It’s Saturday evening, still and dark, in the heart of the winter, and my life is a vigil Mass. Pondering whether this is the end of one week or the beginning of another leads to my awareness that Christ dwells here: always on the verge, always at the edge, always rooted in what has been, always open to what will be. As the pastor preaches, and as we sit and kneel and stand together, and as the bells toll and the collection baskets are passed, Christ speaks: Come to me, all who are weary, I am the way, no one comes to the Father except through me. Christ dwells in and through all things. May we thus resist the urge to fill our Saturday evenings, and other quiet moments, with events and tasks that drown out his tender voice. Our fear will be met with love, our anxiety will be transformed into gratitude, our lives will become vigil Masses, and Christ will truly be born. Ave Crux, Spes Unica.
“As Kingfishers Catch Fire” by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Thank you so much!
This was beautiful!
God be with you, as well!
Thank you Margaret! Forward, together! Jesus, I trust in you.