Catholic Hermit: Last-ever Note from Spiritual Da

While sorting through piles of this and that, having moved in here not that long ago but then faced with increasing back troubles, I came across the last-ever note card I received from me dearest Spiritual Father.

He had such difficulty writing, yet he made the incredible effort.  I will always appreciate that effort!  I re-read what he wrote.  Part of it was letting me know that he spent the days in bed other than being taken to Mass in a wheelchair.  How painful it was even at the time to realize the Spiritual Da was truly in decline.  (I recall today that I still thought he could rally, get back to sitting in his chair.  Not to be.)

He wrote that he was too tired--having a hard time even praying.  He read a little of the newspaper but could not read books.  Too worn out, he was.

Then he turned to asking me--saying he was wondering about my future.  (I should have, when I read that, realized he was trying to point me forward, knowing himself he was slowly dying, that he'd not be up in his recliner again, not going to talk with me again or see me in person again in this life.)  Then he told me he hoped I'd still read the good books, and that he wanted me never to lose touch with the supernatural. 

There is more--more of his thoughts of me, of what he felt of me and for my life and future--and far too good of thoughts and estimation, by far.

When I read his last statement of which I will not share, I closed the card and addressed him here in this room where I sleep on the floor and suffer on the floor.  I said, "Well, Fr. 'X', you know the truth of me now!  You see how I'm not at all as good as you thought, as good as you probably hoped!  But I'll keep trying, and I pray for deeper conversions and yet you see me here, that I lack discipline, and that I'm far from what you thought, what you wrote!"

Today I read the Divine Office again--the Office of Readings.  I located a lamp that was packed, unwrapped it, found a lightbulb, and have it here by my floor bed.  I placed the Breviary (Divine Office) and the first of my two-volume set of the Life of St. Philip Neri by my floor bed.  I have no excuse for not reading in the evening when my body is worn with pain and needs to be down.

I pushed myself a bit today, though, and got things unpacked and mostly put away in the bathroom, and I vacuumed and wiped out with Pine-Sol water, the large dresser that my great-great-grandfather built sometime in the 1860's-1870's when he'd been a cabinet maker's apprentice and before becoming part-owner of a lumber mill.  He developed his artistry as well as his ability to manage a company, rise in stature in the community, and have a lovely home built in which five children would be born, one of them being my great-grandmother.

I thought about how his hands worked the wood--walnut--and designed each detail.  All this was done without power tools, all by hand--his hands.  In the move before this current move, one of the finials he had glued and brad-nailed as an artistic feature of each of the slanted corners, top and bottom of the front, had broken and torn off.  I had saved the two pieces.  Yesterday when well enough, I had purchased some wood glue.

So I did my own part in repairing--gluing, clamping by using a rubber band about the intricate piece.  Tomorrow I hope to glue and brad nail (saved two of the tiny brads still in the finial) the piece back where it belongs, where it was placed by his hands over 150 years ago. I found this to be an immensely powerful action with deep reverberations of spiritual momentum.  

Here I was, all these years later, his great-great-grandchild now in my later years, in essence helping with what God gave him the talent and deliberation to construct from raw lumber, hewn from trees in the area in which he lived.  He was a young man then, learning a trade that would lead to a position of ownership and leadership.

I thought of how especially as a consecrated hermit, Catholic I be--a convert--as he was a Protestant--attachments to objects seem out of line with the spiritual life.  However, this moment was intensely spiritual, filled with love and joy, and a type of mystical kinship across the mistiness or veil that divides us mortals from those on the other side.  So near they are with us; but it is us who usually cannot see them, hear them, touch them.  

In one of the drawers remained a typed copy (my mother tended to such good details) of his history, and of which other items he had constructed.  My dad had written that a chair he'd built had been sold.  He also noted that I had the "chest" [of drawers] and another item of which has been passed on already.  I found myself hoping that one of my children would some day want and appreciate this dresser.  It is the only one here in my hermitage, so I will be putting it to good use for now.

There are some rub-spots to the wood on the finish from the move, but I have some walnut finishing supplies and will refurbish the areas of need.  To think--all these years--and the finish that my great-great-grandfather applied with satisfaction, and I'm sure love in what he was constructing and completing, has remained for all this time; and it endured criss-crossing the country twice now and yet again in another state, far from where built and used for 13 decades of 15.

I wondered what type of clothing was placed in those drawers and where the keys had been lost, as he made key holes and locks for each drawer, including two small drawers on the top of the dresser.  These two set back from the front edge with a lovely top, beveled edges, and a simple line design routed (by hand tools) on each of four major drawers none of which are the same height.

I wondered if my great-grandmother had used this chest of drawers, or if she had given it to her daughter to use, and then when my grandmother passed, if my grandfather had then given it to my dad, or if my grandmother gave it to my dad before she died but before I was born, for it to be used by my mom and dad when they got married or when their first two children were born.  

I recall my next elder sister using the dresser at least from junior high school on through college.  My parents then had it in their guest room.  And when they were ready to downsize from their retirement home, having taken the dresser with them across country in that phase of their lives, it came back across country to me.

I had use of it and whatever else of family items they were willing to spare after my spouse left shortly following the car accident.  Our marriage furnishings were split, and then following my back surgeries and loss of career and being on disability, at times I'd have to sell some possessions to provide for more necessary items to better provide for the three children I was blessed to rear.

Regardless, I know it is just an item.  If it were to burn to the ground with this hermitage I'm in, that would be that.  I could put my clothing in boxes or in a plastic container as I did for nearly six years in my previous farmhouse hermitage--quite an episode of life.  

I'd driven the dresser and other possessions yet then across country.  There was no point, in the farmhouse, to put clothing or anything in the dresser; too many rats and mice!  Most all remained boxed and bagged for six years.  But here, in Solus Deus Hermitage, now, there is a good use for it.  And I am grateful to God for the touches of familial love, of DNA, if you will, and the loving thoughts for my great-great-grandfather and all others who had use of this dresser over the past century and a half.

