The breathing of the air,
the song of the sweet nightingale,
the grove and its living beauty
in the serene night,
with a flame that is consuming and painless.
–St John of the Cross, ‘Spiritual Canticle’

Patience a virtue. Christ awaits the return of His children. Forgive my trespasses Lord Jesus. Many times I have tested You. I deserve the wrath of Your hand, But You see greater things: Your patience enormous! Grant me a droplet of Your endurance. Grant me the fortitude and strength to abolish my impious impatience, able to reflect Your serenity. Great is the Lord Jesus in wisdom! Holy Mother, sheltering with your mantle, accompany me.

A time of living, solid in faith, building upon hope, loving all the time. I felt the need to live strong this weekend, experiencing and aware, healthy while building, prayerful the whole time. Silent and still before the Eucharist is easy. Living in the world is the difficult part. This weekend I consumed and participated, remaining distant, knowing God calls at all times. I am no Saint Faustina. In all my awkwardness, I have begged for a sign. Some have been given, signs appearing, yet definitive direction remains amiss. Life unfolds as a mystery.

St Faustina tells of marvelous spiritual direction:

“Once I was at a dance with one of my sisters and while everybody was having a good time, my soul was experiencing internal torments. As I began to dance, I suddenly saw Jesus at my side, Jesus racked with pain, stripped of his clothing, covered all over with wounds, who spoke these words to me, “How long shall I suffer and how long will you keep on deceiving Me?” At that moment a charming music stopped, and my company vanished from my sight; there remained Jesus and I. I took a seat by my dear sister, pretending to have a headache in order to cover up what took place in my soul. After a while, I slipped out unnoticed, leaving my sister and all my companions behind, and made my way to the Cathedral of Saint Stanislaus Kostka (Lodz). It was almost twilight; there were only a few people in the cathedral. Paying no attention to what was happening around me, I fell prostrate before the Blessed Sacrament and begged the Lord to be good enough to give me to understand what I should do next.

Then I heard these words, “Go at once to Warsaw (Poland), you will enter a convent there”.  I rose from prayer, came home, and took care of things that needed to be settled. As best I could, I confided to my sister what took place within my soul. I told her to say good-bye to our parents, and thus, in one dress, with no other belongings, I arrived in Warsaw