The Lenten Season is a time for reflection. Lately, I’ve been thinking back over the fact that I possess no memories of a time before I knew myself to be a follower of Jesus, a singer, a reader and lover of stories, or an artist. I contrast, I distinctly remember that I began writing in middle school. Angsty poems, love poems, broken-heart poems, God-praise poems. Stuff that turns my stomach now. Over time, I published various contributions in school literary magazines.
In graduate school, I wrote many liturgical texts, some of which were collected in a seminary publication. It seems that collection has been distributed widely because, from time to time, I find my texts at various churches’ websites or in their newsletters, such as this one from March 15, 2009 St. Pius X Parish:
O God of Wounded Hands,
who scoops us up out of lifeless clay,
who shapes us and sculpts us to reflect yourself;
O God of Wounded Hands, who breathes life into us,
who knows our limited humanness and becomes like us;
O God of Wounded Hands,
who suffers the piercing and torment of your own flesh,
heal us.
Knit together our wounded places, our deep pain,
so that we may move to reconcile
our relationships with you
and our kinships with our sisters and brothers
from whom we are estranged.
In you, O God who works through woundedness
to create wholeness.
Amen.
© 2000 (If you want to use this text, please contact me for permission.)
As I reflect, my learnings are these:
- Reading grows me.
- Art unveils what lies in my depths.
- Singing expresses what flows within me.
- Writing helps me to discover who I am.
The thing is, writing helps me to discover my faith, too. What is deep down inside there? What’s on the surface waiting to be scratched. I wonder what helps you to discover who you are? Are you working on the process of finding who you are and who God dreams for you to be?
teach me wisdom in my secret heart 