The intensity of the growth has subsided. Yesterday I shopped for roses; one store had them 50% off, and I found another place with many roses with holy names. I went there seeking Korean lilacs, and found them plus these roses. The manager was intrigued with the crucifix worn and also that I only desire roses with holy names or names indicative of God, such as "Love and Peace."
He suggested two or three times "Billy Graham," but he is a man who reminds me of schism and the separated brethren, not of Christ and His Church, one holy, Catholic and apostolic. However, Mr. Graham is a good man such as the rose "Mister Lincoln" or "Ronald Reagan." However, "Billy Graham didn't make the trip back to Agnus Dei.
Some peace floats within the soul like rose petals. It was invigorating speaking with the clerks yesterday and revving ideas with the man who is going to spearhead the landscaping at Agnus Dei. Ah, this is a creative man filled with the love of God's created earth and all His nature.
The Bishop celebrated Mass on the Vigil of Corpus Christi; the Vicar General concelebrated. How good to see the Bishop after many weeks and to see the Vicar General/Rector, also, after the priests' absence of a week on much-deserved retreat.
The Bishop mentioned hermits in his homily, which surprised me, and also he mentioned how they would adore Jesus in the Tabernacle through their window into the Church from which they'd receive the Host (anchorites, this would be).
After Mass I spoke briefly with the Vicar General, and it seems the retreat went well with focus on prayer. I know exactly where they were, for I spent many summers on that lake at our family cottage then--and was by Oakwood often, often, and my heart is there often yet. I commented that God has been having a kind of retreat for me, too, although I had intended solely to pray for their retreat all week. God is trying to shape me up! When I said there are some more definite direction to the vocation, he simply said to just keep plugging along.
The Bishop then spoke with me after others had left. He told me he is still "absorbing" my letter. That means he is considering it, praying over it, and has not made a decision. He asked me some questions, such as if I have friends, if I am at peace. When I offered two or three aspects of my life which have come forth in the past couple of weeks (but the mission "just adore Him came first 11 years ago), the Bishop asked me if these came in prayer. I tried to explain regarding friends, that I do, but that God chooses all, including my friends. I tried to tell him I am supposed to be a living, holy, pleasing holocaust for this Diocese. He said that was beautiful. But prior to my mention of this, he had said that it is a good thing for me to pray and offer myself for the Diocese.
So, I don't know what he can comprehend of my life. There seems not enough time to truly explain to him what is going on and has gone on. The letter I sent many weeks ago requesting the consecrated eremitic status, is a jumble of words and thoughts; I could write the simple aspects of what is more clearly defined now, but I can't seem to bring myself to try to write again. I suppose much was spoken, such as that "Hebrews" is a foundational guide or rule of life, and the Gospel of John, and the nine s'--and here I explained three or four s', quickly.
So, I have decided that Jesus will have to do the talking for me. I cannot begin to explain. Perhaps I can explain a little in confession with the VG, but that is truly not the place. Besides, there is a growing sense of trepidation: fear combined with deep excitement of God. God will choose what He wants; this is how I left off with the Bishop.
Oh yes, the Bishop said there must be joy. I cannot guarantee joy. Joy is a fruit of the Holy Spirit, and while in this body of such pain which vascillates, the human factor fights against outward joy, and the spiritual despairs often erupt unexpectedly, andf ight against the mind and emotions. My hope is, however, that God will fill me with the kind of joy that the saints mention, and that kind of peace, too. But I'm not sure it will always show, for agony is agony. Only when in heaven will I have that kind of joy.
I am also lately reminded of the name Jesus told me I'd be called in heaven. That episode is for some other sharing, some other time, if ever. I know, and that is what matters; and I am reminded of the name, and that means much, what it all means.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Friday, June 8, 2007
Andrew and Mrs. Andrew; Self
This morning, early, around 6 a.m., Andrew and Mrs. Andrew flew in and even bobble-walked on the lot and then into the pond. It is the first sighting of both these herons together. They did not stay long. Their dual flight with wings spread and necks craned out, slow gliding off, started the day with hope and joy.
I had been dragging already, having awakened after some distressing dreams, and then thinking of my childhood which was quite lovely and, of course, physically pain-free. So there was some self-reproach and a pep-talk in order, for today is a fresh day, and the wind is more a strong breeze. The birds are chirping and leaves rustling in such peacefulness.
