What having a pierced heart really is like....
This is raw and grammatically incorrect, but it's what I wrote and what i'm sharing.
Today there was a song on the radio about offering Jesus a gift, your best gift. I don't know who sings it and I can't find it online, but it was screaming out at me from the radio. "Hello RIANNA! this is God, this is what I'm asking you to do...I wept. Right there in the kitchen looking at my memorial candle and St. Anthony holy card. I lost it.
Picture:
Jesus wanted my best gift. He was asking, "could I give it to Him?" Really, I know that everything that I have is not worth giving Him. Especially lately, everything that is coming out of me is smut...anger, extreme sadness, worry, nagging...smut. I know I have to offer Jesus Anthony Paul (the name I gave out baby I miscarried in early December). He is a gift that is good, pure, worthy. My kids are my greatest gift. Everything else is hogwash.
Jesus is not asking to be mean, but because He loves me and wants to heal me. I can't be angry or keep taking him back, I have to give him all the way, with joy, not happiness. This is not a morbid request or a terrible test. No, it's my choice.
What gift can I really offer Jesus? A playmate. A brother. A friend. Someone who will say yes even when I am shallow, stupid, stubborn and slow to tell Jesus yes. My son perfectly united with Jesus will say yes. This year as I look at the creche, I see the crib but I also see the cross. Just as he was laid to rest in the manger, he laid to rest all of our sin upon the cross.
His birth is the beginning of Mary's sword. It's love so great it hurts, love so deep it cannot be fathomed, love so perfect it pours itself out. The one still silent moment of peace, of light in all the darkness and the cross looms. Oh, if only i could say, "Oh Death where is your victory? Oh
Death where is your sting? Right now I can tell you where. It is in my heart. It is piercing me. It is pouring out love that longs to hold, to embrace, but feels empty. It is the tomb that asks, "Where have you taken Him? I must go find Him."
He calls to me from Heaven, "Mama!..." My little boy that I must wait so long to hold. "Come home!" He cries. How I long for Heaven now. How empty "here" all seems. Nothing this world has, has my little one. I must love more greatly and daringly. I must forgive more; I must give more. I must for I must get back to him. I must someday hold him. He's my crown. May I do him honor by being a mother, a wife, a lover of all so that I may someday have the true joy of receiving him once again....
Mama Mary, that sword pierces so deeply. It's much deeper than I realized. How great your love, how great your sorrow, how great the honor; how great the weight of being the mother of God.
Mary Mother of God, pray for us.
Today there was a song on the radio about offering Jesus a gift, your best gift. I don't know who sings it and I can't find it online, but it was screaming out at me from the radio. "Hello RIANNA! this is God, this is what I'm asking you to do...I wept. Right there in the kitchen looking at my memorial candle and St. Anthony holy card. I lost it.
Picture:
Jesus is not asking to be mean, but because He loves me and wants to heal me. I can't be angry or keep taking him back, I have to give him all the way, with joy, not happiness. This is not a morbid request or a terrible test. No, it's my choice.
What gift can I really offer Jesus? A playmate. A brother. A friend. Someone who will say yes even when I am shallow, stupid, stubborn and slow to tell Jesus yes. My son perfectly united with Jesus will say yes. This year as I look at the creche, I see the crib but I also see the cross. Just as he was laid to rest in the manger, he laid to rest all of our sin upon the cross.
His birth is the beginning of Mary's sword. It's love so great it hurts, love so deep it cannot be fathomed, love so perfect it pours itself out. The one still silent moment of peace, of light in all the darkness and the cross looms. Oh, if only i could say, "Oh Death where is your victory? Oh
Death where is your sting? Right now I can tell you where. It is in my heart. It is piercing me. It is pouring out love that longs to hold, to embrace, but feels empty. It is the tomb that asks, "Where have you taken Him? I must go find Him."
He calls to me from Heaven, "Mama!..." My little boy that I must wait so long to hold. "Come home!" He cries. How I long for Heaven now. How empty "here" all seems. Nothing this world has, has my little one. I must love more greatly and daringly. I must forgive more; I must give more. I must for I must get back to him. I must someday hold him. He's my crown. May I do him honor by being a mother, a wife, a lover of all so that I may someday have the true joy of receiving him once again....
Mama Mary, that sword pierces so deeply. It's much deeper than I realized. How great your love, how great your sorrow, how great the honor; how great the weight of being the mother of God.
Mary Mother of God, pray for us.
Comments
Post a Comment