Where, O, Death is your Victory?

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For those of you who mourn the death of a loved one, this is the day when we joyfully (yet often with tears in our eyes) anticipate our eventual reunion in heaven. May the powerful hope of seeing our dear ones again, that is made possible by our Lord’s victorious Resurrection, be with you this Easter season and always. Oh, what a glorious day!

Every Easter Sunday since losing my mother, I have faced Mass on this holiest of days, with the paradox of profound peace and deep sadness. While the promise of defeat over death is a balm for my wounded heart, I despair in the waiting—26 years this May to be exact. Not even a blip on the timeline of Salvation history. I wait for an inevitability that is both unwelcome and scary, my own natural death. Alas, under the strictures of this fallen world and chronological time, I will wait. And I will continue to toil so that someday I can participate in His great promise to be united with Him and my dear mom.

Eucharistic communion is a foretaste of our ultimate union with God and therefore all who sit at the heavenly banquet. I have faith that my mother sits at that table. I pray that I will sit with her.

I came across a prayer the other day by Padre Pio, who seemed to have such an uncanny understanding of our human nature. I’d like to share this prayer which is meant to be said after communion. I think it has value whether you’re grieving or not. But it particularly touched me in light of the bereaved and the trying journey we walk towards our deceased loved ones.

Prayer of Padre Pio After Communion

Stay with me, Lord, for it is necessary to have You present so that I do not forget You. You know how easily I abandon You.

Stay with me, Lord, because I am weak and I need Your strength, that I may not fall so often. 

Stay with me, Lord, for You are my life, and without You, I am in darkness.

Stay with me, Lord, to show me Your will.

Stay with me, Lord, so that I hear Your voice and follow You.

Stay with me, Lord, for I desire to love You very much, and always be in Your company.

Stay with me, Lord, if you wish me to be faithful to You.

Stay with me, Lord, for as poor as my soul is, I want it to be a place of consolation for You, a nest of love.

Stay with me Jesus, for it is getting late and the day is coming to a close, and life passes; death judgment, eternity approaches. It is necessary to renew my strength so that I will not stop along the way and for that, I need You. It is getting late and death approaches, I fear the darkness, the temptations, the dryness, the cross, the sorrows. O how I need You, my Jesus, in this night of exile!

Stay with me tonight, Jesus, in life with all its dangers. I need You. Let me recognize You as Your disciples did at the breaking of the bread, so that the Eucharistic Communion be the Light which dispersed the darkness, the force which sustains me, the unique joy of my heart.

Stay with me, Lord, because at the hour of my death, I want to remain united to You, if not by communion, at least by grace and love.

Stay with me, Jesus. I do not ask for divine consolation, because I do not merit it, but the gift of Your Presence, oh yes, I ask this of You!

Stay with me, Lord, for it is You alone I look for, Your Love, Your Grace, Your Will, Your Heart, Your Spirit because I love You and ask no other reward but to love You more and more. 

With a firm love, I will love You will all my heart while on earth and continue to love You perfectly during all eternity. 

Amen

And when this which is corruptible clothes itself with incorruptibility and this which is mortal, clothes itself with immortality, the word that is written shall come about:

“Death is swallowed up in victory.

Where, O death, is your victory?

Where, O death, is your sting?”

(1 Corinthians 15, 54-55)

A blessed, HOPEFUL Easter to all of you!

*Photo by Fernanda Marin on Unsplash

Weeping on Easter

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Photo by: Fr Lawrence Lew, O.P.

Without fail, the tears start welling up at almost the exact same time. It’s always Easter Mass. I could set my watch to it, but I’d never dare because the annoying alarm would draw even more attention at a time I’d prefer to simply disappear. Like it or not, there’s no stemming the tide of my mounting emotions. I bow my head and clench my eyes shut hoping no one around me notices. Usually, I get by without drawing too much attention to my red nose and watery eyes. But occasionally my reaction is so intense, a series of muffled involuntary sniffles gives me away. The kids or my husband will look at me with startled questioning eyes. My children especially probe my face with their intense, troubled looks. To lessen their worry, I flash a huge toothy smile and roll my eyes to let them know I’m fine—not only fine, I’m overcome with sheer joy. These are tears of complete happiness.

Continue reading “Weeping on Easter”