Now have I seen Thee and found Thee, For Thou hast found Thy sheep; I fled, but Thy love would follow– I strayed, but Thy grace would keep. Thou hast granted my heart’s desire– Most blest of the blessed is he Who findeth no rest and no sweetness Till he rests, O Lord, in Thee.
O Lord, Thou seest, Thou knowest, That to none my heart can tell The joy and the love and the sorrow, The tale that my heart knows well. But to Thee, O my God, I can tell it– To Thee, and to Thee, Lord, alone; For Thy heart my heart hath a language, For other hearts it hath none.
In the wide world, speechless and lonely, For me is no heart but Thine; Lord, since I must love Thee only, Oh reveal Thy heart to mine. “Wouldst thou know My glory, beloved? Know Me, the great I AM? First must thine eyes behold Me, The slain and the stricken Lamb.
“My visage so marred more than any, My form than the sons of men; Yet to the heart I have won Me, I am the fairest then. Thou knowest the sun by his glory– Thou knowest the rose by her breath, Thou knowest the fire by its glowing– Thou knowest My love by death.
“Wouldst thou know in My great creation Where the rays of My glory meet? Where to My awful righteousness The kiss of My peace is sweet? Where shine forth the wisdom and wonder Of God’s everlasting plan? Behold on the cross of dishonour A cursed and a dying Man.
O infinite God, how sweetly have you now poured out your goodness in me! When I did not exist, you gave me being. When I left you, you would not leave me. When I tried to escape you, you so gently took me captive. O eternal Wisdom, my heart would now like to burst into a thousand pieces and, embracing you in its bliss, consume all its days with you in constant love and full praise. This is the desire of my heart. That person is truly blessed whose desire you so lovingly anticipate that you never let him rest until he seeks his rest in you alone.
O exquiste, lovely Wisdom, since I have found it is you whom my soul loves, do not despise your poor creature. Look how numb my heart is to the whole world, in joy and sorrow. Lord, is my heart ever to remain mute to you? Permit, beloved Lord, permit my wretched soul to speak a word with you, for my full laden heart can no longer carry on alone. It has no one in this wide world with whom to share its burden except you, tender, belvoed Lord and Brother. Lord, you alone see and know the nature of a heart filled with love. You know that no one can love something he cannot at all know. Therefore, since I shall now love you alone, let me get to know you better so that I can learn to love you completely.
–Henry Suso ‘Little Book of Eternal Wisdom’.
Words from Suso jumped out at me this morning. Life conditions have confused the idea of love. My vision becoming cloudy. Allowing mysteries to remain stronger than conclusions, I adhere to patience–prayer and adoration my focus. The other night I slept listening to St Teresa of Avila’s ‘Way of Perfection’. A chapter was looping and I kept hearing over and over that God is a jealous God, being so He sought certain souls strictly for His own. At times, it is an idea that torments. I am amazed how much stern attention St Teresa gives in instructing the sisters of St Joseph’s upon the proper tempering of love in the nurturing of their cloistered souls. Again the theme is presented of an extraordinary love centered upon God. I am in the world, and my heart grows weary alone. My life has been difficult. No self-pity, accountability registering, yet a conviction has entrenched itself within, firmly opening my heart to the sacrament of marriage as a final repose of sanctity within my complex life. It is why I posted the header painting of an early Catholic wedding, Holy Spirit hovering and blessing from above. Am I being selfish, obstinate, weak and immature? Absolutely convinced I acted properly in demanding more from my spiritual partner, I am now not sure where to go. Uncomfortable and flustered, I am confident it is right where God wants me to be right now. The empty longing channeled into efficacious prayer, peace and discernment, still seeks worldly attention thus a looking back occurs. I desire a reconciliation with Father David Mary. Attempting to arraign an appropriate visit, I want to worship with the friars once again. Never was I happier in my adult life. Childhood allowed wonder and accumulated moments of sheer joy, yet reaching adulthood the wheels absolutely fell off my vehicle of unrequited delusional over-attempts at life. I want to post words from St Teresa, directed toward the cloistered life, they properly demonstrate the tender mercy we must render to one another when interacting through the bonding of religious conviction. Virtue is beautiful. Godly things are beautiful. Beautiful things naturally call forth love. Spiritually healthy, love is alluring. Love in all its depths brings forth a smile to the wicked mind of Satan, a firm resolution God armed him with a weapon of mass destruction.
