Take Lord and receive all my liberty, my memory, my understanding and my will, all that I have and possess. Everything I have is yours, for you have given it all to me; to you I return it. Take me, Lord, and do what you like with me, only give me your grace and your love, for that is enough for me. Amen.
I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers flow in the right direction, will the earth turn as it was taught, and if not how shall I correct it?
Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven, can I do better?
Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows can do it and I am, well, hopeless.
Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it, am I going to get rheumatism, lockjaw, dementia?
Finally I saw that worrying had come to nothing. And gave it up. And took my old body and went out into the morning, and sang.
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace: where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy.
O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console, to be understood as to understand, to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive, it is in pardoning that we are pardoned, and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.
Acrylic painting by Carolina Perrone
Signore, fa di me uno strumento della Tua Pace: Dove è odio, fa ch’io porti l’Amore, Dove è offesa, ch’io porti il Perdono, Dove è discordia, ch’io porti l’Unione, Dove è dubbio, ch’io porti la Fede, Dove è errore, ch’io porti la Verità, Dove è disperazione, ch’io porti la Speranza, Dove è tristezza, ch’io porti la Gioia, Dove sono le tenebre, ch’io porti la Luce. Maestro, fa che io non cerchi tanto Ad esser consolato, quanto a consolare; Ad essere compreso, quanto a comprendere; Ad essere amato, quanto ad amare. Poiché, così è: Dando, che si riceve; Perdonando, che si è perdonati; Morendo, che si risuscita a Vita Eterna
I am the great Sun, but you do not see me. I am your Husband, but you turn away. I am the Captive, but you do not free me. I am the Captain you will not obey. I am the Truth, but you will not believe me. I am the City, where you will not stay. I am your Wife, your Child, but you will leave me. I am that God, to whom you will not pray. I am your Counsel, but you do not hear me. I am the Lover, whom you will betray. I am the Victor, but you do not cheer me. I am the Holy Dove, whom you will slay. I am your Life, but you will not name me. Seal up your soul with tears and never blame me.
Be the foundation of my being. May I sit in you in true rest, stand in you in sure thought, and be rooted in you in endless love. Reveal yourself to me so that I may know my true nature better and act as I truly am.
To paint a picture, to write a story or compose a song is an incarnational activity. The artist is a servant who is willing to be a birth giver.
[…]
I believe that each work of art, whether it is a work of great genius, or something very small comes to the artist and says: “Here I am. Enflesh me. Give birth to me.” And the artist says “My soul doth magnifies the Lord” and willingly becomes the bearer of the work, or refuses.
[..]
We lose the ability to see angels as we grow older and that is a tragic loss.”