Stepping on the Queenship of Mary

Twenty-three years ago was the life-altering car accident. Twelve years ago was the life-altering conversion to Catholicism! Jesus superimposed resurrection over crucifixion.

This morning I went to confession with a very spiritually-endowed, young priest from Goa. He is formed in Ignatian and Dominican spirituality but is a diocese priest. His soul imbues healing and peace from Christ, and today he emphasized in such simplicity and purity of heart and faith: go to Mother Mary and say, "Here I am, Mother. Here I am." And she will intercede today for all my needs.

I cannot replicate in words what the Holy Spirit said through this priest, and the manner in which the words became Word.

Again, I realize that my writing is stream-of-consciousness. I am also very much a realist and in most senses, a journal-ist. I write it how it is from my experience and view, and that view is informed by suffering. To write otherwise seems untrue, as I am merely writing my journey into hermit life. It is not the journey of others, and it is in progress. The jury is still out on this hermit regarding "status". Yes, I am a hermit, I realize now. The label fits and sticks from here on out. Yet I may not be a canonically approved hermit. I may be a non-canonical hermit. In deeper prayer, and today especially with Mother Mary interceding before Jesus on my behalf, there will be answers to His will on this point: formal consecration in and by the Church or informal consecration in His Heart with Mother Mary as witness.

Seems as if most spiritual events in my life have been of the latter form. I know this does not help the cause of canonically approved hermits and gaining the place in the Church that is rightfully theirs. They should be understood, not persecuted as odd or not as valid as consecrated religious brothers and sisters in communities and orders.

A friend has argued this point with me many times, as she, a life-long Catholic, just can't accept that a hermit culled out of the lay state could possibly be in like category as a nun.

I realize that she and the couple of others who know of my vocation, as well as perhaps the VG and Bishop, might not take seriously the vocation since their experience has been with priests in monasteries who became hermits in later life. Somehow none of it bothers me. I don't have any deep urge to convince them, at least not at this stage. I have tried to explain it, but perhaps my answer lies within the detachment--or the contentment that for now seems within, to live the life as I have been for nearly seven years, but to live it with knowing that I am a hermit before God and mankind, what few of these know, but am non-canonical.

Last night I had a long visit with an elderly woman in the parking lot of the Cathedral after our holy hour for vocations. Of course, "hermits" are not mentioned in the prayers, but they are in the prayers, very hidden so much as to not be mentioned or thought of. I guess some hermits are to exist without the label, in such obscurity as to not even be a thought in most people's minds. The woman and I spoke of her sorrows in being dealt with unfairly by her parish priest and a parish employee, shut down from gardening as she had kept up gardens around the parish for years, until recently.... She considered fleeing to other parishes, but she instead has held her ground, so to speak, and is doing her gardening at home. She is waiting for some time in the future in which personnel may change, and she will once again be allowed to garden on the parish grounds. The chat we had was one in which I could encourage her, hug her, and share some of my experience, too, and that in some instances we need to move on, and in other instances to fall back into quiet and no resistance.

Would our conversation have been altered for better or worse had she known I am a hermit? I don't know and probably never will. It is not going to be an issue on my death bed, hopefully.

I wonder much about Mary in her years after Jesus ascended, when she was in the little stone house outside of Ephesus with her maidservant. For the most part, she fell back into quiet adn no resistance--into silence and penance. It truly seems God's will, as Mary was never outside His will.

Some paths have structure: borders, pergolas, arbors, pavers on top of crushed limestone with groundcovers inbetween. Other paths are so obscure as to need inner sight in order to find the opening into the woods, and strong arms to quietly but firmly push aside brush and branches, and eyes to watch where to place high-stepping, booted feet. These paths meander and explore possibilities; the former have defined direction, are planned out and laid in advance.

Today, thus far, I sense that I am to seek God as a Hermit on the brambled, uncharted path, one foot in front of the other, prayerful, each step.