The Hermit Yearns

The hermit longs.

The hermit yearns and longs for God, for purpose, for souls, for souls alive and souls dead, for souls in the land of the living dead and the dead in the firey land of hopeful eternity.

The hermit awoke with pain and tears, sensing the dying necessary yet, to self and to desired purpose in this life. Thoughts turned to those encountered at a TJMaxx store last evening, in the on-going hunt for proper attire, for a "habit" that buries the hermit into the culture, into the soil of the living dead alive.

The teen in the dressing room, monitoring for shoplifters and keeping track of clothing going in and out. She helped with what slacks looked best, and one pair, inexpensive enough, and simple in dark charcoal effect. Very versatile with tops, and a young woman in scrubs, a shopper, helped with blouses and gave other suggestions. I had approached her, as she stood amidst the racks in the aisle in which I wandered, helpless in the clothing swamp, and said, "You look like a 'with it' woman. Does this blouse look all right with these slacks? Does it blend in?"

She said she was not "with it", that she now has young children and works, and all that went out the window. But, I think she was pleased, and she is a beautiful young woman, and just off work, trying to find something to wear that will lift her spirits, perhaps, and help her blend in.

We all are trying to blend in, even the ones who try hard to not blend in. The racks have clothes for them, too, for the non-blenders. Even religious garb blend in with the religious garb blenders. I wish I'd spoken more with this woman, to encourage her in her motherhood, her married life, her work. I saw her as she drove off from the parking lot, and I waved. This morning I am praying much for her day, her week, her life. While we were sloshing along the racks, I queried aloud, to myself, to anyone in the vicinity, to God: Why don't I just stop wandering and return to my hermit life? But no, I still need some distraction, and still need a habit, some clothes to blend in.

Then there was the young man, about 18 years old, who mocked me near the check-out, as I tried on a red jacket. (Now, that would not blend in so much, and it was too large, anyway.) He kept verbally mocking, thinking I did not catch his comments, that they were unkind in sarcasm. As I returned the red jacket to a rack, I turned and held onto the large Crucifix I wear about my neck, and as I felt Jesus, I gently turned Him on His cross toward the young man and smiled. I held the Crucifix for him to see, and he lowered his eyes some, then looked again. I held the Crucifix again toward him, and he lowered his eyes and lowered his head, and ceased the mocking comments. I smiled, and he did not smile but he remained subdued. Shame on him for his rudeness, but thanks be to God for the power of the Cross! I pray for this young man, all the more today, as he does have a heart and a soul that recognized Jesus's love and mercy! He knew instinctively when to be still.

Now, in this day, the hermit must learn to be still, to be more still, and to accept that the yearning for purpose is the yearning for Jesus, and in longing for Him I must long for the cross, and accept the suffering and the sense of purposelessness, to embrace silence and penance as my purpose in adoration of Him Who is the purpose of our existence.

A young man (not sure why I think he is young, but most are younger than me!) left an encouraging message on a blog. Thank you. This is a gift and message from Jesus, for I very much needed a sense of hope, of keeping on in sharing the need to become holy soil, to become "waiting, inwardly recollected people who in the depth of prayer, longing, and faith give the Word room to grow". (Pope Benedict XVI in Mary the Church at Its Source.)