I Am Said I (Huruma)

I feel September In my bones The cool air of Autumn On my skin The colour of Summer On my face And peace within The youth grown suddenly tall Returning in the joy of festival freedom A church bell tolls The passing of the Hours The turning of the days And night lengthening It will soon be time To go inside With quiet reflection New lessons learned And all things gathered To the fire and to the soul The warmth that keeps us Through dark seasons New beginnings and fresh hope

Jesus Divine Mercy, from the depths of our hearts we ask you please to heal us and our loved ones of our addiction. Transform craving into a desire for the fullness of life; despair into hope;  shame into honour and self-respect; guilt into mercy and self-forgiveness. Heal our memory of hurt, help us to let go of the past and look forward with confidence one step at a time. Lift us up and hold us close to your Heart in Peace and tender Love, that Love that overcomes all. May the light of our candle be warmth in the cold, light in the darkness and the sign of a new dawn. We make this prayer in faith, for nothing is impossible for You. Amen. St. Maximilian Kolbe pray for us St. Padre Alberto Hurtado pray for us Venerable Matt Talbot pray for us ( Eamonn Monson SAC) Jesus I Trust In You

August 2, 2013 “My grace is enough for you; my power is at its best in weakness…” You can smell the flood, the after-effects wafting from the closed hotels and shops. In the river a snapped tree juts sideways into the air. Reconstruction, sacred areas cordoned off, inaccessible for now. Thankfully the Grotto is open. There’s an overwhelming innocence in the unpretentious humble pilgrims. A recently born baby in her father’s arms, toddlers, normal modern young women and men, the old, the sick; every race and nation. A lot of Indians and Vietnamese. We file along the base of the Grotto, touching the rock made smooth by millions who touched it before us, wiping ourselves with the water that seeps there. Time was when I would have been too sophisticated to engage in this. Sophistication has thankfully abandoned me and I abandon myself to the grace of the present. I kneel in the spot where St. Bernadette prayed and my prayer is intense, sad with the sorrow of those ...

My Lord and my God My God and my All My Lord  My Life My Love Come to me in electrum White-gold glow Of your beautiful Face Shining upon my darkness Enlilghtening And even though My eyes are closed I can see your Smile Brightening  I am at Peace I am in Love

August 10, 2008 It seems that every day now is like pushing an elephant up a stairs . I awake each morning to begin hauling myself up all over again. What was achieved yesterday seems to be of no use for today. I am somehow disconnected from life and fiercely connected to loss. It’s like a massive hangover, without having had the pleasure. “You have veiled the Godhead in a cloud, in the clay of our humanity” (St. Catherine Of Sienna) The Lord veiled His divinity in the clay of Mam’s humanity, most especially in the ending of her time on earth - the final ten days. The Office Of Readings today has the lovely reading from Hosea 11 and I have experienced the tenderness of that love. The night before she died Mam drew me down to her, holding me to her cheek. I had asked her if she knew who I was and she opened her eyes, smiled and said, “you are Eamonn Monson, my lovely son”. She drifted into sleep still holding me, and in her I believe, I know, that God was holding m...

August 10, 2008 It seems that every day now is like pushing an elephant up a stairs . I awake each morning to begin hauling myself up all over again. What was achieved yesterday seems to be of no use for today. I am somehow disconnected from life and fiercely connected to loss. It’s like a massive hangover, without having had the pleasure. “You have veiled the Godhead in a cloud, in the clay of our humanity” (St. Catherine Of Sienna) The Lord veiled His divinity in the clay of Mam’s humanity, most especially in the ending of her time on earth - the final ten days. The Office Of Readings today has the lovely reading from Hosea 11 and I have experienced the tenderness of that love. The night before she died Mam drew me down to her, holding me to her cheek. I had asked her if she knew who I was and she opened her eyes, smiled and said, “you are Eamonn Monson, my lovely son”. She drifted into sleep still holding me, and in her I believe, I know, that God was hold...