Catholic Hermit: Hermits Who Inspire

There aren't many hermits who expose their names and locations online, and there are fewer who write of their journeys.  Now and then I peruse the internet to learn of contemporary hermits, not only of the Roman Catholic vocation but of the Orthodox, as well.  We are one Body in Christ--two lungs as is said.

There is a hermit in the UK of whom I've kept up in the few media reports of her life and her website.  She to me is an inspiration!  A hermit, publicly professed (meaning according tot he provision of CL603), her profession, vows, rule of life approved by her bishop.  I think she is in her 17th year as a consecrated Catholic hermit.

A couple or three years ago she was stricken with some form of cancer; prior to that time she was able to function in bodily health, tending her small hermitage and gardens replete with chickens and a cat or two and I think a dog.  Being able to "sit", she has provided for herself financially through selling her mostly commissioned artworks of calligraphy.  (I so appreciate her artistic bent; In the past, I too loved and practiced calligraphy and watercolor.)

Of her website, I'm impressed by what writing she's shared:  some of her history of becoming a Catholic hermit having been a Carmelite novice before God called her to more solitude and the hermit vocation, as well as her coverage of topics such a rule of life, daily horarium, and her factually accurate, balanced presentation of how one becomes a Catholic hermit in the Church.

Through a series of personal essays written for and published by the Redemptorists, this humble Catholic hermit wrote of the challenges she has faced and is overcoming in the Lord, as a result of her illness and the reality of needing to change hermitage location for medically practical reasons.  From more rural and quiet to city and people all about, this inspirational hermit has found the silence of solitude within her scaled down hermitage, within her inner cell, within her very soul which had been and remains in the Sacred Heart of Jesus.

Her (must be elderly) parents live in the area, so she can charitably check in on them; she is quite close to a hospital, and she has bus line close by for running brief errands as she yet courageously and in great faith, faces her exhausting illness.

From her writing, I am inspired by an essence of her being, that of a lovely mind, heart, and soul quite humble and peaceable, settled in her vocation although quite genuine and honest in describing the trials she has faced, is facing, and is overcoming in ways the Lord knows intimately and surely is most pleased with his devoted hermit.

I've considered trying to be in contact, as she has a couple Facebook sites and a twitter feed.  But I no longer am on Facebook and do not use twitter other than I did look up her last few "tweets."  (She infrequently posts tweets.)  A main stay of her day, of course as is with all us striving hermits, is that of prayer and lectio divina; but her livelihood, her artistic work, is the calligraphy.  She can utilize the artistic rendering of a few words, rich in spiritual worth and soulful meaning to her and to whomever purchases or has commissioned the artwork.

So she and I have this, also, in common--being wordsmiths, of sort.  While I admire her brevity and her beautifully, rendered word-art, her work for the Lord, I have reflected today (in which I've been praying for and thinking of her a great deal) that my work for the Lord is in writing, in being a wordsmith, of writing my thoughts of this spiritual journey as a Catholic hermit, privately professed and avowed, if the mystic of me peaks through the words or content that is also my offering given.

This hermit in the United Kingdom, now in a different diocese and dealing with her health issues and the challenges and changes a transition like that can bring, is a hermit who inspires.  All the more in her health trials, I am in kinship with her over the thousands of miles, across an ocean, in different time zone and type of hermitage locale.  God bless you, hermit Rachel!  I admire you immensely and thank you for your holy hermit example.

This afternoon I watched (on my laptop on Amazon Prime) more of a documentary of Mount Athos.  I'd begun it last night, needing the sound-visual distraction as was having quite a pain struggle and difficulty falling asleep.  Backing up some from where I'd dozed off, I watched more, including an Orthodox hermit priest who lived alone in a hermitage high in elevation.  Yes, I admire him, as well.  He verbalized some of his hermit journey and reason for being there.  

He also expressed truisms and practical considerations as a hermit, and for hermits--such as the reality that a hermit cannot pray and read all the time; a hermit needs some work to do.  He said that hermits need to sustain themselves from work done from their hermitages.  His product by which he maintains a most simple life style is sculpting, carving small religious scenes and figures on squares of wood.

