A Radiance

'Dear Jesus, help me to spread Your fragrance everywhere I go. Flood my soul with Your Spirit and Light. Penetrate and possess my whole being so utterly that all my life may be only a radiance of Yours. Shine through me, and be so in me that every soul with whom I come in contact may feel Your Presence in my soul. Let them look up and see no longer me, but only You, dear Jesus.'

(from The Living Pyx of Jesus by A Religious, Pelligrini 1941, p. 421)

Painting: John Henry Frederick Bacon, Suscipe me Domine (detail)

And May He Set it Aflame

Absent, to be Here

Fiery Conversations

'If you wish to advance in the love of God, speak of it; 

for pious conversations are to charity what the wind is to the flame.'

St. Ignatius of Loyola

Still Carrying the Flame

We who fully embrace God's truth may at times feel like someone standing with a candle in an artificially lighted room. We have found, in Scripture and Holy Mother Church, the authentic fire of God's love.  Holding in our hearts this genuine, precious Light of truth, often we find ourselves in the presence of something that appears to be light, but that is no more fire than a light bulb is fire.  

We have all experienced "artificial light."  We live surrounded by it.  The world is drowning in it.  It is the "light" that says we're doing just fine without God.  It's the "light" that, if it credits God for even existing, shoves Him to the periphery and makes its own way without Him.  It reminds us, in one way after another, that humanity now considers itself "enlightened."  We have harnessed electricity, walked on the moon, decided when life is valuable enough (to us) to be born and when it's useless enough (to us) to end.  It's quite convenient and tidy, this artificial light.   It reveals the ingenuity of mankind, and it's more appealing than a messy candle that burns to a nub as it carries the flame.  It is Today's light, self-sufficient, broad-minded, politically correct - and certainly more sophisticated than the humble flame once carried by John, Peter, Paul, Benedict, Francis, Therese.  

I suppose we would feel quite foolish if we were to stand around in electrically lighted rooms holding candles.  We would know people were talking about us behind their hands, probably snickering, perhaps feeling sorry for someone so silly as to stand with an old fashioned candle in a lighted room. 

But what if there were a storm, a lightning strike, a downed power line?  What if the room suddenly fell into darkness?  It's at such times when people dash about in search of candles.

Storms come to everyone, at some time or other.  The artificial light reaches only so far.  Regardless of how bathed in self-sufficiency a person may be, eventually there is sickness, there are crises, there are times when darkness falls and the man-made lights we've relied upon all of our lives flicker out. It is often during times of storm when people go in search of Real Light.  It is then that they look for those who carry it.

As ones who live for God in the midst of the world, we are surrounded by light that is no light, or at best is temporary "this-world-light."  We might feel different from our neighbors if we're seen to be carrying the Real Thing.  We may be known as ones who don't hold the popular opinion, ones who live as if God actually exists, ones who go so far as to live as Jesus said to live.

If so, we can know we are not alone.  We can remember that God is with us, that the saints dealt with the very same thing, and that there are "carriers of the fire" all around the world, in this very age of the Church.

We can also know that God has us where He wants us, in our neighborhoods and workplaces and families.  All around, there are people who are (whether they realize it or not) looking for living, breathing examples of the Real Thing.

If storms come to their lives, such persons may be relieved to find us there, still standing firm, still caring, still giving example.

Still carrying the Flame. 

"Your light must shine before men so that they may see goodness in your acts and give praise to your heavenly Father."  (Matthew 5:16)

© 2016 N Shuman 
thecloisteredheart.org    



This is a slightly edited repost from our archives. It is linked to Reconciled To You and Theology Is A Verb for 'It's Worth Revisiting Wednesday.'  
 

To Set the World on Fire

Painting used: Aime Pez, Familienidylle 1839, digitally altered and cropped

Like a Little Candle

'I want to shine 
like a little candle
before His altar.'
St. Therese of Lisieux





















Photo: National Shrine of Divine Mercy, 
Stockbridge MA, by C Wells

Revisiting the Cloistered Lightship

We who live for God in the world can find much to identify with by having a look at lightships.  These are vessels responsible for carrying light where a lighthouse cannot go. 

Lighthouses must be built on land. Their job is to keep a ship on course and to warn of treacherous obstacles.  Yet there are hidden dangers out IN the waters.  To mark these hazards is the lightship's job.

