The spiritual father (or spiritual director; I interchange the terms, but mine is a "father" as in holy priest, someday a saint) called unexpectedly! These calls are quite rare as he does not have ready access to a telephone. He is unable to write much, either.
The call came through mid-brushstroke. Am putting the final finish coat of Simply White on the window apron-sill with reveal and wrap boards. (I have yet to measure and cut the window casing boards. Dave at the lumberyard is teaching me the proper terms which is helpful when communicating or receiving carpentry instructions!)
The spiritual father said my last letter seemed as if I was very low because the test results came back that I do not have cancer. I was able to tell him that yes, I was depressed over the news. He understood, especially the more I explained the lovely hopes and thoughts as well as reminded him of the essences of the death experience nearly 29 years ago this month.
One delightful aspect of dying, as I was able to share with him, was that I would be on the other side before him, and I could wait there and joyously welcome him. But the main excitement had to do with our work for souls. Since he is a priest forever in the Order of Melchizedek, he could be my priest for eternity, and I could assist him with our work for SOULS!
He exclaimed what a wonderful thought, and that he was sure we would have great times in heaven, and that he, too, desired to be on the other side and was eager for death, as well, even if he did not know what it would be like to die.
We talked on about how it is that the Lord has us yet here, although I could be electrocuted doing some wiring, but not likely. I do turn off the panel box when wiring outlets or light fixtures, the few done thus far as there really is not one single room in this hermitage that is finished. The bathroom is perhaps the closest to that, or was, until the third cabinet order was incorrect, and now we will await a fourth try.
I did ask my spiritual father what type of writing should I do? Did he have anything in mind since he'd written awhile back to "finish the [expletive] house and get to my writing? He did not. He just repeated, keep writing! So for now I will continue on with the blog writing as I'm not convinced my circumstances temporally lend themselves to perhaps more cohesive and thoughtful writing, such as a book.
Yet I will pray about it, and the Lord will show me the way.
We spoke of the verse I noticed from today's Isaiah reading, the one on faith. If we have faith, we will remain firm. So it is in faith that my spiritual father and I accepted that we are yet on this earth, each of us in our suffering, and each of us living in more austere hermit-like environments than we could have anticipated, ever.
I am confined to my cell in this hermitage in the desert exile, and he to two small cells in a rather shabby facility of which privacy is not prevalent. But he manages, and I manage, in faith that is firm and in suffering out our lives in prayer and penance for souls.
Yes, I am certain it will be more fun when we are freed from our earthly prisons, our suffering bodies. He is limited in mobility, and I am limited in pain. Yet, see how marvelous a simple phone call and the communication and joy of two souls understanding one another, although at first he was a bit concerned for most people would find a non-malignant test result to be good news. Quickly he grasped the point, for he, too, looks forward with desire and longing to see God's Face.
Nausea visits this nothing consecrated Catholic hermit's body this afternoon. A hermit is to be hospitable, so I offered my gut some coconut water and a pain med as well as a mattress on the floor. Welcome, friend Pain. Before long, I will rise and lug in the air compressor from front porch, the trim nail gun, and attempt to nail the trim to the ceiling along the edges between drywall and tongue-and-groove board ceiling. Then, God willing and body able, I must paint the ceiling a final time.
It will all be prayer. All of it; and I will include friend Pain in the efforts, since it does not seem to ever want to leave, not even to take a nap or go away on a walk, giving me some rest from hosting. I will think as God thinks, in Love and Mercy.
