Catholic Hermit: Revisiting Holy Week Five Years Ago

And it is not what one might think.  It is not a deep and thoughtful writing of spiritual matters.  Rather, my revisiting is done through being in similar situation this Holy Week as I was five years ago when I had loaded, with help of teens to dig up trees and load truck with them and garage and garden items.  Then I drove over 2300 miles in a 32' truck.  Had never driven a truck before.

I came to this place, arriving at 3 p.m. on Good Friday.  It was fortuitous of the crucifixion in hard living conditions and the Lord stripping me down in various ways, over these past five years.  Not long after I arrived, I got word that my Agnus Dei Hermitage from whence I'd come, had sold.

This week this nothing consecrated Catholic hermit has been hard at work within the Te Deum Hermitage, trying to make progress in finishing what had ended up being a total gutting of the dwelling and five years of reconstructing from the studs.

Today, Holy Thursday, I was awake at 3 a.m. and rested, but by 5:30 a.m. was up and loading some lumber to return to lumber yard, traveling into civilization to arrive there at 7 a.m.  Got the return and selected four 1x4 boards for additional window and door trim, got a cubic yard and a half of black bark mulch in the truck at a facility for such, dashed into Lowe's to get four lath trim boards, and was back at the hermitage by 10 a.m.

And right in front of me were the two teens in their car, come to work a long day.

We dug and moved trees and buried scrap 4x4's and other landscape type boards, to create an edging for some areas of the yard in which the grass is hard to keep from the specimen tree and perennial beds.  Tomorrow I will continue on with my angel and the Lord, weeding and moving a few smaller trees.  (For the past two years I have sold yet more trees as they grew unexpectedly well and thus outgrew their places.)

The Holy Week five years ago and the Holy Week now, are not at all as ever before nor interim--and I hope not after this.  Yet, it has been quite instructive and spiritually deep in a profound way, to be spending Holy Week in a fashion reminding me of five years ago and the pilgrimage, of sorts, from one place to another in which this hermit lives, prays, and ponders and praises the Lord!

Tomorrow I will see what occurs while I weed and move a few more smaller trees, and whatever else transpires.  Of course, I should not even plan for tomorrow in a way, as living in the Order of the Present Moment most often results in any such plans even a day in advance are often disrupted.  I can wake up in too much pain to rise, or the weather can shift and rains alter the yard work plan.  Or I could pass on in the night, or have an unexpected guest as happened on Wednesday.

Rather than a week of quiet reflection in rest mode, this Holy Week has been one of much manual labor with the necessity to take advantage of decent weather to get the yard work under a semblance of control.  Putting off means far longer effort needed as spring is for growth whether trees needing pruning or weeds needing pulling.

Yet amidst the manual labor, somehow there is a great spiritual benefit of what is an atypical Holy Week for this hermit.  After an arduous Lent, filled with goodness in God's guidance and individualized lessons learned in ways that help my soul, the excitement of Easter resurrection builds along with the joy of knowing that my salvation is won through my Beloved Lord Jesus' painful and unjust-in-the-temporal--suffering and death on the Cross.

For me, since early childhood, I had a penchant for Good Friday and especially between the hours of noon and 3 p.m.

God bless His Real Presence in us!

Christ Is Risen! And He Lifts Us with Him!

This nothing consecrated Catholic hermit does not want to leave off with any self-motives or impressions that this Holy Week or this most glorious day of Easter is anything less than monumentally invaluable or lacking in serious propensity.

Today is one of true rejoicing.  Jesus has risen from the dead, is free from the earthly persecutions to his Word made Flesh, God made Man, physical time span on earth. He has salvaged our souls from the ongoing sins we commit even when we do not want to sin even in the slightest of offenses.

Jesus restores our hope in heaven and the reality that death is not the end but the beginning of eternal life and union with God.

