Catholic Hermit: An Uplifting Reminder from St. Macarius

Also and probably more accurately called "Pseudo-Macarius", this saint and monk of the late fourth century left us homilies that lift and assist our spiritual journeys.

From Homily 31:

"So make haste to please the Lord, wait for him in your heart without ceasing, seek him in your thoughts, stir up your will and your feelings to reach out towards him at every moment.  Then you will see how he comes to you and makes his home within you."

This tuckered out consecrated Catholic hermit has spent the bulk of the day (thus far) resting on the mattress, now here in the unfinished main room of this old farm house hermitage.  Jean Patrick (from Haiti but now American citizen) had some break time between his nursing education school terms.  Coming from civilization to help me with some heavier work, it seemed best he spend the night.

Thus, the hermit and hermitage hosted this young guest who is so filled with the joy of the Holy Spirit -- and uplifted the entire process as we made marvelous progress in our work efforts.  And each day the Lord provided with some generous contributions to the roadside table's offerings: strawberries, tomatoes, peppers, and bouquets of Zinnias in whatever vases and jars I had on hand.

Jean Patrick earned quite a bit of added (and much-needed) income, and this nothing hermit gained much assistance as we installed some free and lovely cabinets and countertops in the pole barn as well as framed in an additional window.  The week prior Jean Patrick and Daniel each came for a day and a half, and we installed the first two windows.  

What a blessing to have some help and also to be able to help them with their school costs in the form of payment!

And with Jean Patrick, what conversation was not focused upon our tasks, we could speak of how the Lord has worked in his life--and how good is the Lord to us!  We appreciated several miracles in the manual labor as well as I benefitted from hearing about this young man's life in Haiti and his life here in this country, of his family, and of prayer needs for all of them.

After the first day I was in so much pain and so exhausted, that I could feel the tension welling up within the body; I explained to Jean Patrick how pain can get to a point that I feel absolutely grumpy and with less patience, as well as to not remember simple measurements from one moment to the next.  And thus, I insisted we take a work break--as I said my becoming grumpy is not worth it!

Jean Patrick loves root beer floats--something he'd not had until coming here to help out a couple times this summer.  Such a simple pleasure, and how refreshing to just take time to appreciate a treat--all that the Lord provides us and the wits to take time to refresh and reflect.

Jean Patrick shared with me how he came to this country--after his mother and younger siblings left Haiti prior.  He had to remain behind, and he told his mother it was all right--that it was best that the younger children got to leave.  Yet, the Lord provided for him in miraculous ways!  When his siblings were at the airport in Haiti, readying to depart, the airport and immigration supervisors wondered at these young ones leaving.  Wasn't there someone older taking care of them?  

Yes!  There is their older brother, Jean Patrick, but he had been told only the young ones could leave, that he would need special clearance.  The airport supervisor called Jean Patrick; he did not get the message until later that night, but he was told to come quickly to the airport as he should leave, also, accompanying his young siblings of which he'd cared and provided for them for three or four years as their mother had left on her own, earlier.

There was then a series of obstacles always met by miracles in Jean Patrick's efforts to get to the airport within 24 hours, as he had been told if he did not come right away, he'd not be able to leave without much effort, time, paperwork, and costs.  A "voice", he told me, had told him a bit prior to all of this to get his passport, even though he thought there was no chance he, too, could come to this country--just the young siblings.  Even a stranger offering him a ride--a man who saw him praying as they rode in a taxi in the middle of the night--all fell into place in an otherwise dangerous journey.

It all reminded me of the apostles being released unexpectedly from prison, the angel opening the door and beckoning them to come out and follow to freedom.

Well, there are more miracles from Jean Patrick's young life.  Now just 22 years old, he survived three days in the Haiti earthquake rubble and survived a tidal wave coming to tip over his small boat  with him in it.  He had to earn money to support the young siblings and did so by burning logs down to charcoal, then bagging it, taking it in a little boat to another area where wealthy people would buy the charred wood to use for grilling.

