Hermit Scultped by God

At this phase of hermit life, nothing experiences God's sculpting. While this may be so with all souls, truly, the hermit perceives art unfolding in its very being. God sculpts the hermit.

Nothing is not unfolding as it thought--if it even had any conceived notions of what its hermit life would be. But it must have had subconscious notions, or else, like its dad prior to his death, saying: "I didn't think it would be like this!"

Suppose we none of us think certain aspects of life, as they unfold, and certainly not our deaths as they become realities, "would be like this."

In the hermit life, nothing faces a depth of solitude and silence deeper than anticipated. Or at least it thinks it must have anticipated less solitude and silence, for the reality exceeds something, somewhere, in the perception. For now, nothing perceives God sculpting it into a hermit of His choosing, and that choosing is far more a hidden hermit, silent and solitary, than perhaps what is read about or perceived of hermits.

And this brings up the point (again?) that nothing must not compare itself with any hermits it has read about, or those that others have read about. Above all, nothing must not compare itself with nothing's perceptions that it didn't even realize it had! But somehow, nothing didn't think it would be like this!

Perhaps there within dwelt a notion that there would be visitors, or phone calls, or e-mails. But as nothing faces the conclusion of hired help for the gardens, and even the picket fence help of a college student is drawing to a close, the solitude shifts like the temperatures as summer leans aft toward a rogation day in September.

In nothing, the Lord has sculpted out most all contacts, including various relationships, including that of family. Some of this has occurred in awkwardness, through unintentional wrongs that somehow came out just as God willed, yet not justifying the means to that end. But it happened, and much is as a result of nothing's ceasing to approach, to step in, to intrude into others' lives--but to wait upon the Lord to bring that and whom He wills.

And He wills very little of nothing, with regard to human contacts and conversations. And this has allowed for interior growth and squaring off with one's self and one's large and not-so-large faults. It has allowed for an even greater sense of nothing's nothingness. It allows for seeing nothing as nothing is: nothing, really, nothing but matter created by God in which a soul created by God has been cloaked for a time, and that time is nothing but passings created by God--passings into passings and more passings unto more passings.

Nothing much takes on nothing's preconceived notions, for those notions God sculpts, and nothing sees that they are no longer notions but rather God's creation of what He wills in a God-scultped, nothing Catholic hermit.

Yesterday in time, nothing rebelled against on-going distraction at early Mass. Then it realized how silly, and to simply keep its head down, pray, and partake of what it has come for: God in word and God in flesh--together with others who have come for the same. Nothing next ventured into a store to purchase a gift and was stopped leaving and questioned, receipt scrutinized, and toy box checked for shoplifting. Then a kind customer in parking lot helped nothing by placing the box in car trunk, and a few pleasantries exchanged.

Nothing stopped to purchase an end-of-season rose, on sale, and visited briefly with the mulch man who shared about two persons who stole plants on Sunday evenings. Nothing shared about its being stopped as if a shoplifter, and added that it was good that people are trying to do their jobs to prevent theft, even though nothing has many faults--and stealing isn't one of them. At least not stealing of toddler toys!

Perhaps there is other stealing, though, such as stealing nobility and respect from others in making assumptions, or stealing God's gift of time and squandering it, or stealing from the present moment to return to the past memories or to venture into the what-if's. There can be stealing of someone's good name, in one's thoughts, or stealing from the glory of Jesus' great sacrifice at the altar by not focusing on His gift, not rejoicing, not praying, not praising!

Can one steal from God's will? It seems so. Doing one's own will and not the Lord's is a form of stealing His omnipotence (or attempting to, for one is always caught in this attempted theft--at least caught at judgment). Best to not desire ought but God's will. Leave it at that.

Later, yesterday, was confession, for nothing realized it had rebelled at morning Mass--rebelled and resented someone's distracting annoyances. And they were annoyances because nothing made them into annoyances, in nothing's mind, by noticing other than the altar.

So that was it for yesterday's contacts, and they were more than usual due to the two errands.

Perhaps toward evening, while nothing noticed no e-mails, no call, and the quietude of it all, did the reality of how it is unfolding, unfold! Nothing's hermit life is being sculpted by God, and nothing didn't think it would be like this. And nothing isn't sure what it thought it would be, just as nothing's dad didn't think what his death would be. And that is probably because we just don't know, and can't know, and aren't meant to know.

But we are to accept and be glad, for God sculpts the hermit and God sculpts the man. God sculpts the body and the soul of man, and all good He sculpts for in God all is good, all His sculpting out His will.

All is well, and nothing accepts the evolving image of God's hermit creation in one nothing Catholic hermit, sculpted like no other, and no other sculpted as this nothing.

Sort of like pine cones and pine branches, and even pine needles if one looks closely.