Friday, July 11, 2003

A Prayer for Children

Sweet Blessed Mother,
O Mary, mother of us all,
This morning I pray
For all the babies conceived to be biosamples,
For all the children ripped from their mothers' wombs,
For all the children abandoned by their parents at
For all the children dumped by their families and left
to fend for their own in cities throughout the world,
For all the children kidnapped to be soldiers in wars
they cannot understand,
For all the children who live under the threat of
abuse, physical, mental and sexual,
For children starving because of famine or neglect,
For children killed by local authorities because they
are embarrassed by the numbers of abandoned children
haunting their streets,
For children killed by people because they belonged to
the wrong faith, wrong color or wrong ethnic or
political group,
For children accused of socery to excuse their parents'
problems, and then tortured or abandoned,
For children forced to work in unsafe conditions,
For children growing up starved of knowledge of God,
For children growing up starved of love.

Keep them under your mantle, Blessed Mother,
May we never forget how much they are loved by your Son,
And may my eyes always be open
to ways to help them.

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Wednesday, July 09, 2003


Fortunate are those who are like the poor in spirit, for the kingdom of Heaven belongs to them...

Lord, you hold everything in your hands,
and yet I think from time to time
that it is I who am in charge,
I who have to power to direct and control my destiny,
I who have the strength to get to where I want to be.

Those who depend on you,
although they may have little
have the greatest riches in the world,
for they have you.

Lord, I know that these veils
of self-sufficiency are just illusions.
It is by your strength that I am strong,
by your might that I have power,
by your love that I can love others.

May I always long to go where you want me.

Susan E. Stone © 2003

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Monday, July 07, 2003

Some days

Some days it seems so confusing, Lord,
and I don't know where to turn,
or what to do,
or what to feel.

Those days, it's like I'm stepping out,
blindfolded, on a high wire
over an abbyss.

And yet I know,
it is you who hold my hand
and guide my feet.

Some days, it feels
that life is bitter dust,
drying out my mouth as the desert sun
beats down on my shoulders,
and even your name becomes
hard to pronounce from sunblistered lips,

But even then I know
you are quenching my thirst
with hidden springs
of unseen water.

When I walk through the valley of the shadow,
Bring to mind the memory of how you too
suffered and thirsted and felt abandoned,
to remind me that yes, you know what it feels like;
in your suffering, may I always find the balm
that makes my darkness
til I cross the desert
and find again the green pastures.

Susan E. Stone © 2003

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