A lightship is, in effect, a floating lighthouse. It goes out into the waters and stands anchored in the midst of waves, regardless of the relentless, unpredictable nature of storms and surging seas.

A monastery can be compared to a lighthouse standing on a hill. It is a beacon sending out prayer and witness.

We who live for God in the midst of the world are like lightships sent out on mission.  We do not have to look far to see darkness, rising tides of sin and secularism, waves of materialism, winds of confusion threatening the world in which we live.  We all have our roles to play in the midst of it, in just the spots where we've been placed.  We have much light to carry, for the storms surge all around and all we have to do is pick up a newspaper to see the truth of this.

We who feel drawn to live in the world while keeping cloister in our hearts have received much light from the warm glow of monastic life.  Ours is the call to live as God calls His people to do, in the midst of a world that will often question why anyone would want to live this way.  Ours is the call to receive the glow of God's revealed truth and then to carry that fire into the very environments in which we have been placed - into our families, neighborhoods, work situations.  We have before us the call and the challenge to bring the light of Christ into the "sea" of the world, and to hold that light aloft amidst storms and surges.

We must hold the light aloft when the waves of circumstance grow so tall that they seem likely to overwhelm us, when we feel in panic at the swells all around.  We must hold the light aloft in polluted waters, waters filled with the grime of sin and confusion and unholy compromise. Ours is the task of standing firm, anchored deep in Christ in the midst of the world. 

It is hard to remain firmly anchored in times of storm.  Imagine how it must feel to be on a small ship in powerfully surging seas, when thunder rolls and weighted black clouds seem to come down and envelop the earth.  We do not see land then, nor do we have much hope of it.  We can feel isolated.  We can feel as if we've become one with the clouds, the storms, the sea.

It is our challenge to remember that we are not the sea, nor are we of it.  We are merely in the midst of it.  We are not the fear, the lies, the confusion that surround us; we are not the evil that encircles.  We are vessels in which the Light of Christ dwells.

What do we do when storms surround us, leaving us tossed about and frantic?

What do we do when the seas around are calm, and we're tempted to forget all about the light, and we find ourselves drowning in a sea of complacency about things of God?

The answers are there; help is available.  God does not commission His lightships without thoroughly equipping us.  He has provided training manuals:  we've been given Scripture so we can stay on course and in good working order.  We have also been given a marvelous gift in this time in the Catechism of the Catholic Church.  The One Who has placed us in the seas has given us a wealth of navigational aids.

We are kept from floundering by staying in continual contact with the One Who equips and commissions us.  Prayer is our "ship to shore radio," so so speak. Through it, we keep our eyes fixed on Jesus.

His is the Light we carry.  He is the reason we serve.

© 2012 and 2015 Nancy Shuman.  All Rights Reserved.
thecloisteredheart.org    

Painting: Carl Locher, The lightship at Skagen Reef , in US public domain due to age

Drawing of Sevenstones Lightship in US public domain due to age

"Ambrose" lightship photo: public domain via Wikimedia

This was originally published in 2012. It is being linked with Theology Is A Verb and Reconciled To You for 'It’s Worth Revisiting Wednesday'  

The Steady Gleam

"In the formation of conscience, the Word of God is the light for our path; we must assimilate it in faith and prayer and put it into practice."  (Catechism of the Catholic Church # 1785) 

"Learn to fix the eye of faith on the divine word of the Holy Scriptures as on 'a light shining in a dark place until the day dawns and the day-star arises in our hearts' " (St. Augustine) 

"All the lights of this world, radiant in their brilliance and wealth and flashing splendour, cannot compare with the pure, steady gleam of Faith. No earthly light can show us God. No blaze from the fires of this world can light up the mysteries of life, or reveal Eternal Truths. No! It is the fixed, constant, and unchanging Ray of Faith that turns darkness into day, and exchanges doubt for certainty. Faith gives not only light, but understanding and acute vision also. All that we can see, we know was made from invisible things. 'Faith pierces the visible and gives a glimpse of the Invisible.' (from The Living Pyx of Jesus by A Religious, Pellegrini, Australia, 1941,  p.120)

   

Photo: Pixabay

Still Carrying The Fire?

Some years ago, it occurred to me that a person desiring to live totally for God might feel like someone standing with a candle in an artificially lighted room. We have found, in Scripture and Holy Mother Church, the fire of God's love.  Holding in our hearts this genuine, precious Light of truth, often we find ourselves in the presence of something that appears to be light, but that is no more fire than a light bulb is fire.  

