In the presence of the Lord

"Suffering is nothing by itself. But suffering shared with the Passion of Christ is a wonderful gift, the most beautiful gift, a token of love"

Mother Theresa

Anyone who has ever doubted the trans formative powers of  the sacraments, ought to go to hospital with a Priest. Though I have always had a deeply held conviction about the Real Presence and the trans formative powers of the Sacraments, the experience of receiving them amidst your own suffering and trials is something else. For those of you who do not know, my husband has recently undergone surgery for a spinal tumour. The series of events has been a roller coaster of emotions, yet always at just the right moment just when it is needed and without request up pops a Priest with the Sacrament. The previous moments of stress and agitations are for a second becalmed and the Lord is almost tangible in the air. I have had moments in Mass when I have experienced God's amazing grace and presence but never so much as I have this last week. The difference in not only myself but my husband is stark and overwhelming. It is such an amazing grace and force of peace in a time when you feel your heart might just break. The vulnerability that has come from watching my loved one suffer, has been almost unbearable. The ability to accept help, is not something I come to easily. I am not the one who falls apart, I am the one who copes. This week any vestige of such pride filled behaviour has gone. Without the Sacraments and the prayers of others I am quite sure I would be a complete wreck by now. The Lord's presence changes us, and through us changes the world, of that I am more certain than I have ever  been before.

It has been a long time since I wrote a poem, however today I felt moved to do so. The poem tells much more than I could here of my journey these last few days.

Presence

Lord I have walked my life with you.

Sometimes glad and sometimes sad.

Many times I turned away, but I returned.

Every step I took seems easy now.

Cause now I walk through mud.

Dragging, sticking and holding fast.

Still, I feel you here.

Lord I walk this path with you.

Tortured, pained and helpless.

Above I see your cross, your suffering,

The hope in your return.

Each day the nails drive in,

Digging deeper, my strength has waned

Still, I see you here.

Lord I am stumbling with you.

My heart it, cannot bear,

The times I must climb up again,

Only that I should fall once more.

Heavy and burdensome, I struggle.

Still, you carry me there.

Lord I am hanging here,

Fatigued, beaten and broken.

Many times, I fear your absence,

But I trust that you are here.

For as your mortal life expired,

So your divine presence returned.

Still, I turn to you.

Lord I am in your empty tomb.

Searching, frantic and lost.

Your absence here, is not real,

As your presence radiates all around.

Holding, carrying and lifting me.

Every time I lose you,

Your love touches my heart.

Still, you are here.

Your body lifted high before me here.

Offered, received and consumed.

It’s reception sustains me,

Though my body, heart and mind breaks.

Your presence here, hope comfort and strength.

Your peace guides me.

Still, you take my hand.