Saturday, June 30, 2012

A Living Death

" God did not make death, nor does He rejoice in the destruction of the living. For He fashioned all things that they might have being; . . . in the image of His own nature He made [humankind]. But by the envy of the devil, death entered the world, and they who belong to his company experience it." [Wisdom 1: 13-15; 2: 23-24].

We live in a culture  of death. It is very uncool of me to say this. Maybe it is even radical. I see death and destruction all around me. We allow fellow citizens in our own communities to live homeless, in filthy rags, starving, and buffeted by the elements. But we choose to ignore these inconvenient creatures. We celebrate our own wealth. We measure our worth by what we own.

We judge ourselves and others, by physical looks, and by designer clothes and accessories. Yet, God gave each of us gifts in our own right. Our beauty is  not in how we adorn ourselves. It is in what innately comes from God.

 On various social media, it has become "sport" to mock and judge others. We forget how alone we all are, if we judge everyone else as unworthy.

We worship human endeavor, not a Higher Provider. But if our  own efforts fail, we descend into fear. Who will rescue us, now that we have discovered how very fractured we humans are?

How do I know all this? I lived in a Culture of Death growing up.

In  my house, I was the battleground of hate. I was called ugly every day. When I cried over this, I was told that I was "too sensitive." I was not fed dinner many nights. Sometimes, I was hit, or called a failure. No one ever hugged me or said, "I love you."

God  must have rained His grace down upon me. Hate is a living death. I decided to believe in Love. I tended my mother's garden without being asked. I brought flowers into that ugly home, to beautify it. Every Sunday afternoon, I did the family mending and sewing. My faith in Love, Jesus' greatest commandment, saved me. If I could not receive love, I was going to give it. I did not implode in anger.

My family judged everyone, not just me. This one was a black man, this one was a foolish Christian, that one was too poor. No one was ever any good. I started to realize that, if everyone is no good, then I would never have any friends. Small wonder that my parents never had any friends. Judgment is a living death. I decided to get out on my bicycle and see who I would meet.

My family used to say that they worshipped "The Almighty Dollar." They believed that money could save them. They would use the money against me, to influence my behavior. If only I would take music lessons, they would buy me a piano. If Idared to major in what I chose to study in college, they would cut off tuition. If I did not go to grad school as they chose, they would kick me out of the house. Materialism is borne of fear. Being a slave to money is a living death.  It is a zero sum game, because someone always has more than you. As money became a weapon of power against me, I decided to make it irrelevant. I chose, instead, to thank God for my gifts, which come from Him. What I needed in this life would follow. When I heard the phrase, "Almighty Dollar," I would cringe and whisper, "You mean, Almighty God."

My parents had no belief in God. They mocked Christians as losers, who could  not take care of themselves, so all they had was God. To paraphrase Bishop Desmond Tutu of South Africa, the first mistake my family made was to take me to church. By age 14, I was no longer allowed to go to church. But my faith was as a tiny flame, which I buried deep inside me, to protect it. I began to realize that, if all we have is human endeavor, and humans are so very frail, then we really have no one to turn to. Once humans fail, if there is no God, we descend into the agony of despair.

Literally, my faith saved me! I rejected the culture of death, in favor of the culture of life! Call it my childhood longing for Love, call it that tiny flame of faith-- whichever it is, the belief in Love and in a Higher Power saved me.

This week's Gospel talks about the Canaanite woman who is healed, simply by reaching out to touch the tassel of Jesus' robe.  When Jesus sensed her presence, He said to her, "Daughter, your faith has saved you!" Some have compared me to this woman. They ask how I could possibly have endured what I did?  In choosing faith, I chose also to be healed. When I converted, during the process I kept "hearing", "Only say the word and I shall be healed!" This is the call to Communion. It is the call to choose Jesus, to choose Life. I do  not think that my family saw the mighty power and joy available to them in being healed. What a tragedy.

As I converted, I was losing my best friend to cancer, my father to sudden death, my mother-in-law to cancer, then my own mother. I felt as if  my world was collapsing. But I had God, and He had my back! I honestly could not have gotten through that time without Him. Once again, my faith saved me.

Lord, I reject a culture of death: of violence, of hate, of greed, of fear, of intolerance, of despair. These are a living death. Instead, in choosing Love, Faith and Joy, I choose Life. I choose You!