The hermit adaptation to silence and solitude comes out in me with such self. I feel sorry for myself if memories of childhood or the past arrive in the conscious. They must be driven out, blown out by strong wind of the present moment.
I lie in bed and look over at the Our Lady of Sorrows statue, and am reminded to pray for the sorrows of the world but also for whatever Mary desires. I ask her help to not be so full of self, for my life is truly beautiful and desirous. In fact, with coffee and some peach biscuit breakfast cake, I read an e-mail from a woman who reminds me of the great needs of the poor souls in purgatory, for prayers, and of Bl. Anne Catherine Emmerich's prayer and penance on their behalves.
So, I am reminded once more of the work of a hermit and of one who is called out of the world and lives more in the other world. Lapsing back into the world is foolishness, and it only sucks one back into "self."
"Self" is full of physical pain and emotional baggage, dragging the soul back into self-pity and self-thought and self-memories and self-despondency. Be off!
Last night I chose a saint book from the shelf: St. Philip Neri. He loved God so much his heart expanded in the chest cavity, pushing out the ribs for more room. He was quite serious in his love of God, and he carried about with him at all times not only a book of Jacopone de Toda's poetry but also a book of humor. It was the humor which could bring him back to earth when in ecstasy. This reminder of humor is not coincidental; a hermit must laugh or smile, at least inwardly at times.
Many people would wonder why the fuss and adaptation period? Many would love to have the solitude and silence. Part of this adaptation is due to more difficult distraction of the physical pain. But I am trying now to use the greater awareness of the physical pain as a means to think of God and of being conformed in Christ.
Also, the fuss and adaptation is a reminder of just how much "self" remains in "me." Yes, it is disgusting to have so much "self", but there it is, and that is why my own particular adaptation to the hermit life of the nine s' is quite challenging!
My seminarian friend e-mailed and asked if, in this dying I describe, there is hope of a rebirth? Yes, there is. It is not necessarily a hope of rebirth in this life, though. I do not know but can only have faith in what other hermits have experienced in great suffering and in dying to self, they finally have great joy in being out of self and in Christ, while still existing in their bodies. But I do know for sure that once out of the body of such physical pain, that there will be relief of body. A concern for all souls is that there will still be pain of a spiritual nature if our souls are not purged of self and existing in Christ.
To be honest (and I try to be always), perhaps some of my struggle deals with letting go of the world, of not thinking that if it weren't for the physical pain, I'd not be dying to the world and adapting to such solitude! But, of course, I have agreed to God's will, and this is God's will. In that, I am ashamed that I have been droopy in fulfilling God's will from so much self and lack of cheerful cooperation.
Today is a fresh day, and the breeze is fresh, and the birds are fresh and lively in hope. It is the day to begin anew, a rebirth, of cheerful discipline and striving to love God through being a maidservant of the Handmaid, and doing what is required: love, suffering, prayer, study, manual labor, and all in the nine s' and all as a sacrifice of praise from lips that confess the Holy Name (and very Life) of Jesus!
I had been dragging already, having awakened after some distressing dreams, and then thinking of my childhood which was quite lovely and, of course, physically pain-free. So there was some self-reproach and a pep-talk in order, for today is a fresh day, and the wind is more a strong breeze. The birds are chirping and leaves rustling in such peacefulness.
The hermit adaptation to silence and solitude comes out in me with such self. I feel sorry for myself if memories of childhood or the past arrive in the conscious. They must be driven out, blown out by strong wind of the present moment.
I lie in bed and look over at the Our Lady of Sorrows statue, and am reminded to pray for the sorrows of the world but also for whatever Mary desires. I ask her help to not be so full of self, for my life is truly beautiful and desirous. In fact, with coffee and some peach biscuit breakfast cake, I read an e-mail from a woman who reminds me of the great needs of the poor souls in purgatory, for prayers, and of Bl. Anne Catherine Emmerich's prayer and penance on their behalves.
So, I am reminded once more of the work of a hermit and of one who is called out of the world and lives more in the other world. Lapsing back into the world is foolishness, and it only sucks one back into "self."
"Self" is full of physical pain and emotional baggage, dragging the soul back into self-pity and self-thought and self-memories and self-despondency. Be off!
Last night I chose a saint book from the shelf: St. Philip Neri. He loved God so much his heart expanded in the chest cavity, pushing out the ribs for more room. He was quite serious in his love of God, and he carried about with him at all times not only a book of Jacopone de Toda's poetry but also a book of humor. It was the humor which could bring him back to earth when in ecstasy. This reminder of humor is not coincidental; a hermit must laugh or smile, at least inwardly at times.