So if this is part of "keeping in touch with the supernatural" that my Spiritual Father hoped I'd do, when he wrote his last note card to me in January of this year, I figure he is aware as are all those I was thinking of today.  Today, while I was cleaning it, doing my own bit of handiwork in repairing.  And surely God and any soul I've been in touch with--know the gratitude I have for the lives and the souls of family and others who have given me life and blessed my life so selflessly and lovingly.

God bless His Real Presence in us!  Let us love one another as God loves!

Catholic Hermit: Letter from Spiritual Father

He can barely write, his hands struggling to grip a pen.  But my spiritual father has sent a letter, and I'm most grateful for the effort it took and the as-ever, wisdom, encouragement, and expression of loving and holy regard.

The spiritual father is mostly bed-ridden these days yet is taken by wheel chair to Mass.  I have no idea if I will see him yet on earth.  Perhaps if I can manage a visit before back surgery or whatever the Lord has in store for me--we never know the day nor hour--I will once more be able to hear in person his thoughts and advice.  What a holy and God-given spiritual director and venerable priest is this man of advanced years!

In his recent letter, he wanted to know what I plan for the future.  He expressed desire that I always keep in touch with the supernatural.  There is no option in that; I was born in touch with the supernatural as mystics are born, not made nor developed on their own or by others.  So I wrote back about a visit from my late mother who is now in tremendous light and could speak to me without barriers, could look at me directly and speak face-to-face.

I won't go into the background of such matters--of how it is for us on the other side--in this particular post.  Yet it will be important to share my experiences and what I've been taught by the Holy Spirit and through various visitations, and then, of course, spiritual discernment.

Yet, again, I wrote back to the spiritual father who now after so many years, feels all right about expressing in his closing: God loves you, and so do I.  This is good in some regards--a breakthrough for him to express what two people who are anam cara--soul friends--can mean to one another in spiritual depth and kinship within His Real Presence.

I wrote of how much I appreciate him, how blessed I am to be anam cara with such a great soul and person, to be guided, challenged, and helped through various persecutions and my own sinful errors in life, to have taught me much since my conversion to and in the Catholic faith.

But I also wrote of the reality of the duties of the temporal life, currently, and how I long to get the spiritual books unpacked, and that yes, I will continue reading these and then hopefully writing about the insights given us over the centuries by those great masters in the spiritual life who were closer in time and spirit to the Lord's time on earth and His teachings, than what most of us could ever aspire simply by the fact of passage of earth time and the dilution of details and facts.

But spiritually, we are through, with, and in the Lord Jesus Christ, in His Real Presence: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, any moment past, present, future.  It takes faith, hope, and love for this reality, yet reality it is, indeed, for any living person who so desires such intimacy with God.

And that intimacy with God links us to others thus subsumed into His Real Presence.

I yearn for a deeper and truer living out of the spiritual life than what the more recent times have availed.  Yesterday, I had to drive to an assessor's office and file the homeowner's exemption for Solus Deus, this lovely hermitage.  Then off to a big-box store to return a few food items since I've recently read of certain elements in some foods that can increase bodily inflammation and cause loss of energy and perhaps increase pain.  (I try so hard, and the Lord only knows how hard, to do whatever I humanly can to alleviate any added sources of bodily pain!)

I stocked up even more in staples, plus some cleaning supplies and a kitchen waste can that is durable and on sale.  I got a 3-step stool to help reach upper cabinets.  I went to yet another super center store to get eye drop prescription sent from previous doctor from where I had lived for nearly six years.  Then I purchased there a lesser but utilitarian container for recyclables.

I tell you, dear readers, I was worn out by the time I returned to Solus Deus and unloaded most of the truck--after having stopped at a grocery to purchase some additional fresh produce that are healthy and low in the negative element to at least some bodies, in my attempt to do what I can to function as best as possible.  The Shop Vac had arrived and was by front porch; this morning I put the wheels on and so forth, and have sucked the crumbs from kitchen cabinets and drawers before my back gave out; thus here I am on the floor, writing of what at times seems to me incessant temporal tasks!

The cost of stocking up has unnerved me some, especially when the bodily pain is higher.  The devil does love to pry into our weak points and moments, such as when in pain of one type or other--physical, mental, emotional, or spiritual pain.  The devil does not care which or what combination!  Yet I will continue with this way of "chunking" the time and money the Lord provides.  

I'd rather take time and expense now to stock up, do the driving to the stores, and also to clean and unpack--than to be spreading it out, interrupting what I hope and pray and intend to be days and weeks of settling into my consecrated Catholic hermit routine of this blessed eremitic vocation and life.  At most, then, I'd need to on occasion get some fresh produce, as when the weather improves I plan to grow the bulk of produce and some varieties which I can process and freeze for winter.

It's the current plan, anyway to an uncomfortable-for-a-hermit time period of dealing with a vast amount of temporal issues and situations that simply will not go away until completed.  Another that looms is getting my Internal Revenue Services duties accomplished.  

This will be particularly time-consuming since for the past nearly six years, I'd been living in basically a construction zone, and for the past 4 1/2 months have been in temporary quarters--three different locations.  The bills and paperwork and medical receipts are in bags and envelopes--yet to be located due to so much travel and with it, severe pain that can block out time periods of memory.  It's all on the premises, though, finally!  Just will take more temporal time to locate and organize, add up, fill in the blanks, and file.

I've had four visitors to Solus Deus in this first week here.  More on that, later.  I must return to next washing out with disinfectant water, the kitchen pantry, cabinets and drawers and begin to organize the utensils, dish ware, cooking ware, and pantry items.  I'm reminded of St. Teresa of Avila telling her religious sisters:  "God is found among the pots and pans!"  Practical spiritual reality, this is.

But a hermit does not have others in the temporal realm to help clean and unpack, organize, to cook and in our time period, handle procurement of supplies.  There is no extern nun or monk; and a consecrated Catholic hermit has not tax exempt status, so the IRS duties are the hermit's own, and for me, once I gather and provide all the numbers from receipts and appropriate 1099 income forms, a long-time accountant will crunch the numbers, fill in the proper forms, and file my tax returns.

