Catholic Meditations

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

O Lord,
You who know our pain,
how it hurts
when we grieve,
who walks with us
even in the darkest moment,
be with those this day who are grieving,
during the time ahead,
as they say farewell,
as they remember.
Keep them all especially in the palm of your hand,
under your wing,
and give them the peace
that can only come from you,
this day,
and always,
in the name of Jesus,
Amen.

Susan E. Stone, 2005

Labels: Grief

I

Hear my prayer, O Lord,
and let my cry come unto thee,
and hear the voice of your children,
all those burdened
with death unexpected,
the dead, the dying, the survivors,
the blood of victims
here,
then,
throughout time
since Abel's blood first cried to you.

II
The Day

For some it was
a day to celebrate,
a day that a little David
brought down
a mighty Goliath.
that symbol of sin and oppression,
who would strip them of God
and truth and opportunity
and tear their world apart
and try to keep them
ground under it's thumb forever.

For some it was
the day life turned to ashes,
drifting in white dusty smoke
coating the survivors
as they groped,
ghostlike,
trying to find the light.

For some it was
children searching for fathers
now pulverized
beneath an unbelievable wreakage.
wives looking for husband
husbands crying for their wives,
voicemail messages played over and over,
the last quick message,
a final goodbye,
the last connection
before the unthinkable.

III

Lord have mercy.
Christ have mercy.
Lord have mercy.

For the hardness of our heart
Forgive us, O Lord.

For the passing of our wrongs down to our children,
Forgive us, O Lord.

For the celebration of the death of our enemies,
Forgive us, O Lord.

For choosing to nurse our hate rather than be reconciled with our neighbor,
Forgive us O Lord.

IV


Words.
Words were spoken,
and soon,
reality is warped into the image
cast by words.

The words were spoken
twisting peace into hate,
twisting plowshares into swords,
twisting buildings of people into rubble and ruin.

Where are the words
to ease the pain
of a woman who has lost her child?
In the anger of hate,
is she real
or just a counter?


Where are the words
to fill the heart
of a husband who lost his wife?
Is his loss
justified
by the blow against the enemy?



Where are the words
to fill the lives
of the newly orphaned?
Are their shattered lives
able to heal
the twisting of others' hearts?

V

Dear Lord,
This day, let me commend to you
all those killed
in hatred,
whether by sword,
stone,
scapel,
poison,
bullet,
bomb.
This day I commend to you
victims chosen
to terrorize the surviving,
children,
beloveds,
friends,
coworkers,
strangers.

And on this anniversary
of the evil that man willingly does to others,
teach us not to hate,
but to break the chains
that try to drag us down into the pit
one word at a time
one refusal to hate at a time,
one reaching out to those in need at a time,
one willingness to walk in your steps at a time.

Amen.



Susan E. Stone, 2004

Labels: current evils, Grief, man's inhumanity, Man's Sinfulness, Prayer for Mercy