Saturday, August 16, 2008

The Loving Touch of His Pain

From the files of the past comes this little message.

"I am your humble servant. Yes, the deep blue-violet petunia has a deep brown, cord root. And even though there is much of it exposed to the air and the elements, the root is strong and deep--thicker than one might imagine for such a delicate bloom.

"And your life may not grow in the ways that your exposed petals think it should grow. And one might not recognize the root as belonging to a petunia. But that which is underground is linked to the Source and is nurtured by God and grows by God.

"And whatever elements attack the exposed root and bloom do not affect in the least the root that thrives below the ground in the deep, rich soil. It hangs on and can grow anywhere that God desires it to grow.

"And even withered blooms have magnificent root structures. This never ceases. It is ordained and shall be.
"Recall your roots."

"The number 8 presents itself.

"Like a track it keeps going. And it twists and twirls, never ending. Beginning without end. Not flat, but multi-dimensional. Luminescent. Filled with power. And filled with love.
"Love is the power that surges and courses through the roots, through the 8.

"Stop thinking and perceiving of it as looking down from above on situations. But stay beneath them in the depth and the richness where your roots take hold firmly. And let the love circle the track and surge through your roots.

"You can be very comforted beneath the surface. Remain there in your strength."

Yes, Lord, in this suffering and in all sufferings, I will try to remain resting beneath the surface. In all of life, let me be hidden beneath the surface. You are there in the roots of infinite, encircling love.

So grateful for the insights given, the loving words which assist in pondering how to endure in any situation. Tonight during Mass, ice-pack being used on the various parts of the body in such pain, praying "please don't let others notice", looking up at the crucifix at Our Lord suffering for everyone and, yes, for me, it became clear how much love there is in His pain, in His offering and sacrifice.

I was touched deeply in the heart with much pain then, and realized it was Jesus touching my heart with love. Love to suffer; suffer to love. Pain in and of Christ, with His love, offered in love, is Christ's loving pain touching us. He touches all of us, but do all of us love His touch in this way? Do we think of HIs love when we are touched by holy pain?

[Sorry about the not-so-focused photo of the deep, blue-violet petunias in the Mary Gardens of Agnus Dei. Gimped out this morning, and morning sunlight intense, and too much pain to hold camera still, and so forth. But perhaps it is best this way, with a thread of the Frankie Boy Arborvitae [think "St. Francis"!] weaving through the upper left, and the reality of the petunia roots somewhere beneath the surface, unseen but there feeding the blooms. Whether or not one sees clearly or as through a fuzzy mirror, the roots thrive. Recall them.]


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