Bluebell Heaven

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Monkey Business


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Never Failed Me Yet

It is tradition in my Community to pray together around the cross on Good Friday. I have been doing this most years for quite some time now, but I feel today moved me more than any other year before. It was such a beautiful evening, and so deeply felt by all of us. We sing together, some of us share a few thoughts about their faith and their experience of the cross, we pray at the cross if we wish, and this time we ended with a piece of music I had never heard.

It is a recording of a homeless man singing “Jesus’ blood never failed me yet, never failed me yet/ Jesus’ blood never failed me yet/ There’s one thing I know/ For he loves me so”. Gavin Bryars created a composition with the almost accidental recording – you can read the story of this piece of music here (and it is worth reading). 

Apart from everything else that touched me tonight, this music will certainly stay with me. 

There is so much beauty in us broken people, and so much love in our broken God.

Loyola Hall (first retreat)6

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Oh Night Thou Wast My Guide

Upon a darkened night
the flame of love was burning in my breast
And by a lantern bright
I fled my house while all in quiet rest
Shrouded by the night
And by the secret stair I quickly fled
The veil concealed my eyes
while all within lay quiet as the dead

Oh night thou was my guide
Oh night more loving than the rising sun
Oh night that joined the lover
to the beloved one,
transforming each of them into the other

Upon that misty night
in secrecy, beyond such mortal sight
Without a guide or light
than that which burned so deeply in my heart
That fire t’was led me on
and shone more bright than of the midday sun
To where he waited still
it was a place where no one else could come

Within my pounding heart
which kept itself entirely for him
He fell into his sleep
beneath the cedars all my love I gave
And by the fortress walls
the wind would brush his hair against his brow
And with its smoothest hand
caressed my every sense it would allow

I lost myself to him
and laid my face upon my lover’s breast
And care and grief grew dim
as in the morning’s mist became the light
There they dimmed amongst the lilies fair
there they dimmed amongst the lilies fair
there they dimmed amongst the lilies fair

(“Dark Night of the Soul”, text St. John of the Cross, here sung by Loreena McKennitt)

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The Broken Beautiful


That which is Christ-like within us shall be crucified. It shall suffer and be broken. And that which is Christlike within us shall rise up. It shall love and create.

Michael Leunig

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Prayer, the expression of our desire for God and our relationship with God, is not something we control, it is what we are drawn to.

Ann Lewin

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A Mender Of Things

eecummings spring

poem source: 

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