Posted by: geolocke | 2021/02/17

Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down

These words from a children’s nursery rhyme are leftover memories from another pandemic long ago. Yet they strike me as appropriate for today’s solemn fast as we begin Lent this year.

I will not be going to Church to receive ashes in the sign of the Cross upon my forehead. Nor will I contemplate and reflect upon my life in the hushed atmosphere of the church. But I will be striking my breast and begging forgiveness for the wrongs I have committed over the past year.

What will I be “giving up” for this year’s lent, when we have all given up so much since this time last year? What is left to offer up to God who has been most gracious and most patient to my family and to myself during this past year of pandemic, economic and political strife, watching the very fracturing of a society that seeks to serve self instead of other?

Lord, may I begin by breaking away the rust that has built up around my heart, giving up the ‘cloak’ of self-preservation I have wrapped around it so that it may once more shine freely with the light of your Love.

Lord, may I turn away from, and give up my injured pride, which feeds upon the words of the various media, and return to Your Word which feeds my body, my mind, and my spirit.

Lord, my I give up letting my anger and frustration spill over, lashing it out upon my work mates, my neighbors, my friends, my family, and my life mate, and in its place, make room in my heart for your peace and quietude of humble service to those who I love, and to those who you place in my life.

Lord, may I give up trying to deal with all things according to my will, and accept that Your Will be done.

If I can give up just one of these, O Lord, then please accept this gift from me and help me to become the child you wish for me to become.

I pray this in the name of you, O Holy Father, and in the name of your Son, Jesus Christ, and in the name of your Holy Spirit.


Posted by: geolocke | 2020/12/25

Christmas Musings 2020

I’m sure these words have been used a lot lately, but this year has been unlike any I have experienced before. With that being said, I wanted to write an entry for Christmas this year, but after days of running different ideas through my mind, I had not found anything to grab hold of to act as the seed for my entry.

This morning, as I was putting on my coat and hat for my walk, I was thinking about how very dark this past year has been for all of us in so many ways. How nearly everyone on this earth has been touched by sorrow, worry, sickness, death – darkness upon darkness upon darkness.  Nothing there to write about that anyone doesn’t already know about, much less hear more about.

But when I stepped outside into the cold, I found myself marveling at how bright and crisp the neighbor’s Christmas lights glinted in the pre-dawn darkness. Making my way down the street I noted how house after house had some lights burning.  Some houses were covered in lights with grand displays out in their yards. other houses just had a few lights in their front windows. In every instance, they seemed to be making a statement – taking a stand against the darkness that waited outside.

I heard it first, a slight rustling sound in the leaves, and then I felt the first touch of cold dampness on my face.  It had started to snow.  It was just a flurry lasting but 5 minutes, but to see the snow in the growing light of dawn on Christmas day gave me a thrill just the same as it did when I was a child.  Snow, on Christmas day, in the south.

By the time I got back home the snow was just a brief memory, but it excited me still.  I though I might have something to finally write about, but I was still not certain where to begin. I made a cup of coffee and sitting down at the computer, I checked my social media feed.  There, in a memory of posts I had made on this day in previous years, was a Christmas letter I had written in the days before I started blogging.

The letter was based on a journal entry I had made many years previously.  A journal which I have since misplaced or lost, as I have not been able to find that particular notebook for several years now. I forgot I had written this letter, although re-reading it I remembered my thoughts at the time, and my earlier musings scribbled in my journal before that.

Here was the message I wished to share this Christmas day. I had already written it years before, waiting for providence to provide for me where my self-will failed to produce. It speaks of hope, and trust, and belief – all of which we are in sore need of in these dark days.

Just like small twinkling lights pushing back against the gloom of night, or the lightest touch of a single snowflake upon my face on Christmas Morning, it speaks of the way that God continually reaches out to us in small subtle ways to lead us from the darkness of these days to the glorious brightness of His unending Love for all of us.

My writing skill was not well honed at that time, but I share it here as it is. Merry Christmas to you all.

For me, the Story of Christmas is one of Hope, Trust, and Believing, but not on my part, but rather on the part of God. I cannot speak for all people of faith, but as a person of faith who believes in Christ, the story of the birth of the one who is to save us holds a special place in my heart. St. Paul said (paraphrased): “when I was a child, I spoke as a child, thought as a child, reasoned as a child. When I became a man I put away that childish nature [..]. At present I know partially, but one day I will know fully, as I am fully known”.

