❤️1
.. dearest, good morning.. or happy day for whenever you decide to read this..
Lesson from the book of Ecclesiasticus
Ecclus 24:14-16
Before all ages, in the beginning, He created me, and through all ages I shall not cease to be. In the holy Tent I ministered before Him, and in Sion I fixed my abode. Thus in the chosen city He has given me rest, in Jerusalem is my domain. I have struck root among the glorious people, in the portion of my God, His heritage, and my abode is in the full assembly of Saints.- Sancta Missa, Sanctae Mariae Sabbato
..this is where I want to be.
When I read this, this morning, I thought He was talking about me.. then I thought He was talking about Mary.. then I understood He was talking about Himself.. and I now know for whatever my allotment in this world, this is where I’m destined.. where we’re all destined, perhaps, I don’t care to get into the theology of predestination or salvation for the unbaptized or non-Catholics, my brain is much too small for all that.
Actually, it’s not. It’s a conscious choice to not open doors to close them on what you believe God can do. That’s His Realm, I leave it to Him.. I am no one.
And in being no one, I am everything in Him.
At least here in this teeny, tiny space of.. space.
My friend, I speak nowhere else like this, it’s only in this corner of nowhere where things holy & sudden appear out of nowhere.. from the process. ..and why am I telling you this? this oft-repeated line of nowhere-else-but-here? Because I myself am surprised at what comes from typing onto this little screen, and I wonder how it works, this freedom to muse.. with Muse.
This is part of my Interior Life. In my prayer life, where I present myself to my Lord, to my Sovereign, there are.. designated things I do.. rituals, methods.. sometimes there’s none.. but the ideas drift toward Him and His Saints.. mostly to the Godhead, the Father (I love you!), the Son, and the Holy Spirit, my dear, Most Secretest Friend, my God. I move toward Him in prayer. Here, I spread outward, wanting to encompass all and touch everything and everyone. I know I’ve reasoned before that it’s a facet of Jesus I see here, in you — and you, and you, and you, and.. everyone. ..but it’s still a focal point from my existence and touchings with everyone else out there.
That’s how I see myself in my abode is in the full assembly of Saints.
There’s my morning thought as I pull myself back into Right Order.. o, how spoiled I’ve been, my friend. I’m still spoiled coming here.. but still.
We didn’t to bed until close to 3a. It’s been like that these past several days, for myself, since I’ve been locked away in a corner with my little, itty bitty illness. Hours would inch to 1a, then 2a, then 3a once, back to close to 2a, and then I finally drug Hugo with me as we pulled everything back to normal.
But I want to write..
I could have at 3a.. instead, I prayed for my children, was gifted with Christ in mental prayer.. and then I said I would come here and meet the Dawn.. I miss my mornings. Is it possible to want to burn the candle at both ends this way? Late writing and writing before the sun rises?. that would be my wish. But first, what I should do.. that was Breviary and reading the Holy Mass, contemplating before coming here. How long has it been?
I’m cleaning house, the House of my soul. Social media has made me very.. lax in holding myself in. What do I mean by this? I’ve fooled myself into believing in my reserve online I observe temperance, staying silent when there is much I could say. Perhaps I am immodest in coming out to speak to just about anyone I please.. perhaps that’s part of my charm, what God has gifted me. But in justifying myself this way, I don’t do the better thing, which is to not pick up that damned phone all the time, to not check in, to be at peace. I just want to do better. It’s just time, that’s all.
Holding back here has helped move me in that direction.. the reserve stings now. It’s not that there are things I want to say and don’t, it’s just that there’s a hesitancy that wasn’t there before.. perhaps I miss my indulgence. I can’t even tell, it’s such a ghost. In my old self of yesterday, I would say I miss me, but I don’t.
Maybe it’s maturity.
Maybe it’s God taking control, and I’m just following His lead.
My soul is settled, she has been chaste.. although she is still very much in Love, she can feel it, but there’s a delicate veil over everything.. how beautiful He makes everything.
Temperance.
Yes, what I’ve long admired.
What I do in real life, mind you.. I am a little pillar of virtue for those I love.. but it’s here, in the internal world I have trouble. How to control this? Do I want to control this? Can it be controlled?
.. dearest, it’s part of the Imagination and what makes her me. She’s been much tamed, and in this moment, I give thanks to God for putting mine Imagination in a cage, golden and filigreed as it is.
What complexity the passions are..
But I always know my saving grace is God. He’s the cool water upon which I douse the heat of my flame, the hot wax that has tempered me.. I no longer recoil when it suddenly rolls over the plateau of my skin. I’ll watch in wonder how His hardness is softness, molding over me — or I, Him.. how He cools the unquenchable in this life.
I will Love and do as I please.
My House awakens..
❤️
in Love,
your veronica
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Fiat Voluntas Tua. No nobis, Domine, no nobis, sed nomini tuo da gloriam. 7.30.2022
rp-ve 7.30.2024, d S 9.6.2025