There is something peaceful and joyful going on within this hermit, though.  And it has to do with realizing how content and delighted is my soul.  In a deep and profound way, I sense Jesus here with me and me with Jesus--right here, in this hermitage, day and night, moment by moment.  My moniker as the Joyful Hermit, previously a bit tongue in cheek at times, is now more hitting the mark.

Praise be to God!  And the circumstances are not what I'd have expected, for in some observational modes one might think that a hermit ought be more austere, more serious, more intense, more studious, more penitential, more whatever else.  I used to be, for sure.  Perhaps it was what I thought I should be or a necessary phase, a rite of passage, maybe?

Yet now, amidst even more serious intensity of the world about and the dire and serious prayer requests coming in daily, there is a calm assurance and balancing of the harsh realities of human suffering and strife.  There is a balancing with and from the peaceful and joyous faith in Christ that His Word is Truth, Beauty, Goodness, that He is Light and Salvation, the Way, the Life.

I rather suspect I am going to enjoy the upcoming readings from the Acts of the Apostles and from John, more than ever imagined in my life to date.

As St. Julian of Norwich discovered in her aha moments of personal spiritual revelation from God:  All shall be well and all is well.

On this most Blessed Easter, this hermit prayerfully and rejoicingly wishes all readers and their families and friends a most glorious day in the Lord, in the Body of Christ, in life and in resurrection.
May Divine Union be yours, and eternity in heaven the ever-hoped-for reward!

God bless His Real Presence in us!

____________________________

Ah, a side note.  The little cell phone just rang its harp music ring tone.  My cousin far away with her husband and adult children and a granddaughter there were singing in the background a hale and hearty "Happy Birthday"song.

"Is it your birthday today?" my cousin asked when the happy choristers had concluded.

"No, but perhaps I will not live to my birthday so it is a good thing to be sung to in the present moment.  After all, we do not know the day or the hour," I quipped.  We had some chuckles, and rang off with my love to all assembled there celebrating Easter.

Now I will rise and celebrate by being up high on a ladder, continuing the mudding of a 17' drywall-wrapped beam.  It evokes the aspect of rising, of resurrection, and then a teen is coming this afternoon--on Easter!  He is coming to this tomb of a hermitage to assist for a few hours as a kind of service gift.  My daughter's friend responded to her plea for any teens wanting to help, and this young Presbyterian man is the friend's son.

Of course, he will be given renumeration for his kindly help in lifting up an old hermit with help in lifting cabinets and countertops off the truck and into pole barn.
I was quite surprised he would choose Easter Sunday afternoon to come, but then again, Jesus arranges circumstances in ways we'd not expect--just as the odd turn of confession on Holy Thursday with the priest needing more to divulge and share than the penitent.

Catholic Hermit (and All of Us) Await Resurrection!

Holy Saturday!  Tomorrow is Easter Resurrection!  I'm reminding as many spiritual friends who contact this nothing consecrated Catholic hermit, no matter their message, that we will find great joy and relief tomorrow--after what has been a typically grueling, glorious Lent!

A young woman has worked her way through undergraduate college and then for several years slowly plugging her way through a Master's Degree in Psychological Counseling.  This semester she has but one class, but, oh--what a class!  There is a clash with the professor of some sort.  He speaks in erudite tones, and she is finding him difficult to understand.  The concepts he presents get lost in the frozen zone of her mind that clutches when the professor opens his mouth.

Yes, it is a psychological type of block, but nonetheless, she must pass this course for she only has enough money to pay for the three remaining.  I think she's been working toward this degree for four or more years now.  It is not easy when having to work odd jobs, part-time, live with an uncle in a spare room, upkeep an old car to get to work and the university.  But she is doing it!  She will, despite recent diagnosis of sleep apnea, as well.  Lent!

But Easter Resurrection is to come, and the thought of Jesus rising from the temporal toils and tares, the persecutions and all else that He endured--all for our salvation, for His Father-bestowed mission--it all raises our hopes, for sure!  Jubilation is around the temporal-time corner!  