Ruing that I do not want to have to take this time to do all these temporal tasks, and zeal to take up the very aspects that my spiritual father hopes and prays will be my future, is not going to get the temporal tasks accomplished.  My back has had now about all the rest it is going to get in this floor-break period.  Up and off to the kitchen, hie me hither!  Plenty to pray about while working on unpacking on this gorgeously sunny day!

God bless His Real Presence in us!

Catholic Hermit: Slowness; Wisdom Vindicated by Her Works

I did not write other than correspondence in the last week of Advent, Christmas, and following holiest of days including Holy Family and Mary, Mother of God worshipful observances.

Some thoughts I expressed in a letter involve "slowness."  Advent is slow and well to be slow in the prayerful, expectant waiting.  The on-going work of finishing this hermitage continues, as it must be sold; time is sifting and finances dissipating.  It is all a slow process, is finishing work; and the process is made all the slower by added pain considerations, as well as more correspondence and a few phone calls from people who desired a listening ear, a bit of advice, encouragement, and my promises to pray.

(I'm sharing with you some of the letter to my spiritual father.  My bodily pain is high after finishing some drywall mudding of a small, downstairs office/bedroom, with closet.  I tend to take the path of slowness in drywall mudding.  Some drywallers blade mud thick and then sand and sand--and tend to have electric drywall sanders with dust bags attached.  Others apply the mud in thinner coats, layer upon layer, using larger and larger blades, until the final result is that of the mud drying and having a feathered appearance.  Very little sanding is needed, thus.  Yet it is a slow process, requiring dry time between each layer of drywall compound.  Anyway, I am weary tonight; and while not necessarily the pith of my thoughts on slowness, the letter provides a "thin coat".)

"I love the statement of Jesus in the Gospel:  'But wisdom is vindicated by her works.'

"Yesterday morning I primed the widened hallway near the laundry closet.  There is a very tiny utility closet that I had framed in that hallway, plus instead of just lowering the ceiling under the stairs, I instead “wrapped” the beams of the landing above, with drywall, and all of that needed drywall mudding.  It was a tedious and lengthy job, particularly since I can only manage using my hand and elbow for one tray of drywall mud and using the drywall blade to apply it, about one time a day and sometimes not every day.  Over time, though, it got done.  That includes the tiny little closet in which I could barely fit up in it to mud every corner and juncture point, over and over, until smooth. Then to sand it all smooth--I needed to use a flashlight in order to see any imperfections requiring sanding!

"Yesterday afternoon, 'M' wanted to come and help me for a few hours.  I’d had a hard time thinking of what we could do, for I am so used to loping along in the pace I am able.  My mind is geared to doing all humanly alone, yet with the grace of God's presence and surely my angel and whoever else you might think is helping me, for all this is not of my doing, that is for sure.  I’m going along in blind faith, I suppose, and also in blind confidence in having to do what I’ve not done before.

"So M came, and she taped woodwork upstairs that I’d installed, and I caulked it all.  The tape is to keep the caulk from smearing on the walls and woodwork and  is to provide a clean line when the tape is to be removed. But I ended up having to re-caulk a lot of it, for the caulk seemed to stick to the tape and lift up when the tape was removed.  I will need to paint over all the caulked lines, next, and then due to the caulk slightly smearing, will take an artist brush and touch up all along the woodwork with wall paint. I don’t mind; it is easy and meditative but still more time which slows the finishing. 

"Then we painted a color coat of paint on the laundry hall and in the tiny, utility closet, and all around the various ceiling parts that I had not made simple as a low ceiling.  But my, it does look good—and interesting, that ceiling!  Wrapping the landing joists overhead makes the ceiling seem higher, which is always a good thing in aesthetics.  Plus the added unique design creates interest.

"M expressed as she was leaving yesterday, that she wishes I could finish faster.  I laughed and told her my dear spiritual father had written that he hoped I could finish by Christmas.  But alas, nearly 17 years ago after my private procession of hermit vows in a most beautiful ceremony, I was told the first three of what became nine S’. Yes, I had been told to try to go forth living out these three words:  Silence, Solitude, and Slowness.

"It is so inspired!  So it is that “slowness” is perhaps quite difficult to endure and with which to contend.  Slowness requires waiting, it seems: Waiting while yet existing, waiting while attempting to think or feel or do much of anything.  It is slowness that is required if one is to live in the Order of the Present Moment.  

"So I said to M that somehow the Lord is even making me work all the more slowly—such as the caulk coming up with the tape, thus requiring me to re-caulk and then later to do all that touch-up painting along the baseboards and all other trim around closet doors and such.  

"And I never know how my body will be when I wake up, such as today I had hoped to have had that laundry hall already painted a final coat, but rather I am still needing to rest the pained body, even with the low dose pain pill I took and a cup of coffee consumed.  At least I’m dressed, and I will do that painting yet today.  But there is always the chance that I’d have to wait another day….

"So slowness is something that is quite a teacher; and while yesterday’s boost brought more accomplished in here, I can only go at whatever pace the Lord allows.

"There is a song by a gifted song writer that has some lyrics that remind me of the two of us, as we wait and suffer in this temporal world.  

"'But the ending always comes at last. 

Endings always come too fast. 

They come too fast 

But they pass too slow….'  

"Since it is said that we are only here as pilgrims and all temporal things pass, I find it so true that as we age it seems time passes so quickly, but when we get to our later years and are more physically hindered, it all passes so very slowly.  Yet in the way we try to live in that slowness, how we live and accept slowness, is perhaps 'Wisdom reflected in her works'.

"I’m trying to have a blind faith as far as just passing each day as slowly as is required, for I cannot push more than my body or even my soul can push.  While I can seem to make great progress in some bit of work, there is always the potential for it to end up being slowed down by extra steps required; and there is always the reality that the Lord could allow some type of added suffering to keep me from doing, thinking, or consciously praying.  

"He is teaching and proving that He is in charge of time and the speed of passage, and of what one might complete or not complete, and when or not.  But the attitude we possess is something He notes and desires in the waiting and in slowness.  

