A Blog Slipped Under the Door

I like to imagine that, were he living in our age, St. Francis de Sales would be a blogger.  After reading the following on Catholic Online, I suspect my idea may not be all that far-fetched.... 

"Francis' unusual patience kept him working.  No one would listen to him, no one would even open their door.  So Francis found a way to get under the door.  He wrote out his sermons, copied them by hand, and slipped them under the doors.  This is the first record we have of religious tracts being used to communicate with people." 

It is primarily because of his tracts, copied tirelessly by hand and slipped under doors, that Francis de Sales has been named patron of Catholic journalists.

I cannot imagine a more appropriate saint for bloggers.

May he pray for all who slip faithful, God-honoring, blog posts through today's cyber-doors.


More about St. Francis de Sales (and some lovely photos) can be found on the following video, which was posted in honor of his feast today on the Visitation Nuns' blog Honey For The Soul...




(the text of this post is from our archives)

A New Blog in Town

What a wonderful surprise I had yesterday. I discovered that the Visitation Nuns in Tyringham, Massachusetts have a (drum roll please.....) new BLOG! 

'Honey For the Soul' can be found at vistyr.blogspot.com

The Sisters' most recent post tells us how they celebrate Shrovetide, when they 'get the giggles out' before Lent.

Now, that is my kind of celebrating!

Let's go see what they're up to, shall we?  Click here to visit.











Photo: Tyringham Visitation by N Shuman,1990s

The Visit

The Eucharistic Visit

'The Visit is a meeting of our soul

and of our whole being with Jesus.

It is the creature meeting the Creator;

the disciple before the Divine Master;

the patient with the Doctor of souls;

the poor one appealing to the Rich One;

the thirsty one drinking at the Font;

the weak before the Almighty;

the tempted seeking a sure Refuge;

the blind person searching for the Light;

the friend who goes to the True Friend;

the lost sheep sought by the Divine Shepherd;

the wayward heart who finds Wisdom;

the bride who finds the Spouse of the soul;

the 'nothing' who finds the All;

the afflicted who finds the Consoler;

the seeker who finds life's Meaning.'

Blessed James Alberione

Be in Heaven

I am Broken Too

From our guest-poster Trish:

"I'm sweeping my kitchen floor and my back is starting to ache a tad more than usual. I look at my broom and realize it could be my own reflection, staring up at me. 

I'm quite short for an adult, just 5 feet, and my old broom is even shorter; in fact, it's much shorter than the average broom. Have we both shrunk? Why yes, we have. It's easy to see that we've both become a little 'abbreviated' over the years. 

Been through a lot together and I'm very fond of this particular old broom-friend. It always does what I ask of it, in spite of all its obvious flaws and weaknesses, but it wasn't always so short nor so flawed. Once upon a time it was a proud and upright object that both my husband and I put to good use every day - until that one fateful afternoon! Hubby was merrily and quite vigorously sweeping along the dusty floor when we heard it.  A distinct and sickening 'snap,' and with it my proud broom was suddenly humbled in half.

'Well, that's the end of that! We'll have to get another one now,' I heard my husband say.

'"No.. it's okay.. I can still use it.'  I wasn't going to let a mere thing like that take my beloved old broom away from me! 

Hubby arrived home the next day, with a new broom.  

I continue to use my old one.

It means I have to bend down a bit more now; but still, there is no other broom I love more than this one and no other that cleans up half as well as it does.  Hubby finds it a bit embarrassing for anyone to know I use a broken broom. He thinks it should be tossed out - after all, it's broken - so why keep it when we have a new one to replace it with? 

Well, for one thing, it's a good hard straw broom and the new one is soft nylon. I like straw. And I like broken things. 

I'm sweeping my kitchen floor and my back is starting to ache a tad more than usual. ('O God, come to my aid; O Lord make haste to help me!')  

Help me to sweep without grumbling today. Help me to be grateful for dust and kitchen crumbs, and a few extra twinges. ('Lord, I offer these pains up for H, our dear friend who is battling cancer and who loves You so much!')  