I am still a child in my faith. I am led to catch fleeting glimpses of a greater existence beyond the reality that I perceive with my senses through the words of Holy Scripture left to us by our ancestors, and through music, and art, and the lives of the Saints, all inspired by those words,  And yet, what I think I am glimpsing is not something more complex, but rather something much simpler than this current existence. Perhaps I am not child-like enough in my faith.

It seems to me that God has worked since creation to make God known to all creation, especially to us humans. We are creatures who learn through sharing our stories with one another. Even the paintings left by our earliest ancestors on the walls of caves attest to this fact. Humans have always needed to express themselves and share their stories with one another.

Is it any wonder then that God chose the language of humans to convey himself to us in stories of creation and of our earliest attempts to communicate with and understand the very nature of God?  Even now that what we call modern science is painting for us a picture of how all creation came into being, my faith and wonder at the wisdom of God and the words of holy scripture are just reinforced.

How beautiful it is to me that all the grand theories and the language of mathematics which give us the story of the Big Bang, were all summed up thousands of years ago by a human inspired by God to write two simple words, Fiat Lux!, Let there be light! [Note: since the original writing of the letter, a dear friend has pointed out that in the original Hebrew, there were more than two words, but I think the statement retains its meaning none the less. -geo]

The stories of Holy Scripture grow in complexity as the human understanding of God is revealed bit by bit. Sometimes using poetry, other times using  historical narrative. Sometimes speaking allegorically, and other times through the artist’s muse of the psalms. Yet God always conveys a bit more of the image of God to the human creature in the form that speaks best to us, the story, until in time God is ready to tell us the greatest story of all; The revealing of God to us, through us.

God is revealed to us by coming to us in human form, not in the form of splendor, glory and majesty, but rather in the form of a helpless child, the Christ. God comes to join in the human story by being born in human nature to a family of no fame, in a place and time in our history that seems unimportant.

God Believes that we humans will care for and nurture the Christ Child. God Trusts that our Human nature will protect the Christ Child and teach him how to grow into adulthood. God Hopes earnestly that our human nature will come to recognize the nature of God within all of us through the Christ Child in our midst.

Although God has legions of angels who stand ready to defend the Christ Child, God instead entrusts his safety, care, nurturing, and education to us fallible, imperfect humans, hoping that we will come to see the Light of God in the life of one little child.

I wish my faith was simple enough to see through the clutter of all this world’s problems and troubles and to focus only on this one tiny child, born in a stable, born to bring peace to this world, born to bring God to us and us to God.

Merry Christmas.  2012 -geo

Posted by: geolocke | 2020/11/29

Expressions of Eternity

The artist looks at the world around them and sees through the superficial into the greater meaning within, and with that knowledge they create.

The Sculptor takes a block of stone or wood and removes the surface until the inner shape is revealed, or conversely takes various bits and pieces of discarded material and builds up a shape from them.

The painter with brush and pigment – or even a can spray paint and a wall for a canvas – captures with but a few strokes what the rest of the world may be blind to.

The photographer, with camera and film – or digital sensor – looks at the world around them and dreams of recording a single instant of eternity that, to them, conveys an expression of the infinite.

The musician, with string, or breath, or percussion, or any other mode of creating sound, dares to attempt to express the marriage of sound and rhythm and the human spirit.

The writer and the poet crafts words that convey their perception of the interplay of the human condition, both with one another, and with the stirrings of the soul

What does an artist do but attempt to express the inexpressible, using woefully inadequate tools, and in all audacity sets out and does so anyway. But there comes a time when artists step away from their creations – setting aside hammer and chisel, brush and paint, camera and film, instrument and voice, verse and prose – all their acts of creation come to a halt and they look with wonder at the source of their inspiration, and raising their mind, heart and spirit up, gaze upon all that is visible and invisible in the universe, and humbly give thanks.

Posted by: geolocke | 2020/11/25

Morning Musing

We are spending Thanksgiving at the coast this year. It is a quiet place where we can pause and reflect upon all that has happened to us this year, and what blessings we have been given for which we will give thanks.  It will be especially quiet this year as we have recently had to say goodbye to our dog who kept us company and gave us so much joy for the past decade.

This morning I rose before the dawn and went outside to greet the coming of the new day. It is a habit of mine when visiting this place. Usually our dog would have been right by my side, but now I made this trip alone.

The Moon had already set, and the canvass of the night sky glittered with the many stars and the planet Venus. The stars faded away in the growing pre-dawn light until only the planet Venus still shone in the morning sky. But its light – only borrowed from the Sun – soon faded too, for no lesser light could compete against the coming of the new day.