"M was eager--perhaps a bit impatient--for me to get more of this renovation finished; and sometimes others have been that way.  And I used to be that way, impatient for progress to be swift and then frustrated when not.  And 'not' is the norm; slowness the norm.  Frustration ensues; and errors and calamities the result in desiring faster rather than accepting slowness.  

"Thus, slowness has become a comfortable friend to me, and I think you have known this friend, as well, for a long time.  Slowness is in Wisdom, and Wisdom is vindicated by her works.  When something is lived slowly, it is more subtle yet also more rich and impressive in some ways.  

"Another Scripture verse lends to this:  'It is in waiting [patience] that one shall possess one’s soul.'

"Anyway I’m ever grateful that I was told early on as a Catholic hermit to live in silence, solitude, and slowness."

To add to the above correspondence...the other day, someone sent a text message: All good things come to those who wait.  I'd forgotten that adage.  Another is:  Haste makes waste.  I'm just remembering now something Jesus told me in a vision over five years ago.  He told me to "Wait"--that He'd come back to take me with Him.  That ultimate, blessed waiting seems ever-so-slow!

Catholic Hermit Praising God for Answered Prayers!

Well, there is victory celebrating going on in the Te Deum hermitage tonight!  

A note was in the post, from the dear spiritual father.  He reports that the issues have been resolved!  A priest (who I'd mentioned to the administrator of retirement facility might be the one to talk to the elder priest regarding his being penniless and needing money--) is resolving the horrid situation of the diocese taking all the elder priest's Social Security for his room and board!

As for his being denied his stipend, I doubt the religious sisters behind that will relent.  But my spiritual father received the cash I initially sent, and I've never received such a note of gratitude and joy for such a small amount compared to what this holy priest is valued in no amount of money as enough.  He reported he will need no more, but I do know how dreadfully slow are the machinations of a diocese, and within a couple of days he should be receiving more cash.  And I'd made arrangements for even more cash to send, but God has come through, which is prudent for how my finances remain.

But just today I wrote him a letter, mostly about slowness, and how Wisdom is vindicated by her works (as Jesus tells us in the Gospel), and how ironic it is that the money I have to share is not my own, for I have none other than the low income disability which thankfully covers mortgage, truck payment, utilities, Lowe's loan...but not the costs of construction materials.

For that, I am bleeding out my son's personal, small loan.  And that is the irony.  For my son lost his Catholic faith by the confusion he encountered when we did not realize the Catholic university we were so excited for him to attend, turned out to be a hotbed of contorted Catholic thinking and twisted theology.  Not orthodox in teachings nor practice, by any means.  But granted, not all the students there turned away from their faith.  He chose to from his own disillusionment, I suppose.  The devil, too--obviously thrilled.  And then, he entered a career in a location in which atheism and at minimal, agnosticism, is the trend.

Much of his anger and resentment toward me has been over our conversions to Catholicism.  At the time, at age twelve, he was insistent that he wanted to become a Catholic.  And he was an outstanding Catholic youth who enjoyed his high school years in an excellent Catholic school, far better than what education he'd have received at the local high school.  He had good friends there, and he remains good friends with many of his college comrades, and even met up with his priest advisor who happened to be in the city for some gathering that my son decided to attend in which their paths unexpectedly crossed.

So my spiritual father has prayed and prayed for my son to return to love of God, at minimum, and hopefully to his Catholic faith.  And at least the son has been in better communication--not often, but at least not the estrangement and anger he'd previously maintained.  And here it is, now, that what the spiritual father and I were sharing, and I fully intended to share the loan money until no more, is actually my son essentially sharing with him.  I rather think my son would be actually pleased to do so, under the horrible stripping of the elderly priest's income, not to mention his being too cold there in the retirement facility!

And that is the other great news from the spiritual father!  They have given him control over the thermostat in his room, and he is now warm and content!

I admit that this has turned out very well, for often when I get involved and step in to right some wrongs, those either intentionally or inadvertently doing wrong resent it.  And perhaps in this case, the administrator may not have liked that I had called with the questions as to what on earth was going on there, and why was this elderly priest without a red cent or a plugged nickel; why was he cold; why was stripped of his stipend and not allowed to celebrate Mass?

I'd even suggested I would start a GoFundMe page for the priest, as I would spare no effort to help him, once I ran out of money.

The administrator has not called back as she said she would; and I did not expect that she would, either.  So receiving this note today from a most happy priest, again--especially happy to simply be WARM--and to know that he'd have a little bit of spending money for he loves to gift such as the aides in the facility for Christmas, to buy some stamps, to donate to people needing help, to buy a book or two now and then.  

For all the talk about his dignity, they forgot that he is not dead yet.  He does not need to have his body in a refrigerated room nor to be without some funds.  And I am praising God that all but the Mass celebrating has been resolved.  As for that, I'd truly not like for him to risk falling, if his instability is truly that sketchy.  God knows; I do not.

He wrote that I can stop worrying now.  He will be okay.

I am so ever thankful!  Yes, victory celebration in Te Deum Hermitage tonight!  I praise God that the spiritual father felt close enough despite the temporal distance, to confide his needs, for now I realize he knew I'd take action, as I've done time and again but usually with myself being turned on for when matters are wrong, often enough those who are exposed even if kindly so, do not like it.

They might rectify (forced to) the content of the message, but as is said they want to kill the messenger.

Praise God it all has worked out, at least thus far.  Hopefully the diocese will follow through without much time passing.  They really do not need to be garnishing all this priest's Social Security money considering his stipend has been halted.  They are not hard-put for money, and that is fact.

What wonderful and joyous news on the eve of Gaudete Sunday!

God bless His Real Presence--the Living Word, active and sharp as a double-edge sword!

Catholic Hermit Ba-a-a-ck!

There are many "backs" in the past couple of days.  This nothing consecrated Catholic hermit's back, as in spine, is back to more functional thanks to a moment of clarity last Monday in which I had the sense to try pain meds at therapeutic dose and regular schedule.  The debilitating nausea from radiating low back pain was toned down just enough to be able to rise and even shim and hang a double closet door.