Help me choose to do this monotonous housework with a light heart, even though I'd rather be reading a book or gardening! Help me to be careful not to put too much stress on my old broom today... and to remember this.. .I am broken too. So broken, You have to reach right down from Heaven itself to make any use of me. 

Help me remember how You love me, in spite of my obvious sins and failings; that You never give up on me or turn me away. You never want to replace me with anyone else.. with a new or better version. You just want... me. 

'Let him regard all the vessels of the monastery and all its substance, as if they were sacred vessels of the altar.'  Would St Benedict tell his cellarer to toss out a broken broom, just because it made the monk bend lower? I wonder...  
 
I am the cellarer in my monastery. 

I keep all the broken brooms.  

Oh yes, it's true... I live in a monastery. I am a 'monk'. My inner monastery is the Abbey of my heart.  The Holy Trinity is my community there, and the Will of God is my Rule. Wherever I am, my inner Abbey is with me. Whatever I do, I do within its grounds. I am never 'away' from it, no matter how far I travel or how long it takes to get home. 

And the community of my inner Abbey, the three Persons of the Trinity, always go with me... and I with Them. We come together each day for prayer... for the work we do together... and for sitting together in silence.  We are heart-monastics, companions, confidantes, family within Family. 

When I am weak, the Father, Son and Holy Spirit are there to uphold me. 
When I am suffering, They are there to console me.  
When I am rejoicing, They celebrate with me.  
When I am wrong, They guide me back to the right path. 
When I am sick with sin, They heal me. 
When I am in my most unlovable state.... The Father, Son and Holy Spirit love me still! 

Oh, who would want to live without such a Community as this!?  

How I became a heart-monastic is a mystery, even to me. It was nothing I did, nothing I planned, nothing I foresaw happening. I just know that one day something 'snapped' within me and I fell so low that only God could reach down and lift me up. And where He touched me now burns. Flames on His altar, consuming all that would sever the embrace of our souls. 

I am broken... and sweet is the breaking within me. I am hidden... and how lovely is my enclosure. I am silent...and how loud my heart beats for Him. I am alone... and always with Him. I am called...my fiat given. I am not worthy.  

HE... is all that is!"

This post was written by Trish, who blogs at 'Monastic Housewife.'  

Paintings by:    (top) William Paxton (cropped)
                      (middle) Vilhelm-Hammershoi
                      (broom alone) Pierre August Renoir (detail)
                      (bottom) Norwid

                                 


This post is linked to Catholic Bloggers Network Linkup

And Sweet is the Breaking Within Me

One of the graces of Catholic blogging is discovering others of like mind and heart. A woman I've been blessed to meet in this way will be guest-posting here next time. I'm letting you know this in advance, because I don't think you'll want to miss this one!

Please join us on Monday to hear from our friend Trish.

Here is a sample from that post..... 

"How I became a heart-monastic is a mystery, even to me. It was nothing I did, nothing I planned, nothing I foresaw happening. I just know that one day something 'snapped' within me and I fell so low that only God could reach down and lift me up. And where He touched me now burns. Flames on His altar, consuming all that would sever the embrace of our souls. I am broken... and sweet is the breaking within me. I am hidden... and how lovely is my enclosure...." (Trish)

Painting: Jean-François Portaels, Flower Seller 

A Personal Relationship with Christ?

When we are talking about monastic life, the importance of Our Lord Jesus Christ cannot be overstated.  With this in mind, I've been planning a post (using quotes from various saints) on the fact that we can know and love Jesus personally. 

"The monk is the man for whom God is a Person," writes Louis Bouyer; "a Person whom he can meet, whom he longs to meet...."  (The Meaning of the Monastic Life, PJ Kenedy, 1950)

I love it when the Holy Spirit inspires more than one individual, at the same time, to do the very same thing.  He was at work in the same way, at the same time, in the heart of Renee Lin.  

As she put it so well in one of her comments, it was just a matter of calling the right witnesses. Which she has done, indeed.

Can Catholics have a personal relationship with Christ?  

I invite you to click over to Renee's blog Forget the Roads, to see what the witnesses have to say.

Painting:  San Luigi Gonzaga, Love for the Word