Sunday, November 29, 2009

JUST TO HEAR YOU SAY

JUST TO HEAR YOU SAY

Just to hear you say you love me,
To hear how much you care,
Is the dream I have about you,
And the feelings that we share.

When you kiss me like you do
My thoughts run wild with love
I just can’t help but wonder if
It’s me you’re thinking of.

So tell me that you love me
Tell me so tonight
Don’t wait a minute longer
To show me that I’m right

That I’m the one you’ve waited for
And I’m the one for you
Before you brush your lips on mine
Just say you love me too.

When you hold me in your arms and
My lips are next to yours
My heart is saying one thing but
I’m never really sure!

As passion flames into the night
I just can’t let it go
You’ve got to say the words I want
You have to let me know

So tell me that you love me
And tell me so tonight
Don’t wait a minute longer
To show me that I’m right

That I’m the one you’ve waited for
And I’m the one for you
Before you brush your lips on mine
Just say you love me too

Donna Sue Berry
28 November, 2009

Sunday, November 15, 2009

OUR NEW PARISH CHURCH
(BEFORE WE HAD A NAME)

It was noon on All Souls Day, As we gathered for the Mass.
We bowed in adoration, When we knelt upon the grass.
Set in that Oklahoma field, That warm November day,
Was the start of new adventure, When our Priest began to pray.
“In nomine Patris, et Filii, Et Spiritus Sancti. Amen”,
With the signing of the cross, The ancient rite began.
As incense rose to heaven, The Canon he intoned,
He offered up the Sacrifice, For Souls and our new home.
He gave to us communion, Food of eternal life.
Though we were unworthy, We gave thanks to God on high!
Then came the close of Holy Mass, With the Ite Missa Est.
As we knelt again upon the ground, Heads bowed for him to bless.
He sprinkled in the field that day, Holy water all around;
Then Fr Remski took the spade, Dug and broke first ground.
Just east of old St Patrick’s Church, And west of Council Road,
We’ll build a temple for our God, And us a Parish home.

Donna Sue Leehan Berry
15th, November 2009

Friday, November 13, 2009

VERONICA’S VEIL

The crowd was growing wilder with screams of crucifixion, curses, and hatred flying through the air. She had maintained a safe distance until now, but she had to see him. She had to. Her life had changed because of the teacher from Nazareth, and so she pushed through the crowd. She darted around some men who had paused, and found herself near the street. He was only a few feet away now, and he would soon pass right in front of her. Her heart almost stopped as she saw him. This was no man trudging slowly up the hill to Calvary, this was a massive open wound! From head to toe his flesh was torn, blood and flesh, both dried and flowing, covered his clothing. A cap of thorns adorned his head, put there by someone to mock him. Suddenly, she jumped as the man next to her threw a rock at Jesus. As it struck him, he stumbled and collapsed to the ground under the heavy cross. Man and wood crashing against the cobbled stones! This was her chance, and she lurched forward to the ground in front of him, sliding her veil from her hair as she did. Looking up into his face, she saw tears in those sacred eyes, and she saw the reproach of men, a man of sorrows. She saw her redemption. She raised her veil towards him, and he achingly wiped his face covered with blood, sweat, dust, and spittle.
She was wrenched away from him in an instant by a soldier, and flung back into the raging sea of people. Clutching her veil tightly against her chest, she turned and pushed through the throng until she was alone. Then she sank to the ground trembling from the impact of what she had done, and from what she had felt when he looked into her eyes. Opening her clenched hands, she looked at her veil which she had wiped his face with, and she gasped. Upon the cloth, miraculously, was the image of his face. Tears sprung from her eyes and the world around her disappeared. Then slowly, very slowly, she bent her head and kissed her Savior’s cheek………