Many people would wonder why the fuss and adaptation period? Many would love to have the solitude and silence. Part of this adaptation is due to more difficult distraction of the physical pain. But I am trying now to use the greater awareness of the physical pain as a means to think of God and of being conformed in Christ.
Also, the fuss and adaptation is a reminder of just how much "self" remains in "me." Yes, it is disgusting to have so much "self", but there it is, and that is why my own particular adaptation to the hermit life of the nine s' is quite challenging!
My seminarian friend e-mailed and asked if, in this dying I describe, there is hope of a rebirth? Yes, there is. It is not necessarily a hope of rebirth in this life, though. I do not know but can only have faith in what other hermits have experienced in great suffering and in dying to self, they finally have great joy in being out of self and in Christ, while still existing in their bodies. But I do know for sure that once out of the body of such physical pain, that there will be relief of body. A concern for all souls is that there will still be pain of a spiritual nature if our souls are not purged of self and existing in Christ.
To be honest (and I try to be always), perhaps some of my struggle deals with letting go of the world, of not thinking that if it weren't for the physical pain, I'd not be dying to the world and adapting to such solitude! But, of course, I have agreed to God's will, and this is God's will. In that, I am ashamed that I have been droopy in fulfilling God's will from so much self and lack of cheerful cooperation.
Today is a fresh day, and the breeze is fresh, and the birds are fresh and lively in hope. It is the day to begin anew, a rebirth, of cheerful discipline and striving to love God through being a maidservant of the Handmaid, and doing what is required: love, suffering, prayer, study, manual labor, and all in the nine s' and all as a sacrifice of praise from lips that confess the Holy Name (and very Life) of Jesus!
Thursday, June 7, 2007
My Heart Is Ready, O God
My heart is ready.
To the best of my knowledge, to the best of my soul, my heart is ready for the death into consecrated eremitic life.
In the meantime, I suffer. The pain continues in the heart, and with breathing.
Today the wind is fierce here at Agnus Dei, and the reeds bend nearly parallel to the sweeping waters of Lake Immaculata. The heat is intense, and some like the wind which is more than a whisper. There is no standing by the door of this cave; God is inside with the (incomplete) hermit who listens now with wounded heart.
Yesterday an unexpected visitor called and asked to stop by. It was the woman friend who had drawn back over the past few months. I immediately knew the Lord was testing me. I recalled the words of my confessor this last time in the "tomb room" confessional: It is not about YOU.
I did my best at listening to the woman's concerns which revolve around tolerance of others, stress of husband's work, and being busy with family responsibilities. As for tolerance of others, we should tolerate all but sin. When a person broaches into sin, that we must not tolerate. If possible, we may correct the person (if prudence annoints the moment for doing so and the other is open to correction). If not possible to correct, we must withdraw from that person and their behavior and resort to prayer and fasting.
Intolerance, though can be heightened in suffering and weariness. When one is exhausted or in pain, it is far more difficult to be tolerant of others who may be "testy" individuals. In such a case, perhaps it is best for the one in pain to the course of self-removal until one's energy and tolerance is on the rise or risen, indeed.
As for the friendship that I'd grieved, I felt nothing but consideration and a rather clinical aspect of counsel with promises of prayer. If I had ever wondered why I'd accumulated at one time, over half a doctorate in coursework in clinical psychology and a chunk of intern hours with clients, I knew yesterday. It came clear in the reminder that in holy indifference and spiritual detachment and in the hermit life, a hermit is called at times to be available for spiritual counsel--or at least spiritual support and prayer. That was my mode yesterday, and I fully comprehended why God had needed to strip me of personal friendships. There is work to do, and He expects me to do it. A consecrated religious eremitic is not to have particular friendships; and, it is not about "me."
There have been glimmers of thought in writing some of what my soul has learned in this recent spate of intense sufferings of body and soul--to try to explain to the Vicar General or Bishop. But for now, I act not on those thoughts.
But, the fruit from the lips of sacrifices of praise, from the Holy Spirit's loving indwelling in my painfully torn, swollen, and stretched out heart, has been a solid acceptance of dying with the hope of death coming soon through the Bishop (or his designe, the Vicar General). I know my mission is to just adore Him. I know that love of suffering and suffering to love is how I can and may adore Him. I know that the Letter to the Hebrews is a guide, a rule of life, that supports and teaches the nine s' (silence, solitude, slowness, suffering, selflessness, simplicity, stability, stillness, serenity). I know that in order to adore and to live the life of the living dead as God calls me to this death, I must offer continual sacrifices of praise.