[Related Postings: "Not of This World",  ay 21, 2012; "Saved By Faith", March 17, 2012.]

(c) The Spiritual Devotional 2012. All Rights Reserved.

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

And The Angels Wept

" Blessed are you who weep now. . . ." [Luke 6: 21]

Formerly revered Penn State football coach Jerry Sandusky was recently convicted of 45 counts of sexual abuse. He will now be sentenced to hundreds of years in prison. He is convicted of preying upon 10 boys over a period of 15 years.

Many patrons in a sports bar near Penn State cheered as the verdict was handed down. But there are no winners here.

This case is about a lot more than jeering at abusers, like they are some kind of curiosities or monsters in a freak show. Enough has been written, excoriating Sandusky for his predatory behavior (as well he should be).  I will not spend inordinate amount of time psychoanalyzing abusers. Sandusky is where he should be now. I leave ultimate judgement to God.

The persons who deserve my time and attention are the victims.  Exactly who speaks for the nameless, despairing victims? They are invisible and we must allow them that privacy. But they do not have to be silenced. Their story deserves to be told.

I shall speak in defense of the victims, against any who would judge them. Many will wonder why the victims would come forward now, so many years later? I can tell you that there is an awful chasm between who the abuser was in the victim's eyes, and the ugly trauma that occurred. How can the child resolve that it is the child's coach, or father, or clergy  member, or teacher who is inflicting such painful acts?

Everything goes through the child's mind: Who would believe me, against such a revered figure?This is so horrible, so surreal,  is this really happening to me? Is it even real? If I do tell, will I be the one blamed? If I do tell, I will have to tell this painful story, over and over. Everyone in the world will know. Unable to resolve this conflict, the child buries the memory.

Often, the child fears deeply hurting his parents. There is a "conspiracy of silence" over the abuse. The child is too afraid to tell his own family. The abuser's family and his allies hope that it will all just go away.The child decides to bear the pain himself. Or, the pain is so searing, the child buries it so that he can survive: able, in at least a wounded fashion, to sleep, eat, go to school, and so forth. The pain does not go away, but the memory of its cause is deeply repressed because it is too horrible to  contemplate.

Many who judge will accuse victims of "jumping on the band wagon", as the survivors all come forward at once; as if their charges are some sort of twisted conspiracy or copycat scheme, invented to destroy reputations.

This is no conspiracy. The victims are often unaware of each other. Why do claims seem to come out all at once?  Often, the detailed memory of the abuse does not come back until it is triggered by events in the news. It is very common for a media story from one abuser to trigger memories of other abusers.

Why the time lag in victims coming forward? It is common for repressed memories to come back only after the abuser is dead or retired from the situation, because it is only then that the victim feels safe enough to speak. This is especially so if the abuser threatened the victim with harm.

Others will accuse the victims of just wanting money. I say:  No amount of money, not even an award of millions of dollars, will ever take away the pain, the feelings of worthlessness, the desire to remain invisible, the heavy burden of nightmares and flashbacks. 

I have heard people ask abuse survivors, why do you "want to dwell on this"?  Many abuse survivors do everything possible to bury the traumatic memories. But you cannot bury them forever. The memories come back unbidden: during the day as flashbacks; at night as nightmares. Everytime a nightmare or a flashback occurs, the victim is forced to relive the trauma, as if in real time.

You may say, "Well, the victim  was not murdered." I would say to you that sexual abuse is murder of the soul. The prosecutor in the Sandusky case, Joe McGettigan, told the jury, ' I have 10 souls in my pocket. You can't give them back the pieces of the souls that [their abuser] took.'

[Post Script: I applaud the victims for their courage in coming forward to testify against Sandusky, despite their considerable trauma and fears. On July 12, 2012, former FBI Director Louis Freeh issued a report on the scandal at Penn State. He found that at least four top officials at Penn State knew about children being abused over a period of fourteen years, but chose to remain silent. That is, the officials were more interested in the football program than in the welfare of the kids. This, Louis Freeh asserted, shows a "callous and shocking disregard for the victims." In cases of such shocking abuse, where the victims cannot always speak up for themselves, it is up to all those who suspect abuse to report it. Freeh's report states that there were "more red flags than you could count, over a long period of time."] 

