A Walk in the Woods

Today I went for a hike in the forest behind my house.  God gives us His beauty in the magnitude and detail of His creation every day!

"Plant me like a tree beside a river"

These lyrics by Audrey Assad, a beautifully Catholic artist, spoke to me in the car tonight.  Especially in winter, the season during which the world undergoes its own peaceful death, the idea of death to self and  finding new life in the Father holds special meaning.

"Show Me"


You could plant me like a tree beside a river
You could tangle me in soil and let my roots run wild
And I would blossom like a flower in the desert
But for now just let me cry

You could raise me like a banner in a battle
Put victory like a fire behind my shining eyes
And I would drift like falling snow over the embers
But for now just let me lie

Bind up these broken bones
Mercy bend and breathe me back to life
But not before You show me how to die

Set me like a star before the morning
Like a song that steals the darkness from a world asleep
And I'll illuminate the path You've laid before me
But for now just let me be

Bind up these broken bones
Mercy bend and breathe me back to life
But not before You show me how to die
Oh, not before You show me how to die

So let me go like a leaf upon the water
Let me brave the wild currents flowing to the sea
And I will disappear into a deeper beauty
But for now just stay with me
God, for now just stay with me

My sister Hannah and I sang this for my Grandma Naomi's funeral today.  She loved the 23rd psalm.  I'm sure they sing it in Heaven all the time...  :)

The Little Flower

Today I realized that Saint Therese of Lisieux wants my attention.

Over the past semester she has been popping up all over the place.  Several of my friends read or are reading her "Story of a Soul."  Father Joe gave a talk on Pre-The retreat about how she showed up to an exorcism once, beating back demons with a cross of roses.  A few times after rosary, her name would pop into my head along with those of Saints Maximilian Kolbe and Padre Pio, two of my favorite intercessors.  And now that I'm home, I realize that our guest bedroom has a tapestry with her image on it!  To think she has been in our house for years and I just now notice her hanging on the wall, standing in holy light with an armful of pink roses and a crucifix.

I'll have to get a copy of her diary and ask for her intercession more often.  We'll see what happens!

Renewed shall be blade that was broken...

From the ashes a fire shall be woken 
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,

The crownless again shall be king.  - J. R. R. Tolkien

I love the analogy of one's life being the work of a Master Craftsman.

After all, not one of us made ourselves.  Everything we are is from the Maker, the Molder, the Lover.  The One whose very work is to love the universe into existence.

Each of us is placed in His forge.  Some us are unformed, unfashioned; we have not yet let His hands do their work on our souls, those hands which possess all might and all gentleness.  Others are scarred or even shattered from conflict.  Perhaps the enemy we fought has been struck down but we are left in pieces and need repair.  Perhaps the enemy is still at our doorstep, waiting to take advantage of our weakened state.  Whatever the case, the Master takes us in and begins His healing work.


The Father first breathes his Spirit with the bellows, heating the Fires of grace until they are white-hot, ready to melt and purify even the most stubborn of souls.  We may at first be reluctant to enter this fire.  We may wonder whether our current malformations are preferable compared to the all-engulfing flames of the Master's forge.  C. S. Lewis shows us how hard it can be to let go of our personal demons in his work "The Great Divorce."  Sometimes we would rather hold tight to the sin we know and reject redemption, which often appears mysterious and painful.

The truth is that these flames are made of purest love.  If they appear alien to us, it is because our fallen natures have been blinded to the reality of the totally self sacrificial love that the Father offers to us.  But here is what is strangely beautiful: it is completely our choice to enter the furnace or to reject it.  In any human blacksmith's forge it would be unthinkable for the metal to speak back to the metal-worker, much less to refuse his designs.  Yet this is exactly what our Maker allows us to do.  We are not forced to obey the Father; we are not forced to accept His gift.  But our purest perfection will always lie in total surrender to His hands, in making ourselves malleable and open to His plans.  After all, only He knows exactly the materials He has to work with.

Once we are made white hot in the fires of His Spirit, the Craftsman uses His hammer to form us into the  masterpieces He meant us to be.  This hammer is His Son, His Word, His Sacraments.  Striking over and over, he knows exactly where the metal is weak.  He can tell the good parts from the parts that need to be restored.  Slowly, the cracks in the metal disappear.  Its former beauty and purpose is restored.  It is strengthened until it is stronger than ever before.  Over time, the Son leaves His indelible mark on our souls.  We belong to Him.  He is etched into our very being, shining forth as an inscription for the world to read.  It is good news; it means salvation.

Our Father continuously forges our souls to His liking if we allow Him to.  In truth, we can never remain perfect in this life.  We must always return to His fire to be renewed in love.  In this way we are made into bright tools and weapons for Christ to use to set the world on fire.