Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Dear God,

He stands as a quiet presence in my contemplative garden.  In inclement weather or sunshine he offers peace staving off the temptation to give in to a busy, sometimes chaotic life.  Today his hands hold piles of snow.

St. Francis has been with me for forty years.   The statue has been around for seven or eight.  Many years ago during a very difficult time I had a vision and felt a presence.  No, he did not stand before me; however, he was clear in my mind's eye.  In the interior of my soul he was a monk in dark heavy robes.  He did not speak audibly but I could hear him.  At the time I didn't even know about saints.  He told me his name was John.  Thirty years later in Italy during a spiritual renewal I learned St. Francis was first named John by his mother until his father's return when he named him Francis.  He became very alive to me during the renewal teaching me about faith, trust, love, and hope.  I was moved, inspired, and challenged.

As I made my pilgrimage to visit the homes and sites of saints nearly eight years ago, I allowed my whole self to be changed by their awe-inspired devotion, love, and faith.  You know how much transformation I needed, how cluttered my soul was with resentment and bitterness.  St. Francis was in the midst of all that charging me to renew my mind, heart, and soul.

This morning as I look out my windows at the beautiful wintry scene and see St. Francis, I smile.

Gracious God,
you are
the hope
of the world.
You are
the light
of the world.
You are
the song
of eternity.
Thank you.

Love, Andrea