Saints' Discussion Forums

Enjoy the websites and submit any quotations, prayers, books that you like or think should be there. :)

Not everything that is submitted appears, but its enjoyable reading what is submitted all the time even if it doesn't fit.

And I think people will here too.

Two of my children have entered Religion,  I wrote this poem for them.

He is Calling Me

He is calling me
In my secret heart -
I feel His smile,
His beckoning Hands-

His poor pierced Hands
And who will kiss
Those wounds away?

He calls to me
At every hour
I know not how
That summons came;

But this I know
Since childhood’s hour
He calls me to
A secret place
A place apart.

The Infinite
The Eternity
The All-embracing
makes for me
Room in His Heart.

“That Earthly joys
may fade away” -
So runs the hymn
And may I run
Safe to His side
Eternally
And even now
In this vale of tears
Awhile to stay.

The worldly wise -
How can I make
them understand?
How can I bring them
to kiss His Hand?

While I yet live
On this lowly Earth
I have a task
Not of my own
To please Him now
With my poor best
To sacrifice
and souls to wrest
From Satan’s snare
And bring them safe
through worldly strife
Against the foe
To Paradise
And eternal rest.



for Sr Cecilia Pia of the Five Wounds and Br Gerardo Maria Majella of the Hours FSSR

Now, It's not wise that everyone can post their own poetry normally... Unless we're seeking penance. lol. :)

But you, you can do it, at least you've managed well this time. Because you can see God in it.

It's moving! I've read it more than once! :D

Thank you for this, and it's wonderful to hear about those two! What wonderful religious names!

A great first post. :)

Are your posting troubles over then?

A cookbook I'd very much like to reccomend is Simpliciity from a Monastery Kitchen byBrotherVictor Antoine ette. Not only does he have great, simple & healthy recipes but there are also some really nice quotes from saints & others about faiith & simplicity. A favorite of mine when thinking about prayer is from an old XIX century French peasant , " Durig prayer I don't say anything to God, I just sit and look at him and let him look at me . "
For some reason I'm having trouble typing & correcting what I type in this post & out of frustration I'll have to leave it this way.

 

You're right! There's something peaceful about that book!

I think it would make a good gift book to people who like to cook. :)

Living Lent by Barbara Cawthorne Crafton

WE DIDN’T EVEN KNOW what moderation was. What it felt like. We didn’t just work: we inhaled our jobs, sucked them in, became them. Stayed late, brought work home -- it was never enough, though, no matter how much time we put in.

We didn’t just smoke: we lit up a cigarette, only to realize that we already had one going in the ashtray.

We ordered things we didn’t need from the shiny catalogs that came to our houses: we ordered three times as much as we could use, and then we ordered three times as much as our children could use.

We didn’t just eat: we stuffed ourselves. We had gained only three pounds since the previous year, we told ourselves. Three pounds is not a lot. We had gained about that much in each of the twenty-five years since high school. We did not do the math.

We redid living rooms in which the furniture was not worn out, We threw away clothing that was merely out of style. We drank wine when the label on our prescription said it was dangerous to use alcohol while taking this medication. “They always put that on the label,” we told our children when they asked about this. We saw that they were worried. We knew it was because they loved us and needed us. How innocent they were. We hastened to reassure them: “It doesn’t really hurt if you’re careful.”

We felt that it was important to be good to ourselves, and that this meant that it was dangerous to tell ourselves no, About anything, ever. Repression of one’s desires was an unhealthy thing. I work hard, we told ourselves, I deserve a little treat. We treated ourselves every day.

And if it was dangerous for us to want and not have, it was even more so for our children. They must never know what it is to want something and not have it immediately. It will make them bitter, we told ourselves. So we anticipated their needs and desires. We got them both the doll and the bike. If their grades were good, we got them their own telephones.

There were times, coming into the house from work or waking early when all was quiet, when we felt uneasy about the sense of entitlement that characterized all our days. When we wondered if fevered overwork and excess of appetite were not two sides of the same coin -- or rather, two poles between which we madly slalomed. Probably yes, we decided at these times. Suddenly we saw it all clearly: I am driven by my creatures -- my schedule, my work, my possessions, my hungers. I do not drive them; they drive me. Probably yes. Certainly yes. This is how it is. We arose and did twenty sit-ups. The next day the moment had passed; we did none.

After moments like that, we were awash in self-contempt. You are weak. Self-indulgent. You are spineless about work and about everything else. You set no limits, You will become ineffective, We bridled at that last bit, drew ourselves up to our full heights, insisted defensively on our competence, on the respect we were due because of all our hard work. We looked for others whose lives were similarly overstuffed; we found them, “This is just the way it is,” we said to one another on the train, in the restaurant. “This is modern life. Maybe some people have time to measure things out by teaspoonfuls.” Our voices dripped contempt for those people who had such time. We felt oddly defensive, though no one had accused us of anything. But not me. Not anyone who has a life. I have a life. I work hard. I play hard.

When did the collision between our appetites and the needs of our souls happen? Was there a heart attack? Did we get laid off from work, one of the thousands certified as extraneous? Did a beloved child become a bored stranger, a marriage fall silent and cold? Or, by some exquisite working of God’s grace, did we just find the courage to look the truth in the eye and, for once, not blink? How did we come to know that we were dying a slow and unacknowledged death? And that the only way back to life was to set all our packages down and begin again, carrying with us only what we really needed?