Praise God from Whom all blessings flow!

Then I received a call from the Apple Store in civilization that the laptop is repaired, thankfully under warranty to the last day or would not have had funds to fix it.  And also, I was able to manage to drive  "back" into civilization not only to retrieve the laptop but also to make the orthopedic hand surgeon appointment. 

The surgeon was most impressed with the x-rays showing a "most unhappy hand," as he put it.  He shook his head with how I've pushed the body, but when I explained the long-standing back pain, and that I'm no longer a good assessor of pain and thus at times can keep going beyond what is normal, he understood.  Thus when he asked if I could feel tingling here or there on various fingers, I could not.  He understood when I explained I so much keep my mind distracted and out of my back pain, that I have to actually make my thoughts return and enter the body and focus on feeling various aspects of the pain.

And thus, he talked over the surgery necessary, and the four-month recovery period, and he listened to my explanation of the mess I'm in financially and physically with needing to finish (if possible, of course) this abode I got myself into.  He thought perhaps best that I try to finish despite the hand pain and torn ligaments and tendons, to wear a brace, and finish if I can relatively soon.  For the length of recovery would take me into spring when I was hoping to list, in order to pay back the personal loan a family member gave last spring.  The hand is already a ruination, so it cannot get much worse!

I tried the brace yesterday morning when trim painting a final coat on some boards to finish upstairs closet openings, but the brace presses on some tissue that is most painful.  So I'm "back" to going without a brace and letting pain indicate what I can and cannot tolerate.  And the hand cannot tolerate much.  But more dictatorial is the low back pain which even with sleeping on the floor and dispensing with the mattress, is quite a load-full of suffering.  Even with the pain meds now, I was way too nauseous yesterday to continue with additional efforts, upright.

However, praise the Lord that the edge of pain, toned down, has been blessedly adequate to chase all morbid thoughts that were plaguing me and of which I had to battle increasingly--up to finally battling day-and-night.  It is no way to live, battling those dark thoughts!  Too much pain it was, more than the mind and emotions can bear over extended period of time!  God provides, and I'm thankful despite some family and friends making most unkind and ignorant comments regarding needing medication.

I've already started praying for the blind faith necessary to proceed and to hope that I can have that low dose of relief through the storm fronts that are a direct correlation to the high increase of back pain.  If not, God knows.  Will face whatever when that present moment arrives, one way or another.

I continue to be bolstered by a couple comments by St. Paul.  "That God may be all in all" and "I have not suffered yet unto blood."

I have called now two times to request anti-nausea medication and refill of pain medication, to the primary care doctor, with no response thus far.  Monday I will try again.  It is a shame to have to go "back" to any dose of medication, even low dose, but one must recognize the limits.  I have since asked two spiritual friends who keep in touch via email or texting, to remind me to take pain meds if I should get myself so crazed from pain as it has been, that I cannot think clearly as to what will help.

With the hand surgery, it will be a fascinating social experiment, or perhaps a test of the depth of charity in parishioners or anyone here, to see if there will be someone willing to drive me to have the hand surgery and to tote my carcass back to my hermitage!  I know God will provide, even if it means I remain at the surgery clinic until I have wits and energy enough to drive myself.

Then, I received a most unusual letter from my spiritual father, and he needs money.  Something is amiss for he no longer receives a stipend; and he has a woman there as his power of attorney and who handles his checking account.  He should not be hung out like this in his circumstances, now retired after offering of himself for years in service to the Church.  

A trusted financial advisor and tremendously faithful Catholic is one whom I turned to with a phone call. He is going to investigate.  In the meantime I sent what cash I had remaining from the vegetable stand, of which I had in an envelope in case one of the young men returned for a day to do some heavier yard work, on a non-stormy day...!  I am thankful to have it and to be able to send it. as the financial advisor thought that best until he can figure out what is going on.  The priest needs protection from whomever or whatever has left him in this financial state.

Bless his heart; he wrote that he evidently had mismanaged.  I don't believe that one bit.  He is the most prudent of souls, and also, though, generous.  There were some transitions going on in his living circumstances, and he did gift out much of his funds for the diocese was going to absorb, in the transition.  Yet, why he has no more a stipend is a mystery to be solved.

There is nothing I will not do for this holy soul, this marvelous priest, the only one who knows the innermost parts of my own soul and the souls of many, save of course, God's knowing all souls.

I am back to doing whatever I can--hand, back, nausea, counsel and prayer, meager acts of charity.  I am fine if my anam cara  and I go down together financially. What I have is also his.  That's how I view it, and I pray that the financial advisor can get to the bottom of the situation.  We need to establish a trusted means that what I share is going to the priest and none other.

Now to attempt some manual labor, praying the nausea does not take over.  Yesterday it did.  It is only pain, only nausea, and while this is true--pain is most powerful.  Human pain is what caused Jesus to cry out on the cross, what caused Him to cry tears of blood in Gethsemane, what caused Him to be disheartened that his beloved disciples could not wait but one hour with Him.  It was human pain that caused Jesus to weep over Jerusalem and to weep at the grieving love when going to raise Lazarus from the dead.

When suffering becomes heightened, pain becomes the constant, autonomic prayer.  In suffering, we pray always in an instant of our offering all to God.

And we know that with the Lord, and thus also with those of us who are through, with, and in Him, human suffering is also spiritual and divine suffering.  There is tremendous physical power in pain, enough to bring down the most stoic of persons, enough to create ancillary pain issues like debilitating nausea, tears, and wishes to die.  

And there is tremendous spiritual power in pain, enough to cause prayers to be highly efficacious; and in the divine aspect of pain, there is power enough to unite us with Christ in the present moments of agonizing suffering.

We are all back when we suffer with the Lord and offer our sufferings for the glory of God and His holy purposes in all matters of earth and heaven.

Catholic Hermit, the Lord Answers

It is not often that this nothing consecrated Catholic hermit has a phone conversation with my spiritual father.  But not long ago, he called.  Among other aspects, I reported that in his letter he'd said to get the house done and get to my writing.

