Mary Sullivan

We may be perplexed.  But to despair we are not driven.
We can be but thankful for all we have been given.
Persecution comes our way. Yet we are not abandoned.
By the One who loves us so—our Defender and Companion.

Our trials we endure.   We conquer by God’s power.
Struck down we may find ourselves. But from there we flower.
In Him there’s no destruction.  In Him, we are not destroyed.
In Him, there’s only glory.   In Him, there is true joy.

For the One who raised our Lord, will one day raise us too,
And place us in His presence.  All things will be made new.
Let us persevere for Him. Let us now soldier on.
Let us fight the fight before us.  His armor, let us don.

Until that day of glory, when all is truth and light.
Until we reach our final end—let us fight the good fight.

[Based on 2 Cor 4:7-15]

Saint Mary Magdalene, outside the tomb, with such sorrow wept,
What had happened to the Master, was hard to accept.
She looked into the tomb, and who should Mary greet,
But two angels.  One was at the head and one at the feet,
Of where our dear Lord’s body had just been laid down dead.
“Woman why are you weeping?” is what the angels said.

 She thought the Lord was taken.  She knew not where He was laying.
He had been crucified.  So complete had been His slaying.
Someone was standing near her.  When she turned around, she’d see,
A man was standing there.  The gardener this must be.

 Mary spoke these words: Sir if you have taken Him away,
Tell me where you laid Him…, she asked this of him that day.
She offered to take the Lord, wanted the Lord protected.
But this gardener was the Lord Himself Who had been resurrected.

 Jesus would then call her name.  Mary! is what He said.
And Mary was so startled.  She’d thought the Lord still dead!
Rabbouni, she cried out!  To Jesus, she grabbed hold.
The truth of the resurrection would begin to unfold.

But Jesus said: Stop holding on to me.  To His Father, He must ascend.
This was told to Mary by our Lord, upon Whom she could depend.
Jesus was going to His Father, and to her Father as well,
Jesus was going to His God, and Mary’s God, the Scriptures tell.

 Jesus asked that Mary tell His brothers what she’d seen and heard this day.
And Mary did what Jesus asked, did it without delay.
She told them she had seen the Lord.  This truth she’d not distort.
She told them what He said to her.  She gave them her report.

 Lord, may we weep like Mary Magdalene for what was done to You.
And may we seek to find You, as You wait for us anew.
May we protect Your Holy words, Your truth and Your commands.
May we do all You ask of us, Your will—may we understand.

 Dear Jesus, help our loved ones, to seek You as well.
May they find You in their fellow men, and in what the Scriptures tell.
May they find Your healing hand in all of their confusion.
May Your truth be the remedy to each false belief or delusion.

 Jesus, bring to life Your truth in each one we love.
Appear now to our loved ones.  Teach them of things above.
Help each loved one cling to You, God’s only Son begotten.
Help them to know the promise that they are not forgotten.
Do this now sweet Jesus.  There is no time to waste.
Go to them now sweet Jesus.  Make haste, dear Lord, make haste.

(John 20:11-18)

 

My job is to inform, not to convince.  (Saint Bernadette)

Dear Lord, we need strength and grace,
Grace from up above,
To go forth to speak the truth,
To speak the truth, with love.

Give to us Your wisdom,
Fill us with Your light.
Take possession of our speech.
Lord, help us do this right.

Give to us true courage.
We face issues now made gray.
Show to us the way to speak.
Give us the words to say.

Help us, Jesus, to show others—
Without battle, without fight,
That it’s true, can’t be denied,
Some things are black and white.

Help us remember, Jesus,
Of peace, You are our Prince.
Our job is simply to inform.
Our job’s not to convince.

 

 

If we could see grace, what would it be,

Exactly what, would we then see?

Rose petals making slow descent,

That came and left a sweet rose scent?

What would we see, if grace could be seen with human eyes?

With wings to us, would grace fly?

 

Would grace fall from heaven, like a shooting star,

That found its way, from afar,

To rest upon us, where we are?

What would we see, if grace could be seen with human eyes?

Like snow, would it fall white and pure and softly from the sky?

 

An infant new, baptized for Thee.

If we could see grace, what would we see?

A dove come upon the baptized babe,

In a solemn and holy nave?

Would we see grace infuse the infant soul?

Would we see the Holy Spirit’s gifts upon the tiny babe extolled,

By angels, as white wings softly fluttered,

As holy prayers by surrounding saints, were prayed and uttered?

 

If we could see grace, of what would grace be made

When for a lost soul, prayers were prayed?

Would grace like a spark penetrate the hardened heart?

Or does grace implant itself as if inert, only later to begin the growing part?

 

If we could see grace,

When we persist in steadfast prayer,

Would we see grace permeate the air,

like a gentle mist, around the souls of those for whom we prayed,

through our mornings, nights and days?

Does grace rest just as much upon the prayed-for soul, as on the soul who prayed?

 

Or would we see grace with heaven’s beaming light infuse the prayed-for soul

that once through sin had been made as black as coal?