He has dreams and locutions, and he met in me someone who definitely understood. We did discuss the need for spiritual discernment of spirits--and all this not in the terminology I'm using.  He has grasped the English language very well, but there are some terms and cultural aspects that are new even though he's been in this country for three or so years.

It is a joy to have a helper who is in touch with the numinous and who loves the Lord so very much!  We could praise the Lord and pray, and at night Jean Patrick liked to say his prayers aloud, thanking God for the day.  

By the third day, my body was so much in pain that I knew to call upon the Holy Spirit to fill me with joy and perseverance; and so it was that we made it through that day with the bulk of the heavy work requiring two of us, completed!  What remains, I will need to trust in God's providence that someone will come along who can help me lift a couple or so items.

What I found, though, in being host to even such a delightfully spiritually endowed helper, is that God has formed me to an extent thus far in my hermit and spiritual life, that I also praised Him for the return to the silence of solitude, to the stillness, the simplicity, the slowness, the serenity of being totally alone with God here.  In the night when I awoke with pain, I said aloud, "Lord, I am so thankful to just be here alone with you, and you with me!  Thank you for the help, but thank you for the life in you, Lord, alone--solus Deus!"

I suppose I thought of solus Deus  for when Jean Patrick and I were re-arranging boxes and tools and earthly possessions on the pole barn shelves, there was the large, refinished wood, antique shutter that I'd hung on my first hermitage, 17 years ago this fall.  I printed on the shutter in Old English script:  Solus Deus.  I explained to Jean Patrick that I had this sign on my front porch years ago as a reminder to me, coming and going to church and what few errands, and to anyone passing by, the value of loving God alone.

So today, my dear friends and readers, I wrote an explanation to a spiritual friend who is reading the writings of John of the Cross as am I, currently, for the friend had emailed wanting some ideas of what the saint meant in detachment from the senses and from things of this world.  Then I received a call from a family member, and I listened to what prayer needs and concerns were being expressed from their lives; and then I rested some more, and then ate hoping to build up some energy.

Finally, the body was forced up and out to pick berries for the table and later some tomatoes and figs; and to hook up some hoses to continue the watering regimen here.  Yet, I am exhausted by pain itself, from head to toe, and thus I must simply be, not do.

In all things, though, striving to relate all to God and God to all--there is a peace and contentment despite the unknowns.  Tomorrow there will be a very large Visa bill to pay in addition to all monthly expenses, and finances will be all the more reduced.

And yesterday, as Jean Patrick and I had a lunch break, he received a call from his boss at the nursing home where he works on weekends, saying he should take the medic training course in this time period between his school terms!  So my helper will unlikely return.  He was trying to figure if there was some way he could come back, as he loves anything he does, including helping me transform this place to something better for the next person/s.  But the priority is his schooling, and I told him so.

God will provide, and He probably wants me to continue doing the work on my own, and for the few things that I definitely will need help doing, somehow someone will be provided to help.  My thoughts of finishing sooner than later, though, are now altered with the reminder of the unexpected surprises that come when we exist in the Order of the Present Moment.  From one moment of thinking of what we would accomplish the next time he could come next week, to the moment of the phone call--all things of the temporal plans were altered!

Amazing!

Seek the Lord in all things; stir up in ourselves the feelings and will to desire Him in every moment, wait patiently for Him to come in our hearts, seek after Him in our thoughts.  Then see how He comes and makes His home with us.  

I do know He is here.  He was here in the night when I told Him how much I love being with Him alone, and He was here in the day prior--in me and in Jean Patrick--and He is here making His home and being quite at home, right now as I write and reflect and share...and rest on this mattress.

Catholic Hermit Phases

Much of what is written in correspondence at this phase of this Catholic hermit's life, is based upon numerous flaws and faults over the years thus far.  The thoughts and sharing come from that perspective, often enough: a humbled down version of wishes for others of what to avoid, if they can.

