Let all that you do be done in love.

December, 2021

Do this… empty yourself of everything you are, so that all that remains is a nothingness, that space in the empty where Spirit, that breath of life, resides. There you will find the entirety of God.

Do this… Make your heart completely vulnerable and open to real love, that genuine love that is the Father, and the pain that comes with genuine love, the suffering that is experienced when you love without attachment, will bring you closer to the compassion that is God’s being.

Do this… tame those basic instincts within, starving the ego of its power and allowing yourself to become a keeper of the world around you without fear or a sense of scarcity.

Do this… be as a ship anchored at sea, firm in the very essence of God all around. A force unmovable in the turbulence that is life. For as you anchor down your own heart in certainty so does God who is the same.

Do this… give completely of yourself, knowing that in doing so you receive from God the same. Trusting completely as you give, knowing in faith that there is no separation between God and you.

When you have done this… there is no dualism, there is no us versus them. There is only one. When you are One with God, your heart cannot exist shared by two. You cannot serve two masters. With one heart, a wholeheartedness, a new view of the world begins to take form.

When your heart has been made open and vulnerable and become whole and one with God, when you have tamed those basic instincts and left the ego behind, when you have anchored yourself firm in the very essence of God, when you have completely placed your trust in God knowing there is no separation between the two which are now one, and as you are one and your heart is at peace in this oneness, all you can hunger for is to share that peace. There is no division, no separation, God is all. All is God.

When you are One, God and Spirit in Christ, and Christ in You, you are free from the bondage of this world. The love and grace that is God is all that matters. Nothing that is eternal can be taken away, for that which is freely offered has been willingly accepted.

Br John-Richard March, 2022

This part of the Lehigh River is a superfund site, award-winning for using the funds correctly to bring it back. Even this part of the PA Appalachian Trail (AT) had to be closed in the 80s.
        From the 1920s, The New Jersey Zinc Company provided many jobs. A daily train brought day laborers up from the cities south. Palmerton was a picture-postcard company town. Immigrants moved here to work from Portugal, Italy, and Mexico. Bungalows were built for them. And the executives worshipped at the stunning Episcopal Church. But it polluted our area with lead. It looked like a war zone. They are still planting trees and leveling huge slag heaps. Now there are trails where the train rails were, a beautiful educational and research nature center. And hikers are back on the AT.

Sr Dymphna July, 2025

The Hand of the Comforter

 Helen wanders

in her mind

                        in her body

            up and down the hallway

            “looking for her glasses” –

for the dimming eyes,

for the knowing she once had

that once let her world make sense.

 Lost in fear,

she yells sometimes, sometimes cries out,

terrified of the growing darkness.

I take her hands in mine,

hold them, warm them, steady her trembling.

And, walking together,

the hand of the comforter.

The Hand of the Priest

 Carlos sits unmoving,

            shoulders hunched,

                        small brown body shrunken

                        by age and illness,

moved only by the bodies of his caretakers.

He has lost  the grace,

            the will of body,

that once let him make the world his own.

 Wrapped in immobility,

            not even his eyes move –

until I approach him with the broken bread of

Eucharist and place it on his tongue,

calmly, surely outstretched

to meet the motion of my hand.

And, celebrating Christ together,

the hands of God hold us both.

The Hand of the Mother

 Dolly stares

            straight ahead,

            eyes empty of light, of soul.

Her speech is gone.

Her face a frozen blankness,

            has lost the spark of human spirit

that once made the world her human place.

Walled apart by the stoniness of her silence,

            the only time we touch

is when I sit,

offer her a spoonful of cherry-pie,

steady her chin with my hand,

And, eating together,

the hands of God hold us both.

The Hand of the Dancer

 Donna babbles,

            incoherent,

            words tumbled, bumping, fighting one

another.

The thread is gone

            the connector

that once let her make the world understand.

Anger flaring,

she blurts, “son…,” “hit the road,”

or more recently, “shake your fanny.”

 This last learned unexpectedly,

at the weekly dance when we danced together,

and I clasped her hands,

            turned her and released her,

moved with her to the music where she seems to

hear God

            hearing her.

And, dancing together,

the hands of God hold us both.

 Thank you, Holy One.

For hands that comfort,

            consecrate,

            celebrate,

            connect

Me with them,

And us with You.

by Sharyl Peterson