simple and vulnerable… tiny and small

“He who carries God in his heart bears heaven with him
wherever he goes.”

St. Ignatius of Loyola


(julie cook / 2013)

While it is the loudest, the brightest and the biggest that currently vies desperately
for attention…

A culture dares to scream out to all who give ear…that bigger is better…
and that even bigger is better still…

It is a time when more equates to satisfaction and it is only in fullness where true
happiness will be found…

Yet it is also oddly a time when more is never truly enough…and the full
are never contently satiated…

It is a time of glaring sensory overload…
when even in sleep a brain is unable to find rest…

Yet Omnipotence continues to seek out the lowly,
capturing the attention of a world gone mad.

A reminder is currently proclaimed…
that it was but a baby who entered the world, humble and meek, who would
in turn, be King.

It was the simple and the vulnerable, the tiny and small, who stopped the world from
spinning…but for the briefest of moments.

Where have all those prophets of old now gone?
Those voices who foretold the glories of Salvation?

Where are those who defied the world while proclaiming both Hope and Peace?

Rest assured, we are told, they have not gone far from view.

They are still very much amongst us.
Walking tiny and small between the giants of this land

They are quieter than the oh so loud and prideful self-consumed…

They are the ones who stop, lingering long enough to listen…those who
will hear the baby’s cry while standing ever so still…

“Write:
I am Thrice Holy, and I detest the smallest sin.
I cannot love a soul which is stained with sin; but when it repents,
there is no limit to My generosity toward it.
My mercy embraces and justifies it.
With My mercy, I pursue sinners along all their paths,
and My Heart rejoices when they return to Me.
I forget the bitterness with which they fed My Heart and rejoice at their return.
Tell sinners that no one shall escape My Hand; if they run away from My Merciful Heart,
they will fall into My Just Hands.
Tell sinners that I am always waiting for them,
that I listen intently to the beating of their heart . . .
when will it beat for Me?”
St. Maria Faustina
excerpt from The Diary of St Maria Faustina

“Shortly before the outbreak of World War II, a simple, uneducated, young Polish nun receives
a special call.
Jesus tells her, “I am sending you with My mercy to the people of the whole world.
I do not want to punish mankind, but I desire to heal it,
pressing it to My merciful Heart.”

Jesus also tells her to record His message of mercy in a diary:
“You are the secretary of My Mercy. I have chosen you for that office in this and the next life.”
These words of Jesus are found in the Diary of St. Maria Faustina Kowalska,
which chronicles Sr. Faustina’s great experience of Divine Mercy in her soul and her mission
to share that mercy with the world.

In the Diary, this woman mystic’s childlike trust, simplicity,
and intimacy with Jesus will stir your heart and soul Her spiritual insights will
surprise and reward you.
“Only love has meaning,” she writes.
“It raises up our smallest actions into infinity.”
(The Catholic Company)

Sister Faustina was a young, uneducated nun in a convent of the Congregation of
Sisters of Our Lady of Mercy in Poland during the 1930s.
She came from a poor family that struggled during the years of World War I.
She had only three years of simple education,
so hers were the humblest tasks in the convent, usually in the kitchen or garden.
However, she received extraordinary revelations — or messages — from our Lord Jesus.
Jesus asked Sr. Faustina to record these experiences, which she compiled into notebooks.
These notebooks are known today as the Diary of Saint Maria Faustina Kowalska,
and the words contained within are God’s loving message of Divine Mercy.

“Though the Divine Mercy message is not new to the teachings of the Church,
Sr. Faustina’s Diary sparked a great movement,
and a strong and significant focus on the mercy of Christ.
Saint John Paul II canonized Sr. Faustina in 2000 making her the
“first saint of the new millennium.”
Speaking of Sr. Faustina and the importance of the message contained in her Diary,
the Pope calls her “the great apostle of Divine Mercy in our time.”
thedivinemercy.org

it’s the story of my life

My life is my message.
Mahatma Gandhi

“When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”
― Margery Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit

RSCN8896
(tiny little toadstools emerge in the damp chill of the beginning of a new year / Julie Cook / 2015)

The phone rings.
“Happy New Year! Whatcha doing?”
“Cleaning the cat box. . .(insert sigh). . .you know, the story of my life”
“What did ya’ll do last night?”
(sigh again)
“I cooked and we ate while watching football. . .you know, the story of my life.”
“What are ya’ll doing this weekend?”
Well. . .(sigh) working, and then cleaning house and probably cooking for everyone both nights. . .you know, the story of my life. . .”

“The story of my life”
A catch all phrase.
A colloquialism for “same ol same ol”—
Meaning, the same thing over and over again, day in and day out.
It’s a phrase that takes on a drudgery and a ‘less than’ feeling.
Yet in all actuality it is a phrase that equates to the activities of which basically represent and make up one’s everyday life.
Those things we do as mothers, fathers, wives, husbands, children, siblings, friends, family members, students, professionals, co-workers. . .
The things we do in life that equate to that which makes life, life.
We cook.
We clean.
We drive here and there and yon.
We do yard work.
We take care of pets.
We take care of family.
We take care of each other.
We go to work.
We go to school.
And we dream. . .

We dream of being catered to, waited on, indulged.
Winning the lottery.
Living the good life.
Having a driver.
A yardman.
A maid.
A wait staff.
Champagne dreams and caviar wishes.
Those so called lives of the rich and famous.
Being totally taken care of with each whim being met with the raising of a single finger. . .

And of course we do, on occasion, have little splurges. . .dinners out, date nights, a special purchase of those pretty little shoes we’ve been eyeing, a new car, a long anticipated trip. . .the little things which add spice and nice to everyday life.

However— to dream, to wish, to yearn for, with flagrant abandon, those indulgent lavish desires of a life that’s not quite our own, do not equate to what our lives are really all about. . .those extravagant dreams and wants are not what make us who we are.
Oh such thoughts all sound so very nice because who doesn’t want
more,
better,
special. . .
Yet 99.9% of the time those wants and dreams are not only unrealistic they are simply not components of what makes our lives real.

Real is walking the dog in the rain or snow and telling him/ her to hurry before you both freeze to death.
Real is being woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of “mommy, mom, mother, I threw up”
Real is walking a daughter down the aisle in a small town church.
Real is helping your son learn to tie his own tie.
Real is working two jobs so your kids can have “Christmas”
Real is cooking and cleaning and picking up after others.
Real is watching your kids struggle.
Real is watching aging parents transition to wearing diapers.
Real is watching yourself transition to wearing diapers.
Real is hard, tough, sad, scary. . .
Real is real.
and it is what makes us, us.

Real is living in a country that still works on its democracy.
Real is being able to be whatever one dreams one can be while willing to work towards the goal.
Real is sadly saying good-bye to loved ones.
Real is working hard.
Real is sometimes losing.
Real is sometimes winning.
Real is having food to cook and enjoying the contentment of being satiated.
Real is cleaning the dishes, washing clothes.
Real is watching football and cheering or crying depending on the score.
Real is having loved ones gathered near.
Real is having loved ones.
Real is having pets.
Real is cleaning the cat box.
Real is the story of my life. . .
and Real makes me happy.