I just took quite a bit of liberty in writing my meditation of the scene with this pious woman and Jesus’ walk to Mount Calvary, but the rest of the story of Jesus’ death and resurrection is forever written on the souls of the human race. But who was this woman? This woman who braved the riot incited horde intent on the crucifixion of the man from Galilee. For there is no mention of her or this story in the Bible, it is only through tradition and the apocryphal “Acts of Pilate” that the story of this pious woman, her act of compassion, and the miraculous image of Jesus’ face upon her veil, have reached through the centuries until now. In his writings, Pilate associates this woman as being the same woman mentioned in the New Testament with the flow of blood who was cured by touching the hem of Jesus’ cloak. The name she is given is Veronica, which is a mixture of Greek and Latin for “Vera Icona” or “true image”. So it is not for sure if it was actually her name. She was supposedly around 50 years of age when this happened, and a woman of position. Tradition continues to say, that the veil must have been the object of veneration and was the initiate of some extraordinary effects. It is related that the ailing Emperor Tiberius had heard of it, and had invited Veronica to Rome. Legend has it that he was cured of his sickness after looking upon the face of Jesus.
Veronica is traditionally said to have lived in Rome at the same time as St. Peter and St. Paul, and eventually bequeathed the veil to St. Clement, St. Peter’s third successor as Pope. Veronica’s Veil is to this day kept at St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome. The veil stays in a small chapel that is constructed in one of the four pillars that support the cupola of St. Peter’s. There is a huge statue of St. Veronica in front of the pillar measuring 16 feet tall.
Veronica’s veil is protected by a crystal and gilt frame within the chapel, and carefully guarded against deterioration or vandalism. It is, however, displayed on “Veronica’s pier,” or the balcony above her statue. This happens the four days of Holy Week, and Easter Sunday through the Monday of Pentecost.
The veil is mentioned in medieval texts by the Bollandists, in an old church missal that has a Mass, “DE S. Veronica seu Vultus Domini”. Matthew of Westminster speaks of the imprint of the image of the Savior which is called Veronica, in “Effigies Domenici vultus quae Veronica nuncupatur”. The veil is even mentioned in Dante’s, The Divine Comedy,Paradise, XXXI, 104, and in the Vita Nuova,40,1(Catholic Encyclopedia).
For me, Veronica’s veil has been one of my most favorite devotions in my Catholic faith. The image of our Lord’s countenance wounded for my sins reminds me of his great gift of salvation to me, and gives me hope. When I saw Mel Gibson’s movie, The Passion, it shook me to the core. It made me realize even more how much torture and suffering Jesus went through for me, and that it was, indeed, sin that nailed him to the cross! I was really pleased when the movie showed Veronica wiping his face, and then to see his image appear on the veil.

Through out the centuries some have questioned the validity of Veronica’s Veil. However, for me, it is real if for no other reason than the pious contemplation of the face of the one who died for me.


Works Cited

Catholic Encyclopedia. St. Veronica. <http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/15362a.htm>
Jubilee Part II, St. Peter’s. <http://www.adoremus.org/0500-St.Peter's.html>
Veronica’s Veil. <http://www.catholictradition.org/veronica.htm>

Thursday, November 12, 2009

ONE OCTOBER MORNING

One October morning
As the sun was on the rise
You touched my tear stained cheeks
And saw the sadness in my eyes

The world we shared together
Had passed so quickly by
To the changing of a brand new day
When we had to say goodbye

You held me tightly in your arms
For one last love’s embrace
you saw the hurt within my eyes
And the pain upon my face

So gently then you bent your head
To touch your lips to mine
And taste the love I have for you
And kiss me one last time

So slowly then we parted
With not more than a sigh
And the only words we said
Were just our last good byes

Donna Sue Leehan Berry
6 October 2002

WHAT WILL YOU GIVE? A LENTEN POEM

What Will You Give This Year?

A friend of mine said Lent was here,
And asked what I’d give up.
I laughed and told her, “I don’t know,
How ‘bout my coffee cup?”

But all day long they haunted me,
The words I’d said were trite.
And when I fell asleep I knew,
It’d be no normal night.

I dreamt myself within a crowd,
That stunk and smelled of shame.
Who screamed and shouted death to him,
A man they didn’t name.

We rushed across the cobblestones;
Then up a rocky hill,
Just in time we saw him fall,
The man whom they would kill.

His bloody feet and countenance,
Brought tears into my eyes,
But I couldn’t find compassion,
In the crowd of passersby.

Then from the ground he looked at me,
Reached out his bloody hand,
That’s when I found myself alone,
Before the man condemned.

“What will you give”, I heard him ask,
My soul he seemed to see,
I fell beneath his bloody gaze,
And cried,” I give up me!”

Donna Sue Leehan Berry
29th January 2005

Dedicated to Mom on her Birthday

A BUSINESS WOMAN'S LOST CHRISTMAS

She sighed and locked the office door
And headed for her car
Her face turned toward the sleet like mist
When she saw the shooting star

How strange, she thought, to see a star
On such a stormy night
It shown with such intensity,
A magic kind of light.

If only she were a child again
She’d make a wish to believe,
To feel the way she used to feel
This night on Christmas Eve.

It wasn’t that she was unhappy,
Or wished her life would change.
But where was the joy she used to know
When Christmas morning came?

She drove into the silent night
And through the icy blast,
Her thoughts on many childhood dreams
And the ghosts of Christmas past.

It’s then she saw the lit up church
And heard the church bells ring.
She slowed her car, and then she stopped
Before the manger scene.

She saw a tiny little girl
Alone, just standing there
Who reminded her of someone
In her coat and curly hair.

Then she stepped out of her snow cloaked car,
Walked up behind the child,
And though she couldn’t see her face
She knew the girl had smiled.

The little child stretched out her hands
To the baby in the hay,
It happened then, a miracle,
And it’s almost hard to say!

But the plastic Jesus lying there
Suddenly came alive
And reached out his infant fingers
To the girl of almost five.

The woman knelt in disbelief
As the little girl turned around,
And looking into her own eyes,
It was herself which she’d found.

And suddenly, it all came back
The joy which she had lost
Because the baby laying there
For her had paid the cost.

The little girl then smiled and waved,
And disappeared into the mist,
While the woman slowly bent her head
To leave Jesus with a kiss.

