If my title and photo have made you smile (or even groan), then I've succeeded. But I feel very bold today, and with the help of Jesus and His best friends, the Saints, I'm going to try to not just make you smile (or groan), but to fill your heart with Love. Let's see what God can do . . .
Yesterday, by some strange Providence, I found myself in the company of two very dear friends - not in the presence of both at the same time, but some hours apart - and having the same amazing conversation with one after the other. They were both feeling shy of Jesus' love, kind of like Marcel hiding from His kisses (I don't remember if Marcel ever did this, but that was what it was like with my friends), and I felt compelled by the Holy Spirit to reassure each of them that really, Jesus loves kissing them, and it would be lovely for Him if they would stop covering their faces with their hands!
Kisses are very personal, so forgive me for bandying them about so openly here, but the time has come to talk of many things (as the Walrus said in a famous silly poem, and I don't hesitate to say the same), to let Jesus love us, and if kisses must be mentioned, I'll not shy away from this dangerous subject. "Live dangerously" is advice Conrad Baars once (more than once) lovingly gave me, and I'd like to be, as Fr. de Teil (her postulator) called Therese, an obedient child.
So then. First mystery: how or why did these conversations happen so nearly at the same time? They both took place yesterday, on July 24 . . . and the beautiful cause gave me a kiss and revealed her presence briefly just before I started writing this post. July 24 is the birthday (on earth; her heavenly birthday is March 2nd) of another dear friend, the one who told me, "A great conversation is a grace." Of course! Thank you, Jackers! You were Jonathan to my David (or vice versa) and when you left, you made sure I wouldn't be left without friends, without graces, without conversations.
Nor did you leave me without signs of your continued friendship from Heaven ("best friends in Christ always!") through, most frequently and of all things, the radio. Others listening to Sirius XM and turning up "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" may have enjoyed it (I hope they did!), but I knew why it played when it did. No sooner do I ask you, "Really? Is it you?" then you answer, "Who else would remember - even you forgot! - 'Awimbaway, Awimbaway?'!"
Ha! Well thank you, Jackie! Thank you for radio music, for Conversations, and thank you for conversations - you often spoke truly, but never more so than when you said great conversations were great graces, and you have showered these upon me in abundance from your place next to Therese and Marcel. So I am certain it was you, yesterday, on Mary's lap with little Jesus, prompting me to do my very little best to convince these two so adorable hearts that Jesus cannot wait to spend the rest of their lives up close and personal. I'd asked you for a grace on your birthday, leaving it to you to choose. Of course! What better reminder of those early days of friendship-in-Christ than heavenly conversations. Thank you, and please help me now to finish what we've started . . .
Because I went to sleep last night only after saying to my super smart husband, "Am I wrong?" He knew what I was asking, and it concerned shyness - or boldness - with Jesus. Was I right to insist with my friends that Jesus is asking us to ask Him for graces beyond imagining? He (earthly spouse) replied, in his brilliant Thomistic and Theresian simplicity, "You're not wrong. We don't achieve these things. God achieves them in us."
Ah! Philosophy comes to the aid of theology once again! Jack-attack, you always appreciated Tony's wisdom, whether it was in song and story (Moammar) or straight logic. And ask Jesus to forgive me for even a moment of hesitation - when the girl who wants to be the second Marcel (who was the second Therese) asks if she is too bold, things have come to a bad pass! Or rather, it's a sign of tiredness, and Jesus is such a big proponent (as we see in Conversations) of rest and sleep when one of His little ones is tired.
So I got my answer, peace restored, and I slept.
Then wouldn't you know I woke this morning with another worry. After extracting myself from an extremely awkward dream in which I'd insulted Oprah (while accepting her hospitality), she'd heard me, I'd tried to tell her of an occasion on which I'd been so grateful to her, she didn't buy it, and I went looking for my husband after she walked off in an elegant huff (interestingly, she was so much shorter than I'd expected), I re-entered my world and, recollecting the most important events of the last 24 hours - namely my attempts to embolden my friends into accepting Jesus' kisses - I was assailed by another worry. The second Marcel indeed! But to be specific with my own pre-dawn "Who will roll back the stone?", here was my second worry:
What if I'd been too hard on them? What if my two dear friends were shy because they were so much better than I am (which they obviously are), and what if the tears I saw in their eyes - those tears of love when I urged them to let Him kiss them - were tears of pain as well as tears of love? How I would hate to cause them pain! Had I then been wrong to try to force them to open the doors of their hearts to Jesus who stands knocking? As my friend Joe Feeney once said, "He doesn't stand on ceremony. He wants to come in and sup with you, and if you're having tuna fish sandwiches for supper, He's so happy to have tuna fish with you!" But perhaps I had been too pushy . . .
