Am yet this morning marveling at the love of God for us His people. Despite my flaws (am weak-willed, I think, plus weary with suffering and find it quite lovely, the gift of sleep and unconsciousness), the Lord yet favors me with His loving kindness, His ever-present help in temporal and spiritual matters, such as answering my prayer for help needed last Monday.
I sense the man whom God sent to help me with provisions, was having a hard time not judging me as being quite a disappointing hermit. In in a first phone call, prior to meeting him, he had said I did not sound at all like a hermit. He said something to the effect that he could tell I was not a "real hermit" by talking on the phone with me. I did find it humorous then, and rather telling of yet again the various notions and opinions we human beings formulate as to what is or is not, a hermit, specifically a Catholic hermit.
So a couple days later, after he'd met me the day prior and was unloading the provisions he'd so kindly shopped for and brought to my hermitage, I commented that it made me have humorous reaction, his saying I did not "sound like a hermit" when we first spoke on the phone, for how is a hermit to "sound"? While he did not answer, I told him that probably the only aspect of me that seemed hermit-like might be my somewhat unruly and uncut hair.
I am reminded in this and other comments, that truly, we people are inclined to look to the externals. My being hermitage-bound might seem more hermit-like to some, but it is impractical to not leave our hermitages in these our times; and I personally believe that it is uncharitable for a contemporary hermit to expect others to go and do for us, such as run errands, unless we are physically incapacitated, such as is my current status.
If a hermit can afford to pay just wages and hire someone to interface for them in purchasing necessities and doing whatever other temporal tasks, that seems fair enough. For me, the only reason to have another do the errands or help in other aspects temporal, would be due to my physically being unable to do for myself. If my physical incapacity becomes permanent, then I must alter aspects of my external needs of maintenance and upkeep.
Even if I could afford paying for increased and regular help, I do not want to deal with interacting as would be necessary as a hermit-employer of an employee. Some day I may have to be in a living situation with others around; however, my preference will be to live in a condo or rent some small habitat in a retirement-type complex. While I love being hidden amidst a variety of age levels in a quiet neighborhood, eventually a retirement-type complex for renting will provide more a quiet setting with less coming and going and commotion.
The Lord long before I knew I'd even have the first back surgeries in 1987, forewarned with a corporeal vision and locution that I'd need to learn to hibernate "like a bear, for protection from the world." Silence of solitude has not only been a needed aspect for the eremitic vocation, but it is requisite for my pain management. That is why, as long as is feasible for me to cope, having my own hermitage in a quiet, safe area, is preferable to renting an apartment with inevitable noise through the walls and above or below.
I also must factor the medications I must be on, and my physical vulnerability. I already had a situation several years ago of theft of my medications; thankfully it was prior to the extremes of the current crisis, so the deputy who I called to report the theft, simply wrote a note for me to take to the pharmacist to replace the medications that had been stolen. That trust and leniency is not feasible in these times.
Back to the brief conversation with the generous, kindly man God sent to help, I mentioned to him that in not sounding or perhaps not seeming to be what people might envision of a hermit, hermits are not recluses. The man said he is a recluse other than his daily volunteer work which is phenomenally admirable! I am so impressed with his retiring at age 55 and devoting his life to volunteering. He and his wife parted ways when she wanted to move yet again, and perhaps there are other reasons.
The man whom God sent added that he does not have a computer and loves books. He lives on his retirement pension, and has his own experiences from having tried volunteering amidst the other volunteers, such as those at the parish food bank. He was turned off by their neediness to be important, to have power of position, to be disappointingly difficult to interact with due to their want of prestige.
I said, "Oh, you are talking about the who-who's! They are in every parish--those people who power-grab and want to be exalted above others, especially when it comes to wanting to be noticed and approved of by priests or even beyond, by the diocese and the bishop." I pointed out that this happens in about any grouping or organization, and I've had my own disappointing dealings with such, as well. Yes, best to avoid involvement with such if possible, and it always is possible if one is willing to serve in more removed or humble capacity.
