It’s been a difficult Holy Week. My inner life has been in turmoil. I am afraid, so afraid I cannot bear to think on the thing, except to beg God for help. I’ve been angry, ready to burst into a torrent of abuse at every inconvenience. I have been licentious, falling again and again into sick fantasy I wish I could forget.
I turn to prayer again and again; I turn to God, and I ask Our Holy Mother for help. And, this week, I came across a song. I could say, perhaps admit, there is an element of the sentimental to it; nonetheless, I was touched.
As someone who has been very slowly converting to Catholicism, I was not always charitable to those who called upon Our Lady. I hope I have never been uncharitable toward her, and yet I feel a pang as of a guilty man at the line, “I’ve cursed your name a thousand times.” Still, I remember, whenever I was angry about something as a child, my own mother often offering me her hand to hold.
Our Lord has risen, and we remember His Resurrection, the first fruit, today. Hope and truth are alive. As I drove toward my parent’s house, I was playing this song, and a rainbow appeared overhead. God, please give us peace. Let your peace be over our home.
Tale Told 