The only One who could solve this problem, clear my head, and set me back on the Little Way (not that I'd fallen off, quite, but I needed to be sure I was facing the right direction) was Jesus, so I said my morning prayer, took my book and booklight to the sofa in my room, and quietly opened Conversations.
As Jackie said, a great conversation is always a grace, and thank Heaven I can now have one at will, just by opening to Jesus' and Marcel's words. They never fail me, and this morning was no exception. So for my two dear shy friends, I have some words (more words! You have not signed waivers or contracts, and you won't accept money for being my friend, but clearly a base line requirement for our relationship is not minding more words!). Thank you in advance for letting me say more words, and I will trust that these particular words will not offend or cause tears of pain, for they're from our brother Marcel, our sister Therese, and the One you've been hiding from (who doesn't mind, by the way, for your littleness is sweet to Him). And I'm asking the Holy Spirit to use them to ease your fears as Tony dismissed mine with his, "We don't achieve these things. God achieves them in us."
Let's start with the passage from Conversations that Jesus and His Spirit of Love chose when I opened the book this morning asking for reassurance in this matter of His love and our unworthiness, our shyness, our littleness and weakness. Here is what I found (at 237), and please remember that Jesus has told Marcel earlier (in the clearest possible language) that all the words He speaks to Marcel, from the first to the last, are for us too. And I daresay that these words, given directly in answer to my request that Jesus show me the truth about how much He wants to kiss us (and whether we would be right to shy away, since we are so very poor and will not be able to return His kisses with the ardor of the great Saints) - well I daresay that these words are especially for us right now.
Marcel: Little Jesus, now that I have the time, there is something I wish to say to You. Is that all right? I do not yet understand what You said to me earlier. Do You wish me to understand?
Jesus: Yes Marcel, I do wish you to understand . . . But you seem to be very tired. That's enough, go and rest; I do not wish you to tire yourself by writing. You please me just as much by taking a rest. Go and bathe your head to soothe your itchiness and, when your fatigue has disappeared I will speak to you again. Marcel, I love you very much. I do not cease giving you kisses and embracing you in My arms. I look at you all the time and I smile on you and I am always pleased with you. So, therefore, because of the single fact that you always recognize your weakness, you receive from Me perpetual support. That is enough. You are very tired Marcel, very tired. I am giving you a kiss and I hold My lips close to your cheek from all eternity.
+ + +
This is good stuff! But, I asked myself, what had Jesus said earlier that Marcel so wanted to understand and Jesus said He too wished Marcel to understand? I turned back a page, and there I read these words (around 233):
Jesus: Marcel, are you happy now? Are you pleased with Me? Do you wish Me to kiss you? Say to Me: 'Little Jesus, I love You.' Recite also the invocation I have taught you: 'O little Jesus, come with me.' Chase away all sadness, Marcel, I do not ever again wish to see you sad. As your sister Therese has just said, to please Me, you must always be joyful.
Marcel: Little Jesus, is it really true that the female saints love You with a more ardent love than their male counterparts? I have heard some brethren say it is because ordinarily the female saints love Jesus with a more ardent love that many among them receive extraordinary favors from Him. Is it really true, little Jesus? If this were really so I would demand to be a female saint since if, in being a male saint, I should love you less than in being a female saint, I would not like to become a saint.
Jesus: Marcel, are you asking again to become a female saint? How could that happen? Allow Me to give you some explanations. It is not true that the female saints love Me more than the male saints nor is it for this reason that I show Myself to them. If it were so, how can you explain the fact that there are many female saints to whom I have not shown Myself and who, in fact, love Me more than the others? There you have a general reply which will help you to understand. When it is a question of souls, remind yourself Marcel that it is not a case of distinguishing between man and woman; as I have already told you, each soul loves Me with a different love. Those who love Me with a forceful love, even if I do not give them any external sign of love, never abandon Me, since they know Me sufficiently and are always disposed to act with courage . . .
