Rock ~ Prayer ~ Tears

I read this blog ~ and I cried.


Every fibre of my being aches with this denial.


I have prayed for this priest for a long time now ~ unbeknownst to him.

A long time ago, when I felt so held (against my will) separate from my children (before I was received into the church) when they were in full Holy Communion with Rome and all receiving the Eucharist ~  when I was denied The Eucharist ~ and thus held separated from Christ, and more painfully still from all of my children, in a profoundly physical and spiritual way.  When I had purposefully brought us to the church so that we could be united to God in our Love, in a seal of His protection.   And for the first So long, when I was denied and tortured ~ this priest blessed me ~ and united me with them in Christ by his very touch.

The first ever time they received Holy Communion I was So proud of them, and each time thereafter.   But each time that separation hurt like the sharpest blade cutting me so very deeply.  The separation each and every time unexpectedly sliced right through my tender maternal flesh.  And then before the Eucharist at each Mass, the awaited conflict with that same blade hurt so poignantly, before contact with ‘the knife’ had ever been made. Each cut thereafter, the blade was so sharpened that the flesh could barely feel the actual splicing ~ but the sting of the pain afterwards rang through every fibre of my being, paining my whole body, like a high frequency ringing, from the aftershocks of a nail being driven in at each and every Mass.

Tears dripped like blood.

And in my parish priest’s absence one day ~ the above priest stepped in to Pray Mass with us.  He did a beautiful homily and said prayers for our special old priest who had moved on, and for his sister who was ill ~ And right there I felt connected through prayer. I had been praying too, and something deeply Spiritual within, had us connected in deepest prayer, a communion in all praying for the same thing.  It was unexplainable ~ but tangible ~ and so all-powerful.   I wrote a beautiful letter after this profound experience to the family and told them how I had never before witnessed such unity in prayer so powerfully for anyone before now.  It was my first ever grasping of the power of prayer.

The letter backfired on me.

But somehow I was left feeling connected to this priest in a Trinitarian way.  The only way I can explain that is by referring back to some of my earlier writing:


‘The relationship of the Trinity who is Father, Son and Holy Spirit we see echoed in other intimate relationships throughout the Gospel. We see it in the relationship between The Father, Mary & Joseph, we see it in the relationship between Mary, Joseph and the baby Jesus, we see it echoed in the relationship between Mary of Bethany, Martha and Jesus. And we see it echoed in the relationship between Mary Magdalene, Jesus and the Father; when Jesus says to Mary outside the tomb ‘I am ascending to my God and your God, to my Father and your Father’. And we see it echoed in every beloved relationship the world over, when God is present as part of that relationship.’


The relationship of the many different connections between 3 persons where Love is the dynamic connection, or between 2 persons and God, is the only way I can make visible this feeling of knowing the Truth in connection to the Trinity.


This priest this day, when I went up for my blessing, lay his hands upon the top of my head and touched me, and held me there in blessing ~ and My God ~ it was the first ever time that I felt unseperated from my children and One with the rest of the parishioners, in the deepest and most unexpected of ways.   I felt Truly blessed and held ~ at a time when I ached so sadly and desperately  ~ and ever since I have held this priest in a place of special presence ~ and prayed for him.


Years later in a different setting, this priest not knowing how deeply before he had blessed me, in one short sharp unjust conversation patronisingly and cruelly picked up the blade on behalf of another priest and waved it at me.  His solidarity with his brother priest made him temporarily blind to any pastoral care he had thus far learned.  And the pain hurt more than any of the previous cuts before.


I prayed  for this priest ~ I prayed for myself ~ and the many tears that fell, if red,  would have shown how deeply the blade which never struck, cut.


Later this priest would strike me with a double-edged knife.  He would get up and leave a room where I was to be interviewed for a job.  Stab.  Only to pass me and in his genuine gentle kindness,  warmly wish me the best of Luck.             God the pain.


So many more tears.     And still I prayed for us both.     Appalling situation.


Once on  another occasion I came so very close to this priest when my eyes were stinging with tears, which I could not hide, when I collected my daughter from her first ever Lourdes Trip.  The Love in the Cathedral was So palpable and Magnified by the joy, Love and intimacy shared by all the young people, the helpers, and the clergy.   I had never ever in my life before seen this belonging and sharing in such a Magnified way.  And I on the outside, so rejected, so excluded, so redundant.   A sharing that I would never ever be a part of because of my circumstances.  The pain was excruciating.  Unfathomable.

I prayed with my tears for myself ~ and for the priest, whom I know saw something of the pain that I was holding.


When I read this blog I burst into tears ~ because I know that I am in some way connected to him ~ a deepest pain that we both live with ~ our prayer in communion must ring with the same yearning ~ the same grief ~ the same denial ~ a yearning which he wrote so very much more eloquently than I ever could.   The deepest desire was Never of Lust ~ but of Love ~ Love that fuses two separate beings One ~ in God.

And I cry ~ and the tears bleed ~ and stain ~ and sting ~ and burn my eyes ~ my skin ~ my lips ~ and if those tears were to have scarred me with their Hellish burning, it would be absolutely no shock at all.

And I think of all the examples of all the disciples with their ‘companions’ in the Gospels, and in Paul’s letter to the Corinthians where it highlights the fact that Peter (who was Cephas -which means Rock or Stone, was married) ~ ‘Don’t we have the right to take a believing wife along with us, as do the other apostles and the Lord’s brothers and Cephas?’    (1 Corinthians 9:5)  . . .

and then again of Peter who was the married man in (Matthew 8: 14-15) who Jesus chose to be The Rock upon which His Church was to be built (Matthew 16:18).   A man who knew Gods blessings of that Beloved Union of two becoming One, before and in God.

And I pray for myself ~ and for my priests whom I Love.

And I pray for the Church who Falls So Short before God.

For God made the Love of Man and Woman ~ One ~ in Him

and by Jesus Christ upon this Rock ~ so was His Church, meant to be made.

‘And I say to thee: That thou art Peter; and upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.’ ~ Matthew 14:16


About mags

Beloved apostle of His Soul x
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