Daily Reflection with Fr. Tomas Del Valle-Reyes



Dear Friends: Praying is not easy. Our daily routine calls for our full attention. And the world around us puts little value on prayer; our lives are full of material things but at the same time are getting emptier in God’s value.

For this reason, I will post a daily reflection and as you visit this site may the Holy Spirit within you come to your aid and guide you gently to the God who loves you
.


Tuesday, April 17, 2018

Prayer on Repentance

Heavenly Father,
all the fancy words in the world expressed in eloquent prose
decorated with emotion spoken with conviction cannot compete with a heartfelt
"sorry" when all other words fail.
There are times when we are all too aware of our limitations
conscious of sin and the distance it creates between us..
Sometimes "sorry" is all the heart can bear to say aloud.
It is only You, My Lord, who can read and understand the language of our hearts
Only you who can translate our "sorry" into the prayer we would have prayed if we had the words within us.
Then you forgive and having forgiven surround us in an embrace of love
drawing us close to your heart as it was always meant to be.
Thank you, Heavenly Father that you listen to hearts as well as voices
Thank you.
Your forgiveness is total no notebook, tape recorder, or post-it notes to remind you of that moment when You take our confession
offered with hands outstretched and gently like the loving heavenly Father that you are put it to one side to be forgotten No grudges, no itching for judgement
No resentment or ill-will .

Not like us who find it easy to say sorry but so hard to forgive
absolutely Forgive us, Father that we are often more willing to accept forgiveness
than to forgive More willing to accept your love
than to share it with those who have hurt us.
Teach us to forgive As you forgive.
Love has its source in you Heavenly God Flows from you like an ocean into a world as unyielding as any shoreline cliff
And like the ocean which batters erodes and wears away even the hardest stone your love persists finds cracks and inlets in hardened hearts
flows inside and works a miracle. Who would think that water was more powerful than granite love mightier than the hardest heart
Thank you, Heavenly God for the power of your love.

Descubriendo el Siglo 21
Discovering 21century
Fr Tomás Del Valle-Reyes
P. O. BOX 1170
New York, NY 10018
(212) 244 4778

Tuesday, April 10, 2018

A Trucker's Last Letter

Steamboat Mountain was a man killer, and truckers who hauled the Alaska Highway treated it with great respect.
Particularly in the winter, the road used to curve and twist over the mountain, and sheer cliffs dropped away sharply from the icy road.
Countless trucks and truckers have been lost there over the years and many dreams were dashed upon its rocky slopes.
Many years ago on one trip up the highway, I came upon an RCMP cruiser and several wreckers winching the remains of a semi up the cliff.
I parked my rig and went over to the quiet group of truckers who
 were watching the wreckage slowly come into sight.
One of the Mounties walked over to us and spoke quietly.  
"I'm sorry," he said. "The driver was dead when we found him. 
He must have gone over the side two days ago when we had a bad snowstorm. There weren't many tracks. It was just a fluke that we noticed the sun shining off some chrome."
He shook his head slowly and reached into his parka pocket.
"Here, maybe you guys should read this. I guess he lived for a couple of hours until the cold got to him."