"So what should I write?" I asked.  "What genre--one of the book ideas or keep writing on my blog?"

I added that between tending the gardens and trying to make progress on this place, and praying and trying to do spiritual reading, plus with pain fatigue, I did not have seemingly the energy or focus to write much of length.

He said he was not savvy with technology--computers, internet, and so forth.  But whatever it is--a blog or whatever I can write--to just keep writing!

So I have.  I have continued with the blog writing despite not knowing if what I am writing is helpful to anyone in particular.  I try to go with God's flow and the Order of the Present Moment.  I share personal experience as a Catholic hermit, privately professed, a member of the Body of Christ and in accordance with the institutes of the Church and the United States Bishops, an eremitic in the Consecrated Life of the Church.

Yes, my hermit life has its growth phases.  Physical pain does seem to interfere with energy level, and thus my daily horarium is more a "momentarium"--whatever of each present moment the Lord allows as well as what my body, mind, heart, and spirit can do, think, feel, and aspire!

But I have been writing on this blog, not knowing if that is what the Lord desires for now yet very much knowing He understands implicitly and explicitly my temporal and spiritual circumstances.  He knows I am doing my mortal, imperfect best.

The blog views have increased amazingly, setting records for views.  Who knows if the views equate with people reading through the posts?  Who knows if those who do read through are benefitting in any way?  Only God knows.  But I figure this is the genre to continue with for now, or the level of readership would not be increasing to this degree, nor would there be an increase in the number of countries of which the viewership derives.

Often in life, we do not have a means of knowing even with basic tools, the fruit of our efforts.  I do not have a specific statistical means for this blog but rather have chosen a very basic modality which simply offers an overview of posts viewed, countries of readership, and search engines used. 

The variety of countries represented by you dear readers--well, it is a source of more prayers from me to you and for you, plus for your countries.  I discover new places on this earth, such as recently the island of Mauritius.  It is fascinating that also, recently, Russia has exceeded viewership over the United States.  The Lord is expanding my window to the world to people and places I might not otherwise think about! 

Perhaps it would be better to not have any such means of knowing, but Google includes this with the blog site and thus it is as it is.  I accept it as a gift--a means of discernment in writing as well as a well-spring of prayer intentions.

Maybe for no other reason that to discern that yes, the Lord is showing me  since I asked my spiritual father what I should write--the blog statistics are a blessing to help me know to just keep writing, and to keep writing the blog...for now.

Perhaps if I am able at some point, if the Lord wills, writing other than a blog, such as writing a small book or a larger one--the Lord will let me know in some way or another.  This is how He operates within our lives.  He always lets us know.  Had the readership fallen off instead of surging ahead rather dramatically, I would now be trying my best to write even a short book despite not having access to camera or undistracted capability to better focus on something of lengthier magnitude.

So this works.  Blog-writing fits the present moment circumstances. I can't say that it is all that great of writing, not super-quality, but it is from the heart and what I can manage at this phase of my temporal, spiritual, hermit-lived life.  And most of all, regarding what to write for now:  the Lord answered.

God bless His Real Presence in all of us, little children, as we remember to love one another as Jesus loves each of us and all of us, no matter what.

Catholic Hermit Has Surprise Call!

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.

Catholic Hermit Hears from Spiritual Father

Well, he also may be termed "spiritual director".

There is so much still I could be writing about, of so many spiritual matters, of Scripture, of daily occurrences and adventures the Lord provides non-stop, in every present moment.  But today came a letter in the mailbox.  It is rare to get one, but there it was, and in it the spiritual father wrote of how he enjoyed my last correspondence to him.

This nothing consecrated Catholic hermit had written of thoughts about our being chained to souls to help with their salvation, to bring them to the glory of Christ's salvation.  The spiritual father had but one directive after adding some thoughts and liking what this hermit had written.

"Get that damn house done and get to your writing!"

I had to laugh.  He does not use expletives that I've ever heard over the years.  But, he wanted emphasis, I am sure.

However, the Lord does not seem to be letting up on my getting the house done fast or at all.  Things have happened in the past couple of weeks, even the last week, that I am not going to write about now but will later.

One thing, though, today: Doug the cabinet installer arrived.  The new, kitchen replacement cabinets had arrived on Tuesday, stacked into the other end of the width of house back room area.  There was going to be a kitchen again, perhaps by Monday even if no sink until after template made and countertop ordered.

But no, not to be.  A glitch occurred when Doug opened up the box with the kitchen sink base cabinet.  Wrong kind ordered.  So he was able to set the base cabinets except that one, and will be back in three or so weeks whenever the correct sink base cabinet arrives.  

Thankfully, Lowe's was cooperative without months of delay in getting the cabinet situation remedied. By this evening, it will be on order.  The Lowe's crew and this hermit are all by now on first-name basis, and they know I persevere--as I should.  Right is always right, and I had specifically reminded the cabinet employee to make sure she order an apron front sink base--not the standard.  

Way back, the first time they ordered cabinets for the kitchen (the ones that had been discontinued for being so terrible), they had not ordered the apron front style kitchen base cabinet and had to re-order the correct one.  Third time is the charm!  I am convinced that adage has to do with the power of the Holy Trinity.  For me, the spiritual undergirds all; and I think this is the truth, and many perceive it, not just me.

Anyway, I can't get the "damn house" finished any time soon.  I may have to bail out before it is finished.  All that is up to the Lord, as are all things up to the Lord.  I have put in calls for someone to come help work on things I cannot do by myself or even myself; I get no responses.  The neighbor boy was to come this afternoon, and I left a phone message, but no young man came.

Instead, came a phone call from a young woman I've known since she was eight years old.  We had a deeply spiritual yet practical conversation.  We are connected in that way, and there is a reason she called today even though she said something had her call me after maybe 8 months of not hearing from her. I could not tell her why it is, not yet.

I'm still chuckling over the dilemma, as I, too, have very much felt I am to be writing, not working on an old house and up-keeping the grounds.  However, time is running out, and I am mostly very tired after working on projects; or I have been laid up with one thing or another physically and thus not that well to write much or at least not substantively.

