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

Your Haven

I want to be your haven,

here, in my arms,

in the warmth of my embrace,

where you can rest,

where you can be sure of your safety.

I want to be your haven,

where you can breathe out all your pain,

frustrations and disappointments;

where you gather strength and courage.

I want to be your haven,

where you'll be nourished;

where you'll feel your worth,

see your beauty and goodness

and get to believe in yourself.

I want to be your haven,

even just your haven.

And so everytime you have to leave,

 I will just watch you go,

with a trusting heart,

with complete surrender.

But if ever you find another haven,

yet in the end, still find your way to me,

I promise you

that my doors will be widely open,

and still be your haven.