The important thing is that these two kinds of mutual love should be untainted by any sort of passion, for such a thing would completely spoil this harmony. If we exercise this love, of which I have spoken, with moderation and discretion, it is wholly meritorious, because what seems to us sensuality is turned into virtue. But the two may be so closely intertwined with one another that it is sometimes impossible to distinguish them, especially where a confessor is concerned. For if persons who are practicing prayer find that their confessor is a holy man and understands the way they behave, they become greatly attached to him. And then forthwith the devil lets loose upon them a whole battery of scruples which produce a terrible disturbance within the soul, this being what he is aiming at. In particular, if the confessor is guiding such persons to greater perfection, they become so depressed that they will go so far as to leave him for another and yet another, only to be tormented by the same temptation every time. –St Teresa ‘Way of Perfection’ instruction of the twelve sisters on proper interaction with a confessor (a male).
An unfinished poem, sometimes I start and lose the fire. I do not believe in creating just to create. If not cleansing or enlightening I must stop. I easily know the difference between effort and effusion.
Before the Eucharist
Sensitive to the touch, an open wound, a core calling forth, proper healing amassing time, redundancy and new wineskins, it was not the first time tears were exposed,
War hounds bellowing, battles waging, seeking no victory, open and steady, bloodbath and ready, rode hard, scarred, worn, and torn, entrenching during a stalled retreat, Cast not thy pearls before swine, efficacious prayers, obstacles removed, virtue the aim, unification accosted, it is the best I can do, taking what I can within silence and stillness, a thief amidst the dark night, stolen grace makes no sense, that which does not exist does not exist,
Lord exposed before my heart adores, revealed not ugliness, pain, utter intense, hurting immense, no answers, no questions, all hope, no regrets, fundamental, central, that which is given, granted, presented, aching since birth, I never knew how to properly love.
Henry Suso is a bundle of contradictions, and a person, moreover, who has gathered legends about him like a snowball rolling downhill. He was a poet, which is not always a key to happiness in this world; a mystic of the highest order; a hard working Dominican; and a man with a positive genius for getting into embarrassing situations… It will require many years of exhaustive research to sort out the diverse elements in his personality, if, indeed, it can ever be accomplished. Poets are not easy to analyze, and Henry, before all else, was a poet…Henry was born in Switzerland, in 1290, the son of a warlike family of counts and crusaders. His father said more than once that he wished Henry had been a girl and some of his spirited daughters had been boys; for Henry was not a type to carry a sword. Henry was a gentle, dreamy lad, who liked to accompany his mother on pilgrimages and read about heroic deeds. He had taken his mother’s name of Suso, perhaps out of sheer inability to live up to the warlike title of the Count von Berg…The best known work of Henry Suso is his Little Book of Eternal Wisdom, which is a classic of spiritual writing. He also composed many other short treatises on the mystical union of the soul with God, all written with the same poetic language and the same intensity of feeling. The man who had carved “the lovely name of Jesus” into the flesh over his heart was just as intense in his spiritual life. –Marie Jean. ‘St. Dominic’s Family’
I have the feeling Henry Suso would relish this not so flattering portrayal of his individuality.
Form the suffering of Christ crucified within oneself, His sweet teachings, His gentle conduct, and His pure life, which He led as an example for us to follow, and thus through Him press further within. Afterward, as exterior preoccupations disappear, one should sit in the stillness of one’s spirit in vigorous detachment, as though one is dead to one self, never leading to oneself or being one’s own goal, but having Christ alone and the honor and glory of the heavenly Father as one’s goal. Toward others, both friends and enemies, one should act humbly and friendly.
Now when the spirit, unconscious of itself, really begins to dwell in this transfigured resplendent darkness, it becomes free of all obstacles and all that is its own, as St Bernard says….This losing of self is something divine that somehow becomes all things for him….the spirit withdraws, but not completely. It takes on certain qualities of the Godhead…it does not become God….What happens…happens by grace…something created out of nothing that remains forever…as the soul is taken in, it is freed from doubt as it becomes lost when it is separated from its individuality and is joined to what is divine while being unconscious of itself….the power of resplendent divine being, the spirit is pulled upward beyond its natural capacities into the nakedness of this nothing because it is bare of creatures of any kind….The spirit loses its own knowledge because it loses itself, lacking any awareness of self and forgetting all things. And this happened when the spirit in itself turned away from the created nature of its self and all things toward the naked uncreatedness of nothingness. –Henry Suso
I discovered a new passion today. Flying is wonderful. At fifty, I have never flown. I found the experience exhilarating. Wonderful.
