The consolation of the Father

“Holy and beloved Father, I am battling my shadows alone. My wounds are open and I need the oil of your consolation, my Father.

I know that I will reach the dawn only by following the path of night, but give me your hand for the crossing. Sing to me, Father, a deep song, perhaps a lullaby, and happiness will return from distant lands.

Send me a strong head wind. I will weigh the anchors again, unfurl the sails and set sail for the high seas. Does the wind scatter seeds over sterile steppes? I shall continue sowing; you will follow, touching everything with your magic hand, so that even the poison ivy and the thorn bush may bloom.

Upon my stony path, my Father, plant fragrant herbs such as thyme, sweet marjoram and mint. Fresh waters will spring up tonight and tomorrow there will be snow upon Mount Hermon and encouragement in my soul; and happy once again, I will go down to the lake once more.”

From de book “The Poor one of Nazareth” by father Ignacio Larrañaga.