For the briefest of moments, the Sun paused behind clouds that hugged the horizon, then swiftly it rose casting down a glittering highway of golden light across miles of water to where I stood waiting to greet it. I closed my eyes and felt the power and the warmth of the Sun on my face, its light shining through my closed eyelids and filling my sense of vision.

Turning away and opening my eyes, I beheld the spectacle of the new day. Light gusts of wind set the tree leaves and marsh grasses swaying while flickering fish broke the surface of the water, becoming airborne for a moment before splashing back again into the glittering waves.

Overhead, a riot of gulls flies helter-skelter, pivoting and wheeling round about, screaming and calling to one another as they  search for fish, while below them a lone fisherman maneuvers his boat up the waterway, perhaps looking for a quiet place to drop his hook.

In the salt marsh closer to shore, a lone egret calls out with its harsh croaking voice while a small group of geese begin to paddle about in the calm waters near the salt marsh. Into this scene, a line of pelicans glides effortlessly across my line of sight, the downward turned tips of their outstretched wings almost touching the surface of the water.

Single file they glide past without any movement of wing discernable to the eye. I am captured awe-struck by the beauty and majesty of the silent parade that passes before me and I am wonder struck by their ability, their mastery of balancing wind and wave to produce their effortless flight.

I stand still for a moment after their passing, lost in wonder, thought, and contemplation of the instance of beauty and harmony which I had just witnessed. I turn to walk back to the house, but I no longer feel that I walk alone.

Posted by: geolocke | 2020/11/04

He Sighed From The Depth Of His Spirit

Note: I began this post in early 2017, but I placed it on the shelf and let it collect dust when ‘life’ intruded into my writing time. There are several of these old posts in my Drafts folder waiting to see the light of day. This year I have been thinking a lot about pulling these posts out of my drafts folder and finally polishing them up and posting them. 

Although the conditions under which I began this post have changed somewhat, I still feel it is relevant today, maybe even more so today then it was way back in 2017.  -geo

This line from the Gospel of Mark (8:11-13) has really struck a chord in me as I have been sighing a lot to myself these days.

I am weary of the constant adversarial attitude that attempts to pervade every aspect of our daily existence.  While there has always been periods of conflict as long as we have walked this earth, it seems that lately there is no respite from it.

The enemy is on constant attack from every side, advancing in force on one side – drawing our defenses to meet it – and then attacking from another side. And attacking again from a different side, and so it continues seemingly without end.

At times it seems we can barely trust those around us. Some of the hardest attacks come from friends, family, and neighbors. It is these attacks that can trouble us the most, throwing us off balance and maybe even raising the specter of doubt within our spirits – doubting our strength, doubting our motives, doubting our resolve,  sometimes even doubting our faith.

And that is precisely what the enemy wishes to do; to make us doubt ourselves and keep us off guard by forcing us to constantly shift our defenses to meet some new attack

The enemy does not want to win the battle, or even the war for that matter. The enemy’s goal is to keep our forces occupied with defending our position and keeping us from fulfilling our true mission. That is the true victory the enemy seeks.

When we focus all our strength on defending ourselves, then we have no strength left for what we really should be doing:

  • Forgiving one another,
  • Healing the injured,
  • Defending the weak,
  • Feeding the hungry,
  • Clothing the naked,
  • Sheltering the homeless,
  • Counseling the troubled,
  • Welcoming the immigrant and the refugee,
  • Loving one another.

When we lose our focus of serving and defending one another because we are too busy defending ourselves, then the enemy wins.

We must turn and face the attacks, setting our spirits firmly planted against the messages of hate and fear that constantly assail us like the storm-winds of a never ending hurricane.

We must learn to be Still, to be Quiet, and to remember to trust that God is with us, and that God will not abandon us to the madness that surrounds us. We need to remember and believe the words the Prophet Isaiah once said: “A bruised reed he will not break. A smoldering wick he will not quench.

So let the enemy come at us. Let the enemy rush past our former defenses, pushing past our ego, past our pride, past our places of comfort. If the enemy strikes our cheek with insults, shame, and fear, then let us offer the other cheek as well. What real harm can the enemy do to us? As long as we stay true to our mission God will protect and defend us.

Our mission is nurturing and sharing the message of God’s Love and Peace to all who we meet. We accomplish this through our words and actions, as well as when we restrain our tongue and when we refuse to repay the enemy attack for attack.