There are chores to be done here, but I do not know if and when the energy will return. For now, I languish in this love to suffer and suffer to love. My heart does not allow for much other than pondering, praying, reading a bit, writing, and strained breathing pressed by the painful heart that is about as ready as I can fathom, but God chooses all.
Oh yes, that is another thing I know, a most important knowing: God chooses all. He chooses all for those who are in His will. One can be in His will by a simple act of the will to be in His will. It is of faith and love, this act of the will. God will choose all. He chooses that I have little energy and much suffering so that I may adore Him more.
To the best of my knowledge, to the best of my soul, my heart is ready for the death into consecrated eremitic life.
In the meantime, I suffer. The pain continues in the heart, and with breathing.
Today the wind is fierce here at Agnus Dei, and the reeds bend nearly parallel to the sweeping waters of Lake Immaculata. The heat is intense, and some like the wind which is more than a whisper. There is no standing by the door of this cave; God is inside with the (incomplete) hermit who listens now with wounded heart.
Yesterday an unexpected visitor called and asked to stop by. It was the woman friend who had drawn back over the past few months. I immediately knew the Lord was testing me. I recalled the words of my confessor this last time in the "tomb room" confessional: It is not about YOU.
I did my best at listening to the woman's concerns which revolve around tolerance of others, stress of husband's work, and being busy with family responsibilities. As for tolerance of others, we should tolerate all but sin. When a person broaches into sin, that we must not tolerate. If possible, we may correct the person (if prudence annoints the moment for doing so and the other is open to correction). If not possible to correct, we must withdraw from that person and their behavior and resort to prayer and fasting.
Intolerance, though can be heightened in suffering and weariness. When one is exhausted or in pain, it is far more difficult to be tolerant of others who may be "testy" individuals. In such a case, perhaps it is best for the one in pain to the course of self-removal until one's energy and tolerance is on the rise or risen, indeed.
As for the friendship that I'd grieved, I felt nothing but consideration and a rather clinical aspect of counsel with promises of prayer. If I had ever wondered why I'd accumulated at one time, over half a doctorate in coursework in clinical psychology and a chunk of intern hours with clients, I knew yesterday. It came clear in the reminder that in holy indifference and spiritual detachment and in the hermit life, a hermit is called at times to be available for spiritual counsel--or at least spiritual support and prayer. That was my mode yesterday, and I fully comprehended why God had needed to strip me of personal friendships. There is work to do, and He expects me to do it. A consecrated religious eremitic is not to have particular friendships; and, it is not about "me."
There have been glimmers of thought in writing some of what my soul has learned in this recent spate of intense sufferings of body and soul--to try to explain to the Vicar General or Bishop. But for now, I act not on those thoughts.
But, the fruit from the lips of sacrifices of praise, from the Holy Spirit's loving indwelling in my painfully torn, swollen, and stretched out heart, has been a solid acceptance of dying with the hope of death coming soon through the Bishop (or his designe, the Vicar General). I know my mission is to just adore Him. I know that love of suffering and suffering to love is how I can and may adore Him. I know that the Letter to the Hebrews is a guide, a rule of life, that supports and teaches the nine s' (silence, solitude, slowness, suffering, selflessness, simplicity, stability, stillness, serenity). I know that in order to adore and to live the life of the living dead as God calls me to this death, I must offer continual sacrifices of praise.
There are chores to be done here, but I do not know if and when the energy will return. For now, I languish in this love to suffer and suffer to love. My heart does not allow for much other than pondering, praying, reading a bit, writing, and strained breathing pressed by the painful heart that is about as ready as I can fathom, but God chooses all.
Oh yes, that is another thing I know, a most important knowing: God chooses all. He chooses all for those who are in His will. One can be in His will by a simple act of the will to be in His will. It is of faith and love, this act of the will. God will choose all. He chooses that I have little energy and much suffering so that I may adore Him more.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
one friend exchanged for Another
I no longer desire the mortal friendship, lost. It has been exchanged for the friendship of Another, the Other, God the Holy Trinity.
In fact, perhaps the alienation of mortals is necessary for now, for the immersion into silence in order to experience the suffering of love which wounds and seems not enough, never enough.
