Chook's Nativity

In memory of my dear wee Henrietta and Brown, who have been nabbed by the neighbour's cat!

We still have one little family, 

and they are a delight to watch.

The rooster is just as gentle and watchful as the mother

finding tidbits for them and chuck-chuck-chucking

and races across the yard to

break up pecking-order fights in his little harem.

Brown, the lowest in the pecking-order

would always tuck in behind him for protection

or behind my gumboots -

the sweetest of mothers

she'd wander into the kitchen if I was late with food.

Henrietta has even quietly watched tv with us.

We still have little Cheeky

who gets as headless as I do if she can't find the squeeking lost one

will fly at anyone  and fluster about

and then settle down in a puff-ball of relief

when the quiet settles again.

The most beautiful sound in the world?

Chickens cheerily eating with their Mum.

Sanctus

Wonder if I will ever find some people to sing such as these with me?

St Anthony

after a torment like this (which I can well recognise, 

as thoughts and life tug away at the peace I crave)

  

...there is loving devotion too.

O blessed Mary

to have such a sweet arm encirling your neck

I enter into that same bliss when my boys do the same

Jesus is to be found in everyone

and His look and touch melts my heart...

Was watching a young toddler being shepherded off the train by his doting father

and realised Jesus' body was so exquisitely fresh and small once too.

Audrey Assad, wrote this:

I did and do take solace in the Church, as a sparrow makes a nest in an old, solid oak; the Church’s very age and wisdom speak quietly for themselves, silently drawing in wanderers like me. Jesus loves wanderers and prodigals; and the Church must welcome them with open arms — in my case, she did, and warmly at that.

I find it beautiful about Catholicism that worship, in her way, is not so much an experience as it is an act of the will; yes, the senses are engaged by the sweet, thick smell of incense at the alter, the soft flickering of candles, the otherworldly melodies of chant; but ultimately, as a Catholic, I go to Mass to worship — to give Jesus the honor and glory He is worthy of; I go to Mass because I love Him.

I love Pope Benedict XVI particularly because it is the Church’s very historicity that he symbolizes. He stands, unmoved, against the tides of post-modernism and materialism that ravage the West, (often) a lone voice in the battle. I admire and respect his staunch willingness to be Catholic — theologically, intellectually, volitionally, and emotionally Catholic — in a world where religious freedom and tolerance are preached by many, but where the Catholic voice has for centuries been either stifled or diluted. On the heels of the much-beloved John Paul II, any flimsier man would perhaps have been cowed; but Benedict, speaking with both grace and power, has preached Christ, and Him crucified, as the answer to the questions of every man — Jew or Greek, Muslim or Hindu, black or white, man and woman."

I agree with her, wholeheartedly, and I still wonder how to maintain the freshness and the sacredness of Mass... and I hear, 

"through service, you did it today, when you offered your love, understanding and bracelet to a young family with bouncing toddlers"  Quietly sang harmonies to join the heartfelt communion "Abba" song.

Oh, and Lord!

To watch a young daughter and father
give the Readings today, together.
She so beautiful, so quiet
tucked beside his comforting bulk
his body so huge in comparison, 

both vulnerable.

A sermon in obedience

which grew as the moments ticked by

how beautiful

how she glorified her father

as he obeyed their Father

who obeyed Abba.

Simple Grace

The measuring spoon for this blog...

Simple Grace

the more I reflect on these two words
the discernment refines

sophistication is ignored
for the 'aha' sigh of recognition

like another simple statement:

Study to be quiet...

what does that mean, really?

To all the grandparents......

...that I see at Mass with grandchildren, but not your child.
Your efforts are not in vain...

Obedience

A father had two sons, and asked them to come work
The first said yes, then never did.
The first said no, then later did.

Who was the obedient son?

Yes, Lord
many a time I blithely say yes
then don't...

Ah, what a mess it gets me into...

Contemplative Prayer

Entering into contemplative prayer is like entering into the Eucharistic liturgy:
we 'gather up' the heart,
recollect our whole being under the prompting of the Holy Spirit,
abide in the dwelling place of the Lord which we are,
awaken our faith in order to enter into the presence of Him who waits for us.
We let our masks fall and turn our hearts back to the Lord who loves us,
so as to hand ourselves over to Him as an offering
to be purified and transformed...

Contemplative prayer is silence,
the 'symbol of the world to come'
or 'silent love'.
Words in this kind of prayer are not speeches;
they are like kindlling that fire that feeds the fire of love.
In this silence,
unbearable to the 'outer man'
the Father speaks His incarnate Word,
who suffered,
died,
and rose;
in this silence the Spirit of adoption enables us
to share in the prayer of Jesus.
- Thomas a Kempis