I want to preface this quote from Henry Suso’s ‘The Exemplar: The Life of the Servant’ with the comment it is important, words to consider deeply. Take them slow.
…Brother John, showed him in a vision the delightful beauty by which his soul had been transfigured. From him also the servant begged for the answer to a question. This was: Which of all the exercises was the one that caused a person the most hardship and was most useful? He received the answer that nothing was more painful and profitable for a person that for him, with an attitude of detachment, to go out from God with patience toward himself and thus leave God for the sake of God.
Let’s repeat that ending. …leave God for the sake of God.
For the sake of internal cleansing, a feat complex in proper doing, can I forget about God and focus upon myself. Avoiding selfishness and self-absorption, concentrating upon weaknesses, psychological frailties, personal shortcomings, character defects can I abandon self-righteous conduct and thoughts focused upon God and look sternly in the mirror? With the assistance of qualified others can I conduct painful insightful self-examination? Is a personal inventory more important than personal glorification in God?
Humbly and honestly, I feel gifted with a strong prayer life, yet I realize psychological conditions, worldly matters cannot be left behind during prayer. I cannot escape into God in order to ignore myself. It is not proper to pray devotedly while not growing as a man. My former spiritual partner stressed to me Aquinas thought that grace builds upon nature. I am going through an intensely emotional and troubling time with that former spiritual partner. As much as she has done for me, we are absolutely destroying each other right now. It was so difficult to go into prayer today. During the plane ride, I observed the marvel of seeing the skies for the first time from above. The sights filled me with awe and wonder, intensifying my love for God. I love flying. However through the splendor of high flying, while praying the Rosary, Divine Mercy, and holding silence, my head felt like it was going to split from the stress and pressure that overwhelms my life. Lack of sleep troubling horribly today. Necessary actions hurt. My eyes had trouble focusing, my whole sense of being is discombobulated, disjointed, and off kilter. I despise it, however it must be endured, passed through and properly dealt with. Aggressive, I seek solutions. I love on a deep and passionate level, taking the Song of Songs serious. I remember leaving the friary how intensely Father David Mary and myself fought. Like lions fighting over a fresh kill, we tore at each other. I am not saying it is right. It is human and the way we encountered. Neither of us being truly a bad guy. We were two men of God absolutely in collusion–I use that word specifically Collusion defined:asecretagreement,especiallyforfraudulentortreacherouspurposes; conspiracy andLaw. asecretunderstandingbetweentwoormorepersonstogain somethingillegally,todefraudanotherofhisorherrights,ortoappear asadversariesthoughinagreement: examplecollusionofhusbandandwifetoobtainadivorce. There is so much more to it than just circumstances with Father David Mary, myself and the former spiritual partner: Subconscious issues from individual lives. Mine: a life of severe alcoholism, parental issues, and intimate relationship issues. Father David Mary a volatile blue collar New York City upbringing. We must be so careful when interacting with each other in a deeply spiritual manner. I saw it in the friary so piercingly. We are vulnerable in a brutally damaging way when we open ourselves spiritually to one another. I am positive the majority of people trying to guide others do as much damage as good. Unfortunately, the damage usurps the good. True teachers are few and far between. That includes myself!!! Be careful, kind and tender with one another’s souls. This is no game. Can we leave God in order to allow others to move closer to God? I remember homily words from a priest: be careful when you are crowding around the tabernacle that your greatest achievement is not blocking others from the Eucharist.
Can I abandon evangelizing in order to grow interiorly? Can I forsake being a Bible scholar, a recognized knowledgeable man of scripture, in order to allow scripture to penetrate those things that block me from Christ? Can I detach from my religious reputation in order to strengthen humility and understand myself better? Do I cling to the idea of being a spiritual superior over reducing my pride in order to draw closer to God? Do I see myself as a provider of graces for others, rather than an honest sharing equal to my brother and sisters in Christ? Can I disown seeing myself as a spiritual director in order to cleanse my fleshly vessel? Can I quit the idea of giving others advice how to properly follow Christ in order to purify the temple of my body? Can I stay silent when others ramble about spiritual matters? Do I see myself as a teacher amongst others rather than servant of Christ? Do I judge and use God as a weapon to bolster myself? Can I remain hidden, focusing upon my devotion to Mary, relying upon Her assistance in approaching Her Son, rather than being a clanging gong? Do I allow Mary to dispense graces? Do I use religion to elevate my self-esteem? Can I quietly receive communion, absolutely absorbed within the presence entering my body, avoiding self-consciousness, thoughts of God and Holy matters? Can I sit before the Eucharist quiet and still.