To adore is to be silent, to suffer in the silence which is unbearable in its suffering love.
This is the holocaust of adoring Him: Love to suffer; suffer to love.
Love is silent.
Suffering is silent.
Just adore Him in silent, suffering love.
In fact, perhaps the alienation of mortals is necessary for now, for the immersion into silence in order to experience the suffering of love which wounds and seems not enough, never enough.
To adore is to be silent, to suffer in the silence which is unbearable in its suffering love.
This is the holocaust of adoring Him: Love to suffer; suffer to love.
Love is silent.
Suffering is silent.
Just adore Him in silent, suffering love.
Living, Holy, Pleasing Holocaust
Last night, the yearning for God intensified; the heart pained in the area typical for this.
How to adore Him more?
The Virgin Mary will teach this. She is the model of all victim souls.
She is the model for contemplatives and hermits, this latter especially after Jesus ascended.
The grief runs deep for having not simply obeyed the given mission. Yet today is a new day, and Mass was lovely with the children at St. Jude's. Trying to pray the Office prior to Mass, a woman named Hope jabbered on with an older man, a sacristan, of the Cathedral. I could not concentrate, and I thought about the example to the quiet schoolchildren, not allowed to jabber. What do we adults think when we do such things? After Mass, the woman spoke to me and told me of the two morning Masses. Then she said I could do as she does and go to both. I simply said, "Good for you."
This flustered the woman, and I said that I really meant that it is good for her. And I do mean that, but initially the words just popped out; and I should have instead been silent. It is good for anyone to go to Mass once, twice--but to not speak of this to others. Perhaps I have done so in the past. I don't recall. I have spoken of the attempts in the hermit life to a couple or three friends, but I have learned to not speak of that, either.
It was not in boasting, for the hermit life is not an acclammation but rather a death. It is to offer oneself, to die, and to be yet living--a living, pleasing, holocaust for God, for His Church.
Last night I made an offering of self, sorry, so sorry that I had tried to flee from my death a few years ago; sorry that I had not actively focused on the simple mission to "just adore Him"; sorry that I had grasped for what I call a "normal life". Elizabeth of the Trinity has helped, this time, for me to see again where I belong, to Whom, and not in or of the world, not really. I am reminded of the three sages, and of their telling me I am to remain with them in the land of the living dead.
This is how it is: to be physically alive but to be actually dead, to be of the other world. In faith, my living death existence will become joyful and easier in many ways, once I finally and fully accept this position. I am in it, regardless, and to struggle against causes misunderstanding and sadness for myself, as God answers, at the same time, my pleas to help me do His will! Thus, He has to strip more away, and that seems painful to me until I recognize He is only doing as I begged.
My living death is offered for the Church, for my sufferings and the sufferings of Holy Mother Church shall be made one. Was I not told that nearly 12 years ago? And, now I lay myself down, remove myself from the world, as a victim for this Diocese, to die for this Diocese in particular, for here it is that I exist: a body, a soul, but not of this world.
How to adore Him more?
The Virgin Mary will teach this. She is the model of all victim souls.
She is the model for contemplatives and hermits, this latter especially after Jesus ascended.
The grief runs deep for having not simply obeyed the given mission. Yet today is a new day, and Mass was lovely with the children at St. Jude's. Trying to pray the Office prior to Mass, a woman named Hope jabbered on with an older man, a sacristan, of the Cathedral. I could not concentrate, and I thought about the example to the quiet schoolchildren, not allowed to jabber. What do we adults think when we do such things? After Mass, the woman spoke to me and told me of the two morning Masses. Then she said I could do as she does and go to both. I simply said, "Good for you."
This flustered the woman, and I said that I really meant that it is good for her. And I do mean that, but initially the words just popped out; and I should have instead been silent. It is good for anyone to go to Mass once, twice--but to not speak of this to others. Perhaps I have done so in the past. I don't recall. I have spoken of the attempts in the hermit life to a couple or three friends, but I have learned to not speak of that, either.
It was not in boasting, for the hermit life is not an acclammation but rather a death. It is to offer oneself, to die, and to be yet living--a living, pleasing, holocaust for God, for His Church.
Last night I made an offering of self, sorry, so sorry that I had tried to flee from my death a few years ago; sorry that I had not actively focused on the simple mission to "just adore Him"; sorry that I had grasped for what I call a "normal life". Elizabeth of the Trinity has helped, this time, for me to see again where I belong, to Whom, and not in or of the world, not really. I am reminded of the three sages, and of their telling me I am to remain with them in the land of the living dead.