We travail. We are heavy laden. Refresh us, O homeless, jobless, possession-less Savior. You came naked, and naked you go. And so it is for us. So it is for all of us.

I like this a lot. :)

I am sure it speaks to a lot of people who have felt the urge to divest themselves of what they have, declutter, clean house.. and break free.

All these things are calls to temperance. America, most of the 1st world.. and all over..

The more you have the happier you are is the message..

Heaven's the opposite.. The less you have the happier. :) Keep only what is necessary for what you are supposed to do. Otherwise, give it to someone else -- What else good is it doing there, doing nothing? Or taking up your time?

I want to say: I have never made more spiritual progress in my life than when, I started getting rid of things, and having less. I mean it truly.

It works wonders.

Hello,  :)
I just wanted to suggestest the book  The Secret of the Rosary,  by St Louis de Montfort.  It is very small but very sweet. The Saint's love for Our Lady really comes forth.  It might be a nice book to share with a younger person, because it is broken up into
small parts that way someone won't get bored.  It's just so full of love! :-*
God Bless,
Vicky

The good news is that it's already there! (http://saintsbooks.net/BooksList.html)  ;D I love that book!

'Poor men and women who are sinners, I, a greater sinner than you, wish to give you this rose, a crimson one, because the precious blood of our Lord has fallen upon it.'

St. Louis de Montfort

  ;D ;D ;D

                                                          November 1880.
                                                     Revelation to a holy nun.

When you have to reprove anyone who has committed a small or even a grave fault, do so with great gentleness. Be firm when the fault demands it, say few words, and never speak when in a passion, for then the reproof will harm the soul of both the one receiving it and the one giving it.
Avoid calling attention to former faults, especially when correcting children. This is a common mistake and very displeasing to God, and those who do it are wrong. How do they know that it has not already been pardoned? Then why refer to it again? God has not set us such an example. Our own sins should constantly humble us and we should weep over them in the bitterness of our hearts before the Lord, but we should never refer to the past sins of another.
A Christian soul, and above all a religious soul, to be pleasing in the sight of our Lord, will treat her neighbour as she expects our Lord to treat her. Remember this well and when the opportunity comes, practice it faithfully.

Found this quote recently and copied it. Can't quite remember Where but it seems good advice.

Great advice! Definitely worthwhile reading.

How many people do not know who their true friends are!

This looks to be from the text 'An Unpublished Manuscript on Purgatory' which I see online. I am going to have to read it through entirely! Perhaps we can provide it entirely!  ;D

This is fabulous.  Seems parenting advise has been around long before mental health providers.   ;)

A Byzantine Prayer (have had it in my Bible for years; got it on a retreat once, no source)

Serene light, shining in the ground of my being,
Draw me to Yourself.
Draw me past the snares of the senses,
out of the mazes of the mind.
Free me from symbols, from words,
That I may discover the Signified,
The Word unspoken
In the darkness that veils the ground of my being.

Beautiful!

Your correct Shin. I just checked out that Purgatory site I was on a few weeks ago and indeed thats where the article came from.
Apparently the soul of a deceased nun fro Purgatory appeared often to a fellow nun advising her on her Spiritual life.

Re the duplicate post above. If you wish to delete it feel free. I  mistakenly hit the Enter key as I began typing  :brickwall:

I can't find the thread now but someone posted a link (think it was Shin) to a site called Audio Sancto (again I'm not 100% sure if that's the precise name) but it is full of the most instructive sermons I've ever heard. If you click on the "End Times" sectionthere is a sermon on ST Vincent Ferrer.
This is REMARKABLE !!
If anyone listens to it be interesting to hear some comments.

Audio Sancto (http://www.audiosancto.org) is indeed wonderful! I've downloaded all their sermons and just play them at times for hours for instruction while I type. Sensus Traditionis (http://www.sensustraditionis.org) is wonderful too with all its sermons. With them you can get a more thorough Catholic education that you can't find elsewhere.

They've done me incalculable good!

Glad to find you found them!!!  :cheers:  :soldier:

Story of the man and the birds

Now the man to whom I'm going to introduce you was not a scrooge, he was a kind, decent, mostly good man.  But he just didn't believe the Jesus story, about God coming to Earth as  a man.
" I'm truly sorry to distress you," he told his wife, " but I'm not going with you to church this Christmas Eve."  He said he'd feel like a hypocrite.
     Shortly after the family drove away in the car, snow began to fall.  Minutes later he was startled by a thudding sound.  When he went to the front door to investigate, he found a flock of birds that had been caught in the storm and, in a desperate search for shelter, had tried to fly through his large landscape window.  Well, he couldn't let the poor creatures lie there and freeze, so he hoped to direct the birds to his barn for shelter.
     Quickly he tried shooing them into the barn by walking around them waving his arms.  Instead they scattered in every direction, except into the warm, lighted barn.  And then he realized that they were afraid of him.  He wished he could think of some way to let them know they could trust him.
     " If only I could be a bird,"  he thought to himself, " and mingle with them and speak their language.  Then I could tell them not to be afraid.  Then I could show them the way to the safe, warm barn.   But I would have to be one of them so they could see and hear and understand."   At that moment the church bells began to ring, peeling the glad tidings of Christmas.  The sound reached his ears above the sounds of the wind.  And he sank to his knees in the snow.

(Adapted from story shared by Paul Harvey)

I love that story - I heard it with an anthill, but the idea is just the same. I think I like this bird one better since I'm not an eight year-old boy (;D).