my apartment just after 3:00 and headed for the church. After a few minutes, I reconsidered walking there. I’d made that walk before, when I needed to get back from Northwestern after observation and the shuttle hadn’t shown up yet, but that was before my knees got so bad. I reasoned, while walking, that my knees have been feeling better lately. Decreased Mass attendance and no classes means less kneeling and less walking. Besides, I was on my way to see God for a sacrament much of the church avoids. He wouldn’t let me get hurt on the way.
Continue reading “Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus”
Tags: Catholicism
