Catholic Meditations

Mother,
O Lady in White,
who lighted on the little bush
in a cloud of light,
Our Lady of the Rosary,
knowing such things were to come,
this man,
not yet born
as you talked with the children
of penance
and sacrifice,
knowing what a dark century
it was likely to be,
and yet,
you showed us the way of hope
your son had to offer.

O Lady in White,
who showed your hand
as the assassin lay in wait,
You who drew this man's eye,
and his posture changed
slightly, enough not to die,
as he struggled to see you,
as the bullet flashed,
Totus Tuus, he had offered
out of pure love,
and climbing the peak
to be God's witness against the godlessness
of the darkness,
you were there to help him through.

Another night,
O Lady in White,
you held him close in your arms,
as the end of an era drew to a close,
this man who labored so hard for your son,
giving his all,
so tht even on the day of his death
he would instruct us how to live.

O Lady of the Rosary,
the time had come
for him to see the fruit of thy womb Jesus
in all his glory.

O Blessed Mother,
With John Paul, let us say
Thank you for saying Yes to the Father,
Thank you for your care for your children,
Thank you for aiding us in the time of our need.

Amen

Susan E. Stone, 2006

Labels: Death, Mary, Pope John Paul II

There are times,
moments that have no words,
but the groaning of a heart
hurt too deep to say
anything
but to cry out the pain.

There are times,
like the day
when they found him lying in the snow,
in a pool of blood,
cold,
his backpack laying next to him,
the gun near his hand.

When the word came,
how unspeakable,
the fear in the heart
of sister, mother, father
crashing into reality
as the final word was spoken.
"I'm sorry," cannot convey
the power of those words,
the kick to the gut
the sudden, massive cry
that rips apart the heart.

O Mother of sorrows,
who can we turn to
when the grief falls down like rain,
like the dust running through your fingers
as you stood there on the hill,
watching him
your life
your heart
give up his life,
you powerless to stop it.

O Mother of Sorrows,
Reach out your hand
to the sister,
rocking with grief
as the memory of her childhood
and happier days
chase the dark realization
that they will never be again,
the brother she teased,
comforted,
worried about
has slipped beyond her reach.

O Mother of Consolation,
You who know the anguish
of being powerless to stop the death of a son,
stand by the father,
grace him with your prayers,
as he struggles with the anger,
of how he could not save his boy,
his hope,
from the thing in that son's head and heart
that was broken
curled around the darkness.

O Mary, Comforter of the Afflicted,
Watch over the mother
who rocks herself in her grief,
the wailing cry
of mothers
since the death of Abel,
crying over the loss,
the missing son,
the hand that is no longer there,
lost in the midnight
where she could not find him,
caught up in a place
where she could not hold him,
her boy,
frightened,
wild,
despairing,
gone.
Touch her heart,
O Lady of Consolation,
you who know how the dark night feels
when bereft,
there is only the darkness to stare into,
only the night,
only the hole that he could fill
ripping through the heart.

Pray for us, O Holy Mother of God,
when the night presses in,
for the son who despaired in his sickness,
and let the darkness in his mind take him away,
for the parents who could not save him
in spite of themselves,
for all who loved him.
Pray for them, O Mother of Sorrows
as the anger touches their heart,
and the loss of his touch
becomes an aching sore.
Bring them safely to the shelter
of your loving son's heart.

Amen.

Susan E. Stone, 2006

Labels: Death, Grief, Mary