I confessed sacramentally on Holy Thursday morning. It was the most odd and peculiar confession situation ever in my nearly 22 years of being a Catholic.  I won't go into it, but I'm thankful for the ability to listen and encourage another who needed to and wanted to discuss his group therapy and process toward better health.  It was fascinating even if strange since I'd not been to the parish for nearly seven months. Yet, the Lord places us where He wills and as often as not--not for the reasons or purposes we thought or planned.

I have an entirely new segment of people with weight and other problems to pray for and have great empathy and respect for the crosses they bear--no matter the reasons that landed them in rather extreme circumstances.

I know about landing in extreme circumstances, myself.  Landed next door to a mentally ill woman and her dysfunctional husband and adult sons.  Had to get out when my protective order was coming to an end; and then ended up here--in this fixer upper!

Good Friday was truly good this year.  There were three particular prayer concerns on my mind.  Each involve life or death situations.  The one has to do with potentially a new life being formed in a womb; the other has to do with a single mother diagnosed with cancer and facing surgery, chemo, and radiation.  The third deals with an older woman whose esophagus is riddled with ulcers and whose remaining sighted eye is clouded by a cataract; eye surgery is risky on this one eye remaining with any vision possible.

I could not focus much on the Crucifixion of Jesus yesterday.  This year it has all been so vivid, so real, so intense.  I suppose I should be ashamed that I had to explain to His Real Presence that it was just too much to bear--my mind and emotions could not take it all in this time.  Sorry!  And perhaps with that, somehow I recognized all the more the details and depths to which Jesus lived and died--the betrayal, the rejection, the ridicule, the shame, the cruelty and abuse--and then to calmly resign Himself to the Will of the Father after a night of intense prayer and bloody tears prior to His crucifixion.

I worked on caulking around the ceiling line between trim and walls; I painted a first color coat on a room I'd been mudding and sanding--preparing for smooth and sleek, clean and fresh.  The color is a combination of two paints; I like to experiment as well as use up what I have.  The final result is that of the Body of Christ color--a Host, His Sacred Flesh.

Then I took some time out to watch a humorous but theme-laden YouTube video!  Of all things!  I recalled the years of sorrowful mourning, of watching the Passion of Christ film and in ensuing years the DVD.  Or of spending the night in a chapel in prayer, or other devotions and sacrifices.  But this year, the mourning and sorrows are already here, traipsing alongside Jesus with His Cross and then Simon of Cyrene when he assists Christ with the load.

Yes, I had to balance the intensity of Good Friday with distraction of the temporal lives of human beings, portrayed in film, revealing their broken hearts yet ability to overcome with love, and to then help others.  The film was British and dealt with a woman whose husband had bullied her.  He passed suddenly, and she was freed from abuse.  Yet her son took advantage of her financially and committed her to a nursing home of which she was too young and vibrant to belong.  While there, she helped the others break free, for they were being mistreated, over-medicated, and drained of their finances.

Such a theme was brightened by comedic situations mixed with genuine, thoughtful love.

Well, it was quite a different Good Friday than I've spent in decades.  I was reminded of childhood and of the anticipated joy yet the noon hour slowly moving toward the hour of Jesus' death.  I loved it when we'd have a thunderstorm around 3 p.m.; seemed to be a sign and gift from God to remember the day centuries before when Jesus took our awful sins upon Himself, died, was buried, descended into hell an then rose on the third day--resurrected and alive!

Yesterday it was like that again, the same sense of anticipation, the getting through those three hours by not becoming morosely intense or putting on more sorrow than what is naturally and genuinely given by God--not more than we can bear.  And there was the joy and relief later in the day, and the reality of human beings overcoming hardships and mistreatment, abuse, persecution, through love and the courage God gives us to try to make a difference, to serve others, to right what wrongs we can.  And all in love--the love of God, the mercy and compassion of Christ, the spiritual flame of love of the Holy Spirit.

