Day One: Creation
SACRED STORY MEDITATION
This meditation is taken from "Forty Weeks: A Journey of Healing and Transformation for Priests" by Father William M. Watson, SJ
I believe God created everything in love and for love; I ask for heart-felt knowledge of God’s love for me, and for gratitude for the general and particular graces of this day.
I believe God is present in each moment and event of my life, and I ask for the grace to awaken, see, and feel where and how, especially in this present moment.
I believe every violation of love committed by me and against me is in my memory; I ask God to reveal them to me, especially those that have manifested themselves today, so I can be healed.
I believe that forgiveness is the only path to healing and illumination. I beg for the grace of forgiveness, and the grace to forgive, especially for the failures of this day, and from my past.
I believe the grace of forgiveness opens my heart, making my every thought, word, and deed bear fruit that endures to eternity. I ask that everything in my life serve Christ’s reconciliation.
Click here for "The Creation" A Poem by James Weldon Johnson
Day Two: The Calling of Saint Matthew
Click here to watch Carvaggio, Calling of Saint Matthew and Inspiration of St. Matthew.
Day Three: The Little Boy at Play
“He’s got quite an imagination,” the big folks used to say
Nothing too bizarre, they hoped, ‘cuz he’s just a child at play
Memories from childhood trickle; I can’t keep the thoughts at bay
Imprints weaved inside my skull; they visit and sometimes stay
I’m only four or six years old, digging holes in the moist black dirt
Then climbing an inviting tree, not realizing its branch tore my shirt
I love the boundless options that are present on my boyhood farm
Kicked by colt or stung by a wasp—usually causing no great harm
In the lean grass with a caterpillar, or chasing a pig, greasy and slick
On the bank of a pond with a fishing pole: a string, a hook, and a stick
And did I have spirit mentor-guides, or were the images only in my head
When they determined paths I’d trod, or as I prayed each night in bed
The wonders of those days long gone return through portals in my mind
Now forty and now sixty, that innocently distant energy I seek to find
It could be graced consciousness that my layered metaphors portray
Those still-frames of a longing soul to be (once more) that child at play
Retracing grand dreams I held back then, but now packed and put away
But in the mirror some moments I think I see that little boy at play.
Click here to watch The Return of the Prodigal Son (Rembrandt)