I am immensely enjoying Henry Suso’s ‘The Life of The Servant’. Spiritually directing, the work also possesses an entertaining value I associate to a finely written novel. The adventures, or better yet the misadventures, of the eternal servant insightfully remind me of two classic novels Voltaire’s ‘Candide’ and Jerzy Kosinski’s ‘The Painted Bird’. Ideas on suffering are the bonding element. Suso’s servant of eternal wisdom, the fourteenth century German Dominican preaching friar, should never wander away from his friary. Every time he parts from the protection of the religious order calamities of every and all kinds assail him: accused of being a well poisoner, arrested for being a wax thief, religious superiors attacking him, a shameful sister, tribulation during travel with an infamous murderer, a near fatal winter plunge into an icy river—the disasters never cease. I think of St Francis’ idea of perfect joy from the Fioretti or Little Flowers:
“Father, I pray thee teach me wherein is perfect joy.” St Francis answered: “If, when we shall arrive at St Mary of the Angels, all drenched with rain and trembling with cold, all covered with mud and exhausted from hunger; if, when we knock at the convent-gate, the porter should come angrily and ask us who we are; if, after we have told him, ‘We are two of the brethren’, he should answer angrily, ‘What ye say is not the truth; ye are but two impostors going about to deceive the world, and take away the alms of the poor; begone I say’; if then he refuse to open to us, and leave us outside, exposed to the snow and rain, suffering from cold and hunger till nightfall – then, if we accept such injustice, such cruelty and such contempt with patience, without being ruffled and without murmuring, believing with humility and charity that the porter really knows us, and that it is God who maketh him to speak thus against us, write down, O Brother Leo, that this is perfect joy. And if we knock again, and the porter come out in anger to drive us away with oaths and blows, as if we were vile impostors, saying, ‘Begone, miserable robbers! to the hospital, for here you shall neither eat nor sleep!’ – and if we accept all this with patience, with joy, and with charity, O Brother Leo, write that this indeed is perfect joy. And if, urged by cold and hunger, we knock again, calling to the porter and entreating him with many tears to open to us and give us shelter, for the love of God, and if he come out more angry than before, exclaiming, ‘These are but importunate rascals, I will deal with them as they deserve’; and taking a knotted stick, he seize us by the hood, throwing us on the ground, rolling us in the snow, and shall beat and wound us with the knots in the stick – if we bear all these injuries with patience and joy, thinking of the sufferings of our Blessed Lord, which we would share out of love for him, write, O Brother Leo, that here, finally, is perfect joy.
The medieval concept of earning Divine unification through the acceptance of suffering is spiritually uplifting. Henri Suso, as the servant, similar to St Francis, innocently embraces suffering in this whimsical manner. The words melt my heart, forcing me to bust out with cheerful laughter
God had gotten him (the servant) use to this: Whenever one affliction was over, another one soon took its place. God dealt with him thus constantly, but once he granted him a period of relief, though it did not last long. During this period of relief he came to a nuns’ convent, and his spiritual children asked him how things were going for him. He said, “I am afraid things are going quite badly for me, and this is why. It has been four weeks now since I have been attacked by anyone, either physically or with regard to my reputation, and this is quite unusual for me. And so I am afraid God has forgotten about me”.
Now compare the embracing of suffering for spiritual growth to the satirical enlightened approach of Voltaire. Voltaire mocks suffering, therefore attacking Church teaching and philosophical optimism. He opens the door for a Utopian society based upon enlightened human intellectual achievements, reform of authority and the equality of individuals, the stripping of the Church from governing authority. It is absurd for man to seek profoundness through suffering. The Age of Enlightenment, or Age of Reason, introduces cultural influences: philosophical, scientific, and political thought, which are determined to alleviate man’s suffering and produce equality amongst men through the achievements of great educated men. Proper government by an enlightened elite and technological advancements can bring about ultimate societal solutions. According to Voltaire, Candide and his companion Cacambo discover a utopian kingdom of advancement and equality in El Dorado.