Today is one of reflecting a bit, then waiting, and in temporal time, receiving a Triduum gift!  It is serendipitous!  Someone had posted lovely, solid cherry upper cabinets and gray Corian countertops--free!  Somehow, I happened to be the first to respond, which surprised me, as people lined up online behind if I did not follow through.  Precious Blood (my used truck) and I drove to the place where a young couple was renovating their lovely home, and they kindly loaded my truck with also some base cabinets they happened to have that match.

I have marvelous plans for these cabinets.  Not in the hermitage, but in the pole barn, as I want to frame in two windows I have from the hermitage renovation--repurpose the windows and make the pole barn a studio.  Yes, someone will so enjoy the property.  

All is coming into place beautifully, although working on a 17' beam is providing quite the challenge where one side is wrapped with drywall and that goes across the base of beam and transitions to wood ceilings.  The beam or the ceiling--whichever--do not butt up evenly in a couple places.  I've been chiseling and beveling drywall, for pity's sake.  I'll see what happens with mudding.

A couple more rather serious prayer intentions came via text message.  I'm aware, even when doing a section of grass mowing, that this dwelling and property are woven thickly, through and through, with prayers!  Hours and days and weeks of prayers and sufferings are in the construction, from the framework to the final coats of paint, outside and inside.  

Prayers are in the gardens and grass; prayers are in the pole barn--up on the roof where a year ago I fell and slid--but not off, thanks be to God!  Prayers are in the crawlspace insulation and plumbed pipes; prayers are in the attic spaces and wall spaces and roofing and mulching and every nail and screw driven.

Well, this is how it is, and should be, for a hermit in a hermitage.  Yet, besides the most strange confession--not at all expecting how it transpired yet am chuckling about it and see the point Jesus was making--I wonder at this unusual Triduum.  I'm thankfully able to let it flow without forcing or trying to live up to any expectations of how I ought to do or be or feel or think.

Somehow it is one of the most meaningful Triduum's yet.  I did look up how to pronounce Triduum, and yes, I've been saying it incorrectly for years.  Tri'-jewem was what it sounds like, with the "i" being soft.. I'd been mentally pronouncing: Tri-dew-um with the "i" being long.  Always fun to learn something new or find correction and be delighted.

I wonder if purgatory is kind of like an on-going Lent?  Mercy, I hope not in a human way, but there is nothing quite like Lent to teach us what God wants us to learn.  Not easy, not meant to be, yet always excellent and better than we could ever figure out for ourselves what our souls need to learn most or in what ways best to learn it.

Easter Resurrection--within hours!

God bless His Real Presence in us!  So grateful, always!

Catholic Hermit: Toiling's Reward

Saturday last brought yet another trip to civilization to a walk-in clinic since I'd not had success getting an appointment during the week.  The large medical conglomerates leave much to be desired in efficiency and just pricing.  However, at least this time I was put on steroids to try to get the sinus and lung crud cleared more, and a lung x-ray showed no pneumonia.

Into week six of nearly the bulk of Lent this year, and still not well physically.  However, the Lord has allowed enough improvement after two antibiotics and the steroids so that I get a bit of manual labor accomplished each day--mostly drywall mudding and a bit of painting.  Even the wet drywall mud seems to aggravate the sinuses and lungs, so this nothing consecrated Catholic hermit wears a protective mask more often than not when working.  And, I should probably try wearing a mask in the hermitage as someone suggested the situation may have become a chronic reaction to environment.

Regardless, I remind myself it is yet LENT!  Holy Week increases in intensity toward Good Friday's crucifixion of Jesus Christ.  Then there is darkness and waiting for the Easter morning Resurrection surprise!  I confide that this week, reading the Gospels of daily Mass have been most difficult to endure.  I've never had this problem in years prior or during other liturgical seasons in which these readings present themselves.

