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12/30/12

A Warrior’s Lullaby – Music Video

12/27/12

Remembering the Seasons of My Soul

Old year passes,
Becoming yet another ghost,
Withered as leaves,
Crumbled, and carried aloft
By winter winds,
Too soon scattered
By the breezes of Time.

Is it truly spent,
Dead and long forgotten,
Living but in memory?
May not reflection
Call it from the grave,
Uncover the gain
Hold it fast
To live again?

How has its many waters
Blessed thee and me,
As sacred signs?
Will it, as muse, retain a power
For its having been,
And then no more?

What saints and angels
Sent my way,
Colored its day?
In sorrow,
Who came to hold my hand?
In joy,
Who shared my hearth?

Were there hugs, and smiles,
And laughter to tilt the scale of grief?
Can kisses and embraces be resurrected,
That fires of love be stoked
To warm and blaze anew?

Has my thanksgivings
Been recorded in the pyre,
Written in the embers now glowing
As tiger eyes flashing from the ash.

Years come, doomed , too soon to go,
But let them not hurry
To a crypt without a wake.
Drink the happy wine of memory,
Sip, as the seasons turn.
Contemplate and savor
The seasons of your soul.

©2011  Joann Nelander

12/22/12

2012 Landscape Dreams Photo Contest Winners

Thank you to all who voted in the contest, especially if you voted for my sister's entry or mine.
My sister, Bernadette Buechler, is the First Prize Winner. Go Sis! Here is her photo entitled:

"Sunset Tapestry Over White Sands:

Sunset Tapestry Over White Sands by Bernadetter Buechler

20121221-214133.jpg

Also a winner, yours truly. Again thank you for your vote.
I am listed as "Lelander" in the winners list, but honestly, that's me, and that is, NELANDER, thank you very much!

Here's my winning photograph, entitled:

"Sunset Majesty"

Here's the list:

20121221-214624.jpg

12/21/12

Prayer to the Powerful Babe

O, Jesus, True God,
Beginning human life
In the womb of Mary,
I come to You in Your first moments,
O powerful Babe.

Mother Mary's "Fiat"
Brought the Father's Will to Earth,
Wrapped in the stuff of Man,
Purity's Flesh emerging as cells divide.

I come to You, God-Man,
In Your holy beginning,
Awaiting, with all creation,
The formation of Your Sacred Heart
In Time.

O, Happy Fruition,
O, Incarnate Son,
In Mary's virginal womb,
Bless with inner healing
The whole of my life.
Bring to my concupiscence
Conformity to the Father's Will.

I am the least in my Father's house,
But by my spiritual visitation,
My willing presence,
In the nascent Being of the Christ,
One, so small and mean as me,
Can find a home
As the Heart of Jesus
Is formed and fired.

O, powerful Babe,
O, pure and holy Fetus,
I trust in You
From Your beginning
As Prophet, Priest and King,
To bring me,
And all creation,
To a happy end.
Amen

Copyright Joann Nelander 2011

All rights reserved

Babe of All Perfection

O happy Babe!

Babe of All Perfection,

Your little heart, so full of love,

Your face radiant,

Reflected in Your mother’s gaze.

Your soul, ablaze!

Hearth of longing and compassion,

The Family of Nations comes to adore You

 

©2011 Joann Nelander

12/16/12

Rejoice! Gaudete

Rejoice!

Give me, God,
This glad rejoicing.
I am like a beggar at the gate.
My rags declare my need.
My knock trumpets my desire.

Your courts are full
Of plentiful redemption.
Wine and the merriment
Of the forgiven,
Invite my humble footsteps.

Although I bring myself
To Your threshold,
I cannot enter in,
For Sin is an effrontery,
An open assault on Your Majesty.

All awaits Your mercy.
Heaven is silent before You.
Tears are now my only arraignment
The voice of Your messenger
The only hope in my wilderness.

The King, Himself,
Rises from His throne.
Crowns are cast down at His feet.
As the sun shines from His Being,
Mercy rays meet my eyes,
And melt my heart.

He draws near.
His hand is at the Gate
To let in the beggar and the multitude,
For I am not alone.
The nations,
In long suffering and sorrow,
Kneel with me.

He approaches.
He is near.
Wedding garments in place of our polluted rags,
Rings and sandals for prodigal feet.

