To love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, soul, mind and strength.

To love thy neighbor as thyself.

   

Reference Mark 12:30-31

12:30. And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart and with thy whole soul and with thy whole mind and with thy whole strength. This is the first commandment.

12:31. And the second is like to it: Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. There is no other commandment greater than these.

 

  The Lord was lowered from my Cross into the arms of His Blessed Mother. I am left standing — stunned in all that has happened. With the greatest of sorrow I reflect upon this grave injustice.

  Lord, this painful, horrible road You and I traveled, has ended here on Calvary. In this place of horrific surroundings, You were forced to carry me on this journey of endurance, suffering and agony. The heavy weight of me on Your body, has torn Your flesh: the bones of Your shoulder raw against my wood. We fell down into the dirt. Your enemies beat You and whipped You. With each step, droplets of Your Precious Blood fell from Your inflicted body. We fell down a second time, then a third. Each breath of inhaling torment has brought us closer to the Crucifixion.

 

  On this mountain of Calvary, the ones who hated You — to inflict more pain — took Your Arms and stretched them to the very ends of my limbs, snapping Your bones; and with huge spikes nailed Your Hands and Feet to me. I felt Your pain of agony — not in my wood — but from Your very Heart. You were affixed to me in hatred, but I held You with the greatest of love, holding onto all Your parts, all Your suffering. All I could do, was to hold You upward to Your Father. My hands held Your Hands. My feet embraced Your Feet. For further humiliation, a sign of mockery was placed upon my Cross, and with a spike mounted onto my forehead.

 

  In this extension of suffering, You kept whispering: “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.” The thorns from Your crown, pierced my wood, my face, my heart. In Your agony, I felt Your trembling, Your fear — waiting, waiting for all of it to end. I could not see Your eyes, but I felt them burning into my wood.

 

  I could feel Your Spirit depart from You; Your limp body rested upon me. I held you; I just held You, as Your Compassion melted into my wood. The mist of sorrow flowed from me — tears of my Cross intermixed with Your Tears and Precious Blood.

  We were cast in an embrace together, frozen in time — Your life extinguished and carried away. And when the lance was thrust into Your side, it pierced the Blood and Water of Your Mercy: pouring out, immersing all mankind forevermore. In this tragic time of bonded togetherness, I know, I know what love, really is.

 

  I remain standing, a bystander, a shadow in this misery; alone, I am devastated. The splinters of my wood embrace pieces of Your Flesh. The Blood and Suffering remain on me, splattered all about the face of my Cross. I hold the mark of Your Body on my limbs. I would not be of any significance if I did not know You — for the grains of my wood hold the Stigmata of Your nail marks, Your suffering, Your Passion. Your Spirit is infused into my Cross: for I am not just a piece of wood or tree, but I am Thy Holy Cross — the “wooden bridge to Heaven.”

 

  As a reminder of our Lord’s Love and Sacrifice, there will be many replicas of me: a Cross with the same presence of Spirit. Embrace it with passion — with all your heart — for our Lord did the very same. And when you bless yourself with the Sign Of The Cross, know in your heart and soul the significance of this blessing. With great reverence, you are embracing the pain, the suffering and sacrifice of Our Lord, Jesus Christ. Yet with some, this blessing is applied with the wave of the hand, quickly and thoughtless — like chasing flies away. Is this how you present yourself to the Lord, as an empty gesture? Think of this as a baton for the flow of the Spirit — reverent, soft and gentle — for this is the punctuation mark of your Faith.

  With love, with compassion, with tears of your heart: to apply a blessing with less than this, is like an instrument without notes to make the music of a song, a violin without the bow — empty of the potential for God’s grace and presence.

 

  When you bless yourself, this is a reunion of your heart and soul uplifting substance of fragrance to Our Lord Jesus Christ on His Holy Cross.

 

  IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER,

  AND OF THE SON,

  AND OF THE HOLY SPIRIT.

  AMEN.

Robert J.Varrick

 

Do not lose courage in considering your own imperfections,

but instantly set about remedying them.

St. Francis de Sales

 

 

“Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful. Judge not, and you will not be judged; condemn not, and you will not be condemned; forgive, and you will be forgiven…”

 

~ Luke 6:36-37

 

“If we really want to love we must learn how to forgive.”

 

“People ask me what advice I have for a married couple struggling in their relationship. I always answer: pray and forgive. And to young people from violent homes, I say pray and forgive. And again even to the single mother with no family support: pray and forgive.”