That is why the man prefers to do the more solitary yet quite necessary task of driving his truck (or in large loads for the non-church-specific, central food bank, he drives their box truck) to pick up the donated food items from various grocery stores in the area and delivers the pallets of goods to the various food banks. He can avoid the pettiness of the people needing to be top dogs of glory, so to speak. But the temptation to be noticed, to be important, is quite a tricky temptation and can strike even among religious brothers and sisters, even--odd as it may seem--can be found in such as a hermit deceived, wanting to be an authority with special standing, special approval.
The helper whom God sent nodded with a sense of sadness; and I agreed, yes, it is unfortunate, but this is nothing new wherever we people gather even to do good works. I mentioned I could tell him about the soup kitchen, of years past, but it is a long story, and it only took two Catholic school kitchen ladies, stirred by the devil, to do much damage. But the Lord overtook the situation, and the soup kitchen volunteers have continued all these years. However, the structure of the soup kitchen was developed in a way to avoid any one person or group to hold power over the others.
Upon leaving, the one whom God sent to help me, told me to feel free to call if I ever need to talk with someone, or if I need anything else picked up. In other words, he is willing to be a support network for this hermit, from time to time as and as needed. He also commented that since he is more a peripheral volunteer--driving a truck, loading and unloading, he does not have other than passing contact, of brief conversation.
Actually, that is how my hermit interactions are, other than if a rare phone call from a spiritual friend. I had one such phone call maybe ten days ago. Difficult to remember. Regardless, the helpful man got me pondering the differences between a consecrated Catholic hermit and lay person who lives alone and somewhat austerely, who is in the active life of good works and maintains few interpersonal relationships.
Some comments he made and facial gestures, let me know, as mentioned above, he might be having difficulty not judging my hermit life in some externals. I'd had on my shopping list a couple of items that are treats--sounded good to me, actually, as what we'd call "comfort food." Sweets like chocolate chips or a box of on-sale candy bars seemed to him odd. I admitted they are sugary and a splurge, and not the healthiest way to try to boost my brain's endorphins. But sugar does give an endorphin boost, and I was willing to spend some money for the temporary boosts.
However, the man instead brought some candy bars--loads of them, in fact--that one of the food banks did not want for whatever reason. I can only assume it is due to the use-by date being now; they are a bit stale; plus the man mentioned something about their boxes being torn open. But I realized once I treated to half of one, that I've been without for so long that I don't really have an actual desire. I'm thankful that he did not purchase any.
But he must have noticed my bulk box of coffee pods, as he asked if I drink much coffee. Yes, I drink a cup in the morning and then try to get as much more out of one pod as possible so have a second watery cup of coffee. The coffee with its caffeine helps tone down the constant headache, although it is not the greatest for bone density, some say.
I found myself explaining that I have a Keurig coffee maker--simple model--as a gift from someone who sent a housewarming check. Actually, it was a boon, for I had no idea of the extent of back surgery and recovery that was coming, and I do not have to stand long or do much to get a cup of coffee first thing in the morning, nor do I have to stand or do extra to clean out a coffee pot.
His commenting he does not have a computer and only reads, is commendable indeed. I do have a computer--my window to the world--and it is rather a helpful distraction with pain, plus allows for my writing, for better or worse. His pointing out he is a recluse, was in response to my mentioning that hermits are not "recluses". I assume he surely noticed the bottles of ale in my pantry, as well as he picked up and turned over some autumnal-colored pottery bowls and salad plates on my counter. What I need in pans and dishware is on the counter as my pre-operation instructions were to have all that I might need, set out at waist height since I'd not be able to bend or reach down and into cupboards. Propitious advice, it was!
Regardless the glances, the comments, the periods of silence in which he was mulling over my situation and mentioning some of his life style, I'm thankful. It is good for me to be reminded just how much externals say about us, and how much they can be important to some people, and that seeing the externals is what most people do. And, judging based upon observing externals, also, is what many people do. I have done so, myself!