He comes,
He comes mid glad rejoicing.
We need wait but a moment.
The Virgin is with Child,
And He has left His throne
To succor the poor of all the earth.

By Joann Nelander

12/11/12

Mysterious Will of God

From Your Cross
You looked upon Man
Your eyes were blinded
By Your Own Blood.
You could not even wipe
That Blood away,
For bound to a Cross,
Your Hands were held fast
To the mysterious Will
Of Your Father.

In Your Bloody Blindness,
You felt the anguish of rejection,
The rejection of Your People,
The rejection of the kings of the Earth,
The rejection of the once adoring crowds,
The rejection of cowardly friends,
Rejection of High Priests of Covenant Old,
And the rejection of disciples,
Destined to proclaim the New,
Alone,
Save for the Mother,
The Beloved Disciple
At her side,
And the repentant Magdalene,
Who knew both Sin
And deliverance at Your Hand.

From Your Cross
Look upon me.
See with Your heart
To forgive my Sin.
Draw me by way
Of the Blood and Water
Flowing from Your Pierced Side.
Wash away my Sin
In that Holy Tide,
That the Mysterious Will
Of Your Father
Give life to yet another son.
Thy will be done.

©2012 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved

12/8/12

HOLIDAY GIFT - $10 OFF MY BOOKS

The Holy Night by Carlo Maratta

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12/7/12

Our Lady of Lourdes - "I AM THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION"

Narrated by Mariola Paini


In 1858 the virgin Mary Immaculate appeared to Bernadette Soubirous near Lourdes in France within the cave of Massabielle. Through this humble girl, Mary called sinners to conversion and enkindled within the Church a great zeal for prayer and charity, especially service to the sick and poor. From a letter by Saint Marie Bernadette Soubirous, virgin (Ep. ad P. Gondrand, a 1861: cf. A. Ravier, Les écrits de sainte Bernadette, Paris 1961, pp. 53-59) The lady spoke to me I had gone down one day with two other girls to the bank of the river Gave when suddenly I heard a kind of rustling sound. I turned my head toward the field by the side of the river but the trees seemed quite still and the noise was evidently not from them. Then I looked up and caught sight of the cave where I saw a lady wearing a lovely white dress with a bright belt. On top of each of her feet was a pale yellow rose, the same color as her rosary beads. At this I rubbed my eyes, thinking I was seeing things, and I put my hands into the fold of my dress where my rosary was. I wanted to make the sign of the cross but for the life of me I couldn't manage it and my hand just fell down. Then the lady made the sign of the cross herself and at the second attempt I managed to do the same, though my hands were trembling. Then I began to say the rosary while the lady let her beads slip through her fingers, without moving her lips. When I stopped saying the Hail Mary, she immediately vanished. I asked my two companions if they had noticed anything, but they said no. Of course they wanted to know what I was doing and I told them that I had seen a lady wearing a nice white dress, though I didn't know who she was. I told them not to say anything about it, and they said I was silly to have anything to do with it. I said they were wrong and I came back next Sunday, feeling myself drawn to the place.... The third time I went the lady spoke to me and asked me to come every day for fifteen days. I said I would and then she said that she wanted me to tell the priests to build a chapel there. She also told me to drink from the stream. I went to the Gave, the only stream I could see. Then she made me realize she was not speaking of the Gave and she indicated a little trickle of water close-by. When I got to it I could only find a few drops, mostly mud. I cupped my hands to catch some liquid without success and then I started to scrape the ground. I managed to find a few drops of water but only at the fourth attempt was there a sufficient amount for any kind of drink. The lady then vanished and I went back home. I went back each day for fifteen days and each time, except one Monday and one Friday, the lady appeared and told me to look for a stream and wash in it and to see that the priests build a chapel there. I must also pray, she said, for the conversion of sinners. I asked her many times what she meant by that, but she only smiled. Finally with outstretched arms and eyes looking up to heaven she told me she was the Immaculate Conception. During the fifteen days she told me three secrets but I was not to speak about them to anyone and so far I have not. This letter from St. Bernadette (linked above) is from the Office of Readings for this day. I put this letter here because the language in which she speaks of Mary's apparitions is that of a child. Dear Bernadette was young and poor when The Blessed Mother appeared to her. She aspired only a simple life, was not overly bright, and it would seem that she was incapable of greatness by this world's standards. Yet, the Blessed Mother appeared to her, and spoke to her kindly and gave her gentle instructions. When Bernadette first saw Our Lady, she did not immediately identify her. She saw, rather, a beautiful woman. In fact, she did not presume to admit that the lady was the Blessed Mother until she was told by the lady herself. Mary called herself the Immaculate Conception, a true expression of beauty. Mary's message to Bernadette was simple and caring, like that of a Mother. Bernadette, although not great, was a saint of blessings and virtue. Mary chose to appear to her and laid upon her shoulders the charge of sharing Mary with others. Bernadette did not live a very long life... but it was one of patient suffering and hope for the world to come. "I cannot promise to make you happy in this world, but in the next" was the promise of the Blessed Mother to her daughter. Bernadette trusted in this promise, with that childlike faith and obedience that were so exemplary in her visits with Mary. This is an example of how Mary is a mother to us. Her apparitions to her gentle daughter Bernadette brings us a message of prayer and healing. Each time that Mary has visited us, she has come with the same tender love and caring. Let us always remember how deeply Mary loves us, how intimate she is with Jesus, and seek to follow her Motherly guidance and receive her consolation.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6K3XmlfzdXQ&hl=en_US&fs=1&]A Letter of Saint Marie Bernadette Soubirou