My Darling Wife,
This is a letter that no man ever wants to write, but I'm lucky enough to have some time to say what I've forgotten to say so many times.
I love you, Sweetheart.
You used to kid me that I loved the truck more than you because I spent more time with her. I do love this piece of iron -- she's been good to me. 
She's seen me through touch times and tough places and I could always count on her in a long haul and she was speedy in the stretches. 
She never let me down.
But you want to know something? I love you for the same reasons. 
You've seen me through the tough times and places, too.
Remember the first truck? That run down "ol' corn binder" that kept us broke all the time but always made just enough money to keep us eating? 
You went out and got a job so that we could pay the rent and bills.
Every cent I made went into the truck while your money kept us in food with a roof over our heads.
I remember that I complained about the truck, but I don't remember you ever complaining when you came home tired from work and I asked you for money to go on the road again. 
If you did complain, I guess I didn't hear you. I was too wrapped up with my problems to think of yours.
I think now of all the things you gave up for me. 
The clothes, the holidays, the parties, the friends. 
You never complained and somehow I never remembered to thank you for being you.
When I sat having coffee with the boys, I always talked about the truck, my rig, my payments. I guess I forgot you were my partner even if you weren't in the cab with me. 
It was your sacrifices and determination as much as mine that finally got the new truck. I was so proud of that truck I was bursting. 
I was proud of you, too, but I never told you that. I took it for granted you knew, but if I had spent as much time talking with you as I did polishing chrome, perhaps I would have.
I always knew your prayers rode with me. 
But this time they weren't enough. I'm hurt and it's bad. I've made my last mile and I want to say the things that should have been said so many times before. The things that were forgotten because I was too concerned about the truck and the job. I'm thinking about the missed anniversaries and birthdays. The school plays and hockey games that you went to alone because I was on the road.
I'm thinking of the peace of mind I had knowing that you were at home with the kids, waiting for me. The family dinners where you spent all your time telling your folks why I couldn't make it -- I was busy changing oil, I was busy looking for parts; I was sleeping because I was leaving early the next morning.
There was always a reason, but somehow they don't seem very important right now.
When we were married, you didn't know how to change a light bulb. Within a couple of years, you were fixing the furnace in a blizzard while I was waiting for a load in Florida. 
You became a pretty good mechanic, helping me with repairs, and I was mighty proud of you that time you jumped into the truck and backed it up over the rose bushes.
I was proud of you when I pulled into the yard and saw you sleeping in the car waiting for me. Whether it was two in the morning or two in the afternoon, you always looked like a movie star to me. You're beautiful, you know. I guess I haven't told you that lately, but you are.
I made lots of mistakes in my life, but if I only ever made one good decision, it was then I asked you to marry me. You never could understand what it was that kept me trucking. 
I couldn't either, but it was my way of life and you stuck with me. Good times, bad times, you were always there.
I love you sweetheart, and I love our kids.
My body hurts but my heart hurts even more. You won't be there when I end this trip. For the first time since we've been together, I'm really alone and it scares me. 
I need you so badly, and I know it's too late.
It's funny I guess, but what I have now is the truck. This damned truck that ruled our lives for so long. This twisted hunk of steel that I lived in and with for so many years. But it can't return my love. Only you can do that.
You're a thousand miles away but I feel you here with me. 
I can see your face and feel your love and I'm scared to make the final run alone.
Tell the kids that I love them very much and don't let them drive any truck for a living.
I guess that's about it honey. 
My God, but I love you so very much. Take care of yourself and always remember that I loved you more than anything in life.
I just forgot to tell you.
I Love You, Bill
- Author Unknown -

Descubriendo el Siglo 21
Discovering 21century
Fr Tomás Del Valle-Reyes
P. O. BOX 1170
New York, NY 10018
(212) 244 4778

Tuesday, April 3, 2018

TAXI DRIVER

Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. It was a cowboy's life, a life for someone who wanted no boss. What I didn't realize was that it was also a ministry.
Because I drove the night shift, my cab became a moving confessional. Passengers climbed in, sat behind me in total anonymity, and told me about their lives.
I encountered people whose lives amazed me, made me laugh and made me weep.
But none touched me more than a woman I picked up late one August night.
I was responding to a call from a small brick fourplex in a quiet part of town.
I assumed I was being sent to pick up some parties, or someone who had just had a fight with a lover, or a worker heading to an early shift at some factory in the industrial part of town.
When I arrived at 2:30 a.m., the building was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window.
Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, then drive away.
But I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation.
Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door.
This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself.
So I walked to the door and knocked.
"Just a minute", answered a frail, elderly voice.
I could hear something being dragged across the floor.
After a long pause, the door opened.
A small woman in her 80s stood before me.
She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie.
By her side was a small nylon suitcase.
The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years.
All the furniture was covered with sheets.
There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters.
In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware. 
"Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said.
I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.
She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.
She kept thanking me for my kindness.
"It's nothing", I told her. "I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated".
"Oh, you're such a good boy,"
she said.
When we got in the cab, she gave me the address, then asked, "Could you drive through downtown?"
"It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly.  
"Oh, I don't mind,"she said.
"I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice".
I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening.
"I don't have any family left," she continued. "The doctor says I don't have very long."
I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.
"What route would you like me to take?" I asked.
For the next two hours, we drove through the city.
She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.
We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds.
She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.
Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.
As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, "I'm tired. Let's go now".
We drove in silence to the address she had given me.
It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up.
They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move.
They must have been expecting her.
I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door.  
The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.
"How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into her purse.
"Nothing," I said.
"You have to make a living," she answered.
"There are other passengers," I responded.
Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug.
She held onto me tightly. "You gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she said. "Thank you."
I squeezed her hand, then walked into the dim morning light.
Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.
I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly, lost in thought.
For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk.
What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?
On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life.
We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.
But great moments often catch us unaware--beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.-
AUTHOR UNKNOWN -
People may not remember exactly what you did, or what you said, but they will always remember how you made them feel.