 

~ Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta

 

this article discovered here

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Jesus, I wish I had been in the Upper Room the night before You suffered for the redemption of those You loved so much. Again I entertain vain desires for am I not really present at the Last Supper at every Mass? My faith is weak and my love lukewarm, Yes, I am there – that awe-inspiring moment when Your Apostles understood Your previous revelation of Your Body and Blood as food, is totally mine at every Mass. I can offer God to God in reparation for my sins. I can receive God into my soul so His Precious Blood, shed for me, begins to run its course in my heart.

 

I can see Your Face at the Last Supper, Lord Jesus, as You looked up to heaven to the Father who sent You and gave Him thanks and praise. I wish I had the courage to praise the Father before every sacrifice that His Wisdom asks of me. Give me that total consecration to the Father’s Will, that union with the Father’s Love.

 

Did the Apostles gasp in wonder as they heard You say, “Take this, all of you, and eat it: this is My Body which will be given up for you”?

 

I look upon the Host whenever I am at Mass, speechless and struck with awe at such humility. My life is so full of me – so full of pride – so full of the need to keep my identity. You are willing to hide Your Glory and Majesty behind this wafer, so I may gaze at my God and not die. You want me to be comfortable in Your Presence – to speak to You unencumbered by the difference in our natures. Oh Love, that is not loved, how can I return Your love? Wash me clean, dear Jesus, clean of every sin and weakness. Cover me over with mercy and forgiveness.

 

The Mass In My Life

Mother Angelica

this article discovered here

 

 

Father, I acknowledge that I’ve held resentment and bitterness against _______________. I confess this as sin and ask you to forgive me. I forgive __________________.

 

Remind me, Lord, to not hold any more resentments, but rather to love this person. Father, I ask you to also forgive ______________________.

 

Thank you for hearing and answering my prayer. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

 

this prayer discovered here

 

Transcendence and Genocide

Immaculée, Rwanda

Imagine being cramped in a tiny room with seven other people, huddled in silence for more than three months while cold-blooded killers lurk nearby, calling your name.

 

“There were many voices, many killers. I could see them in my mind: my former friends and neighbors, who had always greeted me with love and kindness, moving through the house carrying spears and machetes and calling my name.

 

“I have killed 399 cockroaches,” they chanted. “‘Immaculée will make 400. It’s a good number to kill.”

 

The Rwandan holocaust claimed the lives of nearly a million people. One brave and remarkable woman—Immaculée Ilibagiza—survived the slaughter by finding shelter in the confines of a small bathroom. She tells a triumphant story about faith, forgiveness, and endurance during one of modern time’s most horrific events.

 

Her journey of survival is described in her book, Left to Tell: Discovering God Amidst the Rwandan Holocaust. Details at http://www.lefttotell.com

 

“I couldn’t imagine how all of us could possible fit in this space, but the pastor herded us through the door and packed us in tight. “While you’re in here, you must be absolutely quiet, and I mean silent,” he said. “If you make any noise, you will die.”

 

“Minutes felt like hours as Immaculée sat silently, staring in the sad, frightened, nervous and uncertain faces of the other women. And this was just the first day of what would feel like an eternity of confinement from the genocide.

 

“The pastor’s repeated warnings to be quiet had burned into us. We sat in an uncomfortable heap, too afraid to adjust our positions or to even breathe too heavily. We waited for the gray light of dawn to fill the room, then carefully pried ourselves apart to take turns standing and stretching.

 

“This ritual would go one for many more hours, days, and even months, as these women would spend 91 days huddled in silence. Through a small window, Immaculée and her terrified companions listened with disbelief to the accounts of what was going on just inches away from them …the slaughter of their families and the bloody massacre of their country.

 

“I stood on my tiptoes and peered out the window through a little hole in the curtain. The other ladies grabbed at me, trying to pull me down. “Get down! They’re looking for us! Get down before they see you!”

 

“I ignored them, knocking their hands away and peering through the hole. I immediately regretted my decision because I was petrified by what I saw. It wasn’t soldiers who were chanting chilling songs of genocide or doing dances of death, nor was it the trained militiamen who had been tormenting us for days. No, these were my neighbors, people I’d grown up and gone to school with. Some had even been to our house for dinner.

 

Immaculée transformed her life during this horrific event and even found the profound faith to forgive her family’s murderers. “Immaculée’s journey is a story of a love for God that was so strong that hatred and revenge were forced to dissolve in its presence,” says Dr. Wayne W. Dyer, world-renowned inspirational speaker and best-selling author.

 

From reviews of “Left to Tell”, 2006, Hay House, by Immaculée Ilibagiza;

 

this article discovered here