Pentecost has to be one of the most astounding proofs that God works wonders when we are open and ready for whatever He so desires! A handful of questioning, weak disciples, facing their own fears and a nation opposed to their God (sounds too close to home) suddenly changed and transformed into totally free, bold men, eager to proclaim the grace of God ... Having received so much of the truth ourselves, there is every reason to be confident that God can do much more than we imagine – Pentecost is here!
We were blessed to celebrate the 50th Anniversary of Our Lady of the Angels on May 19th & 20th – during the Pentecost novena. God has certainly poured out His mercy upon us and countless others who have met Him here. We can’t help but send our gratitude to all of you who have supported and prayed for us over the years. Here are some stanzas from a poem one of our Sisters in formation wrote for the occasion… and of course some photos of these festive days!
Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit,
A chant of praise intoned in small lives,
Cadenced to the rhythm of a Heart pulsing
In Time and out of it.
Finite lives surrendered to the hidden glory of the ordinary,
Made infinite in their interior by the gentle invasion
Of the One Who created the lowly space
In which He seeks to dwell.
Souls, once strangers, made into brethren
Kinship forged in love of a mutual Beloved –
Filial ties in the same Blood,
Children of the same Root sprung before all ages.
Nascent callings nurtured to maturity in silence before the Presence
Of Him Who carves a craving for Himself
In the center of each soul –
Walls themselves born of the fiat
Of a soul long rehearsed in listening
To the still, small voice.
An enclosure saturated for decades
With the supplications of hearts that are small but all His own
Of souls whose myriad and mute entreaties
Are whispered to the One Who listens with the silence that speaks in tongues.
In which the Word is made flesh each day
Incarnate by the power of the Holy Spirit
In a sanctuary which becomes, for a moment outside Time,
The locus around which all points revolve.
And, as decades recede,
There remains a place whose Source calls in whispered tones
To hearts devoted to slaking the Thirst
Of the Presence within.
by a PCPA