Another point this hermit made is that a hermit must learn to control his or her thoughts.  Depression which could come with so much solitude (and indeed he lived the silence of solitude more than others even on Mt. Athos, such as hermits who lived among one or more others).  His hermit life shifts with the seasons, as the winter months, he said, bring him to more reading and prayer and meditating, preparing for the joy and celebration of Christmas.  At Christmas he leaves his hermitage to visit other hermits, for as he states, "We are to celebrate Christ's birth with others."

This hermit of Mt. Athos upkeeps his hermitage of which he was given to live in upon arrival on the island religious "state". His first year involved rehabilitating the dwelling; but after his first year, the hermit said he "knew I liked it here."  The Orthodox hermit (if I catch his name with further viewing the documentary I'll insert it here) exuded peacefulness and tremendous humility.  He feels humility to be a deeply rooted essential for any hermit--and that true inner peace does not come until we pass from this earth.  Yet the life of a hermit is lived in Christ with the goal of attaining peace as we progress toward death.

I personally have gained much simply by peeking into these two hermits' lives.  They inspire me in my "work" of writing, as a hermit wordsmith chronicling quite a bit, actually, of the spiritual journey and life as a Catholic hermit in a personal, case-study type of way.  Given that the tremendous physical pain that the Lord has allowed me for 35 years has hindered activity, I am blessed that I have been able to up until this point, been able to garden and do manual labor somewhat and between pain sieges. 

My call and living out in the consecrated life of the Church as a hermit is now into it's 20th year--or a bit more with the preparatory year.  My hermit life has not been without many distractions; I cannot say it has been inspirational.  But these two hermits I've observed uplift and encourage to press onward and forward, to continue to let the Lord guide and lead according to His will, what is feasible and holy in both the tangible and the spiritual aspects of yet another of His hermit's life until passing.

God bless His Real Presence in us, and God bless His devoted and striving hermits the world over.

Catholic Hermit: Putting to Practice Lenten Lessons

Although yesterday and today have been filled with marvelous Lenten lessons, wrought from Lenten suffering and the grace of God--I am thrilled with being well enough to drive myself to clinic.  It was not easy, but I made it; and although an hour wait for the appointment, the staff had not even remembered that they'd made the condition of the coveted z-pack that I return for an appointment, asap.

Regardless, the doctor asked why I was there, and I said because I was honoring my commitment in exchange for a zpack as I'd had a sinus infection with strep throat setting in, then vertigo from the sinus pressure, and yet coping with sinus troubles.

It ended up the doctor called in another antibiotic of which I can assess and take if needed.  Doctor agreed I needed one on-hand.  We ended up laughing over the extreme and rather ridiculous ordeal that had occurred while the doctor was not at the clinic.  The doctor did apologize and also told me to make more of an issue of my symptoms next time I have this, for it was recalled my telling of my sore throat and thinking I had a sinus infection coming on--but evidently was not forceful enough.

I will do so in future, of course.  Yet forcefulness must be considered in conjunction of one's doctor's personality.  Last year no amount of expressing in dire expression, that I had a sinus infection and feared it was going into the lungs.  I was told I had to wait a week;  and by then, not only a sinus infection but it did go into the lungs resulting in pneumonia.  Five weeks of suffering, but that should not surprise one in Lent.  Just about took up the entire liturgical season.

A positive that I mentioned when leaving the clinic, which caused the doctor to laugh and appreciate that I could find some good in the awful circumstances now past--was that at least my carpenter's elbow and hand needing surgery, got a rest in all this.

You see, I'm striving to put to practice the lessons I learned from the demon experience.  View matters from various perspectives, do not make assumptions, and be merciful and loving.  Any negative will dissolve with turning all to God's goodness: God Is Love!

Was too tired out to get the second round of antibiotics after the long wait at clinic and the drive, but tomorrow, God willing and body able.  We never know the day or the hour, so I try to remind myself of that reality, as well.  God willing and body able, I often state either aloud or within.

God bless His Real Presence in us!

Catholic Hermit: Nightmarish Illness a Lesson

Yesterday the throat and sinuses worsened, especially the throat. Fever rose although battery on thermometer did not work.  Could tell from severe headache and body aches, and the terrible sore throat--looked like strep although could not stand but a couple minutes to look in mirror: White splotches.