Descubriendo el Siglo 21
Discovering 21century
Fr Tomás Del Valle-Reyes
P. O. BOX 1170
New York, NY 10018
(212) 244 4778

Tuesday, March 27, 2018

DARK LETTER

 Letter from the Devil This can really make you think.
A LETTER TO YOU FROM SATAN

“I saw you yesterday as you began your daily chores.
You awoke without kneeling to pray. 
As a matter of fact, you didn't even bless your meals, or pray before going to bed last night.
You are so unthankful, I like that about you!
I cannot tell you how glad I am that you have not changed your 
way of living, Fool, you are mine.
Remember, you and I have been going steady for years, 
and I still don't love you yet.
As a matter of fact, I hate you, because I hate God.
He kicked me out of heaven, and I'm going to use you as long as possible to pay him back.
You see, Fool, GOD LOVES YOU and HE has great plans in store for you!
But you have yielded your life to me, and I'm going to make your life a living hell. 
That way, we'll be together twice. 
This will really hurt God.
Thanks to you, I'm really showing Him who's boss
in your life with all of the good times we've had.
We have been...
Watching dirty movies, cursing people out, stealing, lying, being hypocritical, fornicating, overeating, telling dirty jokes, gossiping, being judgmental, back stabbing people, disrespecting adults, and specially your parents!, no respect for the Church, bad attitudes.
SURELY you don't want to give all this up.
Come on, Fool, let's burn together forever. 
I've got some hot plans for us. 
This is just a letter of appreciation from me to you.


I'd like to say "THANKS" for letting me use you for most of your foolish life.You are so gullible, I laugh at you. 
When you are tempted to sin, you give in HA HA HA, you make me sick.
Sin is beginning to take its toll on your life.
You look 20 years older, and now, I need new blood.


So go ahead and teach some children how to sin.
All you have to do is smoke, get drunk or drink while underage, cheat, gamble, gossip, fornicate, and live being as selfish as possible.
Do all of this in the presence of children and they will do it too. 
Kids are like that.
Well, Fool, I have to let you go for now.


I'll be back in a couple of seconds to tempt you again. 
If you were smart, you would run somewhere, confess your sins, and live for God with what little bit of life that you have left.
It's not my nature to warn anyone, but to be your age and still sinning; it's becoming a bit ridiculous. 
Don't get me wrong, I still hate you.
IT'S JUST THAT YOU'D MAKE A BETTER FOOL FOR CHRIST.

Descubriendo el Siglo 21
Discovering 21century
Fr Tomás Del Valle-Reyes
P. O. BOX 1170
New York, NY 10018
(212) 244 4778

Tuesday, March 20, 2018

KIDS IN CHURCH

3-year-old Reese:
'Our Father, Who does art in heaven,
Harold is His name.

Amen.
'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A little boy was overheard praying:
'Lord, if you can't make me a better boy, don't worry about it.
I'm having a real good time like I am.'


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the christening of his baby brother in church,
Jason sobbed all the way home in the back seat of the car.
His father asked him three times what was wrong. ?
Finally, the boy replied,
'That priest said he wanted us brought up in a Catholic home,
and I wanted to stay with you guys.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One particular four-year-old prayed,
'And forgive us our trash baskets
as we forgive those who put trash in our baskets.
'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A Sunday school teacher asked her children as they
were on the way to church service, 'And why is it necessary to be quiet in church?' One bright little girl replied,
'Because people are sleeping.' like my grandma, for instance!!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A mother was preparing pancakes for her sons, Kevin 5, and Ryan 3.
The boys began to argue over who would get the first pancake.
Their mother saw the opportunity for a moral lesson.
'If Jesus were sitting here, He would say, 'Let my brother have the first pancake, I can wait.'
Kevin turned to his younger brother and said,
' Ryan, you be Jesus !'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A father was at the beach with his childrenwhen the four-year-old son ran up to him, grabbed his hand, and led him to the shore
where a seagull lay dead in the sand.
'Daddy, what happened to him?' the son asked.
'He died and went to Heaven,' the Dad replied.
The boy thought a moment and then said,
'Did God throw him back down?'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A wife invited some people to dinner.
At the table, she turned to their six-year-old daughter and said,
'Would you like to say the blessing?'
'I wouldn't know what to say,'
the girl replied.
'Just say what you hear Mommy say,' the wife answered.
The daughter bowed her head and said,
'Lord, why on earth did I invite all these people to dinner?'~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Descubriendo el Siglo 21
Discovering 21century
Fr Tomás Del Valle-Reyes
P. O. BOX 1170
New York, NY 10018
(212) 244 4778


