One of my personal patrons.
Sunday, 10 July 2016
Yesterday I visited the hospital where I was recently treated, in order to properly thank the ward staff who looked after me, and leave a card and gift of some sweeties for them.
It was also an opportunity to look round the hospital properly, visit the chapel to say a prayer of thanksgiving for my ongoing recovery and so forth.
The hospital corridors are decorated with several displays of artwork, and among them, a small collection of poems written by staff and others associated with the hospital. I was quite taken by one in particular, which I think was a beautiful thing. I am reproducing it below, as the photo of it I took on my 'phone is not the clearest. As it was on public display, I trust the author will not mind me posting it here.
What would you say to an unborn child?
Explain the world surrounding them
The deepest blue oceans wide
The purest white clouds up high
How night becomes a brand new day
When sunshine chases it away
How love must triumph over all
And hatred left behind to die
So we can live our lives in full
Without the fear of sin and lie
This unborn child will join the world
With peace in heart and love to give
With hatred shielded from their mind
Until they grow and start to live
Laboratory Manager, Pathology
Very nice to see these sentiments expressed in an NHS hospital, although I sadly suspect that not all unborn children who enter there do not get the chance to 'join the world' - please pray for all expectant mothers, especially those who are led or pressured to destroy the new lives they are carrying.
St Catherine of Sienna, patroness of expectant mothers, pray for us
Sunday, 3 July 2016
Please pray for me, and more so, pray for all those on the world who are going through much greater tribulation and suffering that that which I experienced during my recent illness.
Father, for the sake of Christ's sorrowful Passion, have mercy on us, and on the whole world.
Following the Brexit vote, we have seen a rise of nastiness in some quarters, with racial and xenophobic abuse on the increase.
In response to this, I would draw your attention to this delightful old poem by Rudyard Kipling. Also sometimes known as 'The Children's Song', it is largely written in the form of a prayer, from the viewpoint of the young, and, I imagine, was probably once commonly recited in school assemblies and similar. I believe the poem was written a little before WW1, and so the fourth stanza is poignant in the light of the events of the Somme battle, of which we are currently commemorating the centenary.
Here is the poem:
Land of our Birth, we pledge to thee
Our love and toil in the years to be;
When we are grown and take our place
As men and women with our race.
Father in Heaven who lovest all,
Oh, help Thy children when they call;
That they may build from age to age
An undefiled heritage.
Teach us to bear the yoke in youth,
With steadfastness and careful truth;
That, in our time, Thy Grace may give
The Truth whereby the Nations live.
Teach us to rule ourselves alway,
Controlled and cleanly night and day;
That we may bring, if need arise,
No maimed or worthless sacrifice.
Teach us to look in all our ends
On Thee for judge, and not our friends;
That we, with Thee, may walk uncowed
By fear or favour of the crowd.
Teach us the Strength that cannot seek,
By deed or thought, to hurt the weak;
That, under Thee, we may possess
Man's strength to comfort man's distress.
Teach us Delight in simple things,
And Mirth that has no bitter springs;
Forgiveness free of evil done,
And Love to all men 'neath the sun! *
Land of our Birth, our faith, our pride,
For whose dear sake our fathers died;
Oh, Motherland, we pledge to thee
Head, heart and hand through the years to be!
* My Emphasis
Friday, 1 July 2016
I have just noted from Zephirinus' post that today is the Feast of the Most Precious Blood of Our Blessed Lord. Having myself just posted in connection with the remebrance of the dead of the Somme, I can't help but notice the bitter irony that a century ago this day saw perhaps the greatest bloodshed in history.
Reframing that irony, however, leads to the thought that so many young men that day followed the pattern of Our Lord's death, walking forth, yes in fear and trepidation, but boldly, into inevitable oblivion. Let us pray for their souls, that, while their actions were perhaps not entirely motivated by the Faith, and so not an automatic source of the crown of marttyrdom, they were fighting in the cause of right and freedom. May their Purgatory be short (if, indeed, it is not already long over), and may they be with our Saviour in Paradise.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
Requiem aeternum dona eis, Domine,
Et lux perpetua luceat eis:
Requiescant in pace. Amen.
Thursday, 30 June 2016
Although it is a bit out of fashion among many of today's Catholics to celebrate the glories of the Church, I think there is a place for a bit of good old triumphalism, if only to remind us of the great good the Church does, which has sadly often been overlooked in recent times with the media focus on scandals and failings of some of her clergy and Orders.
Let's take a few moments to recall that Our Mother the Church does stand and overlook the wild uproar as empires rise and sink like billows.