I pray that the world pours out its love upon the abuse survivors who are so broken hearted and wounded. I pray that the survivors find peace.

Related postings: "STOP Abuse", April 14, 2011; and "Rescuing the Invisible Child", April 18, 2012].

(c) The Spiritual Devotional 2012. All Rights Reserved.

Saturday, June 23, 2012

Nativity of John the Baptist

" The word of the Lord came to Jeremiah, saying, 'Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you, before you were born, I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations.'   'Ah, Sovereign Lord,' said Jeremiah, ' I do not know how to speak; I am only a child.' But the Lord said, ' Do not say, 'I am only a child.' You must go to everyone I send you to and say whatever I command you. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you and will rescue you,' declared the Lord. Then the Lord reached out his hand and touched his mouth and said to him, 'Now I have put my words in your mouth. See today, I appoint you over nations and kingdoms to uproot and tear down, to destroy and overthrow, to build and to plant. . . . Get yourself ready! Stand up and say to them whatever I command you. Do not be terrified by them. Today I have made you a fortified city, an iron pillar, and a bronze wall to stand up against the whole land. They will fight against you but will not overcome you, for I am with you and will rescue you."  [Jeremiah 1: 4-19].

Today marks the birth of John the Baptist. He was a prophet who heralded the coming of Jesus. Some people at the time thought that John the Baptist WAS the Messiah, but John famously said, " After me comes One, the thongs of whose sandals I am not worthy to untie." [John 1: 6-27]. This One to come, of course, was Jesus.

I think often of how God "knows no time." My born-again friends speak of "God's timing." We humans are so impatient and we cannot know the future.  We want God's promise and we want it now!

Sometimes we have to wait. A long time. My husband and I waited fifteen years before we became parents. I kept asking, 'Why, oh why, God are all these other couples parents, and we are made to wait?' I can only believe that God was preparing us to be parents, but in His own time.

God, it is said, knew us before we were formed in our mother's womb. He knows our past, before we even existed. Psalm 139: 13-15 says, "For you created me in my inmost being; you knit me in my mother's womb. . . My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in that secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body."

God collapses time. He bends it and twists it to suit His plan. He sees our past, before we were born. He can see our future. This is the meaning of the birth of John the Baptist. This prophet prepared the people for a greater One who was to come.

I remember those in my past who prepared me for my future: teachers who believed in me; a best girlfriend in college whose great friendship prepared me for my relationship with the man I was to marry. God sends us people who can prepare us for the next step.

The present can reverberate with the past. I can think of an evening when my extended family and I went out to dinner on the last night of our vacation. I sat next to my grandfather at the table. The sunset was so brilliant, I still remember it vividly. A song came over the speaker system, a popular song at the time, titled after a girl's name. (You remember songs like "Bernadette" and "Peggy Sue.") By the following summer, my beloved grandfather had died. Going to the lake on vacation was never the same again.  Forty years later, my best girlfriend died. They played that song at her funeral, the one with her name in the title. The past had become the present. I was experiencing a weird sort of time warp. Somehow at the lake during dinner, even as a child, I had known that that song would be associated with deep sadness, a poignancy I still cannot shake.

In this Scripture in Jeremiah, God is preparing Jeremiah to be a prophet. We are all called to be prophets, called not only to live God's Word, but to speak God's Word.

This Scripture reminds me of my childhood. I gave up speaking when I was ten. I did not see how I could dare to challenge those in my family who spoke against God and faith. If someone in my family said they worshipped "The Almighty Dollar", I would whisper to myself, "You mean, Almighty God!" I did not dare speak this aloud.  I was only a child.

I was terrified by these people in my family, who spoke against God, those family members who verbally abused me, neglected me and rejected me. Did God hear me when I said that I was only a child, who dared not speak? Or in my whispers, was God preparing me to become brave enough to speak these truths aloud?

I suffered many losses as a child. No one lifted me up. I raised myself up. I mourn the loss of the hugs and affection of a loving mother. I never had the safe boundaries of a gentle father. As I heal, I see my life as a great, wrecked house in the aftermath of a tornado. I am picking through the rubble, trying to salvage what is worthy, what is valuable, what glitters in the sun. Many things once misperceived as valuable must be overthrown, must be uprooted, torn down and destroyed. Then, in the aftermath, we are left with what is holy and significant.