Tuesday, March 13, 2018

Ballons...

Life is too short to wake up with regrets.
So love the people who treat you
right. 
Forget about the one's who don't. 
Believe everything happens for a
reason.
If you get a second chance, grab it with both hands. 
If it changes your life, let it. 
Nobody said life would be easy, they just promised it would
be worth it.
Friends are like balloons; once you let them go, you can't get them back. 
So I'm going to tie you to my heart so I never lose you.
Send this to all your friends including me and see how many you get back. 
Send this balloon to everybody you like. 
You may also return it to me. 
If four balloons are returned to you, something you have been waiting for a long time will happen!!!! Believe me..
.... It really happens! Send a lot of little balloons to your friends!!!

Rev. Father  Tomas Del Valle-Reyes
P.O. BOX 1170
New York, NY 10018

Tel- 212-244-4778
http://www.descubriendoelsiglo21.com/

Tuesday, March 6, 2018

A MOUSE TRAP STORY

A mouse looked through the crack in the wall to see the farmer and his wife open a package. 
What food might this contain?' 
The mouse wondered - he was devastated to discover it was a mousetrap. Retreating to the farmyard, the mouse proclaimed the warning : There is a mousetrap in the house! There is a mousetrap in the house!'
The chicken clucked and scratched, raised her head and said:
'Mr.Mouse, I can tell this is a grave concern to you, but it is of no consequence to me.
I cannot be bothered by it.'

The mouse turned to the pig and told him,:
'There is a mousetrap in the house!
There is a mousetrap in the house! 
'The pig sympathized, but said:
"I am so very sorry, Mr.Mouse, but there is nothing I can do about it but pray. 
Be assured you are in my prayers.'
The mouse turned to the cow and said: 'There is a mousetrap in the house!
There is a mousetrap in the house!' 
The cow said: 'Wow, Mr. Mouse. I'm sorry for you, but it's no skin off my nose.'
So, the mouse returned to the house, head down and dejected, to face the farmer's mousetrap alone.
That very night a sound was heard throughout the house -- like the sound of a mousetrap catching its prey. 
The farmer's wife rushed to see what was caught. 
In the darkness, she did not see it was a venomous snake whose tail the trap had caught. 
The snake bit the farmer's wife. 
The farmer rushed her to the hospital ,
and she returned home with a fever. 
Everyone knows you treat a fever with fresh chicken soup, so the farmer took his hatchet to the farmyard for the soup's main ingredient. 
But his wife's sickness continued, so friends and neighbors came to sit with her around the clock.
To feed them, the farmer butchered the pig. The farmer's wife did not get well; she died.
So many people came for her funeral, the farmer had the cow slaughtered to provide enough meat for all of them.
The mouse looked upon it all from his crack in the wall with great sadness.  
So, the next time you hear someone is facing a problem and think it doesn't concern you, remember -- when one of us is threatened, we are all at risk. 
We are all involved in this journey called life.
We must keep an eye out for one another and make an extra effort to encourage one another. REMEMBER...... EACH OF US IS A VITAL THREAD IN ANOTHER PERSON'S TAPESTRY; OUR LIVES ARE WOVEN TOGETHER FOR A REASON. 
One of the best things to hold onto in this world is a friend
Travel to China or Holy Land with Fr. Tomas Del Valle-Reyes


Descubriendo el Siglo 21
Discovering 21century
Fr Tomás Del Valle-Reyes
P. O. BOX 1170
New York, NY 10018
(212) 244 4778