Or would grace look more like the tiny seed,

Which bathed in prayer and cleared of sinful weeds,

over time grew into a strong and mighty tree.

A tree that offered its own holy shade to those who could not see

the deep yearning in their hearts was but a deep yearning for truth and Thee?

 

If we could see grace what we see

when two or more gathered, in Your holy name,

In humble prayer to Thee

Would we see grace multiply

like flowers growing wild in a field of fertile soil,

sun-lit and watered from the sky?

 

Or would we see grace bide its time?

With what seemed to us no reason and no rhyme?

As in a dry dessert we persevered feeling all alone,

As in our soul, we felt nothing but an ache to be at rest and home.

Would grace then break forth from life’s most darkened clouds.

With a crack of thunder bold and loud?

Does grace like sweet and refreshing drops of rain,

quench parched lips and provide relief from empty pain?

 

If we could see grace, what would we see,

When the repentant soul confessed Sacramentally?

Would grace trumpet in triumphant voice?

Would we see heaven’s holy saints and angels gather to rejoice?

Would grace float like glitter sprinkled from the sky,

Shining gold to come and glisten on bloodied wounds, shattered hearts and heavy sighs?

 

If we could see grace, what would we see?

Would we see grace as a wrapped gift from Thee?

Would it be encased in shining colors bright,

With a bow of glory, tied by angels, tied just right?

As prayers like incense from the earth ascends,

Doth grace reverse, to us descend?

 

If we could see grace, what would grace be like?

Would we see a loud lightening strike,

When the holy word of God was read?

Shocking souls to life, once dead?

 

If we could see grace, what would we see,

When the Sacred Host brought to us not just Your Divinity,

But Your body, soul and blood.

Would we see grace pour in our souls like a flood?

What would we see when we by grace receive,

The source and summit of our life?

Would angels deliver armor that we might

Battle with courage every evil, every strife?

 

Would grace come from heaven to rest upon us near,

That we not despair, but in faith persevere?

If only we would turn towards Him, and give Him but a chance,

If only we but send Him, from our hurting hearts, a glance.

 

Would grace then strengthen us, give to us Your sight?

Would we see grace arrive, just on time, to our delight?

Would grace arrive in knowledge of the Father’s perfect love?

Or could grace greet us as Your pierced heart from above?

 

Could grace arrive in agony?

Could grace arrive as loss?

Could grace be in the resurrection,

that comes only through the painful cross?

 

If we could see grace, what would grace allow,

As man and wife took solemn wedding vows?

Would we see saints all gathered round?

Would grace from on high sparkle and come down,

Upon their heads—

to bless them in their life ahead?

 

If we could see grace upon the dying man, what would grace extol?

As that man battled Satan who so longed to steal his soul?

Blessed by holy oil, as with greater fervor death doth knock,

Last rights bestowed, before the final striking of the clock.

Would we see angels swooping down, as bells from heaven chimed?

Would we see the soul, by grace and angels, protected and for heaven being primed?

 

If we could see grace, how much more thankful we would be,

For all the gifts, given us by Thee.

For grace flows down.  So oft this truth we lack.

How quick we claim the credit, with a pumped-up, prideful pat upon the back.

 

If we could see grace, how much easier it would be to believe,

That Thou art Thou, and we just mere creatures made by Thee.

If we could see grace, would it not be easier to bow

Before our Lord, our Maker and our Savior Thou.

 

But in Thy wisdom, grace is kept beyond our sight.

That we might look for faith, for faith—engage the fight,

That we might knock upon Thy holy door,

That we might seek Thee evermore.

That Thy love, in our hearts might dwell and shine.

That we might with Thee, one day in heaven dine.

 

May we have grace to open hearts and souls this day.

To all the grace, Thou doth will to send our way,

By Thy grace, may we become what You are calling us to be.

By Thy grace, may we one day dwell, with Thee for all eternity.

 

“Your soul is called to raise itself to God by the elevator of love and not climb the rough stairway of fear.”  (St. Therese of the Little Flower)

Lord, You ask for our trust, urge us not to be afraid.
No matter what comes at us in our nights or in our days.
With eyes fixed upon You, and on the things above,
You want to lift us up to You, through Your elevator of love.

But oh, how fear can grip us; events are filled with so much fright.
We detest the evil going on, as for truth and light we fight.
Take away our fears.  Climbing fear’s stairway is rough.
With fear, may we now be done.  Of fear we’ve had enough.

May we push love’s elevator button, shut fear outside the door.
Raise us through each loving story, till we hit the highest floor.
The floor that’s filled with grace, the floor where all are kind.
The floor where truth and peace abound in every heart and mind.

Lord, our loved ones too are climbing rough stairways of fear.
They have no peace within, know not that You are near.
Make haste, Lord, speak to their souls in another way,
On love’s elevator, raise them without delay.

Help them find the elevator, ease them through its door.
Show to them how to reach the top and holy floor.
Give to them a love for truth, love for You, their One Creator.
Help them Lord to step in Your loving elevator.

Saint Therese, pray for us!