Another good one from a Catholic Answers Forum member at the Water Cooler. Thank you!
Old Mrs. Kczyczynski had finished volunteering at St. Stanislaus Kostka/St. Casmir Parish on Polish Hill making pierogis for the upcoming Pierogi/Pigs-in-a-Blanket Festival. She walked upstairs from the Lyceum to her favorite pew, and eyeing the Icon of Our Lady of Czechstohowa, began praying the Rosary - the Joyful Mysteries.When Mrs. Kczyczynski began the first Joyful Mystery, she heard a voice. Jesus Christ Himself had come from heaven to talk to the old widow! He said, "Stella, this is Jesus Christ." Mrs. Kczyczynski continued praying the Joyful Mystery of the Annunciation.Again, Jesus said to Mrs. Kczyczynski, "Stella, this is Jesus Christ!" Mrs. Kczyczynski continued praying the Joyful Mystery of the Annunciation.A third time, Jesus said, "Stella, this is Jesus Christ!" Mrs. Kczyczynski looked up and said, "Be quiet! I'm talking to your mother!"
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Though shared through a member of a mutual group, this poem is widely distributed on the internet. Thank you Sue!
I was but a youth and thoughtless,
As all youths are apt to be;
Though I had a Christian mother
Who had taught me carefully.
There came a time when pleasure
Of the world came to allure,
And I no more sought the guidance
Of her love so good and pure.
Her tender admonitions fell
But lightly on my ear,
And for the gentle warnings
I felt an inward sneer.
But Mother would not yield her boy
To Satan's sinful sway,
And though I spurned her counsel
She knew a better way.
She made my room an altar,
A place of secret prayer,
And there she took her burden
And left it in His care.
And morning, noon and evening
By that humble bedside low,
She sought the aid of Him who
Understands a mother's woe.
And I went my way unheeding,
Careless of the life I led,
Until one day I noticed
Prints of elbows on my bed.
Then I saw that she had been there
Praying for her wayward boy,
Who for love of worldly pleasure
Would her peace of mind destroy.
Long the conflict raged within me,
Sin against my Mother's prayers,
Sin must yield - for Mother never
While she daily met Him there.
And her constant love and patience
Were like coals upon my head,
Together with the imprints
Of her elbows on my bed.
And so at last the fight was won,
And I to Christ was led,
And Mother's prayers were answered
By her elbows on my bed.-- Author Unknown