However, Marcel, it is another thing for the weak souls like yours. These souls love Me with a really ardent love but lack constancy, so that, if at the time of trial, My love did not show itself to them, these souls might not have the strength to love Me. I am, therefore, obliged to show My love to these weak souls. Without that they would fall and, once fallen, in spite of all of their efforts, I do not know if they would be able to rise again. Do you understand, Marcel? Normally it is to these little souls that I must show My love; and it is precisely because they are weak that they give greater glory to Me in making My love shine forth more each day. It is for this reason that your sister Therese has taught you to accept your weakness with joy; the greater is your weakness, the more love supports you. And if anyone recognizes his weakness, this is not a reason for Me to abandon him; since, for Me, the essential thing is that one loves Me with a sincere heart.
Marcel: So, I am very weak then?
Jesus: Yes, Marcel, you are very weak. I have never seen a soul weaker than yours. However, Marcel, this must not discourage you. It means little that you are weak. After having put everything into My hands, why would you be afraid of your weakness? All that remains for you to do is to love me. As for the rest, I will take it upon Myself. Indeed, what can little children know? To love, there you have it, their sole occupation.
Marcel: So, I am weaker than my sister Therese? Nevertheless, my sister Therese, being French, certainly had better health than me. Is this not the case, little Jesus?
Jesus: Oh Marcel! What a question! When I am speaking of the spiritual soul, here you are measuring the health of the body. It is not the fact of being French that makes the soul strong. Really Marcel, you know nothing. Not only are you weak but also you know nothing of your weakness. However, remain in peace; if you know nothing of your weakness, I know it very well and that is sufficient. For yourself, be happy to love Me. 'My Jesus I love You,' there are the words you must know.
Concerning your sister Therese, she recognized her weakness, since she was truly weak, and this weakness led her to give herself up totally to the action of My love. It is thanks to her weakness that she has been able to lead many weak souls to recognize their weakness and teach them the conduct necessary in this state of weakness. Marcel, don't go so far as to believe that the French are not weak. You are too meticulous. But don't take that as a reproach. Say to Me: 'Little Jesus, I love you.' The time is up; I will speak to you again later.
+ + +
This is where we came in . . . For next, Marcel confesses, "Little Jesus, now that I have the time, there is something I wish to say to You." And our little brother asks "Is that all right? I do not yet understand what You said to me . . . Do you wish me to understand?" To which Jesus responds, "Yes, Marcel, I do wish you to understand," but because Marcel is tired and Jesus is merciful, He asks Marcel to take a rest. I should give you a rest too, but what just came on the radio (as I write) but "Blue Moon"! Which would be neither here nor there (or rather, here but not there) except that it turns out "Blue Moon" was sung by the Marcels! I'm taking this as a sign that the first Marcel has something more he doesn't want us to miss - the punchline, you might say. For when Marcel returns after his rest, he and Jesus come back to his question and Jesus' definitive answer, which I find to be (just as I'd asked) a kind of definitive answer for us too . . .
Marcel: Little Jesus, I have some time now and I feel less tired; after more than an hour of recreation, how could I not be rested? You spoil me a lot, little Jesus. A moment ago there was no electricity; I asked You for it and You gave it back immediately. The only drawback is that You amuse Yourself a little in not ceasing to make my light blink instead of leaving it steady. So, little Jesus, speak. You suffer from the defect of giving me too many kisses. Before I have even finished saying: 'Jesus, I love You,' and from the moment that I appear a little joyful, You do not cease to cover me with kisses as if You had never given one to anybody.
Jesus: Marcel, be happy. You have spoken long enough, it is now my turn. Really, Marcel, I indulge you in everything and I love you dearly. My only wish is to converse with you, to take delight in you and to joke with you, in a word, to do everything with you. Marcel, does this thought not please you? You always receive My kisses and My smiles; to each of your sighs I respond with marks of My love. Marcel! If you did not love Me, whom would you love instead of Me, your little Jesus? Marcel, think only about loving Me; love Me with all the love of your heart since only love is eternal. In heaven only the love to love Me will remain in you, as your sister Therese has taught you. Go now . . .
+ + +
Oh my heavens! Oh my Jesus! There it is - the answer and the question all rolled into one reply to our brother Marcel. Here it is - You, dear Jesus, want not only to kiss us (and like Marcel before us, we can't believe how You kiss us, as if You'd never kissed anyone before!), but You say You want to talk with us, to take delight in us, to joke with us, to do everything with us. Everything, Jesus? You have done this marvelous thing and brought us away from the near occasion of mortal sin, so we don't do really bad stuff, but really, Jesus? Everything? You know we are SO very silly! Do you want to watch Jason Bourne with us? Really? Do you want to look with us into the freezer as we remember we'd better get dinner for the troops? Do you want to scour the Internet with us, looking for something-we-know-not-what? Do you want to hear us (our jokes, we'll call them) when those words fly out of our mouths because everything dumped out of the freezer and one frozen meat-thing dropped right onto a foot we'd come to love and hoped not to lose? Really, Jesus? You want to be with us in everything?
Because then You say those words which might undo all the good Your previous words have done for us. You say (I won't leave out part of Your gift of words to us - I won't be afraid this undoes every word that came before), "Marcel, think only about loving Me; love Me with all the love of your heart since only love is eternal."
Well haven't You, the Divine Carpenter, hit the nail right on the head!
This is what my two dear ones (and so many more I could name with them, and so many more to come who will have this exact same fear) are worrying about - this is precisely why they are hiding from Your next kiss!
Jesus, You have called us (me, these two friends, a handful of others to whom I've confided Your desires, the extent of Your crazy-love) to live in the world. We are most of us married and You have blessed us with children (or perhaps we are caring for children without an earthly spouse to support us, or perhaps it is one child, or perhaps we are waiting for You to call us to the vocation You have waiting, but for now we are working and living in community, and so on and so forth) . . . So You want to kiss us, and we want to kiss You back, but when You say, "Think only about loving Me with all the love of your heart," well Jesus, don't You know this seems impossible, since You've given us others to love in Your place?
In Your place.
Your sometimes distressing, often delightful, occasionally unrecognizable Self in them, who stand in Your place for us.
Well listen Jesus, You are going to have to show us all that You understand. We are not St. Anthony Mary Claret with the gift of transforming union, spiritual marriage, and a need for deeper recollection in order to welcome You to stay with us. (For those of you on whom the St. AMC reference is lost, don't worry. All will be revealed when my book-on-Therese finds its publisher.) Okay, maybe that last thing we don't need was a little off - yes, we do need deeper recollection, but if You give it to us, we're afraid we'll become even worse at loving those around us than we already are. We are so easily distracted by shiny things around us; how will we be able to live the lives You've chosen for us if we are supposed to be "distracted" by shiny You within us???
Ah, You have already given us the answer in your many answers to Marcel. You are forever telling him to go and rest, go and meet his brothers, go and do whatever comes next. There's no feeling that Marcel must bilocate, nary a word on Your side about this extraordinary recollection we fear You demand . . . You only ask him to say, when he remembers (and we know he's always forgetting, just like we are), "My Jesus I love You," and "O little Jesus, come with me." Why would he have to say "Come with me" if he was staying with You? And yet, because he is so weak, so very weak, You want to stay with him. Stay with us too, Jesus! Help us ask You to stay with us too, though we know to the bottom of our soles and our souls that we will be so very, very bad at staying with You!
But here I am feeling not only like the second Marcel, but like the second Therese (granted that's a tautology) because I have the feeling that even if I'm using Jesus' and Marcel's words to try and convince those I love (and the whole world, if I have the chance) to let Jesus kiss them, I really need to just trust Him to do everything. Here's the passage that says what I feel (and it's by the first Therese, from what she wrote to her sister Marie, and which became the conclusion of Manuscript B, the middle part of Story of a Soul):
"O Jesus! Why can't I tell all little souls how unspeakable is Your condescension? I feel that if You found a soul weaker and littler than mine, which is impossible, You would be pleased to grant it still greater favors, provided it abandoned itself with total confidence to your Infinite Mercy. But why do I desire to communicate Your secrets of Love, O Jesus, for was it not You alone who taught them to me, and can You not reveal them to others? Yes, I know it, and I beg You to do it. I beg You to cast Your Divine Glance upon a great number of little souls. I beg You to choose a legion of little Victims worthy of Your LOVE!"
Okay, that's almost what I'm feeling, but of course our sister is not God, and she had to go and ruin her passage by putting in "provided it abandoned itself with total confidence to Your Infinite Mercy," and "worthy of Your Love." I know my own little flock, and they will be the first to shy away again, objecting: "I do not have total confidence! I am not worthy of His Love!" Yes, yes, little ones, but to take the second problem first, Therese does not mean being worthy of His Love by being super duper holy, but she means being worthy of His Love by being super duper weak. We've gone over this before, my little Marcels, but I'm the last to call the kettle black or blame you for forgetting. I will simply repeat our lesson: This is the Little Way where failure is the new success, weakness the new strength, and total poverty the perfect object for Infinite Wealth.
But how about that total confidence Therese just mentioned?
I've been thinking. I can't even count (yesterday I counted the words in "Draw me, we will run," and reached six. Hmmmm). But I can still try to think at least, and this is what I have come up with (more math, too, so see if I've got the sum right) - little Therese asked (while on earth and remembering Elisha asked Elijah for a double portion of his spirit) that the angels and saints would give her a double portion of their spirit and their love. I'm thinking that means if we simply ask her for a double portion of her confidence, not only will that simplify things, but we'll get four times the confidence of all the angels and saints! This should be close enough to total confidence to please Jesus. And in fact, as He repeats again and again to Marcel, as He told St. Paul too, it is not perfection He is looking for in us, but He delights to find in us weakness so that He may fill us with His strength. I'm sure that goes for confidence as well as every other virtue we so sorely lack.
Nonetheless, I must add (even if you're totally reassured, and I bet you're not quite that), we aren't the first to come away unsatisfied from "Manuscript B," from which I've taken the paragraph quoted above. As I mentioned, it was first a letter Therese wrote to her sister and godmother, Marie of the Sacred Heart, who'd asked her to tell about the way upon which Jesus was leading her. Therese did so write, and Marie responded immediately. With admiration and sadness, she wrote back (they were in the same convent, but silence was the usual mode, so passing notes came in handy), "You know I don't begrudge you your holiness, but bummer, I was hoping I too could walk this way, and obviously I can't." (Same old, same old: Marie wrote that she had not enough desires or confidence, not enough worthiness . . .) To which Therese replied in the most beautiful and pertinent letter of all time (on September 17, 1896; LT 197, if you want to know its technical name):
"Marie, you dodo. You slay me! You've totally missed the point!"
Well that's my New Living Translation, but let's go with the standard and wonderful Fr. John Clarke translation just for accuracy:
"Oh, dear sister, I beg you, understand your little girl, understand that to love Jesus, to be His victim of love, the weaker one is, without desires or virtues, the more suited one is for the workings of this consuming and transforming Love . . . The desire alone to be a victim suffices, but we must consent to remain always poor and without strength, and this is the difficulty, for: 'The truly poor in spirit, where do we find him? You must look for him from afar,' said the psalmist . . . He does not say that you must look for him among great souls, but 'from afar,' that is to say in lowliness, in nothingness . . . Ah! let us love to feel nothing, then we shall be poor in spirit and Jesus will come to look for us, and however far we may be, He will transform us in flames of love . . . Oh! how I would like to be able to make you understand what I feel! . . . It is confidence and nothing but confidence that must lead us to Love . . . Does not fear lead to Justice (to strict justice such as it is portrayed for sinners, but not this Justice that Jesus will have toward those who love Him)? . . . Since we see the way, let us run together. Yes, I feel it, Jesus wills to give us the same graces, He wills to give us His heaven gratuitously.
"Oh, dear little Sister, if you do not understand me, it is because you are too great a soul . . . or rather it is because I am explaining myself poorly, for I am sure that God would not give you the desire to be possessed by Him, by His Merciful Love if He were not reserving this favor for you . . . or rather He has already given it to you, since you have given yourself to Him, since you desire to be consumed by Him, and since God never gives desires that He cannot realize . . . "
Perhaps if you, my two very dear friends (and you, dear reader), have stuck with me to this point, you are objecting yet again. "This is precisely what we don't enough desire: to be possessed by Him." To that I have one word: Baloney!
I know you, and you have loved Him for long and sacrificed many things for Him, as well as asking Him daily to draw you along the way of His will and to show you what pleases Him so that you may do it. You want to be Saints! That is just a simpler and more familiar expression for wanting to be possessed by Him!
But I am being argumentative, and there is a much faster way to go about convincing you. How much easier to simply repeat Therese's words: "Since we see the way, let us run together," and then, while you're feeling pinned to the ground, paralyzed, unable to move forward, I will pray (and you can join in or not, as you prefer):
Draw me, we will run!
+ + +
Which leaves only one remaining question.
What is the purpose (or porpoise!) of Saints?
I discovered it this morning at home, it was confirmed at Mass, and then a third dear friend said the same again at a special coffee date we had with a baby Jack. (As it happens in God's beautiful plan, this third "dear friend" was the first of three dear friends with whom I initially shared my Something New with St. Therese that is the subject of The Book that awaits publication, and which centers around a certain remarkable kiss of Jesus. The other two friends I initially shared it with are the ones I keep mentioning in this post And there are a a few more such dear friends, no doubt struggling even now to Go For It, but what can I say? Jesus is crazy).
So let's get to it. The answer to that question: What is the purpose of the Saints?
The purpose of the Saints is first (and this is how they become Saints) to let Jesus love and kiss them.
But secondly, on earth and from Heaven, their purpose is to convince us to let Jesus love and kiss us too.
Despite the fact that we have hard and daily evidence that we are not Saints. Or so we think.
When my "happy twin," my original dear friend Jackie, went to Heaven, I had to ask myself, "Why her? Why not me?"
It was a painful reality that Jesus took her and left me. My question then was:
What the hey???
We had fallen in love with Jesus together, we had pledged our lives to Him and the Church together, we had longed for Heaven (and total union with Him) together.
And she won.
And I was stuck in the 3rd or 4th mansion, where I remain to this day (there are great windows here, and I have an excellent view of the more interior mansions, but let no one delude themselves that I'm hanging out in the Center, # 7 mansion, with my holy mother Teresa who "wrote the book").
But again: Why?
Well one answer that consoles me is that Jackie always was a lot stronger than me, and just because we were called "the happy twins" doesn't mean I was ready for seriously excruciating physical suffering. (Sorry, but just something that needs to be said.)
I'm with Marie of the Sacred Heart, whom Therese had to reassure that to offer oneself as a victim of love is NOT to ask for suffering. Phew! An unwieldy sentence perhaps, but a very consoling truth.
Still the question remains.
Besides my great aversion to suffering (and I doubt Jackie liked that part either), why am I still here? And why is she there?
I asked myself if I would have said, "Yes," if Jesus asked me to go with Him to Heaven (and let me take lots of vicodin and percocet on the way), like Jackie said yes.
I mean yes, I would have said yes. And so would each of my very dear friends, including you, silent reader, who doesn't get a chance to yell "No! Not me!" and have me hear you as I write from my hermetically sealed booth (sorry, just watched Quiz Show! I think Jesus enjoyed it more than when we watched Jurassic Park, but maybe that was just me) . . .
I don't care what you say you'd say, I know you would say yes, and so would I, but (happily? sadly?) Jesus has not asked us.
Because we are for now supposed to fulfill our purpose as Saints-in-the-making from where we sit (or stand or recline) right now. Our only job until further notice is to let Jesus love and kiss us here, now. And to help each other let Him love and kiss us. Here. Now. While we make dinner, or eat take out, or watch silly movies, or T.V. shows in questionable taste, or listen to Sirius XM radio (not usually the classical channel), or whatever it is that we're supposed to do today (or that we are doing while we're avoiding doing what we're supposed to do).
Jackie and the rest of the Saints get to help us from Heaven. There they love Jesus perfectly now (which only Our Lady could do on earth), but even more importantly, they are loved perfectly by Jesus now, and so they want (as they wanted on earth when this was their home) to show us the way to let Him love us too - love us as perfectly as He desires, despite our very imperfect loving-Him-back.
As Jesus teaches us through Marcel, for our part we can say, simply, "Little Jesus, I love you a lot." And then, without thinking too hard, and certainly without a shred of devout recollection (if you are me, but if you are you, maybe with a shred or two), we can say, "O little Jesus, come with me."
I bet He will - not because we will be such great company according to our idea of great company for Him, but because He doesn't want to sit in church with us all the time while we say long prayers. In His own words, He wants only to chat with us, to take delight in us, and to joke with us. In a word, do everything with us. It's His idea, not mine, and He's wanting to do it with you as you are - not with you as you will be if you ditch your family and your silly T.V. shows and join a monastery. That would be a dereliction of duty, and not much fun for you or Jesus! (Not to mention the poor nuns or monks you'd be attempting to join!)
But enough words. Prayer is so much more powerful to effect Jesus' adorable purposes for us all:
Draw me, we will run . . . and oh, little Jesus, come with us!
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