A Litany of Gentle Complaint
Lord, have mercy; Christ, have mercy.
Lord, just a few things on my mind today, as I sit and rest for a while. I think you won’t mind listening, for you made me this way and you already know me through and through:
Lord, it’s my eyes: they’re tired. I can’t see too well, it’s hard to read the paper or watch TV, and I just can’t find the right glasses when I need them: Lord, have mercy.
Lord, it’s my ears: nobody speaks loud enough, the music is always too strong, I can’t hear the priest at Mass, but I do like the quiet at home: Christ, have mercy.
Lord, my knees and legs: they won’t do what I tell them, they fall asleep too fast, and those steps are just too steep: Lord, have mercy.
Lord, food: it just doesn’t taste the same, it gets harder to shop and cook, and I can’t eat what I want to anyway: Christ, have mercy.
Lord, pains and aches: there are two new ones every day, at times I’m embarrassed before other people, and then I worry about having something serious happen: Lord, have mercy.
Lord, there are too many pills: I can’t seem to keep them straight or take them at the right time, and I sometimes worry I may take too many or too few: Christ, have mercy.
Lord, I’m lonely: the phone never rings, I haven’t had visitors in ages, and when they do come I’m not much of a host: Christ, have mercy.
Lord sleep: can’t rest all night, and then I nod off all during the day, it makes me impatient and irritable, and my memory has gone to the dogs: Lord, have mercy.
Lord, You sure do have a sense of humor; you’ve made me for Yourself. Bear with me as I try to figure out how best to give myself to You these days.
Lord, hear us. Christ, graciously hear us.
Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me.