God of mercy,
we celebrate the feast of Mary,
the sinless mother of God.
May her prayers help us
to rise above our human weakness.

We ask this through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,
who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, for ever and ever.

– Amen.

Ebook Now Live in Apple's iBookstore

Great book to take into your quiet time:

12/4/12

Advent Patient Preparation

I wait:
For peace on Earth,
I must know it first
Within my soul.

Come to me,
Passing through locked doors,
As Christ's Mass,
Anticipates Easter grace,
For the Christmas gift
Of Incarnation,
Is key and remedy.

Make passage
Into my soul.
For gathered
With your Church,
I wait.

Loving Freely

Mother Mary,
Hold my hand tightly,
As I live my freedom,
As a Child of God.

©2012 Joann Nelander

You Chose Me From the Earth

The day has begun,
And, already,
You have embraced
Your wee one.

I greet You
With the opening
Of my eyes,
With thoughts
That stream anew.

My slumber has brought me
To New Day.
The night was spent
In healing, and a continuity,
That like the day
Follows one unto the other,
Within Your sovereign embrace.

My body leaned
Upon You in trust,
To rise refreshed.
Phantoms of the night
Fled as Your Sun
Rose with purple dawn,
For I place my Trust
In You.
You knit me,
Body, soul and spirit,
Into a unity,
I have known
Since You willed me
Into being.
Unity creating one nature,
Sharing in your dual nature
Of God and Man.
Born of God,
In the Holy Spirit,
I am wed to You
And made ready,
Sun on sun,
For Eternity.

Remembering my frame,
And my need,
Stir into flame
Your Godly Presence,
So that the Bridegroom
Of my Soul
May this day
Take to Himself
The bride He won
From the Cross,
And I ,
Dust of the Earth,
May know the sacred bliss
Of having been chosen.
Being chosen,
And living, in the flesh,
The Life of God.

©2012 Joann Nelander

12/2/12

The Words Hung on My Lips

The words hung on my lips.
I wanted to pray
I wanted to be
In Your Presence.
I wanted to feel
Good again,
To lift myself
Out of myself,
Out of my sorrow.
I looked about me.
The world was on fire.
I could not see.
I could not find one thing
To light my candle.
There was not a breath of air.
I could feel the dark.
It pressed
And weighed
And held me down,
Like trying to run
In a dream,
My efforts went
For naught,
Amidst a paralyzing fear,
My feet are bound,
Phantoms tying them
To the ground.
I wanted to lift my heart,
So that I could sing again.
Where was the music?
Who could play it for me?
Was I really alone?
You used to play with me.
You used to be with me,
And dance with me,
And sing with me.
I used to stand
With the others,
Raise my hands,
Open my mouth,
And proclaim my love
For You.
Where are You now?
Where have You gone?
Or was it me
Who wondered off,
Who was dragged down,
Who fell
And did not rise?
I remember Your Promise
To forgive.
I need that;
I need that forgiveness.
Give it to me now!
I am still Yours.
You have been seeking me.
I know that.
I didn't want to know that.
But I always knew that.
Find me now!
Here I am.
Now, I want You.
I want to feel
God again,
And I know
You'll come.