So it was with the correspondence this morning with the friend.  She responded, and to her great credit and compassion, she found good in it and some help in what was written.  So it is in various phases of our lives, we can do penance of sorts, admit our mistakes, and offer them as holocausts of suffering and praise, both.  Those others who are sensitive and adept at understanding, might find our humanity something of which to propel them toward their divinity.

But not in all cases do the thoughts and shared experiences and insights (these latter of the Holy Spirit, so they stand distinct and superior to the human foils from which some of us learn and share) find a receptive soul, and it might not be due to pride on the other person's part.  Often enough it is just that the phases of such as a Catholic hermit and the phases of such as a younger, older, or in between person are not connecting much.  There is not a synapse of communication, soul to soul or even mind to mind, or heart to heart.

Yesterday there were three intersections, three synapses, indicating phases of the hermit are, or were then, aligned with three souls.

The first was in a rare trip to a village.  The hermit was going to deposit some money that was intended for paying Raphael for additional workers.  (Thankfully, it had been able to get Jorge's money to him via Juanito, as the hermit never wanted Jorge's pay returned, as he did do an excellent job the first day and tried his best on the other two, even if not passable outcome.)

So on the way to the village, drawing close, the hermit prayed yet again that somehow Raphael would realize the hermit had nothing but admiration and love for him and his workers.  It also wished somehow Raphael would realize that something was surely wrong with the hermit to sound tense or upset, or however it may have sounded when describing the work that needed to be done over.

What are the odds of this next occurrence?  In a remote area, of which the hermit had not been to the village in three weeks nor out driving other than the few days far off in civilization, there was Raphael at the bank!  In fact, the hermit would not have seen him as it was focused on figuring out how to get out of a tight parking space, had not Raphael called it's name.  Within minutes, the situation was worked out, and he understood better that the hermit was not angry or bothered other than simply wanted to try to do the work better and needed help to do some other efforts requiring physical strength and other hands.

Plus, the hermit was able to explain that if the voiced expression seemed tense, of the work not done well by a man he usually does not hire, it was because the hermit was on the brink of a pain siege. Try as the hermit has for nearly 31 years to notice when a pain siege is coming, it has not been successful.  Only after letting situations get to the hermit in ways otherwise not at all the hermit's temperament style, does the hermit realize and is smack dab in a pain siege.

Anyway, God so heard the prayer and answered it in a way that touched the hermit's soul.  Such love and gratitude to His Real Presence!  All is well with Raphael who was also quite out of his character in the way he reacted to concrete concerns regarding work done by someone he brought to do work.

Then there was a grace given at the little clinic in yon village, and the hermit will hopefully be able to manage the worst of the pain sieges better.  It is hoped by all that the increased pain is due to having been in bed much of the winter, between the pneumonia and some hefty pain sieges.  Once the hermit has its muscles strengthened again with manual labor, over time, perhaps the pain can be better managed by the brain's natural pain relievers, endorphins.  This medical personnel, also,  is open to the hermit's goal of being able to endure the increasingly higher pain levels (with age this happens, too) by attaining to unconditional love, and through prayer and offering the suffering in union with Christ.

Upon returning to Te Deum Hermitage, the hermit was surprised by a most unusual phone call from Fr. V. who is in Nigeria.  He just wanted to hear the hermit's voice and be assured that all was going better after the last pain sieges.  It was uncanny.

God is with us.  He truly IS.

No coincidence in all this was the hermit's reading of the first homily of Pseudo-Macarius, and the deep repentance of spiritual back-sliding and being waylaid easily by the temporal dragnet of temporal issues, upsets, misunderstandings and miscommunications--feelings hurt, hurting feelings, never intending either.  Macarius reminds that our souls are like the chariots in Ezekiel...and God is the Charioteer.  He moves us and guides us, if we are willing and not resisting.  He moves us spiritually, mystically, and in ways temporally.  He holds the reins.  He is the light and eyes and wings and burning fire.  God IS: the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

The prayer here, in this nothing consecrated Catholic hermit's present-moment phase, is that God guide this chariot-soul, unimpeded.  The hermit echoes Jesus' words when He was in a certain human phase:  Father, Thy will, not mine, be done.  And another prayer of perfect, loving obeisance that He echoes in the Letter to the Hebrews:  Here I am, Lord, I have come to do Thy will.

