CowPi Journal

These Wave
      Are for me
      A Tempest.
I shall perish, lost in an abysmal sea.
Yet,
      For You,
      Like that night in Galilee,
They are a lulling hush,
A Cradle of Respite, Relief
      From the labors of arduous love.
Exhaust me, impel me
      That I, too,
      in this sea,
            Might sleep.

— Neville Ann Kelly

God, I have no defense.
I am lonely and miserable—
      for no real reason.
How can I spread your love
      when I don’t have it?
How can I spread to others your joy
      when I am not joyful?
Why? How? What must I do?

Father, I’m tried. Please. Forgive me.
Father, forgive me
      because I fail to be sincere,
      genuine, repentant, loving,
      selfless, trusting, committed.
I have questions
      that I love to pester myself with
      and my fruitless worries weigh me down
      until I can no longer smile.

Lord, turn my eyes to you.
Let me be content
      to live with my questions
      and let loose my worries
      in your presence.
Enable me to love and to live in your joy.
Enable me, Lord, and then consume me,
      so that my actions are your actions,
      so that my heart is your heart.

To you, Lord, I pray. Amen.

— Andrew Spidahl (modified)

We offer you, Lord, a poor man’s gift. We offer you a poor man’s life. We’re poor and hungry; we’re naked and weak; we break easily, Lord, so handle us gently.

The goods that we offer are gifts from you: our lives with all their freedom, our distracted minds, our often weak wills and failing memories. These are a poor man’s gift to you.

And since they come from you, Lord, please see your way clear to accepting them. We’ve had our problems using them well, but we know your love can transform them into a gift pleasing to you.

And for us, Lord, hear our servant’s simpler prayer: When we are weak, be our strength; when we doubt, be our faith; when we’re discouraged, be our hope; and when we’re lost, come and find us. When we’re hungry, be our food; and when we’re thirsty, be our drink; when we’re in the darkness, be our light; and when we’re sad, be our comfort and joy.

Let us feel your touch in all we say and do. Let us grow and blossom in your love. Grant us this, Lord, and there’s nothing more we want until we see you face to face. Take all we have and are, give us your love and your grace, with all these we are full, yes, we’re full. Amen.

— Michael E. Moynahan, S.J.

I am lost in a fog of nothingness.
I cannot seem to see or recognize
or understand much of anything.
I see faint lights scattered about me.
Some are brighter than others, some less.
One or three of them give off a little heat,
but barely enough to feel the warmth.

I stumble and trip over things in the fog, in the dark.
I stub my toes and they ache; they hurt.
I am tired of tripping, of falling, of hurting.

I do not feel abandoned by God,
like some of the Psalms pray,
but rather lost.
Alone.

I do not know where I am going.
I do not know what I am doing.
I do not know where my next foot step is to go.
I doubt if I have the energy
to even lift my foot for the next step.

I know God is here.
He is always here with me, with us.
I just cannot seem to sense His presence.
I cannot feel Him in my life.
The fog is in the way,
diffusing the big picture of life.

Ironically, I can see God’s glory,
all around me, nearest me in the fog.
I see God
in the beauty of the sunlight warming my face,
in the marvel of a cardinal sitting in a tree,
in the scent of a lady’s perfume,
and in the harmonies of a choir.
But look further away,
the big picture gets foggy,
out of focus,
barely visible;
only its existence is inferred.

I can see joy all around me too,
in the laughter of others,
in the eyes of others.
I can see joy in their smiles too,
and in the briefest of moments,
I think I see the joy in my own smile,
but that joy seems to go only so far;
it does not seem to penetrate
into the deepest part of my heart.

I can see God’s love for me, for us.
It shines through the eyes of my closest friends.
I just cannot seem to feel it.
The warmth of their love only warms my face.
I desperately want to feel it deep inside.
I want to feel it.
I yearn to feel it.
I need to feel it.

My heart feels like it is wrapped within a cocoon,
shielded from the malleability of the world.
Unfortunately, only the most intense emotions
seem to penetrate.

I trust God that whatever is happening
is for the good of everything.
I hope God is transforming my heart into a butterfly
within this cocoon in my soul,
so that I may fly above the misty fog
and see the glory of His Big Picture,
and feel the warmth of His love,
through others,
on my wings.