I've asked forgiveness as well as felt remorse and know am doing penance, for having noted and complained about situations in which externals stuck out like painful, bulbous, hammer-head, sore thumbs. In blogs past I have complained about various people and situations. I'm thankful that I did not try to mask over my doing so, for being honest and genuine even in my many flaws, is part of my spiritual progression; it substantiates my on-going mea culpa.
So I take what others observe in me and mull it over. As for the externals of my hermit life, currently, I know I've had my times of being quite austere--complete with the pride that can go along with such external austerity. All that ended up rather pointless other than the excellent experience of having done it, of knowing that I could give away my possessions and wear a gray outfit day in and out, like a habit, or wear the habit of the hermit community for a few months--sticking out like a sore thumb, myself, hiding the reality of my imperfect interior by making it seem otherwise by external garb that tricks people and the one wearing such, into thinking one is actual, real, living the life because the externals make it seem so.
Now, what is of crucial matter, is my interior life. And of that, if the man whom God sent to help me, could see into the interior, might likewise be disappointed or at least might also question it. I myself question my interior life, my spiritual progression. I've found it best to question for then I am in a position of waiting and listening for God's answers. I seek His review and input while all the same praising Him and being ever thankful that once more, here is a new morning, a new day in which to live and breathe whatever He wills of me, and of whatever I can think, feel, do and be of what He wills.
I am delighted in the helper God sent, in all aspects of the encounter, especially in how he viewed my externals. For it reminds me that the externals mean very little, in fact, other than what the mind, heart, and soul are concerned with, which is very little, in fact, also. My interior is the main concern, now. How I appear to God, before God, what is real and honest within me, is what matters this morning.
The pain excoriates body, mind, heart, and soul.
I must rise and get the second cup of coffee, the watery one, and the other half of the splurge of blueberry muffin, then make myself take a walk outside, see if the neighbor children are willing to dig a few holes and get some of the tiny shrubs and plants in the ground, or if not, maybe consider asking the man whom God sent for the food errand--see if he might help. Or not, for my other idea has been to drag or dolly them into the garage in an attempted over-wintering.
Yes, the man noticed them and said what money will be wasted if they do not live. That is true. But after the additional stripping the pain and extensiveness of this surgery has provided, the externals of the bit of money that could be lost, somehow does not upset me as it would have not long ago. I'm doing my best in frugality, for my existence is one of increasing limitation and denunciation. I'd not have started the landscaping had I known just how severe my spine or what lay ahead.
Yet I do not regret at all the joyous delight of roaming that landscape nursery, and of what beauty is here now, and of how sweetly the two neighbor children watered and so appreciated the money they earned, and how much I appreciated their bits of conversation, telling me of their lives, and of the little tot who'd come along with them sometimes, wanting to help change the ice in the ice pump and finding great intrigue in the pincher-grabber tool.
God bless the hermit helper--the man whom He sent this week. God bless the hermit helpers of the neighbor children who know not my vocation; God bless the elderly man down the street who said he will come and blow out the sprinklers for winter; I will pay him, of course. I paid the man whom God sent for the much-needed food errand this week, also, even though at first he did not want to take the check. Thank God he did, for justice is due in word and deed for such kindness. I pointed out if he does not want it, he can pass it on to someone in need or to the food bank.
I am not in dire circumstance now, financially; although I must be very careful because I have not enough to be hiring much help nor to pay for a nursing home. But for the external subsistence, I have all the dishware and clothing and whatever else of externals.
Just this morning on her 15th birthday into eternity, I thanked my mother yet again, for the lovely set of flatware of which just one each of fork, knife and spoon would suffice--but I have a set of 12-each; and someday all will go to a family member, or to a thrift shop for someone to procure at a pittance of what my mother paid. I love the practicality and longevity of lovely, functional art! I praise God, as well, for the splurge of the blueberry muffins!
Yes, God bless His Real Presence in each and all of us!