But I will pray and ask the Lord if I am to try more to work and write, and to please give me the energy and wherewithal to do the writing if so.  I am definitely getting lots of praying in, plus have met various people amidst some recent adventures--not intending to, of course.  Good to live in the Order of the Present Moment and let the Lord unfold His Will, moment by moment.

God bless His Real Presence in us, little children!  Let us love one another as Jesus loves us!

Catholic Hermit: It Takes Faith, Courage, and Perseverance

A short work and prayer break, this is, from painting and caulking exterior trim, porch ceiling--with the usual obstacles that come with a very old house, rather primitive in its simple construction over a century ago.

A peace flows with the lovely paint, and this consecrated Catholic hermit welcomes such peace as Jesus bequeaths.  Incomparable peace to any imitations, from other sources, anywhere!  Even though His peace is like much of the touches of grace and glimpsing of what peace is in heaven, we understand that it is that--a touch, usually.  Yes, it passes all understanding.  We love the peace of Christ no matter all else; and we realize it ebbs and flows while we are in our mortal forms, toiling and praying and living on this temporal earth.

It does take faith, courage, and perseverance in this life.  For this hermit, it takes much of each, and then some.  The path of an eremite is not so easy nor laid out plainly, nor is there another hermit whose life can be imitated, followed, adopted, reproduced  Why?  A consecrated Catholic hermit must follow Jesus, as do all of us Christians are to follow Jesus.  

Sometimes the emotions, the thoughts, the temporal life experiences and situations, the spiritual life experience and situations all converge like branches reaching in, sometimes falling, sometimes snagging, as we traverse our narrow path.  Sometimes, too, we need to do what is necessary to make the path yet narrower.

What this hermit has been silently discussing with the Lord, is that aspect of going on in faith, not knowing if what we are doing is as we should be doing according to His will.  Plus, some aspects that involve reviewing visions, locutions, as well as the Living Word of God in the Scriptures, as well as guidance from a spiritual director, can seem to totally go against what one would think ought to be, according to the general stance of the many.

Faith comes in here, as well as courage and perseverance.  When we list out the situations, the facts, the discerned experiences--sometimes one must proceed, persevere, in a way that runs contrary to what others think ought to be, or has been, based upon what they have known how it is done, or what is done, or what they have done, or what previous patterns or the norm suggests.

But hermits are not creatures of the norm.  The vocation itself is so unique and individualized and by virtue of wisdom of the Church over the centuries, remains traditionally free of many rules and constraints and conditions.  Yet in the few lines written in the institutes of the Church, there is a broad sweep inclusive of the spiritual realm, of the mystery, of faith and transcendence in prayer, in penance, in silence of solitude, in hiddenness and a path that leads each hermit where he or she knows not.

This morning while painting--and Jesus bequeathing His peace--it all seemed surreal, that the answer is so contrary to what most might judge or deem correct, appropriate, orthodox.  And again, one must discern the good of what others judge and deem, for there is good in it--especially if the judge and deemer is one's spiritual father.  But all the other judgments made from outside the hermit's inner life, are much like the old, flaky paint the hermit scraped off from under an eave in order to make it a clean surface so that the fresh paint will adhere and protect and make all things as new.

No matter what others might criticize, or assert, or doubt, or impugn--the ultimate next steps for a consecrated Catholic hermit involve stepping out in faith, courage, and perseverance in what has come within, in conversation with Christ, in review of the spiritual intimacies over the years--juxtaposed with the temporal and spiritual experiences and situations laid out, as well.

One must dare to take faith, to take it upon oneself as a shield, lift up the sword of courage, and march the path with perseverance.  If nothing other makes sense, then chances are the soul must rise to a greater trust and acceptance of what the Lord has allowed.  No one else knows--not totally--not anyone else but the soul and His Real Presence.  There comes a time in the spiritual progression, in which one is called to walk uprightly along the narrow path that differs from what many others' paths may seem to entail.

When walking the narrow path, however, a follower of Jesus ought not be looking at what paths others take, nor try to peak over through brush or fencing or even stone walls.  It will not ultimately change one's own narrow path even though others' paths might be judged by others as interesting, challenging, easy, wonderful, or disastrously wrong.

The hermit while painting and conversing with the Lord, was reminded of a fifth vision and locution, telling the hermit it does not belong to "that world".  It was shown yet again: a parish, parishioners, a parish priest.  It was reminded of being asked, "Why would you want that when you can have Me more directly now?"

And, that is what the hermit is going to now accept: Having His Real Presence more directly now.  Obedience calls.  Faith beckons to simply keep going.  One never knows what is beyond the very next step, anyway.  The Lord could provide a surprise turn of events!

God bless His Real Presence in us, little children!  He asks us to remain as little children--humble, vulnerable, tender, trusting, dependent, and enthusiastic to see what is ahead, step by step.

Catholic Hermit's Spiritual Father Weighs In

Finally was able to reach the spiritual father.  Reported what occurred at this past Mass.  He said to not at all go back.  He said to not try to talk to or help the priest, for he said it will do not good.  He said to not try to talk to the vicar general at the diocese, for a couple others of which the hermit is aware have approached to no avail.

The plan was for the hermit to go to a parish in which the priest is solid and healthy and able to function well with parishioners and to celebrate holy Mass unimpeded.  The hermit checked the map, and the drive is too far; the hermit's back cannot take that.  For awhile now, the left hip becomes extremely painful and remains so for days after driving an hour.  To have to go nearly two hours each way and also sit during Mass, is too much, physically.

So, the Lord will be this nothing consecrated Catholic hermit's "portion and cup."  Solus Deus.  This is how it must be for now.  Exile.  It is all right.

Awoke the other night quite ill.  Sickness had come to this body; and the body felt it, the mind knew it.  Mostly these illnesses go into the lungs sooner or later and require antibiotics.  But, the hermit is trying over the counter remedies on hand and drinking lots of hot tea.  God provides.

