The
obligation to pray can at times be a pesky thorn. Especially if we
have other, more appealing whatnots luring our passions (will God,
Mary, and Church ever rank as number one in my life...I feel like
such a weasel, not loving them the way that they deserve, only
partially giving them me). Yet, if we shirk these responsibilities
and such devolves into a habit of self over God or others...well,
then that would be a travesty.
Returning from dinner this evening, thirty-five minutes were available to pray the Liturgy of the Hours and the Chaplet of Divine Mercy before my weekly television show aired on the Public Broadcast Station. There was time to do one devotion with the reverence necessary, but two would be rushing it and...well, what would "I" get out of it. Ah, but then a quick lump on the head was received, as if the Holy Spirit was saying: "These prayers are not for you - no, the liturgical prayer is for the Church and the chaplet is for those experiencing Purgatory!" Fair enough. Grumbling, I reluctantly committed to pray both and anticipated nothing more than emptiness and nausea. Again, the Holy Spirit repeated that these devotions were not for me.
At the outset, the Liturgy of the Hours had been difficult to get started; there was a gaggle of disruption and distraction outside my door. But, reflecting on how obnoxious onlookers must have been when Jesus prayed or how there are scores of people who do not have the ability to pray, to engage in conversation with our Lord, who are prevented from worshiping, or whatever, all of the hoopla outside my room dissipated and I was able to proceed in silence. Hmph, it's funny how fastidiously God will intervene!
The Chaplet of Divine Mercy was riddled with exclamation points of our Lord's dabbling. Praying the Apostle's Creed at the beginning sequence of this devotion, when reciting the words, "Creator of heaven and earth," a gust of wind caused me to look out my window. At that moment, a robin hopped into view a mere two or three feet away (my first spotting this spring) and, if I didn't know better, was staring at me. Taken aback, I paused. The bird simply looked at me. When I resumed the prayer and settled into the rhythm she flew away. Being that this is Holy Saturday (the day after Good Friday, for those of you who hadn't connected the dots), the folklore of the robin is poignant. Only able to recall fragments, a sparrow had landed on our Lord's shoulder while he hung on the Cross, that moment as he transitioned from the earthly to the heavenly. Blood had touched the robin. Somehow, as a reward and to symbolize that day, to not look plain, our Lord imbued robins with red breasts....
Continuing to thumb the beads while praying (a rosary is used for this chaplet), I periodically looked out my window. The evening sky was overcast and the clouds were heavy, looking ready to burst with snow. The bars on my window and the surrounding fences offered a stark impression of purgatory. To the side, my vignette revealed a heavy duty trash receptical...perhaps, a metaphor for hell. Ah, and a gate does exist at the crest of the hill. Soon, lights would flood the same outdoor area with rays not quite ethereal, but a comparison for this story. As the wind gusted, leaves danced around like choreographed swirls, not unlike happy souls transitioning from purgatory to heaven, the Church Suffering becoming the Church Triumphant!
Though I had resigned myself to plod through devotions which would prove dry and unfulfilling, I was rewarded with rich graces. Thank you, Jesus.
On a side note, the television program which caused all of this angst and nearly resulted in me dumping the evening devotions was...uh, Fr. Brown! Ha, I did indeed catch Fr. Brown.
Marana tha
Returning from dinner this evening, thirty-five minutes were available to pray the Liturgy of the Hours and the Chaplet of Divine Mercy before my weekly television show aired on the Public Broadcast Station. There was time to do one devotion with the reverence necessary, but two would be rushing it and...well, what would "I" get out of it. Ah, but then a quick lump on the head was received, as if the Holy Spirit was saying: "These prayers are not for you - no, the liturgical prayer is for the Church and the chaplet is for those experiencing Purgatory!" Fair enough. Grumbling, I reluctantly committed to pray both and anticipated nothing more than emptiness and nausea. Again, the Holy Spirit repeated that these devotions were not for me.
At the outset, the Liturgy of the Hours had been difficult to get started; there was a gaggle of disruption and distraction outside my door. But, reflecting on how obnoxious onlookers must have been when Jesus prayed or how there are scores of people who do not have the ability to pray, to engage in conversation with our Lord, who are prevented from worshiping, or whatever, all of the hoopla outside my room dissipated and I was able to proceed in silence. Hmph, it's funny how fastidiously God will intervene!
The Chaplet of Divine Mercy was riddled with exclamation points of our Lord's dabbling. Praying the Apostle's Creed at the beginning sequence of this devotion, when reciting the words, "Creator of heaven and earth," a gust of wind caused me to look out my window. At that moment, a robin hopped into view a mere two or three feet away (my first spotting this spring) and, if I didn't know better, was staring at me. Taken aback, I paused. The bird simply looked at me. When I resumed the prayer and settled into the rhythm she flew away. Being that this is Holy Saturday (the day after Good Friday, for those of you who hadn't connected the dots), the folklore of the robin is poignant. Only able to recall fragments, a sparrow had landed on our Lord's shoulder while he hung on the Cross, that moment as he transitioned from the earthly to the heavenly. Blood had touched the robin. Somehow, as a reward and to symbolize that day, to not look plain, our Lord imbued robins with red breasts....
Continuing to thumb the beads while praying (a rosary is used for this chaplet), I periodically looked out my window. The evening sky was overcast and the clouds were heavy, looking ready to burst with snow. The bars on my window and the surrounding fences offered a stark impression of purgatory. To the side, my vignette revealed a heavy duty trash receptical...perhaps, a metaphor for hell. Ah, and a gate does exist at the crest of the hill. Soon, lights would flood the same outdoor area with rays not quite ethereal, but a comparison for this story. As the wind gusted, leaves danced around like choreographed swirls, not unlike happy souls transitioning from purgatory to heaven, the Church Suffering becoming the Church Triumphant!
Though I had resigned myself to plod through devotions which would prove dry and unfulfilling, I was rewarded with rich graces. Thank you, Jesus.
On a side note, the television program which caused all of this angst and nearly resulted in me dumping the evening devotions was...uh, Fr. Brown! Ha, I did indeed catch Fr. Brown.
Marana tha
No comments:
Post a Comment