…Cacambo asked one of the officers in what manner they were to pay their obeisance to His Majesty (El Dorado king); whether it was the custom to fall upon their knees, or to prostrate themselves upon the ground; whether they were to put their hands upon their heads, or behind their backs; whether they were to lick the dust off the floor; in short, what was the ceremony usual on such occasions.
“The custom,” said the great officer, “is to embrace the King and kiss him on each cheek.”
Candide and Cacambo accordingly threw their arms round His Majesty’s neck, who received them in the most gracious manner imaginable…
While supper was preparing, orders were given to show them the city, where they saw public structures that reared their lofty heads to the clouds; the marketplaces decorated with a thousand columns; fountains of spring water, besides others of rose water, and of liquors drawn from the sugarcane, incessantly flowing in the great squares, which were paved with a kind of precious stones that emitted an odor like that of cloves and cinnamon.
Candide asked to see the High Court of justice, the Parliament; but was answered that they had none in that country, being utter strangers to lawsuits. He then inquired if they had any prisons; they replied none. But what gave him at once the greatest surprise and pleasure was the Palace of Sciences, where he saw a gallery two thousand feet long, filled with the various apparatus in mathematics and natural philosophy.
A more modern approach to suffering is presented through the horrors of the Jewish experience during World War II in Jerzy Kosinski’s ‘The Painted Bird’ . Where Suso’ servant experiences spiritual growth through suffering, Kosinski’s child protagonist finds nothing amdist suffering. Surviving is the immense and vital challenge, the only thing that matters. The child, desperately clinging to life, encounters sheer mindless cruelty during his Polish village to village wandering. Existential in nature, survival amongst the meaningless cruelty of mankind speaks through the work. Man is a broken hard and cruel creature. Horror is the scream of mankind. Hopeless survival wrestles supreme. The extreme violence within the novel ranks like no other novel I have encountered, aside from a Cormac McCarthy effort.
One day he trapped a large raven, whose wings he painted red, the breast green, and the tail blue. When a flock of ravens appeared over our hut, Lekh freed the painted bird. As soon as it joined the flock a desperate battle began. The changeling was attacked from all sides. Black, red, green, blue feathers began to drop at our feet. The ravens ran amuck in the skies, and suddenly the painted raven plummeted to the freshly-plowed soil. It was still alive, opening its beak and vainly trying to move its wings. Its eyes had been pecked out, and fresh blood streamed over its painted feathers. It made yet another attempt to flutter up from the sticky earth, but its strength was gone.” —Kosinski: ‘The Painted Bird’
Overall quick thoughts on medieval Church teachings on suffering contrasted with more modern secular interpretations. Thy Will be done!!!
Finally, I decided to add more, building upon the idea of hopelessness and despair, suffering to the extreme. We all have our horrors. No need to compare and contrast. Overcoming, truly accepting suffering is essential to spiritual growth. To process and draw close to God through grief is difficult, yet few growth is greater, abstinence from a habitual vice also producing monumental maturity. The understanding of a lack of hope produces an invigoration for hope. To understand the extreme of Godless creation is important in loving the Creator. There is more to life than surviving. Nobody creates a more profound sense of hopeless survival than Cormac McCarthy. I attach a video monologue from ‘The Road’. Notice the piano playing, it’s Nick Cave once again. Notice also the ending.words: All I know is the child is my world and if he (the son) is not the word of God then God never spoke.