With whatever energy can be mustered, the exterior painting continues.  Yesterday, the hermit finished caulking around a section of porch siding.  There are always obstacles.  Had to stop many times to rest the body, of course, and then also had to remedy some glitches such as an opening under the eaves in which birds could get in the space between porch ceiling and roof.  In another spot, a small piece of wood needed to be sawed and fitted to cover over where there was a small opening of weakened, old, wood facia.

There is no sense in just waiting for the illness to worse but rather to remain positive and do even an hour of some sort of labor while praying, and to pray while laboring.  Prayers for the priest seem to take priority ever since Sunday morning Mass.  This illness is offered for him, and in some ways, the horror of what others evidently could not sense, depleted this body's reserves and resilience.   The body is a sacrifice of praise for the priest.

For now and into whatever days and weeks and months the Lord allows energy and improved health, the hermit will continue to try to finish this hermitage, get it salable, and then move on wherever the Lord has a place for the hermit to come to roost.  Hopefully, there will be a holy monastery nearby, or a small parish with a priest after the Lord's own heart, where the hermit can come and go anonymously, as much as feasible, and be subsumed into the Mass.  

If that is not in this consecrated Catholic hermit's future, the hermit will accept in faith and trust and love.  It all--all aspects of our life both temporal and spiritual--have to be in the Lord's will and choosing.  Over time, the discernment process sorts what is His will and what is not.

While it would be quite easy to judge the current situation by those who do not experience--and difficult enough for this hermit to describe it.  The time alone with His Real Presence and the spiritual communions, the heartfelt acts of contrition, the prayers for forgiveness such as offered the other afternoon while crunched up under an eave, trying to paint and also keep from sliding off the steep porch roof--it is blessed time spent solus Deus.

One can only do what one can do, follow the guidance of one's spiritual father, yield to physical obstacles that are not prudent to breach, and simply trust in the Lord even when situations seem not as one would think in temporal Catholic world considerations.  In such circumstances, we have to go on faith, on hope that is unseen, praying for the gifts of knowledge, counsel, understanding, and wisdom--four of the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit and also considered to be the intellectual gifts.

"Here I am, Lord, I have come to do Your will."  What better prayer at a time like this?

God bless His Real Presence in us!

Try a Walk on the Water

This is strictly a here-and-now matter, plus as always in the spiritual view.  Faith needed!

I had a long talk, long distance this morning, with the spiritual father.  Over the weekend, the man of the couple with their children who had prayed the Potato Novena with me for the area priest and parish, called and assured me their absence was not anything to do with my being candid with them from the onset about my situation at Mass and in other aspects, spiritually.

He asked if he could talk to their previous parish's priest.  They remain good friends and continue to drive to that parish as often as possible, given the local parish's priest issues.  It is likely the Mass there is not licit, sad to report.  However, my spiritual father reminded me of aspects of which to be aware, to know definitively.  The man, J., said he wanted to speak to his priest friend about my situation and to see if I'd be willing to drive with them to Mass when they go there.

All right.  I agreed.  Yesterday J. returned to my place here to help lift in a window I'd framed, and he reported back that his priest, who is very orthodox and true-on in living his Catholic priesthood, was wary when J. shared a little.  Then J. and I talked of the local parish situation.  I had been thinking perhaps the Lord wished me to do as He'd said a couple years ago, to not let the judges and criticizers affect me--"Pay no attention to them."  And, I had.   It is hard to take, time and again.

We wondered if perhaps the Lord wished me to go even to a daily Mass, of which the local priest last year had forbidden me to attend.  (Yes, many have pointed out that he has no right to dictate that I cannot go to Mass any more than the handful of priests elsewhere who did not want me in their parish out of fear of how parishioners would "crucify" me, as one put it.  (It is not easy being green, as Kermit the Frog used to sing.)

J. wanted me to try the daily Mass, to test the waters, to cast the net.  He said he'd go with me if I did.  But I wanted to talk these matters over with my spiritual father.  And this morning he said to give the local parish a try with one morning Mass, but otherwise to set up an appointment with the orthodox young priest which would mean a drive and distance, but we agreed that we cannot blame priests for being wary.  My spiritual life is atypical; my spiritual father once again said I am just so very different in that regard, even if it is not good or kind or fair the way I am treated as a result.

I also told him I had met with some Methodist women last week just to be around some kindly people and to practice what I thought might be waning social skills!  He laughed.  I also told him my thoughts that perhaps His Real Presence wished to utilize me with the "Gentiles", as it certainly seemed that the Catholics had a hard time coping with or moving beyond a profound yet not unheard-of, phenomenon.

My spiritual father blames the priests for not handling it well, not explaining and just then everyone moving on and allowing me to be the person I am otherwise, and let the phenomenon be as it is during Mass, and that is that.

When I said it practically seems as if His Real Presence is shooing me elsewhere, my spiritual father said it can certainly seem that way.  And who knows?  Maybe He wishes to utilize me with other than Catholics, for the others may be more receptive to sharing and learning about prayer, the spiritual life, and climbing the holy mountain.

But given past locutions, visions and dreams, suffering is my lot in life to seemingly a high degree, and I was called into the Catholic Church most definitely.  Now we shall cast a couple of nets once again, and see what or how many (if any) fish the Lord puts in.  I'm to report back to my spiritual father, regardless.  I admit that when things go poorly with more scrutiny, misjudging, and criticism, I do have a hard time not paying any attention to it or the people who inflict what comes down to uncharitable rejection--even if it comes from their fears.

And fear is catching, or seems to have been for me.  When others become wary of me, I become wary of them.  It will take courage and faith to go and speak with the orthodox priest who told J. to have me call and set up an appointment, if I want.  I really don't want, but I'll cast the net because my spiritual father said to give that a try and at least find out what happens.

So I will attempt stepping out of the boat again.  I will try to walk across the water, step by step.  First it will be attending this morning's Mass in the local parish, even if told a year ago I was not allowed.  As my spiritual father said, I have a right to go to Mass, and I added that the Mass belongs to God.

We will see how it goes.  If I start to sink, I must cry out to Jesus, and He will extend His arm and with His hand, lift me up.  What is the worst that can happen, anyway?