What do you do when the silence comes?
Do you try to break it with laughter?
or do you think it is something that needs to be fixed?
Why don't we see silence as much a gift as noise?
each have their place.
neither greater than the other.
Do your ears tune themselves to the creaky building?
or the clinking of silverware on plates?
Do you find that you must talk to yourself out loud to compensate?
do you write all of your random thoughts in a journal so you don't drown in the ear splitting soundless ness.
Why don't you breathe.
take a second
and
breathe.
The world is full of sounds
of thoughts
of distractions
take a second
and
breathe.
And when you breathe
pray.
Now not the normal prayer
Dear God
or
Hail Mary
Pray in the silence
empty your mind
give yourself the freedom to not think
Once you are free from thought
ask God to come in.
He'll take it from there.
Tuesday, January 29, 2019
Head to the Heart #5
Have you ever felt so in tune
with God
that all of the cells in your body
Sway in praise?
and your body is left
tingling
even after the moment has passed?
Head to the Heart #4
Adoration.
through the incense
and the tears
throughout the prayers
sometimes
there is a glimmer
for half a second
that the host
is truly something more divine.
through the incense
and the tears
throughout the prayers
sometimes
there is a glimmer
for half a second
that the host
is truly something more divine.
Head to the Heart #2
Everyone starts off
generally happy
a little on edge
curious of the unknown
Somewhere along the weekend
a switch is hit
walls fall down
minds open to what's been there all along
At the end
I like to think
we all stand a bit straighter
our eyes shine a little brighter
When we focus on You
we remember the real purpose
we remember our belovedness
we remember You
generally happy
a little on edge
curious of the unknown
Somewhere along the weekend
a switch is hit
walls fall down
minds open to what's been there all along
At the end
I like to think
we all stand a bit straighter
our eyes shine a little brighter
When we focus on You
we remember the real purpose
we remember our belovedness
we remember You
Head to the Heart #1
How do you pray?
are you silently sitting in a church?
do you curl yourself up in front of the cross?
did you take a chair and sit at the edge of a pond?
Do you cry?
laugh?
sing?
are you silent?
Does it set your heart on fire?
Does it give you peace?
Or do you yearn to feel anything at all?
Sometimes it feels like a wall.
dry.
boring.
useless.
I'd be lying if I said I've never had that prayer.
But God is still working.
in the silence.
when our feelings can't be put into words.
are you silently sitting in a church?
do you curl yourself up in front of the cross?
did you take a chair and sit at the edge of a pond?
Do you cry?
laugh?
sing?
are you silent?
Does it set your heart on fire?
Does it give you peace?
Or do you yearn to feel anything at all?
Sometimes it feels like a wall.
dry.
boring.
useless.
I'd be lying if I said I've never had that prayer.
But God is still working.
in the silence.
when our feelings can't be put into words.
Thursday, January 10, 2019
Living with a Chronic Invisible Illness
I'll be enjoying a good conversation with a friend or family member, and then at some point the conversation will turn; they will get a serious face, and ask how I'm doing with my ulcerative colitis.
I will usually say it's doing well or mention some other food item I have to avoid.
Honestly for the most part it is okay. I'm glad that it is an invisible illness because then I don't have to see the pity stares and people don't see it as a disability that impairs my ability to do stuff. It is my burden to bare.
The problem is that I forget that I do have limitations. Try as hard as I can, my ulcerative colitis reminds me that it is still there.
It's there in my medications and vitamins I take every morning.
It's there in my infusions every two months.
It's in my bi-annual doctor appointments.
It's there in my colonoscopies every five years to check the status of my ulcerative colitis and to see if I have gotten any cancer from my medications.
It was in every day for the first year when I couldn't get the sound of the beeping hospital monitors out of my head.
It's in having to ask if I can still be an organ donor with all of the medications and infusions.
It's in getting tired after taking a long shower and having to sit naked on the floor of the bathroom.
It's in worrying about my ability to have children one day and worry that if I do have kids that they could get it too.
It's in having to stay home from work because my urgency came back and I can hardly leave the bathroom for an entire day.
It's in having a trump card when anyone brings up a diarrhea story.
It's in having to worry about insurance and paperwork.
It's in not talking to my coworkers about my condition. They probably think that I just have weird menstrual cycles.
It's in seeing my mom start to cry at any mention of my stay at the hospital.
It's in every trip home and night out with my friends because I know how important they are.
It's in every prayer with God asking him to help me cope and see all the good in the world.
Living with a chronic invisible illness means that I keep a lot in my head. But I wouldn't have it any other way. I don't have any desire to have people treat me differently. I am just as tough as the next girl. The only limitations I have are the ones I place on myself. There is a lot that can go wrong in one's life. Luckily for me, my guts just hate me. Or really-some of my guts hate me.
I will usually say it's doing well or mention some other food item I have to avoid.
Honestly for the most part it is okay. I'm glad that it is an invisible illness because then I don't have to see the pity stares and people don't see it as a disability that impairs my ability to do stuff. It is my burden to bare.
The problem is that I forget that I do have limitations. Try as hard as I can, my ulcerative colitis reminds me that it is still there.
It's there in my medications and vitamins I take every morning.
It's there in my infusions every two months.
It's in my bi-annual doctor appointments.
It's there in my colonoscopies every five years to check the status of my ulcerative colitis and to see if I have gotten any cancer from my medications.
It was in every day for the first year when I couldn't get the sound of the beeping hospital monitors out of my head.
It's in having to ask if I can still be an organ donor with all of the medications and infusions.
It's in getting tired after taking a long shower and having to sit naked on the floor of the bathroom.
It's in worrying about my ability to have children one day and worry that if I do have kids that they could get it too.
It's in having to stay home from work because my urgency came back and I can hardly leave the bathroom for an entire day.
It's in having a trump card when anyone brings up a diarrhea story.
It's in having to worry about insurance and paperwork.
It's in not talking to my coworkers about my condition. They probably think that I just have weird menstrual cycles.
It's in seeing my mom start to cry at any mention of my stay at the hospital.
It's in every trip home and night out with my friends because I know how important they are.
It's in every prayer with God asking him to help me cope and see all the good in the world.
Living with a chronic invisible illness means that I keep a lot in my head. But I wouldn't have it any other way. I don't have any desire to have people treat me differently. I am just as tough as the next girl. The only limitations I have are the ones I place on myself. There is a lot that can go wrong in one's life. Luckily for me, my guts just hate me. Or really-some of my guts hate me.
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