Prayers

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    Happy Birthday, Nanny

    You would have been one hundred and twenty one years old. You and your ways are as clear in my memory as creek water and pebbles scooped up and held in my hand. And I love you, Nanny. I will see you in Heaven someday. Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord, and let Your perpetual light shine upon her. May her soul and the souls of all the faithful departed rest in peace. Amen. Happy Birthday to Kristian, also. ~ S.K. Orr

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    Easter Monday

    Reading this morning in Brother Lawrence’s The Practice of the Presence of God, I felt as if the old monk were aiming some of his words directly at me across the centuries. In his eighth letter, he tells the person to whom he’s writing: I do not advise you to use multiplicity of words in prayer; many words and long discourses being often the occasions of wandering… And in his ninth letter, discussing a mutual acquaintance, he tells his correspondent: She seems to me full of good will, but she would go faster than grace. One does not become holy all at once. … These two subjects, verbosity in prayer…

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    He Is Risen Indeed

    I slipped into sleep last night watching the fire-patterns in the stove, methodically releasing my hold on old hurts and old grudges that had been bedeviling me all evening. Reading earlier in the afternoon in Holy Week: The Complete Offices in Latin and English, I had latched onto a section from the Second Nocturne in Holy Saturday, a selection from Psalm 26: I believe to see the good things of the Lord in the land of the living. Expect the Lord, do manfully, and let thy heart take courage, and wait thou for the Lord. How often are men exhorted in this day and age to “do manfully?” The rarity…

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    Later On Good Friday

    The word “blessing” is grossly overused and misused these days, but my use of it here is absolutely precise: today was a blessing. I had the day off and was determined to spend it in reading, prayer, and contemplation. I did so. I prayed a full rosary in three stages, said all of the offices (so far) for The Little Office of the Blessed Virgin Mary. I worked on my Latin exercises (I’m trying to learn to say all of the major prayers in Latin), did a bit of work on some poems in progress, and wrote some prayers in my prayer book. I read a pretty sizable chunk of…

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    And About The Ninth Hour…

    It is now three p.m. here, the ninth hour of the day if reckoned by the timekeeping of the earthly days of our Lord Jesus Christ. Either He died as the holy apostles have told us, or He did not. It was either accomplished for us, or it was not. His followers are either the most wretched of all men, or we are not. This is not the hour for arguments or syllogisms or debate. This is the hour when I am compelled to whisper, “Lord, remember me when Thou shalt come into Thy kingdom. Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief. Lord, increase my faith. Lord Jesus, receive my…

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    Wednesday In Holy Week

    I overheard someone at work refer to one of their mutual acquaintances as having “a missionary’s heart.” The phrase got me to thinking about missions and my experience with missionaries. In my experience in the Protestant world, few things are more heavily lip-serviced and more lightly performed in real life than “missions.” Pretty much every church has a bulletin board or display with photos and profiles of “their” missionaries. There are regular fund-raisers, coinciding usually with the missionary and his/her family making a personal appearance before the congregation to give a report on how things are going in their particular mission field. I also saw a fair number of “mission…

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    Requiescat In Pace

    My dear friend and spiritual advisor, Father James, who is a monk at Our Lady of Gethsemani Abbey in Kentucky, informed me that one of his friends and fellow monks died recently. Brother Frank Gorzynski died on March 19th, after a rapid decline. He had battled multiple health issues over the years and had spent considerable time living in the monastery’s infirmary, which is a skilled nursing facility. I didn’t know Brother Frank, though I did get to speak to him briefly in the hallway of the monastery’s visitor’s center during a visit. I remember his prominent eyebrows and his achingly sweet smile. Brother Frank was 92 years old and…

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    Palm Sunday

    We were flogged again with storms yesterday and last night. While out doing our weekly shopping yesterday afternoon, we huddled in the car while the sky turned inky and the lightning threw its crooked line daggers down, down near us. When we returned home, we learned that an area not far from where we had been was pelted with enough hail that it needed shoveling. The photos from the local weather station looked as if three inches of snow had fallen, and the damage to the siding on many homes looked as if a machine gunner had strafed the neighborhoods. I hoped all those eager young people who bought vegetable…

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    Friday In Passion Week

    Since yesterday marked the Feast of the Assumption, I had hoped to write a post to commemorate the day. But we had thunderstorms pushing through the area, and I thought it best to keep my laptop turned off and everything unplugged. We’ve had a few less-than-pleasant experiences in the past with lightning and decided to lay low and take no chances. I did not know until recently that the Church used to teach that the date of The Annunciation, March 25th, was the date God began His work of creating the heavens and the earth. I do so enjoy learning these sorts of tidbits; it’s like discovering a yellowing photo…

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    The Ides of March

    “Beware the Ides of March!” I said that today at my office, and one of my coworkers, who has a college education, asked me what I was talking about. “You know, from Julius Caesar? The day he got turned into a pincushion by the Senate?” She frowned as if I had asked her for money. “Who?” “Never mind.” And as I do so often, I turned away. I can’t wait until Wednesday. “Saint Who?” A week ago, the migration of hummingbirds back to these climes began. This evening, I was sitting in our office here at home, gazing out the door at Jinx, when something bulleted past. There was a…

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