We have all experienced "artificial light."  We live surrounded by it. The world is drowning in it. It is the "light" that says we're doing just fine without God. It's the "light" that, if it credits God for even existing, shoves Him to the periphery and makes its own way without Him. It reminds us, in one way after another, that we are now "enlightened." We have harnessed electricity, been to the moon, decided when life is valuable enough (to us) to be born and when it's useless enough (to us) to end. It's quite convenient and tidy, this artificial light. It reveals the ingenuity of mankind, and it's more appealing than a messy candle that burns to a nub as it carries the flame. It is today's light, self-sufficient and broad-minded, and certainly more sophisticated than the humble flame once carried by John, Peter, Paul, Benedict, Francis, Therese. 

I suppose we would feel quite foolish if we were to stand around in electrically lighted rooms holding candles. We would know people were talking about us behind their hands, probably snickering, perhaps feeling sorry for someone so silly as to stand with an old fashioned candle in a lighted room. 

But what if there were a storm, a lightning strike, a downed power line?  What if the room suddenly fell into darkness?  It's at such times that people dash about in search of candles. 

Storms come to everyone, at some time or other. The artificial light reaches only so far. Regardless of how bathed in self-sufficiency a person may be, eventually there is sickness, there are crises, there are times when darkness falls and the lights we've relied upon all of our lives flicker out. We've all heard of churches filling up after widespread disasters, for it is often during times of storm when people go in search of Real Light.  It is then that they look for those who carry it. 

As ones who live for God in the midst of the world, we are surrounded by light that is no light - or at best is temporary "this-world-light."  We might feel different from our neighbors if we're seen to be carrying the Real Thing.  We may be known as ones who don't hold the "popular" opinion, ones who live as if God actually exists, ones who go so far as to live as Jesus said to live.

If so, we can know we are not alone.  We can remember that God is with us, that the saints dealt with the very same thing, and that there are "carriers of the fire" all around the world, in this very age of the Church.

We can also know that God has us where He wants us, in our neighborhoods and workplaces and families. All around, there are people searching (whether they realize it or not) for living, breathing examples of the Real Thing.

When storms come to their lives, such persons might be relieved to find those who are still there, still standing firm, still caring. Still giving example. Still carrying the Flame. 

"Your light must shine before men so that they may see goodness in your acts and give praise to your heavenly Father."  (Matthew 5:16)

© 2012 and 2015 Nancy Shuman.  All Rights Reserved.
thecloisteredheart.org    

This was originally published in 2012. It is being linked with Theology Is A Verb and Reconciled To You for 'It’s Worth Revisiting Wednesday'  
 
Painting: Marianne Stokes, A Rumanian Bridesmaid 
Photo of candle via Pixabay 

My Abandoned Lights

Journeying ever more deeply into the will of God, I find doors and rooms and hallways I had not expected. One of these is what I'll call the room of abandoned lights.

What I think of as "my abandoned lights" are various ideas I embraced over the years, attitudes I once considered enlightening and empowering. In time, those lights proved to be no light at all.  

Some of these un-lights were initially dazzling. They appealed to my broadmindedness, that modern version of "sanctity" that basks in its politically corrected glow. There was no pesky death-to-self in the world of my abandoned lights. The Cross was not part of the scene. 'There is a way that seems right to a man, but the end of it leads to death.' (Proverbs 14:12)

By the grace of God, I cast my unlights aside when I met the One Who is Light Himself.   In time, I even began to feel that a large part of the task of a "cloistered heart" is to Carry the Fire  into darkness, as well as into areas of "artificial light." 

"We can make the mistake of trying to make hard truths so palatable," writes Dan Burke at Catholic Spiritual Direction, "that we end up presenting half-truths or even worse, untruths (implied or actual).... Yes, we can and must say 'come as you are'; but we must also proclaim that the God of Love who meets us where we are, loves us too much to leave us there.  He calls us to union with Him, where we will find the Truth that sets us free to know and live an abundant life in Him." 

For a look at some of the un-light we can be tempted to follow, check out this excellent link:

How the Carmelites Rescued Me From the New Age, by Anabelle Hazard  

"God is light; in Him there is no darkness." (1 John 1:5)

"The revelation of Your words sheds light, giving understanding to the simple." (Psalm 119:130)

Text not in quotes © 2015 Nancy Shuman.  All Rights Reserved.
thecloisteredheart.org   




 Painting: John Frederick Peto, Door with Lanterns

Dear Saint Nicholas,

My wish this year is not like what I’ve asked for before.  I'm not writing to ask for candy or trinkets.  This year I have but one wish:  I want to be a candle.