As long as we refuse to play by the enemy’s rules the enemy cannot ultimately win. And once our battles are over and we are welcomed home, maybe then we can breath a sigh of relief and find our rest in the comfort of God’s eternal Love. 

Posted by: geolocke | 2020/05/09

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph

May 1, 2020 – The Feast of St. Joseph, the Worker.

To say that this year has gotten off to a rough start would be the understatement of understatements. Combine a world-wide pandemic with a global economic shutdown, layer it with near world-wide restrictions on personal movement and abolishment of social gatherings and we have the recipe for mass confusion, panic, worry, and for some, ponderings about the end times.

For myself, I try to remain calm and cautious about the present situation. I must admit that there are times when I am, perhaps, a bit overly cautious, but I strive for calmness, take suitable precautions, and place my trust in God to see us through. My prayer partner during these dark times is Saint Joseph.

My journey of faith has not been straight forward, nor has it always been a clear path. I find that I have come to St. Joseph here in my latter years and that is, perhaps, as it should be since, as some believe, he was much older than Mary when they wed.

I have told in another writing how I came back to the church in my middle age during a time of crisis. How, when I was totally helpless, I felt the call once again to pray to our Lord Jesus, but first asking our Blessed Mother Mary to lead me in my prayer.

Before that crisis I had not given much thought to Mary, other than childhood memories of the Christmas story. But since that time, I have never been disappointed in the power of Mary’s loving intercessory prayer with which she aids my own prayers.

I must admit though that if I gave little thought to Mary before my time of crisis, still less had I given thought to St. Joseph. However, the past dozen years have opened my eyes and my heart to the value of St. Joseph’s Prayers.

If Mary’s prayers are a bountiful garden of love, compassion, and constant intercession, then Joseph’s prayers are a confident hand on the rudder, and a steadfast anchor when the storms of life rage and toss my little ship of faith.

After years of long overnight vigils beside hospital beds, sleepless nights and troubled days tending to and praying for my parents, my spouse, our children, my sisters and brothers and their families, and my friends, I have slowly come to realize that there is one other person who has shared a similar path, and who has been there by my side praying with and for me  – St. Joseph.

I realize that every time I pray for wisdom to know what to do in a situation, St. Joseph is there adding his prayer to mine. Every time I pray asking for strength, fortitude, endurance, and stamina to get me through the crisis of the moment, St. Joseph is there by my side adding his prayer to mine.

Always the silent prayer partner, a guide and mentor through the storms of life, St. Joseph has been with me on my little ship of faith, calmly lending me his strength and wisdom through the power of his prayers.

Saint Joseph,
Husband of Mary,
Foster father of Jesus,
Guardian of Jesus and Mary
Provider, Teacher, Builder, Protector
Pray with me and pray for me
To the Lord our God
That I may be:
A good son and a loving husband,
A wise father and a steadfast friend,
A patient listener and a faithful advisor,
A just advocate and a sure help to those in need,
A calming influence and a guiding light for those who travel in darkness.

In the name of Jesus, I ask this. Amen.

Posted by: geolocke | 2020/01/04

Prayer Sleep

I awoke early this morning about 3am. I couldn’t get back to sleep because of all the thoughts whirling through my mind. After tossing and turning for a while, I got up and went to our prayer room to settle into my chair and pray.

The only light in the room is coming from the streetlights outside leaking in through the closed blinds. In the darkness I focus my attention upon the Crucifix on the wall before me. Although I can not see them clearly, I know there is a carving of a white dove, symbol of the Holy Spirit, hanging on the wall above the Crucifix. Below on a shelf sits a small statue of the Immaculate Heart of Mary.

Like photos of family members hanging on the wall which I look upon, remember and pray for, this arrangement of the symbols of our faith are placed just so, to remind me of the larger truths and relationships upon which I meditate and pray.

On mornings like this I like to pray my Rosary. I have an old Rosary given to my by a friend who acquired it from an estate sale. The beads are made of plant seeds – the “Tears of Job” I’ve been told – and they are worn smooth, polished by years of use.

The beads are comforting as they slip through my fingers, following the slow rhythm of my prayers. My formerly anxious thoughts are quickly replaced by the steady pattern of my prayers, which in turn settle into a background lullaby while I re-focus my surface prayer to contemplation on the life of Christ. I find that I do not even complete the first decade of my rosary before I drift into a pleasant state of mixed prayer and sleep.