But I myself am not destroyed. I am a strong pillar, a fortified city and a bronze wall. I possess a mighty bond with God. Far from being silent, and only a child, I now speak the Truth. I speak to all nations and all continents.

I seek to give Love and I seek to speak Love. I pray to the Holy Spirit that He gives me the words, the inspiration to speak the Truth.  I pray that I am no longer afraid. I pray that God will always be with me and that He will rescue me.

[Related posting: "A Radical Love", December 12, 2011.]

(c) The Spiritual Devotional 2012. All Rights Reserved.

Saturday, June 16, 2012

Celebrating Fatherhood

" This is what the Lord says: ' I myself will take a shoot from the very top of a cedar and plant it; I will break off a tender sprig from its topmost shoots and plant it on a high and lofty mountain. On the mountain heights I will plant it; it will produce branches and bear fruit and become a splendid cedar. Birds of every kind will nest in it; they will find shelter in the shade of its branches. All the trees of the field will know that I the Lord bring down the tall tree and make the low tree grow tall. I dry up the green tree and make the dry tree flourish.' " [Ezekiel 17: 22-24].

This Scripture tells the story of how God sent Jesus as a 'tender sprig', a tiny baby that was as a shoot from a High Cedar, God Himself.  This tender shoot was planted on a high and lofty place. The delicate green tip grows to become a splendid cedar in His own right.

Many "will find shelter in the shade of its branches." Thus, Jesus shelters us in His loving arms. He provides not only sheltering branches, but also much fruit.

I like to think, on this Father's Day, of this splendid cedar as a metaphor for Jesus, but also as an image of the ideal earthly father. Good and loving fathers on this earth are to provide fruit for us to thrive upon. They are to shelter us in their loving arms.

Yet, in my case, my own father was largely absent. He worked for the same company for close to forty years. Every weekday, he arose to the sound of his alarm clock, dressed in his business suit and went  to the office. When he was not in the office, he often traveled for business.

On weekends, he mowed the lawn, and did all of the gardening, and then drove to the gas station to put fuel in the family car. In other words, he was physically not present. Not on weekdays, not on the weekends.

Of course, this was not his fault. This was the life of fathers, when I was a little girl.

Over the years,  my father changed. He became more and more emotionally distant. When he got home from work, he would sit silently in his favorite chair, nursing his drinks. At dinner, he seemed to be fuming over the events of the day. After dinner, he would wander outside into the yard and "survey his domain." He reminded me of  Adam in Genesis, who named all the plants and the animals and had dominion over them all. And in his capacity to disappear, I began to call him, "The Ghost."

At other times, he would turn angry. His dark eyes flashing, he would point his index finger in my face and speak furiously about some matter or other. Usually, I felt as if I were being blamed for something I did not do. It was very unsettlingly to me that I never knew which father I was going to get.

I feel a deep sadness over the father I never had. It was as if my father, who had the capacity to be a tall tree, was brought low; and he brought us all down low with him. He became a dry tree, he withered up and disappeared, a ghost of a father, a whisper of a man.

This fundamental sadness of mine is reflected in the eyes that stare back at me in the mirror, as I try to divine who I really am? The sadness is a deep hole in my heart that can never be filled. Endlessly I ask others in my life: 'Why, how could you possibly love me?' No matter what the response, I never feel loved or loveable.

So I observe the contempt with which our modern culture treats fathers, and I fall into despair.  Why do we tolerate advertisements that show fathers as inept, hapless and even hopeless?  Why do even married women pretend that they are single mothers, even as they complain bitterly about how useless their husbands are?

"Husband jokes" make me cringe. I always longed for a present, loving father, who provided the fruits of his labors AND who sheltered his children in his strong arms. Why do we dismiss fathers who are very willing to be present and involved?

I have spoken before about how we expect mothers today to be perfect. [Related posting: "Mother's Day, May 12, 2012].

The shame of it is, at the same time, we actually expect fathers to be useless, and pretty much a joke. Or worse, irrelevant DNA donors. We used to marginalize women who were mothers; we rendered them invisible. Theirs were the silent, nameless hands that bathed us, dressed us, fed us, soothed us.