Our bodies, minds, hearts, and spirits have and go through phases.  These phases are not only present in Catholic hermits.  They are going on in all our present moments, in an order that His Real Presence steers once we stop trying to interfere with the Charioteer's Hands on the reins, or His need to use the axle grease now and then, to spur us on, or the brakes to stop us temporarily.

Sometimes we are in a sphere and space and time in which our phase synapses with another or many souls' phase.  Sometimes not at all even though we might contrive our phase with theirs, or try.  It never really works to force our wills upon the phases God chooses for us, or to contrive others' phases, either, by our own machinations, even if done with the best of intentions.

No, we must allow God to drive our soul-chariot with the power and might, the perfection of knowledge, and eternal "Cause" that He Is to all His Created in His Creation.

God bless His Real Presence in us, or us in Him.  Remain in His Love.  Remain His chariot to guide as He wills.  Let us love one another as children chariot souls, each guided by God through the phases of the life as and when God chooses for each of us--loving Him and loving each other.

Death Experience, cont.

This is very difficult to put into writing--not the actual death experience which was beautiful and a peak experience in all of life and ever--but the memories of all that occurred leading up to it and following.  Such hardships and trials!  Yet God shone through, always, for me, with consolations and letting me know intimately His Real Presence.

The day of the surgery, I was being prepped.  The surgeon told me that he had to change the type of rods he would install--7" long, two side-by-side.  He said given my height he had planned a larger rod, but now that he saw that I had small bones and was quite thin, he was changing the type of metal and to Zilke Instrumentation.

Then he told me I would feel as if I had been kicked in the back a good one, by a horse, after surgery.  He thought I'd be hospitalized 5-8 days, and then he gave me the statistics of post-surgery success.  He said 25% would not have any pain again after surgery.  The next 65% tend to have some slight residual pain now and then but nothing that limits them from normal activity. 

He said unfortunately 10% tend to have pain after surgery that seems unable to be corrected.  Of course, he said with my age (36 then), healthy lifestyle, and attitude being quite positive, he had no reason to believe I would not be in that top 25%.  I felt so, also, for I always looked to the good and strive for high achievement.  I had my children to rear and much hope for the future.

So, I mentally readied myself for surgery while drinking a couple of gallons of a horrible liquid to empty my system.  I missed my children but knew they were having a wonderful time with my parents at their lake house.  I had brought to the hospital a tape machine and blank tapes to talk to them and send.  Later I would realize the children were not understanding what I was undergoing.  The surgeon had instructed the nursing staff to post a sign on the room door for all visitors to check in at the desk first, as he had asked if there was anyone who I'd not want to come.

My ex-husband had continuously harassed and threatened even though he had not wanted to remain married and had been with several women throughout our marriage and following.  I was careful to not let the children know the name of the hospital, but the eldest knew the city, perhaps overhearing my parents commenting.

About an hour prior to surgery, the phone in the room rang.  I had been bed-ridden from the pain and sedated on morphine since being in the hospital, but I picked up the phone.  I heard my ex-husband's voice, and I froze.  He told me I'd better make sure I flew the children back and had them delivered to his apartment for their visitation, as he refused to change the weeks.  He then told me he hoped I died.

Then he hung up.

A friend came to the hospital and waited through the seven-and-a-half hour surgery.  She received word that I was in recovery, called my parents to tell them I made it through all right, and returned to her home with her husband.

Next I will write about the events in recovery, but not right now.  There is so much more that transpired, and it is so clear and coming forth--things that would not mean much to a reader, but that my soul needs to process.  As I mentioned above, I've never written this out.  And I'm leaving out some that is also painful but unnecessary.