a sursum corda

teetering on the precipice of cold. shadowy. february. and too much work. and not enough work. and keeping up. and not enough willing hands.

preoccupations and adolescent murkiness: while not horrible they nevertheless trouble me.

and so i seek solace in HIS Words:

I {Christ} am the Lover of all purity, and the generous Giver of all holiness. I seek a pure heart, and there is My resting place. Make ready for Me a great chamber, strewn with rushes-that is, your heart, and with My disciples I shall keep My Easter with you. If you desire that I should come to you and dwell with you, free yourself of the old filth of sin and cleanse also the habitation of your heart. Exclude the world and all the clamorous noise of sin, and sit as a solitary sparrow on the eaves of a house, and think upon your own offenses with great bitterness of heart, for a true lover will prepare for his beloved the best and fairest place he can, for that is a sign of the love and affection of him who receivest his friends.

~ the Imitation bk. 4 no. 12, p. 226

my own heart is lifted.

i do desire HIS coming.

but before He can enter there needs to be a cleansing.

a warm shower. tears.

what is wrong? 

nothing.

everything.

an offering is made. a purification of sorts occurs.

i am so sorry.

this tired mama body. surrounded by people. little. big. young. old.

yet solitary as a sparrow.

all those responsibilities.

sweet. heavy. burdens.

i don’t mind being ordinary. and mundane.

 i’ve grown rather attached to the duties which i enjoy.

i don’t mind living in a world where darkness and light coexist.

the darkness rarely lasts too long.

and in the stillness HE continues to speak to me…uttering things hidden in God and unknown to the world.

and together we find PEACE.

peace and reconciliation with the burdens.

and the responsibilities.

making home and mothercraft offered to God is never a drudgery.

or so i am gently reminded.

it is holy. sacred. and precious. the parallels with the Mass are uncanny.

the ordinariness is gone.

HE transubstantiates my pitiful offering and changes it into something beautiful.

hearts are not only lifted. but transformed.

fruits spread abroad.

but always starting here first.

with me and HIM.

just me and HIM.

and i settle down into HIS embrace. cradled and comforted like a child by the gentle rhythm of HIS heart.

wanting so badly to make every beat of It my own…

and there is nothing mundane about that.

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7 thoughts on “a sursum corda

  1. Oh, you write so beautifully, it makes my heart ache and my breath catch in my throat…

  2. Wow, Regan. I am without words. You are such a beautiful woman of God!

  3. What Nadja and Sarah said.
    By the way, I’m totally smitten with Him, too.

  4. =) Sigh. Peace.

  5. christinec on said:

    I love this. I love the term mothercraft. Beautiful.

  6. Regan, God has given you a gift with words… really. I think you must be a very beautiful, very sincere woman… I wish I could meet you in person, although, not likely since you are in CA and I am in NC! It is a treat to visit you here, though. I wish you’d stop making me cry! 🙂

  7. Oh I am so happy to have found you. Your photography and words are beautiful.

    I’m a new follower from Catholic Mothers Online…come by for a visit and return the favor.

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