I drift in and out of my prayer sleep state, occasionally advancing to the next bead, but finally giving in and just clasping the Rosary to my chest. The background lullaby of prayers is now softly repeating, not even trying to keep track of the beads. I remember to offer a prayer for the former owner of this Rosary before drifting back into prayer sleep.

I sleep deeply, aware of dreams but unable to recall them. Finally I begin to awake to the sound of birds singing outside the windows and I suddenly smell roses blooming, although we have none in the house. As I drag myself out of the deep sleep, my hands are stiff from still clenching my Rosary.

Opening my eyes I again focus on the Crucifix and give thanks to God for all the blessings that have been bestowed upon me, my family, and my friends. I hear my wife in the kitchen making coffee and my dog, hearing me stir, comes to great me with tail wagging. It is mid-morning and I have slept soundly. My wife greets me with “good morning” and I reply in like kind.

It really is a good morning.

Posted by: geolocke | 2019/12/03


November 28, 2019
Bogue Sound, North Carolina

The pre-dawn glow in the eastern sky shows the promise of the coming day. A few wispy high clouds create a glorious rose-colored halo on the horizon, just waiting for the sun to burst forth from its nighttime slumber.

The oyster beds are exposed to the air, perched high above the mudflats left by the new moon’s Low tide. Other shellfish lie buried in the mud, there presence betrayed by the soft squeaking, bubbling, popping sounds coming from the dark mud.

There is next to no wind this morning, leaving barely a ripple on the surface of the water this close to shore. With the water this calm I can tell that the tide is coming in as the water steadily rises, slowly covering a bit of mud here, filling in a small depression there, until the once muddy surface is transformed into a smooth uninterrupted reflection of the brightening sky overhead.

The Sun, resplendent in all its rose-colored glory, reaches above the horizon. Ripples on the surface of the Sound reflects and magnifies the sun’s light into a dazzling display, as if diamonds too numerous to guess were floating on the surface.

The birds, silent until now, begin to arise from their overnight resting places. Birds great and small begin flying towards the rising sun; gulls and pelicans, herons and geese, all calling out in a great chorus, as if each were rejoicing to greet the new day.

The Sun now fully above the horizon is too bright to look at for more than an instant. I turn away from the intensity of its full power and see my shadow trailing off into indeterminant distance. The oyster beds, still sitting above the slowly rising tide, are exposed to the brilliance of the newly risen sun. Their shells, glistening in the light, reach upward as is hundreds of hands were raised up in praise and prayers of thanksgiving.

And I, the sole witness to this morning’s daybreak on this small patch of creation, close my eyes and turn back towards the sun. Feeling the warmth of the sunlight on my face, and raising my heart and mind to God, I too give thanks for this new day.

Posted by: geolocke | 2019/07/17

Skipping Stones

A rough-hewn rock was I in my youth
My edges were jagged and without symmetry
My pride, my arrogance, my selfishness
Yet still, You resided within my inmost being
Hidden in the quiet still darkness of my core
A perfect gem of priceless beauty
Waiting to be revealed

A stumble in midlife flaked off a chip
Then whole portions are split off after falls
Slowly my jagged edges were removed
Pride succumbed to Humility
Arrogance gave way to Compassion
Selfishness transformed to Charity
My shape began to resemble Yours

Now having held me in the palm of Your hand
Gently smoothing away my remaining imperfections
The perfect gem of Your priceless beauty revealed
You cast me forth across the still clear waters of Your creation
Now flying, now skipping the surface, ripples spreading out with each touch
A word shared here, my tongue held there, a listening ear, an offered prayer
Then to settle to the bottom and rest in the company of so many other skipping stones

Posted by: geolocke | 2019/06/28

Reflection and Prayer

It has been more than two months since the high Holy days of the Paschal Triduum and Easter. The memories of that week are still fresh within my mind; the smells of flowers and incense, the sounds of bells and music, and the memory of seeing the darkened Cathedral slowly being lit as the flame of a single candle was shared and spread across thousands of other candles held by those present.

But foremost in my mind is the memory of a thought that burst upon my mind on Holy Thursday during our Bishop’s homily. I fear that I will never fully capture or clearly express that thought, but I will try to convey it here although my words are sorely inadequate for the task.


It occurs to me that at the last supper, when John laid his head upon his Master’s breast, surely he could hear Jesus’ heart beating within; could feel his Master’s breast gently rise and fall with each breath he took.

