We're blood, but you haven't been washed by it

A few weeks ago, I cried for my blood relative who doesn’t conceive of a perfect savior. I failed to utter “Thy Will Be Done” because I didn’t know if was in His cards to save them. It took a few minuets to utter the phrase. Every time I would go to utter it, I would have to breath in and gasp for air. I was weeping for the blood.

A saltwater tear would fall from my eyes and sneak into the crevice of my lips. I was reminded that I am the salt. It coated my tongue and I recalled that God is the only one that can even put this into motion, so I better get in alignment before I lose any chance at all.

I wrote you verses. My hand wrote the Word of God out for you. I know you don’t know God, or believe he has anything to say, but I wrote it for you.

You gave them back to me.

I wept.

I didn’t weep because you returned them, I cried because you kept them initially. You may have looked at them once, or maybe you looked at them hundreds of times. Who will know? I am quite sure this was the only part of the Bible that you had in the house, but you gave them back.

Thank you for giving them back. I have ten bibles in my room, so it is not like I needed them back to read, but I needed them back to know you read them.

I can’t open the letter you wrote too often. It floods my memory with precious gems and smiles. It is too much to take. I get to the end and see my own wretched handwriting attached. Then, my mind is filled with what could have been and what is not. I am damned to recall because it’s incomplete.

I would, however, read the sentence you wrote at the end till the day I die.

“I have kept these in my room, but it seems right to give them back to you at this time.”

I watched my friend receive the sacrament of baptism today. A friend I haven’t known for too long, but impactful nonetheless. I teared up four times as the preparation ensued. I saw him raise his hand in praise and inches away stood his mom who believes there is no God. To his left is his brother who believes the same.

I didn’t know this until yesterday. One day before his baptism he explained to me that he wasn’t even sure his mom would show.

He waits expectantly for her heart to soften, as well as his other blood relatives. He has now received the greatest sword of all to wield, The Holy Spirit. Praise be to the Spirit who now lives in him.

“Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.” 2 Corinth 3:17b

I was overwhelmed with emotion seeing this transpire. He goes to get the sacrament in front of the congregation and his mother grabs her phone to video. Then, the brother reaches for the same. Freedom we must capture!

One day they will understand. Lord, hear our prayer.

I am reminded daily of what our actions can do. Living with integrity is the key. Who wants to jump on a ship that they can’t trust. You must live in a manner that is to be marveled upon if you desire to save your blood. It is not your own blood that has done anything, however, it is the working of the perfect blood that has mixed into yours. You are the feet of Jesus. You are the eyes of Jesus. You are the hands of Jesus.

A temple, you are. Holy and righteous. My God I want to run through the streets and proclaim this absurdity. I will not do so, however.

I will not have to say anything. Salt and blood I leave in my tracks. Both are needed to survive. Sooner or later their curiosity will peak. Their parched soul will one day hunt for fulfillment.

I will welcome them into my temple and show them my sacrifices that bleed profusely. You can’t ignore the blood that pours. I have given up so much for the opportunity to save the ones that share the same blood.

I will sacrifice every fat calf for you to come home. It still may fall flat, but I cannot live with myself if I do not try. You being lost is already cause for my death.

I will wait and work the land you left. You are enjoying the prodigal, well you’re not enjoying it, but you think you are. If you come home, I may run and meet you before the Father can.

I am not sure you will read this, but if you do, “you gotta get up”.

Yes, I am talking about you.

I love you so very much and it only increased when I found what you are missing. You need to get up brother.

I pray deeply for you, the reader, and your lost blood. I hear you. I understand you. I love you.

We must leave it in the Lord’s hands. I hesitate to cuss here because it leaves me in a state of uncertainty. I want to tell you the formula, but I haven’t one.

So I will leave you with a promise to the faithful.

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. ¹² Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. ¹³ You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. Jeremiah 29:11-13

And this is the confidence which we have in him, that if we ask anything according to his will he hears us. 1 John 5:14

Lord, hear my prayer.

Blessed Virgin Mary, Our lady of Compassion, I turn to you with filial confidence. You shared fully in the work of our lord Jesus Christ, whose Death brought life to the world. Help me now to understand the truth about the divine compassion. Teach me to accept the sufferings that come into my life as you accepted obediently your own deep sorrows. Loving Mother of the Redeemer, you consecrated yourself by submitting to the divine plan. Obtain for me the grace to make my own submission to the same wise providence, now and at the hour of my death. Amen.

Peace be with you.

William Bogdan