Today is Part Four

Yesterday I spent about two hours praying before the Sacrament at St. Vincents, trying to understand what is wrong with me when it comes to pushing forward with writing the formation program. Yes, Jesus is everywhere, but in church where the Sacrament is reserved, I know He is there in a physical way. It's rather like hanging out with a friend.

What I came away with was the realization that my own lack of faith in myself has a lot to do with the trouble I'm having. Thirty years of "you are worthless" doesn't disappear in a heartbeat. Next, getting clear that just because I don't work in the fields, or carry hod, I no less work when I write -- from my unique perspective -- for the Lord. Also, I had to face, who am I trying to impress? It seems that unless there was someone to impress, then why bother? Jesus helped me to see that unless I impress Him, I'm hopeless.

So lacking faith in myself, and with no one to impress, I'm starting part four today when I return from Mass. No more denying of gifts. Music was not my only gift, God gave me a gift with words, and expects me to use it. Well, thanks be to God.

And now for poetry.
John Donne

HOLY SONNETS.

XVII.

Since she whom I loved hath paid her last debt
To Nature, and to hers, and my good is dead,
And her soul early into heaven ravishèd,
Wholly on heavenly things my mind is set.
Here the admiring her my mind did whet
To seek thee, God; so streams do show the head;
But though I have found thee, and thou my thirst hast fed,
A holy thirsty dropsy melts me yet.
But why should I beg more love, whenas thou
Dost woo my soul, for hers offering all thine:
And dost not only fear lest I allow
My love to saints and angels, things divine,
But in thy tender jealousy dost doubt
Lest the world, flesh, yea, devil put thee out.