Tuesday, 27 March 2007

Nolite obdurare...


Holiness, to the unprepared
heart breathes fire so
luminous that the very
sky would break and
shatter. Thus fear
accompanies desire.

The Little Flower


I am struck again at how the sanctity of St. Thérèse started, not with great renunciations (though she had these), nor lofty contemplation (though this she was given), nor a determined life of penance (though this she lived), but in the simple, wholly unnoticed and seemingly inconsequential little obediences and self-denials of her way of life.

I imperil my soul if I think these only proper to those under vows.

Lord, in Your Will is our peace.

Awake, My Soul!

Often the only recourse when all else has gone, is to persist in believing that you are the object of the Infinite, Eternal and All-Knowing Love of God. To hold in the seemingly hidden corners of your heart that somehow if only He knew your true depths He would not be so foolish: that is the crack through which despairs flows in its dull and numbing grey trickle.