So I tried again with the doctors' clinic, begging to have an Azithromycin (Zpack) called to pharmacy.  They refused.  Said I had to come in.  I explained all over again as I had been for the previous two days, that I am too ill to come in.  It was not my fault that the doctor I saw on Monday morning neglected to write down my asking if I should have an antibiotic for sinus infection coming on nor mention I told her of my sore throat for two days--then.

A nurse was going to try to contact the doctor who only is there two days a month. I had suggested that perhaps the doctor would remember and could tell them, for the clinic folks continued to say that since it was not written in my chart, they could not call in the needed antibiotic.

Round and round we went.  I said would be ridiculous for me to have to take an ambulance just to get a z-pack; but the person at clinic said that would be what I'd have to do unless I'd get someone to bring me.  Again I explained that I cannot manage being up for more than two minutes and then must get back down; I would not make it from my place to the road to get into a car, nor from a car into their office.  I cannot risk falling due to the rods in my back.

The couple from the parish--the man--was willing to pick me up from clinic as I did find out from the Fire and Rescue Dept. that if I'd call 911 and they would dispatch them, they could take me to the doctors' clinic and not charge.  But I'd have to get a way back and get the z-pack from pharmacy.

The clinic said they would fit me into their schedule if I could come in.  The couple was leaving the area for the weekend later in the afternoon.  I called 911, and they put me through to their emergency nurse.  I had to go through the entire tale once more, and it is not easy for others to grasp that with the back issues and high level of pain, and with a sinus infection as well as now strep throat, I could not make it by car.  

The 911 nurse could not grasp and kept insisting I take a taxi; none here although she looked online and gave me a number.  I did not bother to tell her they no longer are in service.  A bus?  I explained again I could not stand up long enough to make it to a bus stop!  She said that I am able to get to the bathroom--yes, but that is 12 feet away from my sleeping bag on floor.  That's a short distance compared to farmhouse door to road.  

Anyway, it ended up that she did tell me Doxycycline would not help the throat but I needed a Zpack. Yes, I knew that, but it helped to have professional support on that fact.

While I was on the line with 911, the nurse from clinic had called.  I returned the call; she had not gotten any response from the doctor I'd seen on Monday. I said that I knew she would not for I had called the doctor's other office in another area, and the doctor was on vacation that day and hence.  I mentioned I had not answered the nurse's call as I was talking with the 911 emergency nurse, as the local Fire and Rescue operator and her supervisor thought I should call 911 to get an ambulance, be assessed and brought to the clinic that way.  Yes, extreme, but what could I do?

I explained again it was not my fault that the doctor had not written down half the reason I was there on Monday morning, and that the doctor had told me to wait a bit before an antibiotic.  So between perhaps the extreme I was going to have to take to get my body there, as I explained yet again I seriously cannot get out to a car, and the man willing to pick me up is older than I am, and I cannot make them responsible for trying to hold me up to get me into a car, nor at this point did I want to expose them to strep as it is very contagious.

So the nurse said she'd try one more thing. 

People were praying--friends in email and text contact.  The couple had left the area by this time but had agreed if I could get that zpack called in, they would try to find someone in the parish to pick it up and bring it to me--drop it off.  With 90 minutes remaining before pharmacy closed in the evening, a nurse practitioner called.  Once more I had to go through the entire saga, and she finally relented and said she'd call in the z-pack only if I'd make an appointment to come in on Monday to be seen.

(Evidently she was accepting that I would be better, that I truly needed that Zpack, perhaps after I'd said what the 911 emergency nurse had said.  We do have to have "authorities" backing us; what do we know, huh?)  While I reminded the NP at the clinic that they are closed on Monday, she then said Tuesday; turns out they don't have openings Tuesday but they said then Wednesday would be all right.  They'd call in the zpack.

By then less than an hour remained to get the needed medication.  Texting back and forth with the parish couple who were going to be out of cell service the next day, and they with a man named John, they said he could pick up the medication and bring it and for me to tell them when it was ready.  I'm not sure why they could not put John in contact with me, other than people are extremely cautious in these parts, and I have learned to be that way, also--but not with those I've known for over a year....

So from that one breakthrough with the clinic who agreed to call in a simple z-pack, all went smoothly.  The pharmacy has even started taking the Part D medication insurance I pay for, so what otherwise would have been an over-priced z-pack was inexpensive.  They got it ready immediately, another text sent to the couple with reminder to tell John to bring a flashlight as is quite dark on the property until one gets to a point of flood lights coming on.  And just before the pharmacy closed, and soon after, I had the z-pack.

