pilgrimsprize

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Help me help you

liz-pearson54
Mon, 08 Feb 2016 21:17:45 GMT

Idleness is the reverend and au pair of bad habits. It is the concierge at the desk of the funhouse of pleasure. To ignore it is to keep busy with good deeds. Constant vigilance keeps the fiend of idleness from seizing us. The deadly sin, sloth, keeps his pet idleness on a long leash. The beast's teeth are a thousand traps, chomping at the pant legs of unsuspecting walkers strolling through the meadows of work, trying to avoid stepping in the puddles left by idleness. And even though people might not dread to die, they die a small death in laziness. In order to keep us out of reach of the vengeful beast—the cause of such great ruin—I will attempt to bring us into the light. Turn off your computers and get out of the stale room, heavy with the smell of unwashed bodies, glassy eyes, and fingers coated in the grease of takeaway meals. Meet the rose and the lily, Saint Cecelia. Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blest is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of o ur death. And say it nine more times. Then call out Our Father. The son is the father wrapped in blood and flesh. In the cosy room of the wound at your side, I crawl inside and make a nest there. From the window of the wound I saw eternal love and peace take the shape of a man. Mary, you bore in your body a man, but you remained a maiden, pure. You are the creator of every creature that came before you. The mystery is magnificent. You have mercy, goodness, pity, and you carry the sun. In your goodness is the healing salve that is kept in the medicine bag the physician of the soul. Now still, Mary, you are blissful and I am banished in a desert of bitterness. But then I think about St. Cecelia and I accept the crumbs you drop from the table. Faith is dead, but it is alive, and I will show that I am free to sing Hosanna. You enlighten the prison of my soul, contaminated by the sins of my body. My shoulders are heavy with the weight of pleasure, lust, and desire. I regret petting the soft things. Forgive me. Show you forgive me by giving me the words to save these pilgrims of the Internet. I have both the words and meaning, but you have the language of everlasting love. Did you know that St. Cecelia means heaven’s lily? It means blindness, but St. Cecelia sees. She leads the blind. She is heaven and lea—heavenly. She is heaven and lowly people. She is the heaven of the people. She is the sun and the moon; clarity of wisdom. It makes perfect sense by the greatness of spirit and faith. Just as the scientists write that we are all made of stardust, so St. Cecelia is round and whole and pure and none of those things also.