Then the woman drove into the night
No longer sad or forlorn
But filled with the joy and happiness
That comes each Christmas morn!

Donna Sue Leehan Berry
22nd, November 2008

“Let the little children come…for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these”…Matthew 19:14

A CHRISTMAS KISS

A Christmas kiss
Her silent wish
As she stared out at the snow

Twinkling lights
That starry night,
Were the settings for her soul

An Angel blessed
Her holiday dress,
In her hair a crimson bow.

With carols sung
Icicles hung
In the silent candles glow

She closed her eyes
She smiled and sighed
Would he come, her princely Beau

Would he soon kiss
Those waiting lips
And love begin to show

And then a sound
She turns around
It is then she surely knows

A Christmas kiss
No longer wished
Beneath the mistletoe.

Donna Sue Berry
1, December 2003

TIME TO COWGIRL UP

It’s time she said to cowgirl up,
Then she waltzed right through the door.
The challenge called, her boots hit hard
When she stepped onto the floor.

Dressed to dance, she was dressed to win
In denim and black lace
Her hat was tilted to the side,
And her long legs moved with grace

She took the floor like a star on stage.
All eyes were drawn her way,
The greatest speaker ever heard
Never had that much to say

Like she did when she moved her hips just right,
Like she did when she held a cowboy tight
So Cowgirl up, take the floor
Beneath the neon light!


She slid and kicked and spun around
In her boots and skin tight jeans
She tossed her hair and flashed a smile
And knew she’d caused a scene.

The music stopped, she took a bow
Then turned and walked away,
(Yeah) The greatest speaker ever heard
Never had THAT much to say

Like she did when she moved her hips just right,
Like she did when she held a cowboy tight
So Cowgirl up, take the floor
And dance that dance tonight!

Donna Berry & Mark Bostwick April 2009

Dance Club

Walking into the dance club, she was glad that she had taken her girl friends up on their invitation for the evening. They had tried before to get her to go out with them, and she had always declined. But tonight was different. For the first time in her 52 years she felt truly on her own and independent. She had come to realize that she was in charge of her own life and there was no option clause for having to seek anyone’s approval. She felt alive! Besides, the black dress and heels looked good on her!
The music was loud, and the room was crowded with couples enjoying each other’s company. Single men and women strolled around the bar and hung over the rail surrounding the dance floor. Each one appeared to be flirting and seeking a partner for the evening. The women quickly claimed a table at one end of the oval dance floor, and perched on bar stools as they ordered. The music pounded away a classic rock n roll tune and her two girlfriends hollered out an “Oh Yeah, Baby!” and ogled the butts of a couple of men as they walked past. They were quickly asked out onto the dance floor.
Sitting there with a smile on her face in the semi darkness and twinkling lights, she brushed back her short blonde hair and sighed with pure enjoyment. This was fun. Her heels were tapping time with the music and she strained to hear what the DJ was saying and eventually gave up. She was content. Looking around the room, she didn’t notice the man a few tables down from her, but he had noticed her from the moment she had walked in with the group of over zealous girl friends. She was different, a little older than the other women she had come with, and with an attitude in the way she carried herself that intrigued him. He wanted to dance with her.
It was as she raised her glass to her lips that she noticed him. It was his eyes, almost piercing. She lowered her gaze, but then looked up again. HE WAS LOOKING AT HER. Jitters resembling those of a teenaged girl shook her insides and she almost blushed. She looked away and slowly looked back at him. He was sitting down, but she could tell he was tall, a little older than her and he was definitely a class above the rest of the loud party crowd around them. He nodded his head to her in hello, and she nodded back in reply. He tilted his head toward her again and then toward the dance floor. No words were needed, and she nodded in answer. He stood up and walked toward her. She felt heat. As he moved toward her she never took her eyes from his. They communicated without talking. There would be no need for words. She wanted to dance with him.

Taking her small hand in his, he led her into the crowd. Pushing past the other partners making their way onto the dance floor, she could feel her own heart keeping beat to the music, or was it because he was holding her hand. He stopped and turned, smiling down into her eyes as he let go her one hand and took her other placing it upon his shoulder. Sliding his arm around her, he pulled her into him. She felt completely engulfed by him, and immersed in the look that he was giving her. His eyes had captured hers. Almost as one, they began to sway to the music. Closing her eyes, breaking the power of his magnetic gaze, she let the music and emotion wash over her. The song, a slow, melodious Moody Blues tune, " Oh,I Dreamed Last Night", seemed to capture the moment, and send her reeling into a soft cloud of sensation. She could feel his breath on her temple and the beat of his heart against her ear as she curled into him. She knew him, and yet, did not. It was as if they had danced forever in each other’s arms. She anticipated his every move, and followed. Each beat of the song and each lyric would be forever etched in her mind and on her heart. She sensed the moment, felt his movement, and raised her lips to his.


“If there's a time
And a place to begin love
It must be now
Let it go. Set it free.
Oh I dreamed last night I was hearing, hearing your voice”
(Moody Blues)