Doing the same to fathers is no remedy. Actually, it is a tragedy.  This Fathers' Day, I hope that you spend time with your father. I pray that you have a loving, tender conversation with your father, that you hug your father and tell him how much he means to you. Before he disappears. . . . before he gives up on the honor and the love that is fatherhood.

(c) The Spiritual Devotional 2012. All Rights Reserved.




Thursday, June 7, 2012

Holy Body and Blood of Christ

" For You, O Lord, have delivered my soul from death, my eyes from tears, my feet from stumbling. How shall I make a return to the Lord for all the good He has done for me? The cup of salvation I will take up and I will call upon the name of the Lord." [Psalm 116: 8-13].

This Sunday marks Corpus Christi, or The Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ.

In this space, I speak the truth about all of the losses in my life. I speak of family who did not hug me or feed me or give me medical care. I tried my best to love this family who did not seem to love me.

I believe that one learns to more deeply appreciate, and long for, those things that one has lost.

When I was a young girl, my parents took me to church, where I learned to love God and emulate Jesus. We did not always attend church consistently. When we did attend church, my family tended to skip church on the first Sunday of the month, which was called "Eucharist Sunday".  Then, we stopped attending church altogether when I turned fourteen. When my family took church away, I "lost" the Eucharist.

So many, who call themselves Christian, skip going to church week after week. They are missing the soaring hymns. They are missing the gentle words in the sermon or the homily. They are missing the sunlight piercing the beautiful stained glass. They are missing the scent of the flowers, and the artistry of the majestic vestments.

Most of all, they are missing the Eucharist. In the Eucharist is Christ. In not receiving the Eucharist, they are not receiving Christ.

There are many today who would criticize the rituals of a Christian service. These are folks who call the rituals "empty". Then, I think of how Christ, at the Last Supper, breaks bread and offers wine, and tells His disciples, "Do this in remembrance of me!" The Eucharist cannot be an empty ritual! It is how we remember Jesus and all that He has done for us.

Some Christian denominations believe that the Sacrament of Communion is a remembrance of Jesus. Catholics believe that in receiving the Body and Blood of Jesus, we are receiving Jesus. Catholics believe that the Eucharist feeds the soul.

The Eucharist becomes, then, much more than a commemoration. The Eucharist soothes what hurts. It allows us to become more Christ-like.

There are times when I enter church not feeling very peaceful. But Jesus tells the Apostles, "Peace I leave you, my peace I give you." [John 14: 27]. After Communion, I feel such a healing inner peace.

Jesus was humble. How many times do I fall into the trap that I am the only one who is right, that others should recognize my special insight and follow me? Receiving the Eucharist is a humbling and awesome experience. It draws me closer to the divine and reminds me very much of my human frailty.

God is Love. Jesus, as the Son of God, sacrificed His life, out of Love for us. Their message in all ways is to love one another deeply from the heart. [1 Peter 1: 22]. Often, I enter church feeling unloved and unloveable. But after the Eucharist, I leave with a secure feeling of Love in my heart. Being so unconditionally loved, I can love others fully.

Jesus calls us friend. He calls us brother and sister. So often, I enter church feeling solitary and alone. But Jesus says, "I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you." [John 14: 18].

By receiving Jesus, He is in us and we remain in Him. Jesus says, "[One day], you will realize that I am in my Father and you are in me and I am in you." [John 14: 20].  Receiving the Eucharist is the truest path to receiving Jesus and His Father.

By approaching the altar, we receive those qualities from Jesus that we require the most: His peace, His humility, His Love, His friendship. We also receive each other!

For the Body of Christ is also represented by the body of the church. Christians collectively approach the altar "in Communion", as a unified body of believers.

In reunion with each other, in Communion with Jesus, we express our highest aspirations as Christians, and as human beings: to love and to be loved.

When I finally began going back to church, I began receiving Communion again. I so deeply appreciate today what I had "lost" for so many years. I pray that everyone will regain that feeling of awe, of peace, of love, of humility, of community, of holy grace that is an integral part of receiving Christ.

[Related Posting: "Corpus Christi", June 27, 2011].

(c) The Spiritual Devotional 2012. All Rights Reserved.

