Where is Home in the Convent?

I know no one here but You, Lord.

You've been with me even before my mother conceived me in her womb.

You saw me grow my limbs and teeth, heard my first words, 

and witnessed how I slowly let go of the things that support me 

so I can walk on my own.

And I'm glad to see You here, where I am.

Where even my mother cannot be,

or my father, and my sisters,

or my friends.

I wake up each day to walls I'm not familiar with,

eat my meals on a bigger table,

and live with people I met just a month ago.

But Lord, whenever I face the heavens,

and watch the clouds in the sky,

I feel home.

Whenever I look at You

through the San Damiano cross,

I feel a comforting presence,

I feel home.

During dark nights,

while I lie in my bed,

confused, lonely, and afraid,

I hold on to my rosary,

and I feel home.

I wonder, Lord, if

by the time the world mars

the beauty of the sky,

termites eat the wooden cross,

and my rosary wears and tears,

will I still feel home?

"And remember, I am with you always, 

to the end of the age." - Matthew 28:20

Good bye, Mr. Right

I'm giving up that one fine morning

of waking up in bed with the guy

my heart would willingly

fall in love with and die for.

I'm giving up the sumptuous breakfast

we’d peacefully have on our dining table,

those sandwiches, fruits and milk

beneath a meaningful conversation.

I'm giving up that great company,

those hearty laughs, hugs and kisses,

those books we'd read in comfort and silence,
and our exchange of wise words.

I'm giving up those ecstatic Sundays

of lifting up our hands together in worship,

of uttering prayers, singing praises

and giving warm embraces.

I’m giving up that wedding ring,

that sacred promise at the altar,

those tears of overwhelming gratitude

and that loving and tender kiss.

I’m giving him up, Lord.

I’m letting go of “Mr. Right”

if he really does exist.

I surrender my romantic dreams to You.

I'm choosing You, Lord.

I'm choosing to have fine days, meals

and promises with You!

I'm choosing the cross and the habit.

Lord, You are my One True Love.

He calls

It hit me like lightning, 

one sunset,

while I was on bed, holding my rosary.

I was talking to Him,

prattling, actually,

and begging.

Then, it paralyzed me for a minute,

my eyes and mouth agape.

It took the form of a song,

that old and very familiar one.

Here I am, Lord

Is it I, Lord?

I have heard You calling in the night.

I will go, Lord, if You lead me.

I will hold Your people in my heart.

Its words struck me deep, as always,

yet this time, 

it was sweet and piercing,

heavy yet weightless,

cold and burning!

But I held on to it,

and savored it in my mouth,

then down my throat.

It felt warm inside.

It went deep beneath my skin,

then into my bones.

Finally, it captured my heart,

every inch of it,

every valve and chamber,

every cartilage and muscle,

every vessel!

Next thing I know,

salty tears were streaming down my cheeks.

It was my longest one minute.

Yes, it hit me like lighting -

His voice.

Trembling, I acknowledged,

"God is calling."