Qui Minima: A Reflection on Spiritual Desolation

The tiny baby Jesus is asleep in my arms.

That my God would deign Himself to come to me in a way that even I could see:

A baby, so small, so vulnerable, so quiet,

defenseless, persecuted by the world,

is a mystery that His littlest daughter can hardly imagine;

just in the same way that I, in my human ignorance, can hardly imagine God close to me when He seems far.

When the infant Lord is asleep in my arms,

He hears every word I’m saying to Him.

He certainly will never walk away from me in that state; after all, He’s only a baby. 

And I will never let Him out of my arms: I want Him, 

and Mary’s trusted me with her Son.

When my God feels like He’s gone away from me, 

how beautiful is it to know that He’s only asleep,

and all I have to do is look at the precious,

 sleeping King in my arms, and believe 

that He has made His resting place in me?