I want to stand tall and firm, carrying the Light of Christ even when winds and storms lash about me.  You see, good St. Nicholas, the world has grown terribly dark.  We talk of peace and sing of peace, yet rumors of wars swirl all around.  We’re busy and distracted, we have no time left over to pray.  We get confused about what is truth and what is not; we redefine sin and call it “choice” and “entertainment,” and there is more darkness around than I could tell you about.  In fact, there’s more darkness than I can even see.  It can be hard to peer into darkness, and I feel sometimes like a child at night who wants to cover her head with blankets and wait for morning light.  I need the light; the world needs the light.  So I want to be a candle.

Like a pillar of flame standing beside the Tabernacle in a monastery, lifting firelight fingers high in adoration, I want to offer praise to God.  Like a sanctuary light gently calling attention to the fact that Jesus is with us, I want to keep vigil by His side and call attention to Him.  I would like to flicker softly, as a gentle reminder of His presence, no matter where I may be.  So I want to be a candle.

I know I am asking a lot.  I know that in order for the Flame to increase, a candle must decrease.  A candle gives itself for the Fire; it gives its all.  That’s okay.  You see, I want to live my life for God.  I am not so good at the doing of this, but with the grace of God I’m getting better at the wanting.  

And I want to be a candle….

“The light came into the world, but men loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were wicked.  Everyone who practices evil hates the light; he does not come near it, for fear his deeds will be exposed.  But he who acts in truth comes into the light, to make clear that his deeds are done in God.” (John 3:19-21)

“The light shines on in darkness, a darkness that did not overcome it.” (John 1:5)



This is a republication of a post from our archives.

Text not in quotes © 2011 Nancy Shuman. 
thecloisteredheart.org     

Top painting by Godfried Schalcken, detail
Animated candle in public domain, from Wikimedia

The Church Speaks of Our Enclosure

"In the formation of conscience,
the Word of God 
is the light for our path; 
we must assimilate it 
in faith and prayer 
and put it into practice." 

Catechism of the Catholic Church # 1785










Painting:  El Greco, A Boy Blowing on an Ember to Light a Candle






To look more into our enclosure, click this line

What a Wonderful Battle

'O my soul, what a wonderful battle you have waged in this pain, and how literally true is what happens here!  Since my Beloved is for me and I for my Beloved, who will be able to separate and extinguish two fires so enkindled?  It would amount to laboring in vain, for the two fires have become one.'

St. Teresa of Avila

Painting:  Edward Burne-Jones 

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In Such a Period

We have looked at God's need for 'fire carriers.'  We hope to stand for the genuine truth of God in the face of every shabby imitation marching boldly toward the limelight.

It is interesting that, decades ago, others saw this time approaching.  Even though he died in 1977, Dietrich von Hildebrand wrote the following:  

"Ours is, I believe, the period of the greatest crisis the world has ever faced, a period in which the anathema has become unpopular and is unfortunately considered as incompatible with charity...

"In such a period, every faithful Catholic who is fully devoted to Christ, to the teaching of the Church, to the deposit of the Catholic faith, to the dogmas, is called to raise his voice in defense of orthodoxy." 

I pray that we will all be given grace to learn, discern, cherish, witness to, reverence and proclaim the glorious fire of God's truth.  



Painting: A Procession in the Catacomb of Callistus
Click here to leave comments in the Parlor 
This post is linked to Catholic Bloggers Network Linkup Blitz 

A Light for Our Way

Those who remember our earlier discussions of Real vs. artificial light might understand why Pope Francis' first encyclical has given me a real jolt.  A holy jolt, that is: a heavenly flash, a bolt of Godly illumination.  