Of course, I'm "sicker'n a dog" as my late dad often would say when we kids had something beyond the cold or light flu.  I considered just how chaotic and horrific was the ordeal of trying to get that medication in hand.  There is much I've left out, such as telling the clinic staff that I was documenting all and texting and emailing friends and family so that they'd have the information should something happen to me.  I pointed out that while the clinic kept justifying their not calling in that medication when Wednesday morning they said they would--saying my symptoms were not mentioned in the doctor's notes--that a judge and jury would think otherwise given my documentation.  More than that, of course, GOD KNOWS.

I also mentioned that the Fire and Rescue team were appalled at how the clinic was digging in their heels when I had explained reasonably, even if not typical scenario, that I truly could not physically get into the clinic by car, and that ambulance was not a sure thing although the Fire and Rescue people were so disgusted with the clinic that they assured me they would once 911 sent them the dispatch.

Yet despite all the finagling, God worked it all out in an instant once one Nurse Practitioner agreed to bend the rule, which the Fire and Rescue agreed has not always been the case at that clinic.  Regardless, they will get their money for an appointment as I don't mind going in once I am better and able, which I figure I will be by next Wednesday.

I marvel at the way God allowed this craziness to go on for three days, in which I grew steadily more ill.  And for all the effort I had to put out in just getting some help over something that would have easily been handled had the doctor been more thorough in note-taking.  And true, I was surprised as that doctor seems to be the brains and head-on-straight person in that clinic.

But once the persevering was done, and I and others had prayed and prayed, and I relinquished myself into God's hands and said I would simply have to accept whatever outcome in my health with the strep throat--God broke through the barrier and all else unfolded so easily, beautifully, and even better than I figured given the pharmacy having added my insurance plan.

I have since reflected about Lent, about how we must never give up until we have exhausted all avenues no matter how ridiculous or unnecessary or extreme.  We must relinquish ourselves to God once we've done all humanly possible, and accept whatever fate.  And we must accept the timing of God and the added suffering in the interim, for had I been given that Zpack on Wednesday, I'd not now be so sick.  

Last night I was able to be up under three minutes, long enough to put a cup of rice in a saucepan with a couple cups of boxed chicken stock, turn on stove, and collapse back down on the sleeping bag.  A half hour later I was up under two minutes putting some in a bowl and shoving the pan in the refrigerator, and back down on the floor. Legs are so shaky and am so nauseated, that the effort to get up is taxing.

I had texted the couple, also, to see if they knew of anyone in the parish who perhaps would be willing to drop off some bananas or soup from a store deli, but that was too much to suggest, I realize.  Yes, people are cautious, and I realized that people who are highly scheduled people think in terms of others being likewise, and that others would have their schedules full and would not be able to fit in an added purchase and drop off.

And likewise, those who are not scheduled people probably assume that others are not scheduled, and thus have no set plans and can do and go without much difficulty in arrangements.

And, I also considered that I still have two grapefruit in here, although my stomach not yet up for them, and I have yet this last box of the chicken stock with the rice, and if I can gain enough strength in time to be able to make it as far as pole barn and back, I can get a loaf of grain bread from the freezer and eat that with peanut butter.  And I have some frozen Edamame that can be microwaved, and in the fridge freezer, once my throat can swallow that.

God provides. I will make do with gratitude and trust.  Again what would traditional hermits of yore do in such circumstances?  Well, not lean unto their own understanding, and cast their cares upon the Lord.

So that is what I must do, hope i have done, and plan to do going forward.  And to take to heart today's Gospel reading in which Jesus points out that the healthy do not need a physician, but the sick do.  Jesus is the great Physician, and I am sick of and with sins and sick in body as well.  So He's the One to turn to, in prayer and thanksgiving!  And I will wait with the Lord here until healthier days come.

God did allow the devil to push and push for three days with that clinic staff, but God prevailed in the final hour.  And God's prevailing is really all that matters when all is said and done.

Note:  A quite practical lesson I have learned and will carry forth for my earthly days remaining:  Never leave a doctor's office until assured the doctor has made note in medical records of all symptoms discussed. 

