CowPi Journal

I went on the junior class retreat yesterday to the Oklahoma City Bombing Memorial and Museum. I have been to the memorial several times, but this was my first trip through the museum. The memorial is always special, and it was exceptionally beautiful in the falling snow.
The museum on the other hand adds several dimensions to the whole experience that the memorial can’t. The images of pre and post explosion, the sounds, the interviews with survivors and rescuers, and the portraits of all those lost.
I was overwhelmed by the enormity of the loss, the ripples of pain and sorrow that spread through people and time caused by this one violent act. I wanted to curl up in a corner and cry a river of tears. How could God still love us after all the evil we do to each other? Not just the acts of violence, but the everyday cruelties and insenstivities we lay upon each other. How we marginalize and push aside others through indifference or through outright ugliness and hatred.
Oh Lord! Have mercy on us. We are sinners. We are rebels. Please call us all home, lead the way. Please help us to move our leaden feet, one painful step at a time in Your direction. Through our brokenness, reach through and transform our hearts. Please Father, have mercy on us.
Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

Sound — music — prayer
no words — emotions, feelings, but more…
essence, existence, but more…

A lifting up of the heart from within the heart,
not the head, not the intellect,
a place reachable without words,
beyond words.

The space and silence between the notes,
between the sounds, between the harmonies.
Silence supports it all, defines it all,
giving simple existence to every song.

All is You. All is gift.
If I could only sing “thank you” without words…

At the retreat this weekend, one of my students had a small epiphany during a very special prayer moment around the Blessed Sacrament. The following words come to her; it seemed as if God was speaking directly to her within her heart. A deep sense of peace followed. She wrote down the words on her hand so that she would not forget them, as if she ever will.

My Heart beats for you.
With every thump, It gets wilder.
Look into Me…
    because I cannot take My Eyes
    off of you, My child.

Afterwards, during a break, she came to me with the biggest grin on her face to tell me her experience. I believe her.

<smile>Thank you Father!</smile>

Found this little poem in a book laying around in the sacristy of the chapel at camp.

For every pain we must bear,
for every burden, for every care,
there’s a reason.

for every grief that bows the head
for every teardrop that is shed,
there’s a reason.

For every hurt, for every plight,
for every lonely, pain-racked night,
there’s a reason.

But if we trust God, as we should,
it will turn out for our good.
God knows the reason.

— Author unknown