St. Therese and Healing of Broken Hearts

Words of St. Therese

Therese's painting palette

If a piece of canvas painted upon by an artist could think and speak, it certainly would not complain at being constantly touched and retouched by the brush, and would not envy the lot of that instrument, for it would realize it was not to the brush but to the artist using it that it owed the beauty with which it was clothed. The brush would not be able to boast of the masterpiece produced with it, as it knows that artists are not at a loss; they play with difficulties, and are pleased to choose at times weak and defective instruments.

I am a little brush which Jesus has chosen in order to paint His own image in the souls entrusted to my care. An artist does not use only one brush, but needs at least two: the first is the more useful and with it he applies the general tins and covers the canvas entirely in a very short time; the other, the smaller one, he uses for details.

Our Prayer

Good Jesus, Artist of our Souls, we need Your healing touch. Disappointments, disillusionment and betrayals have discolored our soul. We are brokenhearted because we expect so much; we sense the the beautiful portrait of our life has been ruined. We have lost faith in ourselves as Your dwelling place and Your image – as the canvas where You are painting beauty.

We don’t let your inclusive and colorful love define us. We let hurts and anger harden our hearts, and transmit them to others. Our self-pity explodes in self-destructive ways or in violent attitudes, judgments, words and silence toward others. In the heavy emptiness of our hearts, we let power, privilege, prestige and plenty define us and justify our less-than-true selves.

Like St. Therese, help us transcend the heartbreaking disappointments of life and embrace the holy opportunities that are Your grace everywhere. Touch our brokenness, Lord Jesus. Your suffering and death opened You to God and the salvation of all. Transform the sufferings of our broken hearts into a deeper longing for You and a clearer vision of life in faith, with You as the Artist.

We ask You this, through the intercession of St. Therese, who teaches us confidence and trust in Your love.

Article by Fr. Bob here.

Advice for New Students

What words of advice would you give to freshmen starting college?

*I would tell them to get the hell out of their own way and leave their pride at the door!!!

*Listen to everything your teachers tell you and sift the information respectfully.

*ALWAYS, ALWAYS give another person the benefit of the doubt.

*Don’t be so quick to judge any fellow student OR any teacher.

*Show your teachers that you are personally, not just academically interested in what they are teaching and you will gain an ally who will bend over backward to help you out when you need it.

* Send heartfelt thank you notes to teachers that have really helped you out, personally or academically. If YOU don’t tell them that they made a difference…then WHO will?

*Never, never, never, never, never, never, never give up!

Dead End Window

There’s no one like you, but everyone’s like me.

We all like different things and a

Coal-black diamond Democracy.

We study humans and the

Misunderstanding of an inquiring mind.

Something more and

Something like a sneer are kept

Under lock and key.

I’ve been

Surviving inches away from life

Like a perpetual bad hair day

That’s my death’s story.

Interior castles crumble singing a

Song for the broken.

I believe in love and old fashioned responsibility,

But what would I know about that.

Here's my life lived in whole years.

Sanctuaries are quiet even as

A million voices scream for

One more round.

Is life an educated guess or

Is the answer in the footnotes?

The next big thing is often

Foolish.

By the way,

Who is the hegemonic “they”?

Anywhere But Here in this Weak Want Ad

A one way window is

The opposite of intellect.

There’s no room to

Fall down under a

Money tree on a rainy day.

Let go as hard as you can.

I need you to love me like I need

A lead boomarang.

Enough with this sappy

Porcelain Hearted simplicity.

Take me away from this mediocre

Yet candycoated Eden-apple of

Emo politics.

Practicing Surrealism is Apples

Practicing Surrealism is Apples

If kiddies pop frogs,

such is an icier situation than ours.

Podium dogs yawn and sigh.

Their apathy outdoes our activism.

The gin died and fluency was laid skilfully aside.

This relic is a burr in my ducts, too rich for my downturn.

A choleric chorus howls with vigor,

jaded as fog and with as much worth as a fib.

-Anna Truckey

The Deja Vu of A Blind Man

A poem my sister and I wrote together a few years ago. Enjoy.

The Audience Does Half the Work

(Though I Get All the Credit)

This is The Deja Vu of A Blind Man

Falling Down in a Tomb Of Secrets.

Sip life, like Wraiths within Hymns.

Your Skull is Red in

these Sketches Of Pain,

Like a double fast Ice Cream Coma.

When Tears Roll Down; Don't Drink That Water.

Me and My Big Ideas are in Love With

Humdrum and Humble Apologies.

I Choose You The Way You Are,

Ashes to Ashes, Always in the Past.

Call Me Mellow, Quiet Ones,

Everybody hates your Happy Endings.

The Size of your Sorrow is the

Closest Thing to Who You Are.

My tries bend with mirth as Java fuels the idle Earth.