Catholic Hermit: A Disadvantage of Solitude

As a consecrated Catholic hermit--or this could be true of any contemporary hermit--there is one unpleasant effect of solitude.

There is not the usual build up of antibodies for various ailments, mostly viruses.  Since I rarely am around people, when I do encounter people it is easy to catch whatever "bugs" are going around.

I'm now coming down with a cold or more likely a sinus infection, since the sinuses are mostly involved.  I assume they were compromised when the sinuses were affected the other night from the sawdust in the eyes.  I had worn a mask, but the eye irritation caused sinus reaction.  Was blowing the nose all night and day as autonomic reaction of eye pain.

It seems always something; and I am hopeful to not have this become what usually ends up sinuses going into a lung problem, and the lung problem ending up a pneumonia-type illness lasting a month or more.

Perhaps I encountered someone ill when I was driven to the eye specialist two days ago.  This would not come simply from my sinuses being irritated; chills, odd-head sensation, and aches lend more to virus or infection of some sort.

Despite taking various supplements to try to ward off ailments, like all people, we hermits can catch whatever we are exposed to, and perhaps more so depending upon the degree of our solitude and being "hidden from the eyes of men."

One would hope that the Lord would provide a grace of illness-protection to those who are consecrated to a life of prayer.  Such a foolish hope--for suffering is also part of prayer and of offering in loving sacrifice in uniting ourselves to the cross of Jesus Christ.  In fact, as far as my life is concerned, I tend to be graced by more rather than less, when it comes to forms of suffering.

It is all right, although I would love to have a stronger disposition in body to fend off illnesses.  I'd like to think that my construction zone environment has been part of the problem in the long-duration of most ailments I "catch".  However, I consider in years past when in a lovely hermitage, and the illnesses especially involving the lungs, lasted a good while.

Was just more comfortable in cozier place; and I did not have the added work around me that was begging to be completed.  Today, for example, I was hoping to caulk and fill trim in a small room, and then do the final paint coat.  And, had the drywall mud, applied yesterday, dried in earlier, better light, I had aspirations to do another coat.

I've done nothing other than rest, make a chicken broth soup, take a phone call from a long-time friend whose birthday was this past week as we stay in contact a couple or three times a year, and do some research on the advantage of sucking on zinc tablet to shorten the duration of common cold....

I've written some emails, and I've prayed.  

Of course I've prayed.  That is my main privilege and work as a consecrated Catholic hermit!  I have been praying for the person in a long-held cycle of acting and reacting in an abusive marriage.  I had to once again be firm in not responding to specific question of what the person ought do in a given situation.  The good Lord has helped me realize that what I can "do" to help is to encourage the person to build self-esteem and realize that the Lord has given intelligence to start figuring out what to do in any situation of which the person has questions.

I do understand that part of the insecurity is due to fear of the reaction of the spouse, either way.  Yet, if we are to progress in our spiritual lives and in our earthly relationships, we must learn to have courage and faith to make decisions and to know that the Lord will provide the strength we need.  (The situation is not physically abusive or dangerous in that way, so taking the risk at worse will result in more arguing or verbal insults or anger.)

Time to turn to reading St. John of the Cross again, for me.  I saw a photo of the old gardens in my previous hermitage, and I had a pang of sorrow that I'd left, that circumstances were such that I rather needed to leave; but throughout the day I realized I'd have to detach from such beauty and delight and comfort at some point.  And, so I had to detach, and the process of detachment may have little threads still hanging out there like sticky, wafting cobwebs that seem to grab us now and then.  A photo was all it took this time.  The feeling was fleeting.

Here, I have been living out detachment, day by day.  The Lord has had quite a time with my stubborn self; but over the nearly five years here, I've grown increasingly detached.  Had to!  No choice, other than to remain angry or resentful, weeping or frustrated!  Had to get with the Lord's program, and even still, today, realizing I am coming down with something and hindered, I had to detach from my desire to make more progress on that little room....

Praying for the abused children in southern California whose parents tortured, starved, and imprisoned them for years and years.  So I do understand various aspects of what being abused mentally, emotionally, and those who also are physically abused--how they lose self-esteem, confidence, and fear more abuse of any type.  But I am to pray; and in my little case at hand, I am to encourage courage!

God bless His Real Presence in us!