Because, doing your actions (devotion) by our Blessed Lady, as this practice teaches, you abandon your own intentions and operations, although good and known, to lose yourself, so to speak, in the intentions of the Blessed Virgin, although they are unknown. Thus you enter by participation into the sublimity of her intentions, which are so pure that she gives more glory to God by the least of her actions—for example, in twirling her distaff or pointing her needle—than St Lawrence by his cruel martyrdom on the gridiron, or even all the saints by their heroic actions put together. It was thus that, during her sojourn here below, she acquired such an unspeakable aggregate of graces and merits that it were easier to count the stars of the firmament, the drops of water in the sea or the grains of sand upon its shore, than her merits and graces –St Louis de Montfort ‘True Devotion to Mary’
What did you do here upon the earth Holy Mother that produced such splendid praise? It was more than birthing Jesus. It must concern the way you lived your life throughout your life. How did you conduct yourself? Weren’t there people who used the name of your Son improperly that upset you? There had to be times you were right, yet others perceived you being wrong? Justifiable anger, did it overwhelm you even once? Enduring the suffering of Our Savior at the hands of the Roman soldiers how could your heart not be filled with anger and hate? During His passion, did you feel only sorrow, love and compassion for your Son? How did you do it Holy Mother? Your Son, Our Lord and Savior is Divine, the Son of God, yet you were absolutely human. How could you control your emotions and feelings so peacefully? Did prayer come naturally, purely, and easily to you? Didn’t others frustrate you through their imperfections? Weren’t there days you were slothful in thought and action? Times you wanted to curse God? Did not the praises of Elizabeth and Simeon fill you with even the slightest arrogance? Ohh Holy Mother listen to the pleading of one devoted to you, one who fails so miserably time after time. How did you do it Holy Mother? There had to be a time when pride overwhelmed you when you contemplated who you carried within your womb? How could you not feel righteous in raising yourself in your own eyes above others? You the truest of contemplatives, how did you know how to conduct yourself as you did? Who instructed you? Didn’t being so powerful in prayer elevate your self-esteem? False humility never plagued you? Playing the profound mystic for others never tempted you? Being admired as holy and wise never attracted you? You never lusted after sweet consolations? The wonders you experienced how could you not be self-absorbed? How could you be in constant acquiescence to Holy will? Did you not want to teach everyone, being right about all matters regarding your Son? Did the apostles comprehend the immensity of your majesty while enjoying your company? Did the beloved disciple John recognize you would be crowned in heaven, granted reign as Queen above all queens? I know so little about your earthly life. While alive, I see you as such a simple, quiet, yet commanding woman, one who garnered profound respect with a whisper, working efficaciously behind the scenes, while never dominating the thoughts of your compatriots. How could you be so simple, you amidst the most complex of lives? As my Holy Mother, I know you so well. I love you so dearly. You have always been so near. How blessed it is to have you always above me, sheltering me with your loving mantle. I have never doubted your presence, even during my darkest hours.
Our Lady’s words to Juan Diego: Let not your heart be disturbed. Am I not here, who is your Mother? Are you not under my protection? Am I not your health? Are you not happily within my fold? What else do you wish? Do not grieve nor be disturbed by anything.
On the day after the feast of the Assumption he was again shown great joy in the court of heaven. No one was trying to gain entrance who arrived unworthy. As the servant was trying to get in, a young man came up, grabbed him by the hand, and said, “Friend, you do not belong in there at this time. Stay outside. You have incurred guilt, and before you may hear the heavenly singing, you have to make up for your misdeed”. And he led him somewhere down a crooked path into a hole under the earth. There it was dark and barren and wretched. He could go neither this way nor that, like someone who lies captive where he can see neither sun nor moon. Finding this painful, he began to sigh and feel miserable because of his imprisonment. Soon the messenger came and asked how he was doing. “Poorly, poorly,” he replied. Then the young man said to him, “You should know that the exalted Queen of heaven is angry with you for that failing because of which you are a prisoner here”. The servant became frightened and said, “Alas, wretched me! How have I offended her?” He said, “She is angry with you because you do not like to preach about her on her feast days. And yesterday on her great feast day you refused, against the wish of your superior, to preach about her.” The servant replied, “Dear friend and lord, I think she is worthy of such great honor that I feel unequal to the task, and I leave it to the more mature and worthy (friars) because it seems to me that they can preach about her more worthily than a poor man like me”. The youth said, “Know that she would like you to do it, that she considers it a pleasing service from you. And so do not refuse anymore”. The servant began to weep and said to the young man, “Dear messenger, reconcile me to the pure Mother. I give you my word that it will never happen again”. The young man looked at him amicably, consoled him kindly, and led him out of the prison and back home. He said, “I could tell by the look on the friendly face of the Queen of heaven and by her words when she speaks of you that she forgives you. She is no longer angry with you and wants always to be like a mother to you”. Henry Suso “The Exemplar, The Life of The Servant”
Ann ease with the fighting nature. I truly had a premonition. I was concerned. Do not be so obstinate. I will approach you after mass calmly, holding to the Eucharist. If all is good say ‘do not worry’. If you struggle, please speak with me.
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