Monday, June 4, 2012

Most Holy Trinity

If you live according to (your) sinful nature, you will die; but if, by the Spirit, you put to death the misdeeds of the body, you will live. Brothers and sisters: for those who are led by the Spirit of God are [children] of God. For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you received a Spirit of adoption, through whom we cry, 'Abba! Father!' The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit, that we are children of God."  [Romans 8: 13-17]

Traditional Catholic teaching says that God is our Creator, Jesus is our Savior, and the Holy Spirit is that which makes us holy. With all three forms of God in one, we have the Holy Trinity.

I fully understand all of these separate functions, but the mystery of how this Trinity is really One and the Same, is what has always puzzled me. Indeed, many a priest has related how he spent an entire semester in seminary on the Holy Trinity; or how he wrote a several hundred page treatise on the Holy Spirit-- only to arrive at exactly the same place as where he began: totally mystified.

I have written before ("Holy Trinity", June 19, 2011), about how God is like the Head, the Creator of the Universe, the One who knows us and understands us and directs a plan for us.

Jesus is like our hands. He calls us to be redeemed by our love for one another, to serve with gentleness and humility.

The Holy Spirit is like our heart. The Holy Spirit appeals to the spirit within us, calling us to live our lives as children of God. The Holy Spirit is the Love, the Truth, the conscience within us. The Holy Spirit is the One we are left with, our Counselor of Truth within us, now that Jesus is gone from this earth.

We need our Head, our Hands and our Heart to be whole; to be holy! We are one body, but with several indispensable parts.

I actually believe that everyone who is of my generation, and younger, is uniquely qualified to understand how the Holy Trinity can exist simultaneously as three parts, in One Holy Being.  I was meditating on the Holy Trinity recently, and I thought: It is as if God gave us Himself, but across more than one spectrum.

When my mother was a girl, the methods of communication were few. A daily newspaper came, in the early days, first thing in the morning, then again late afternoon. In the evening, the family would gather around the radio and stare intently at it, as the sounds of the news came across the airwaves.

When I was a girl, televisions began to appear in most homes. So now, we had newspapers, radio, and television.

In the last 25 years, we have had an explosion of media-- not only network television, but also cable and satellite television; computers, Internet, social media, smart phones, tablets, e-readers.  I can imagine a major news story that the whole world is watching, such as a war, or a tsunami or political turmoil. Where once the world would turn to only one medium such as the newspaper, now we have perhaps 8 or 10 forms of media to turn to.

And yet, when it comes to that one major story that we all want to learn about, it is still one story.  Many media, one story.

Is God that elastic and pervasive that He can come to me in many ways? Absolutely! He is one God, but He comes to me in so many forms.

I used to think, when I was a girl, that God and my faith were only in church. I thought that, when my family stopped taking me to church after I was 14, that they had taken my faith away! I did not know about the Trinity, and about how God can come to us in so many ways, and in so many places.  I did not know that God, and the love of Jesus and the Holy Spirit were even inside me!

God can come to us as His human personification, Jesus. Even Jesus himself came to us as a tiny babe, as Teacher, as Shepherd, as the man of righteous anger overturning tables in the temple, as a prophet, as a human being who weeps and cries out in pain.

God Himself can come to us in our waking hours, through an emotion, a thought, a plea, a longing, a prayer. He can come to us in a dream, while we are asleep.  Perhaps you will say, " 'Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,' [but] even the darkness will not be dark to God; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to Him." [Psalm 139: 11-12].

God can come to us in nature, for God is Creator. He can come to us through a butterfly or a sunset or a rainbow. [Related posting: "The Color of Lent", March 2012].

I have often wondered whether God would care if I write about His Word in this space? Is God adaptable enough for this electronic age? Is He versatile enough to spread His message of Love and Truth to the world through the Internet? Could He have foreseen tablets, smart phones or whatever else that we humans can invent in the future? Then, I realize, God is so huge, so adaptable, why not?!

So then:  why, oh why, would God make Himself available on so many "channels"? I think it is because He does not want us, as His children, to ever feel alone. He does not want us to "fall back into fear". He wants us to "receive a spirit of adoption" so that we know that we are His children.

God, wherever I search, wherever I go, I feel Your loving Presence. You are in my days, and in my nights, You are in my thoughts and You are in emotions. May I never feel alone.

(c) The Spiritual Devotional 2012. All Rights Reserved.