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.

Catholic Hermit Loves Jesus' Look to Heaven

I love the Gospel of John.  Within, yesterday's Mass Gospel including the Lazarus event with Martha and Mary, and Jesus' bringing Lazarus back from death.  

When Jesus looks to the heavens (and I imagine Him lifting His hands up, as well), it reminds me of St. Godric of Finchale who in instances of praise would lift up his hands or objects in them, and thank God for all blessings.  

Yesterday when the couple brought me Communion and read the Gospel message, the image of Jesus looking to the heavens had me later remembering when I was under this old place here in two feet or less of crawlspace, trying to get some odd-angled plumbing pipe configuration to fit.  I had one pipe remaining to connect to another, and I could not get them to come together properly.

So I lifted up one piece enough--few inches as not enough head- or arm-room for more, and I praised God.  "Lord, I know you can easily fit these pipes together, and I praise You and thank You for all You provide for me in all matters temporal and spiritual!"  I made one more attempt with the pipes, and they fit right together, easily.

Gestures with faith, hope, and love surely please God.  And once more, we can look to Jesus to see how to think, speak, act, and "be".  Jesus looks to the heavens and to His Father.  He weeps with compassion for and with others.  He speaks to God the Father in loving, sonly, familiar terms.  He listens to God; He listens to people.  He is amazed and at times even exasperated with the repetition required for such as His disciples to begin to understand something He teaches...and sometimes tells them they will only understand later.

Well, this nothing consecrated Catholic hermit has done something not done in nearly 33 years.  Yesterday morning after taking the Doxycycline twice a day for seven days without much issue, was unable to keep the little antibiotic down.  Was so unused to the signals of upchucking, I barely made it to the bathroom.  Again, this morning, lost another pill.  Am awaiting call back from medical personnel on what to try otherwise.  Nausea is a side-effect, but I lift my head to God in Heaven and thank Him for the seven days of having antibiotic benefit.  Still have four more days, and I do need more help as the sinuses and lungs are not well yet despite massive improvement.

I've been listing some things to sell which is time consuming, and I've sold three items:  dishes, PVC pipe, and a door.  Cutting the prices way down, and still it will take awhile with much more to dispense with.  Praising God that I have a few more months financially, and otherwise if He wills, to keep selling off and also working on finishing the place.

We never know the day nor hour (nor minute) ahead of us, nor when we will befall some major shift in circumstances.  I'd not be surprised if the Lord takes me a bit further here and then yet says, "Now you must give in and give up, walk away temporally stripped."  Friends think surely the Lord will not want me beholden to family members, although a friend has already offered that I could live with her.

Now, that would alter the hermit's solitary life; yet we know that most hermits end up not having total solitude in living conditions as they age or at least in final sickness and passing.  Practical considerations affect hermits as they do anyone.  But a consecrated Catholic hermit, living out what the Church requires of privately and publicly professed alike, remain as hidden from the eyes of men in the silence of solitude, as much as God individually forms of any particular hermit's vocational circumstances.

In other words, above all else, a Catholic hermit ought look to God the Father in Heaven, and of course follow Jesus in all aspects that He looked to His Father in all things--as One in the Father and the Holy Spirit--God made Man, born to Mary, lived, died, and resurrected from the dead, descended into hell and ascended into Heaven where He is with the Father and Holy Spirit in triune oneness.

So, to, must we consider remaining in Christ's love, living and dying to ourselves, seeking always divine union with the Holy Trinity.  Looking to heaven as Jesus did while on earth--in gesture, visual, and spiritual modalities--is a tiny effort we can make within our minds, hearts, and souls as well as with bodily gesture.  Small yet mighty in focus and love of God, we can gift ourselves to Him daily.

Well, yesterday as the couple who brings this hermit His Real Presence in the tangible Host, they were thankful that my infected sinuses and lungs had improved in the week.  I mentioned it is like Lazarus--that Jesus had come to call me from the tomb, to come out and begin anew, leave my pj's and gravity of illness behind.  We had a chuckle over that, but how true indeed is Jesus' efforts with us in all types of situations.  

The Living Word applies to us and us to the Living Word in vast ways and means if we take time or have the inclination and desire to notice the infinite connections with the Lord in all aspects of our existences.
  
God bless His Real Presence in us!