"In speaking of the light of faith," writes His Holiness, "we can almost hear the objections of many of our contemporaries. In modernity, that light might have been considered sufficient for societies of old, but was felt to be of no use for new times, for a humanity come of age, proud of its rationality and anxious to explore the future in novel ways....  Slowly but surely, however, it would become evident that the light of autonomous reason is not enough to illumine the future; ultimately the future remains shadowy and fraught with fear of the unknown. As a result, humanity renounced the search for a great light, Truth itself, in order to be content with smaller lights which illumine the fleeting moment yet prove incapable of showing the way. Yet in the absence of light everything becomes confused; it is impossible to tell good from evil, or the road to our destination from other roads which take us in endless circles, going nowhere... (emphasis mine)"

"There is an urgent need, then, to see once again that faith is a light, for once the flame of faith dies out, all other lights begin to dim. The light of faith is unique, since it is capable of illuminating every aspect of human existence. A light this powerful cannot come from ourselves but from a more primordial source: in a word, it must come from God. Faith is born of an encounter with the living God who calls us and reveals his love, a love which precedes us and upon which we can lean for security and for building our lives. Transformed by this love, we gain fresh vision, new eyes to see; we realize that it contains a great promise of fulfilment, and that a vision of the future opens up before us. Faith, received from God as a supernatural gift, becomes a light for our way, guiding our journey through time...." (Pope Francis, Encyclical Letter Lumen Fidei, 2013)

I am practically breathless as I read this.  No, I'm not exaggerating.  For a glimpse into why this has so hit me, click here to check out our earlier post entitled 'To Carry the Fire.'

I hope we can all take a bit of time to read, ponder and pray with Pope Francis' encyclical (available in its entirety here).  
  
It is time.  Clouds are gathering.  

Let's go light the world. 
 

This post is linked to Catholic Bloggers Network Linkup Blitz  

For the Parts Wounded Now

You who looked at our Candlemas Day post have seen this painting here before.  However, I've just had a request to re-post it, and my wholehearted discernment is that yes... it goes along quite well with what I'd had in mind for today.   This is actually a perfect "cloistered heart picture," in my opinion.

Along with her request for a re-post of this painting, our friend Anita writes:  "many miracles are needed now for so many wounded physically and mentally in Boston....  The Body of Christ is wounded.....we need to grasp our rosaries and pray for the parts wounded now."

Indeed.

And why do I consider this the perfect cloistered heart picture?  Because it illustrates some key elements of what I think of as the cloistered heart's "apostolate."  Namely:

Prayer.  The woman holds a prayerbook (perhaps it's a small Bible, a missal, a breviary).  She also holds a rosary.  As a cloistered heart, I know that my primary apostolate is to pray.  I have the task and the privilege of forming a habit of prayer, of engaging in this apostolate throughout the day and in various situations.  My outward actions are (ideally) based upon prayer, for in this way I am carrying the love of Jesus (not merely my own meager love) to the world around.

Grillwork.  The woman stands beside what represents, to me, a grille.  As we'll talk more about in days just ahead, we are invited to view and respond to every situation through the "grillwork of the will of God."  We do not have to see situations such as the recent tragedy in Boston with only our human understanding unaided by grace.  Scripture and the teachings of the Church bring things into the proper perspective. 

Fire.  We have written here several times of "carrying the Fire of God's truth and love" into the world around us.  Rather than repeating what we've said about this, I will again provide this link to an earlier post:  "To Carry the Fire"

Serenity.  Note how utterly serene is this woman as she practices the apostolate of prayer!   If any painting represents, to me, the look of someone enclosed in the most secure "cloister" of all... the Heart of Jesus... it is this one.

Yes, Anita, the Body of Christ is wounded, with a few scars we can see...  and so many we cannot.

It is our task, our apostolate, our call to pray for the parts wounded now.

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© 2013 Nancy Shuman.  All Rights Reserved.
thecloisteredheart.org      

This post is linked to Catholic Bloggers Network Linkup Blitz  

A Fire-Carrier's Feast

'In honor of the divine mystery that we celebrate today, let us all hasten to meet Christ. Everyone should be eager to join the procession and to carry a light.  Our lighted candles are a sign of the divine splendor of the one who comes to expel the dark shadows of evil and to make the whole universe radiant with the brilliance of his eternal light. Our candles also show how bright our souls should be when we go to meet Christ.  The Mother of God, the most pure Virgin, carried the true light in her arms and brought him to those who lay in darkness. We too should carry a light for all to see and reflect the radiance of the true light as we hasten to meet him.

'The light has come and has shone upon a world enveloped in shadows; the Dayspring from on high has visited us and given light to those who lived in darkness. This, then, is our feast, and we join in procession with lighted candles to reveal the light that has shone upon us and the glory that is yet to come to us through him. So let us hasten all together to meet our God.