But this year, this Lent, somehow I cannot bear reading through word-for-word, slowly, and cannot seem to take them all in.  The reality of what Jesus endured, this year, hits me in ways I cannot describe other than, perhaps, grievously.  Yes, I think of the promise of Christ and His sacrifice that secures our salvation.  I consider St. Augustine's apt appraisal:  "O, happy fault"--the Crucifixion and the resurrection, from bitter to sweet, from our sins to His glory and our salvation as a result.

I skim and scan the Gospels this week.  I return to them off and on in the day, or I think of them in generalized cognition.  By later in life, if we've lived and learned through years of Lents and otherwise read Scriptures throughout the years, these Gospels begin to live within us in familiarity.  Yet they do not become comfortable; they are not meant to be like cozy slippers or a soft comforter.

We continue to learn, react, and grow in faith, hope and love, in following Jesus all the more and increasingly so the more painful to ponder His journey in life and through His death.  Then on Easter begins the transformational fathoming of His Resurrection and all that follows--our Christian beings delving deeper and following the more dearly, over time that God creates for us.

Well, I've been trying to continue with the manual labor.  Most of the time I can distract myself and be in meditative mode with dry-wall mudding or wall painting, and the mind and heart and even bodily pain can float far away from the temporal while working.  

When in increased physical pain, such as this morning, I face the temptation to be a bit discouraged as one could easily open the eyes to temporal reality and see all that remains to be accomplished.  The sinus and lung crud make the efforts loom the larger and more difficult.  Yet, the grace to not lean into discouragement flows immediately, and the mind is told to focus on a tray of drywall mud and let the rest unfold from there.

Various thoughts come when one engages in manual labor, or I suppose any type of labor or activity which we are in various ways required to attempt. It could be due to a job responsibility in order to provide for one's family, or such as with a hermit, to balance the daily life with productive physical work for a bit of income or upkeep of the hermitage, or in working while praying as yet another modality of living and communing with God in the silence of solitude and in praise of His Real Presence.

The following excerpt from Isaiah--I believe was yesterday's first reading of Mass--hit home my heart.  How many times have I thought the very thought, that I had toiled in vain or am doing so with this hermitage effort, tangible, and for what good or gain of my soul or the souls of others?  Have I spent my health and strength uselessly, perhaps ruining my health, hastening death (which can be a benefit, to be sure, for life can become long and hard; and heaven is a promised joy)?

But the Lord told Isaiah how it is, and that we toil not in vain when all is for God.  All is with God.  He is our All, our Love, our Alpha and Omega.

"Though I thought I had toiled in vain,
and for nothing, uselessly, spent my strength,
Yet my reward is with the LORD,
my recompense is with my God."

I finally did hear back regarding my phone call and request with the parish priest for an appointment for confession.  I also have entertained the thought of attempting to return to Mass--now when my sinus and lung ailment is more improved, of course.  Yet I will have my soul "shriven" in the sacrament of reconciliation on Holy Thursday morning.

Somehow, in the past couple of weeks, my vocation of suffering has been brought once again to the fore in reminders.  A letter from my spiritual father spelled out the reminder in his no-nonsense manner.  A dream also reminded me that my work in and for the Lord in regards to suffering is in reparation for and with Holy Mother Church.

Then, too, I have been reminded in mind and heart and from the soul, of the mystical marriage five years ago and that Jesus showed me parishioners and priests.  He clearly stated that they would criticize and judge me, but I was to pay no attention to them!

Yet, I had. I had paid attention and let the negativity and persecution, the shunning and gossip, get to me.  Truly, if I am to put faith into the Lord and to what is shown me in inner sight, spoken to me, as well, then I must try to do as He said.  It is all a process, of course--our learning to trust and to discern, and to put ourselves to the test of courage and faith, to trust the unseen and intangible.  

So I will take the next step and try.  The worst that can happen is that I lack the stamina yet, or the selflessness, or the ability to pay no attention.  Then, of course, there will be another time to try again, either in this world or the next.  It is all progression--life, death, resurrection--a metamorphosis in winging our way with Christ to union with Him for all eternity.