How shocking it must have been then, when less than 24 hours later that same breast heaved and convulsed as Jesus gasped for breath, how that same gentle heartbeat must have raced and pounded within that convulsing breast as Jesus looked down upon John and his dear mother Mary who stood by watching helplessly. What thoughts must have been going through the Blessed Mother’s mind at the sight of her son hanging before her upon that dreadful Cross. 

The man who hung on the Cross before her was the child she had once laid upon her own breast, feeling his own heart beating and listening to his breathing as he slept. And Jesus the child, asleep on the Virgin’s breast, listened to his mother’s own heartbeat, comforted by the slow rising and falling of his mother’s breathing, just as he had heard and felt as he formed and grew within her womb. And for a precious time both of them shared together the same precious gift of the Holy Spirit as their two hearts came to beat as one.

The words come hard then, every breath an effort of will. To his mother: “Woman, behold your son.” To John: “Behold your mother.” And with his last breath to his Heavenly Father: “Into your hands I commend my Spirit.” And just as God gave humankind its first breath, so then Jesus gave his last breath back to his Heavenly Father.

Lance in hand the centurion opened Jesus’ side, his blood and water welling forth to be readily swallowed by the thirsty earth below. How Mary’s heart must have ached as if she herself had been pierced, as Simeon had foretold many years before when she and Joseph had brought the child Jesus to the Temple.

His breathing and his heart now stilled, Jesus’ lifeless body is removed from the Cross. Once more Mary cradles her son while John tries to comfort her. His body is hastily cleaned, wrapped, and laid in a rock-hewn tomb. A stone is set across the entrance. A seal placed upon the stone and a guard set in place. Jesus has gone where they can not follow.

John and Mary return to the upper room and join others who are also in grief and shock. They comfort on another and ponder the memory of Jesus’ words “Christ must die, and Rise again.” They close the door and await the passing of the Sabbath. 

Scripture does not record what happened on that Sabbath day, but I would like to think they spent their time in prayer, and sharing their memories of Jesus and all that he had said, done, and taught them. Such a precious gift it was when Jesus gave these two into each other’s care. Now stilled, the memory of the sound of Jesus’ beating heart and the rush of his breath lived on in his blessed mother and beloved disciple. These memories being their comfort and their hope as they waited for what would come after the Sabbath.

The following morning they hear the word that the tomb is open and empty; Jesus is alive! His heart beats and his lungs breathe once more. First one, then another report that they have seen and spoken to their Master. Then later that same day, others come and report that they too have seen and spoken with Jesus. And then Jesus appears in their midst and greets them with words of comfort: “Peace be with you.” He stays with them for many days, then Jesus breathes upon them, bestowing the Holy Spirit before he ascends to Heaven, but he does not abandon them, nor us.


The breath of life given to our first parents by God , and returned to God with Jesus’ last breath upon the cross, is now given back to us through the gift of the Holy Spirit. It is bestowed upon all of us and moves the Universal Holy Church. We feel His breath with every prayer, every psalm that is sung, every reading of Sacred Scripture, with every Blessing bestowed, and with every proclamation of the Holy Gospels. 

The heart that once beat within only His breast now beats within all of us and within the Heart of the Church. The blood that once coursed through His body, and spilled on the ground at the foot of the Cross, now fills all the members of the Church when we join as one body in Holy Eucharist, participating in His very Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity.

Refreshed, cleansed, healed, and strengthened by His Body and Blood, and prompted by his Holy Spirit, we move about through the world lifting up and caring for our sisters and brothers, and sharing the Good News that Jesus Christ has overcome death and lives.

Jesus lives not just in history, but today and for all days yet to come. He lives in Body and Spirit.  And the promise He gives us is that after our lives here have ended, we ourselves with our bodies will be raised and live anew with him, and the Father, and the Holy Spirit in the unity of their Love.


O God, having given us lives filled with Faith, Hope, and Charity, you have sent us out as messengers and ministers of your Love. How blessed are we who have recourse to your Son’s most Sacred Heart and Holy Breath. 

May our lungs be filled with His Holy Breath, and our hearts beat as one with His Sacred Heart as we move about sharing the Gospel and serving all your children with our prayers, our words, and our actions. 

May ears that have not yet heard, and eyes that have not yet seen, and minds that have not yet grasped, come to know You, and the Love of Jesus, and the Holy Spirit through the Gospel message and the Love we share.

We Pray this in the most Holy Name of Jesus, and with the prayers and intercessions of our Blessed Mother Mary  – Amen.

Older Posts »


%d bloggers like this: