Meditation on a Crucifix

I see the tree cradling Your Body as You are delivered from its wood.  Oh, Blessed Tree to be blessed to hold Our Savior's body!  Shreds of flesh and blood absorbed in its fibers; deep, thunderous stains of heaven in the wood.  Iron nails, hardened and tempered in the fire, by the metal smith who pounded them, not knowing the nails would  be blessed to hold You prisoner on the Cross.  Blood stained, the nails are cast off to the side.  The crown, the crown You wore on the cross, the crown saturated with the storm of blood, hair, and flesh ripped from Your skull lays next to the nails.  King of the Jews!  King of All!

Your Mother holds Your body and weeps in silence.   Her tears clean your face.  The storm is silent and past.  Your Mother gently wipes Your Sacred Contenance with her veil.  She carries Your Blood in her heart and on her hands.  Angels surround You both.  They worship and adore their Lord.  They give strength to Your Mother, the first Tabernacle of Your Body.  Her faith is tested as she holds You,  her divine Son, in her arms. Cold flesh. Blue flesh. No breath in Your Body.  Eyes that no longer see.  Hands that no longer heal.  Feet that no longer walk.  Lips that no long sing the blessings of the Father.  A heart that is still and a heart that is shattered.  The sorrow cannot be contained.  The world weeps with Your Mother.

She is supported by those around her, or she could not stand.  Her arms reach out to You, but time demands that she let You go so that you may rest in Your tomb before sunset, as stated in the law.  John holds her close as they walk behind those carrying Your Body.  The angels weep and surround the small group as they follow the road to the Tomb.  The Tomb is cold.  There is an altar, a shelf, for Your Body.  Your are wrapped in burial cloths and covered with Aloes.  The angels guard your body at Your Head, at Your Feet, and at Your sides.  The candles flicker, and then are silently blown out.  The light is gone.

The soldiers wait at  the mouth of the open tomb.  They have been given orders to seal Your tomb with a rock that will not easily move into place, even with so many men working.  Their heads hang in shame as Your Sorrowing Mother walks past.  She reaches out to them with arms of love.  One of them catches her eye and touches her hand.  Beautiful Mother, you bring souls to Jesus!  John pulls her closer.  She weeps.  Her hands touch the soldier before he puts his arms to the rock.  Their eyes meet and she prays.  His eyes fill with tears as he sees this sorrowful mother.

She hears the stone being rolled into place.  How they will finish the burial, she does not know, but she only knows that God will take care of His Son.  The angels walk with them as John takes her home.  His Mother now, our Mother, too.  Sadness beyond knowing.  Tears of sorrow. 

Blessed Mother of God,
Pray for us!  May we join you in bringing souls to your Son.
Praised be Jesus!
Amen.

When Praying for the Souls Gets Real...

My cousin died, very unexpectedly,
last week.  She made her husband's  lunch.  She called her children, then she went to bed and sleep.  The next morning, her husband was not able to wake her.  She was pronounced dead in spite of heroic efforts of her husband to revive her. 

I received a text at morning Mass regarding her death.  The text came in the middle of Mass, so I shut my phone off without looking at the text.  It wasn't until later that I read the message. 

The name on the text was not familiar to me, but it came off of Facebook.  I checked the sender's page to discover that the sender was my second cousin who had been requested by Facebook to use his actual name, instead of the nickname he had chosen.  (No judgment, just frustration.)

I was sitting at breakfast when I realized that it was my 58 year old first cousin how had died in her sleep.  

I quickly said the St. Gertrude Prayer for my cousin.  She was in decent health at the time of her death.  The coroner signed off saying her death was due to a heart attack.   I also went back to church to schedule some Masses for the repose of her soul.  Is she in Purgatory?  I don't know.  Did she go directly to heaven?  Again, I don't know.  Did she go to hell?  I don't know.  I certainly hope and pray that she didn't, but again, we don't know. 

I am going to assume that my cousin is in Heaven or Purgatory.  If she is in Purgatory, there is nothing she can do for herself.  She must endure the purging of her soul, which will bring her to heaven.  The pains of Purgatory are quite real.  Those who are in Purgatory, while suffering greatly,
rejoice in their sufferings and pray for those who are still on earth.  They know they are holy.  They know they are saved, but they have not achieved perfection and must suffer until they do.

We, on earth, can help the dear Souls.  We can pray for the souls daily, hourly.  We can offer our Masses for them.  We can have Masses said for them.  We can pray the Divine Mercy for them.   All of these offerings to God, relieve the Souls in Purgatory and help them gain heaven.  Right now, I am storming heaven with prayers for my cousin.  If she's not in Purgatory, then the prayers I offer will go to someone else.  If she is in Purgatory, then my prayers will help her. 

I hope she is out of Purgatory soon.  If you can see your way to offer a prayer for her, that would be most appreciated.   We want her to be in heaven soon.