Catholic Hermit Reminisces on Gift Made Four Years Ago

Hard to fathom that I had such lovely, organized, leisurely and creatively conducive hermitage back then.  Within a month from painting this for a priest friend, on a flat stone, my living conditions took a swift change in circumstance.  To think of all the projects I could willy-nilly select to do, and to have supplies at hand play with--wonderful!  

I created the little rhyme based upon my angel's leading me in a dream-vision to the stairway to heaven.  Not long after, the mystical ecstasies began at Mass.  That was over eight years ago.  So four years ago this Christmas, this was the gift I gave to the dear priest.  I think he may have thought it looked to much like a tombstone--and given the stairway to heaven mention...!  

I got a stone similar, back then, to do another.  There was a marvelously fun stone place near my little, lovely, comfortable, all-settled in, garden-planted hermitage.  Then.  But as I've mentioned, there was family pressure to move, deputy sheriff suggestion to move, and a diabolical and mentally unstable neighbor situation with my protective order to soon run out.  So move I did, and there have not been the fun, creative splurges since.  I just came across my paints recently.  Perhaps they are dried by now.

Yet today the creativity had to be put in the prayers offered while up on a ladder, scraping the old, painted newsprint from 1904 wood plank ceilings upstairs, and then hammer-loosening and pulling out oodles of tacks.  Another day will be for creatively and prayerfully installing sanded, primed tongue-in-groove ceiling wood--fresh, new--and then caulking between each groove, and painting two final top coats.  

I can ponder Mass as the stairway to heaven, and that the earth is so temporal.  I can contemplate the beauty of God such as was in the gardens that could never be replicated.  And perhaps that is the best point, the kiss of God in the situation: our journeys to God flow and progress, and the kisses God bestows and of which we kiss His Face--are never replicated, one after another.

Love to Suffer, Suffer to Love

Sometimes a vision and locution of the past will present itself, and I must ponder anew in different, updated circumstances, the meaning and validity of such spiritual events.

I will write later about the vision and locution, and the circumstances at that time, 10 years ago earlier this month.

In the meantime, I am in silence and solitude, per usual, and trying to haul in half-sheets of OSB, 3/8" thick, to screw down on top of 1/2" OSB.  I wish I'd gotten plywood to begin with, but this will end up being less expensive despite doubling the manual labor.  The floor will be more sturdy.  A young man in flooring at Lowe's, yesterday, helped solve the attic gable flooring dilemma.  I will use it for storing some boxes, but eventually I want it to appeal as a child's garret.

With this aspect in mind, plus some charm, I framed in a quaint window I got on clearance.  It provides ventilation in the gabled area.  The entrance, however, is only 44" high, but I can saw out more of that but not much more than another foot.  I cannot compromise the support; two roof lines meet in that vicinity.

Then, the young man at Lowe's discounted some Pergo-type flooring that has charm yet driftwood look.  I need to mix and match two types; they have similar grain and can rub in a little grayish-aqua paint if need be.  But I think considering the space and function, it will end up quite the interesting hide-away.

It may be this child's garret.  A prayer room, perhaps, or it may become simply some storage with breeze and view to the gardens below.  The young man thinks the small expense (even with a whole lot of work ahead) is going to multiply the value over an OSB floor or painted plywood floor.  We shall see.

I consider it all work-for-prayer-time.  I will keep at it for however long His Real Presence has me here, body able, and straggling along learning so many lessons in the spiritual life and with much suffering, to boot.  It is peaceful in here, as long as I remain clear and prayerfully distant from the discord and deadness of which efforts elsewhere seem to result.

Love to suffer, suffer to love!  Yes, this takes some prayerful pondering in context with the present moment and events surrounding this place, this day, my soul, and all the prayers requested in others' lives.

God bless His Real Presence in us!

Back to some insulation work--making space so that I can haul up the narrow, steep stairs and into the gabled attic space, 8 lengths of OSB, one-by-one.  Consider the Old Testament workers when building temples, stone by stone.  Or, consider the great Gothic churches built, stone by stone, carried one-by-one and set into place.

Stones are beautiful and excellent as edifices.   I do love stones.   I still struggle with the effects of people in parishes being stone-like, when they are.  Crushing, really.  Most painfully crushing to experience stone-cold people and realize something as simple as an inexplicable to them, or different spiritually---well, it is a conundrum that I must insulate well, as well as the R-19 I hope to get into some of these wall stud cavities yet today, also.

Love one another for Love is of God.  God Is Love.  Love stones.