f Morning Rose Prayer Gardens: 10/01/2012 - 11/01/2012

Thursday, October 25, 2012

Autumn 2012 Goldfinches, Lilies, and the Elections

Peeps and Politics
...I try to make informed decisions but tend to give up about half way through the learning curve, feeling less illuminated than when I started. I have found over the years that after an election, what I’d hoped was accurate information was advertising in the name of game and gain... To read more, please see my latest column on Patheos.

Friday, October 19, 2012

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

October 2012

To all of you who follow my columns, please click here and you will be redirected to my new location at the Catholic Channel at Patheos. Once there, if you scroll down a bit, on the right you will see a way to continue to subscribe to my writings by email and automatically receive updates. Please sign up, won't you?

Friday, October 5, 2012

Autumn 2012 Changes are coming!

Branching Out

I feel like a little violet among the mighty oaks.
     I am delighted and honored to announce that my blog will soon be moving. I will be joining the Catholic Portal web page at Patheos. This is a snapshot of the banner. Isn't it lovely! (Thanks to Hillary.)

     I will post the link to my columns on Patheos once their team has completed the transfer. The columns will continue to be posted on Fridays.
     I would like to share with you this quote by Thomas Merton that I read each day before I begin to write: To do this work carefully and well, with love and respect for the nature of my task and with due attention to its purpose, is to unite myself to God's will in my work. In this may I become his instrument.
     I will contiue to try and remaining true to Our Lord, being his instrument, and listening for his whisper in the garden. Thank you for your encouragement and loyalty to my columns. It is because of your sharing that others have come to these pages, and maybe found their own solace through God's creation.


Autumn 2012 Prayers

Autumn Prayers
                Autumn moves in with its usual quiet grace. I took note the other day that the shrubs and trees have become peppered with color. I smile to myself and think of my own autumn-of-life with hair becoming peppered gray—and the next thing I knew, almost white! I had changed and like the trees, in due season and incrementally.
                In Michigan, and throughout the Midwest, there are visual seasonable changes in nature. There are also expectations of what each season brings. The greening in spring and the coloring dormancy before winter, the migration of birds into a region and their eventual return to warmer climates as the temperatures drop, are just a couple of the things I know and anticipate each year.
                I like the rhythm of it all, when everything is not always the same. This shift leads me to alter my perspective, to see things differently, to pray in different ways. The energetic prayers of springtime are not the same as those said during times of slowing down entering winter.
                I find that age—young or mature—dictates my response to change. The sudden shifts that took place in my youth would be harder to manage these days. I like change in moderation and can adapt well with a show of grace. It is dramatic changes that are jolting; when the scenery becomes unfamiliar and uncertainty skews my view.
                There was a time as an adult when I came to fully embrace Catholicism. It was then that I was jolted by the reality of my relativistic decisions as compared to the new scenery of faith, and found myself disoriented in my ethics.
                The prayers of my early years, chronologically and spiritually, were vigorous, eager, and thrust unto the Holy with certainty of specified resolution. The prayers that I now pray are much less frenetic and are presented with fullness and patience. I have no less confidence that they are being heard, but my expectations of how they will be answered are less defined.
Like the gentle, slow and steady pace of changing leaves at the end of a season, my prayers are slowly spoken, and hopefully more graceful in their petition. Seasons change as do our lives and how we pray. We live in all our seasons with assurance of the rhythm—day by day, familiar with the pace.