Patient trust by Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, SJ

Above all, trust in the slow work of God.
We are quite naturally impatient in everything to reach the end without delay.
We should like to skip the intermediate stages.
We are impatient of being on the way to something unknown, something new.

And yet it is the law of all progress
that it is made by passing through some stages of instability—
and that it may take a very long time.

And so I think it is with you;
your ideas mature gradually—let them grow,
let them shape themselves, without undue haste.
Don’t try to force them on,
as though you could be today what time
(that is to say, grace and circumstances acting on your own good will)
will make of you tomorrow.

Only God could say what this new spirit
gradually forming within you will be.
Give Our Lord the benefit of believing
that his hand is leading you,
and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself
in suspense and incomplete.

—Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, SJ

Madonna del Parto – unknown Master – Italy – 1490s
Photo by Small Circle Big Circle

A prayer – St. Ignatius of Loyola

Take Lord and receive all my liberty, my memory, my understanding and my will, all that I have and possess. Everything I have is yours, for you have given it all to me; to you I return it. Take me, Lord, and do what you like with me, only give me your grace and your love, for that is enough for me. Amen.

– Saint Ignatius of Loyola

Photo by Small Circle Big Circle

I worried by Mary Oliver

I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers
flow in the right direction, will the earth turn
as it was taught, and if not how shall
I correct it?

Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven,
can I do better?

Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows
can do it and I am, well,
hopeless.

Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it,
am I going to get rheumatism,
lockjaw, dementia?

Finally I saw that worrying had come to nothing.
And gave it up. And took my old body
and went out into the morning,
and sang.

– Mary Oliver

Collage by Carolina Perrone

Peace prayer – Saint Francis of Assisi

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace:
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy.

O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
Amen.

Acrylic painting by Carolina Perrone

Signore, fa di me
uno strumento della Tua Pace:
Dove è odio, fa ch’io porti l’Amore,
Dove è offesa, ch’io porti il Perdono,
Dove è discordia, ch’io porti l’Unione,
Dove è dubbio, ch’io porti la Fede,
Dove è errore, ch’io porti la Verità,
Dove è disperazione, ch’io porti la Speranza,
Dove è tristezza, ch’io porti la Gioia,
Dove sono le tenebre, ch’io porti la Luce.
Maestro, fa che io non cerchi tanto
Ad esser consolato, quanto a consolare;
Ad essere compreso, quanto a comprendere;
Ad essere amato, quanto ad amare.
Poiché, così è:
Dando, che si riceve;
Perdonando, che si è perdonati;
Morendo, che si risuscita a Vita Eterna

I am the great sun

I am the great Sun, but you do not see me. 
I am your Husband, but you turn away. 
I am the Captive, but you do not free me. 
I am the Captain you will not obey. 
I am the Truth, but you will not believe me. 
I am the City, where you will not stay. 
I am your Wife, your Child, but you will leave me. 
I am that God, to whom you will not pray. 
I am your Counsel, but you do not hear me. 
I am the Lover, whom you will betray. 
I am the Victor, but you do not cheer me. 
I am the Holy Dove, whom you will slay. 
I am your Life, but you will not name me. 
Seal up your soul with tears and never blame me. 

Charles Cosley, Norman Crucifix, 1632.

Photo by small circle big circle

Here I am. Enflesh me.

To paint a picture, to write a story or compose a song is an incarnational activity. The artist is a servant who is willing to be a birth giver.

[…]

I believe that each work of art, whether it is a work of great genius, or something very small comes to the artist and says: “Here I am. Enflesh me. Give birth to me.” And the artist says “My soul doth magnifies the Lord” and willingly becomes the bearer of the work, or refuses.

[..]

We lose the ability to see angels as we grow older and that is a tragic loss.”

Walking on water by Madeleine L’Engle

Oil painting by Small Circle Big Circle