'The true light has come, the light that enlightens every man who is born into this world. Let all of us, my brethren, be enlightened and made radiant by this light. Let all of us share in its splendor, and be so filled with it that no one remains in the darkness. Let us be shining ourselves as we go together to meet and to receive with the aged Simeon the light whose brilliance is eternal. Rejoicing with Simeon, let us sing a hymn of thanksgiving to God, the Father of the light, who sent the true light to dispel the darkness and to give us all a share in his splendor....'

Saint Sophronius, bishop.  From today's Office of Readings (Presentation of Our Lord; Candlemas Day)

This is a good day in which to reflect upon what it can mean to "carry the fire."  What do we mean by this?  A click on any of the following lines will lead to some earlier posts about carrying the fire of God into the starved-for-Light world of today:  

To Carry the Fire

It's Time...

The Cloistered Lightship 

The Lighted Path  

A Letter to St. Nicholas

Painting:  Marianne Stokes, Candlemas Day; in US public domain

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This post is linked to Catholic Bloggers Network Linkup Blitz 

It's Time....

I am not writing a typical post today, yet I feel there is something to say.

I suggest that we re-visit To Carry the Fire (click this line)....











And that we take a few minutes to listen to these lyrics...





Then that we carry in our hearts and voices and actions the blazing, brilliant truth of Jesus Christ.  We don't have to look far to find those who are confused, those who've been told that lies are truth and truth is lies, those persons and nations and parts of the world who are in desperate need of prayer.  

There is no time to waste.  Let's go light our world. 

To Carry the Fire

Some years ago, it occurred to me that a cloistered heart may feel (and be) like someone standing with a candle in an artificially lighted room. We have found, in Scripture and Holy Mother Church, the fire of God's love.  Holding in our hearts this genuine, precious Light of truth, often we find ourselves in the presence of something that appears to be light, but that is no more fire than a light bulb is fire.  

We have all experienced "artificial light."  We live surrounded by it.  The world is drowning in it.  It is the "light" that says we're doing just fine without God.  It's the "light" that, if it credits God for even existing, shoves Him to the periphery and makes its own way without Him.  It reminds us, in one way after another, that we are now "enlightened."  We have harnessed electricity, been to the moon, decided when life is valuable enough (to us) to be born and when it's useless enough (to us) to end.  It's quite convenient and tidy, this artificial light.   It reveals the ingenuity of mankind, and it's more appealing than a messy candle that burns to a nub as it carries the flame.  It is today's light, self-sufficient and broad-minded, and certainly more sophisticated than the humble flame once carried by John, Peter, Paul, Benedict, Francis, Therese. 

I suppose we would feel quite foolish if we were to stand around in electrically lighted rooms holding candles.  We would know people were talking about us behind their hands, probably snickering,  perhaps feeling sorry for someone so silly as to stand with an old fashioned candle in a lighted room. 

But what if there were a storm, a lightning strike, a downed power line?  What if the room suddenly fell into darkness?  It's at such times that people dash about in search of candles. 

Storms come to everyone, at some time or other.  The artificial light reaches only so far.  Regardless of how bathed in self-sufficiency a person may be, eventually there is sickness, there are crises, there are times when darkness falls and the lights we've relied upon all of our lives flicker out (we've all heard of churches filling up after widespread disasters).  It is often during times of storm when people go in search of Real Light.  It is then that they look for those who carry it. 

As ones who live for God in the midst of the world, we are surrounded by the light that is no light... or at best is temporary "this-world-light."  We might feel different from our neighbors if we're seen to be carrying the Real Thing.  We may be known as ones who don't hold the "popular" opinion, ones who live as if God actually exists, ones who go so far as to live as Jesus said to live.

If so, we can know we are not alone.  We can remember that God is with us, that the saints dealt with the very same thing, and that there are "carriers of the fire" all around the world, in this very age of the Church.

We can also know that God has us where He wants us, in our neighborhoods and workplaces and families.  All around, there are people who are (whether they realize it or not) looking for living, breathing examples of the Real Thing.

If storms come to their lives, such persons may be relieved to find us there, still standing firm, still caring.  Still giving example.  Still loving.  Still carrying the Flame. 

"Your light must shine before men so that they may see goodness in your acts and give praise to your heavenly Father."  (Matthew 5:16)

© 2012 Nancy Shuman.  All Rights Reserved.
thecloisteredheart.org    


 
(Godfried Schalcken painting in US public domain)