This is how it is: to be physically alive but to be actually dead, to be of the other world. In faith, my living death existence will become joyful and easier in many ways, once I finally and fully accept this position. I am in it, regardless, and to struggle against causes misunderstanding and sadness for myself, as God answers, at the same time, my pleas to help me do His will! Thus, He has to strip more away, and that seems painful to me until I recognize He is only doing as I begged.
My living death is offered for the Church, for my sufferings and the sufferings of Holy Mother Church shall be made one. Was I not told that nearly 12 years ago? And, now I lay myself down, remove myself from the world, as a victim for this Diocese, to die for this Diocese in particular, for here it is that I exist: a body, a soul, but not of this world.
Monday, June 4, 2007
The Mission
I was given my mission 11 years ago, and I yet do not know how to fulfill it--adequately. Perhaps it is not possible while in this state. Perhaps I will be able to fulfill it more perfectly--yet not perfectly--when consecrated as an eremitic, as one dead and buried in her Agnus Dei.
The Virgin Mary gave me my mission, for I asked one day while praying in the old chapel of a convent motherhouse. I had been excluded from a Mass that later I learned I could have attended. It was an odd thing that my Godmother said I was not allowed. But perhaps that is why my Heavenly Mother consoled me with giving me a mission of my own. She appeared but not in form, but in whitish mist, and she said clearly, simply: just adore Him.
Now, while awaiting death, I anguish over how to adore Him. How more to adore Him?
Perhaps reading and pondering the Word of God, His Word, will help me adore. Perhaps this will help unlock the passions of my soul in more perfect adoration.
Please, Lord, speak for me, on my behalf, on Our behalf, You and me--to the Vicar General and the Bishop. Help them to see that I am dying, that I need to come to death and not be in this extended state of dying. Let them inter me in You, in Agnus Dei. Let them place me fully dead in Mother Mary's arms, in the bosom of the Church. Then my sufferings and the sufferings of Holy Mother Church shall be made one.
Then perhaps I can more perfectly just adore Him.
The Virgin Mary gave me my mission, for I asked one day while praying in the old chapel of a convent motherhouse. I had been excluded from a Mass that later I learned I could have attended. It was an odd thing that my Godmother said I was not allowed. But perhaps that is why my Heavenly Mother consoled me with giving me a mission of my own. She appeared but not in form, but in whitish mist, and she said clearly, simply: just adore Him.
Now, while awaiting death, I anguish over how to adore Him. How more to adore Him?
Perhaps reading and pondering the Word of God, His Word, will help me adore. Perhaps this will help unlock the passions of my soul in more perfect adoration.
Please, Lord, speak for me, on my behalf, on Our behalf, You and me--to the Vicar General and the Bishop. Help them to see that I am dying, that I need to come to death and not be in this extended state of dying. Let them inter me in You, in Agnus Dei. Let them place me fully dead in Mother Mary's arms, in the bosom of the Church. Then my sufferings and the sufferings of Holy Mother Church shall be made one.
Then perhaps I can more perfectly just adore Him.
Bishop, I Die Through You
Am comprehending what is occurring: I am dying. It is a slow death with pressure on the heart, a feeling of gradual suffocation.
This will not come to glorious death until the Bishop allows me to die, to be interred here at Agnus Dei with the blessing of the Church.
Like Joan of Arc, but in different circumstances entirely, I can say, "Bishop, I die through you."
While I wait, the process continues with such suffering, that death, when it comes, will be relished.
My Heavenly Father, the Son Redeemer of the World, and God the Holy Spirit continue to strip me of this life, this world, these people and things. Now, through a friend of Heaven, I comprehend that further stripping, the final stripping, is to be had through the Word.
I turn to the Book of Hebrews. Yes, I love St. John's Gospel and Epistles, but I turn to Hebrews, as I did when lying in the hospital bed for three months following the back surgeries and death experience.
I turn to the Book of Hebrews, now, in this death experience. The Word resonates within my soul, the lilting language and mystical tones.
Pray that the Bishop wait not so long as for me to lose the courage. But I must not fear; I have the five gold-barred chevrons given by St. Joan, along with the round gold amulet, one placed above my heart and the other around my neck. These are for courage and protection from evil.
I've had the Last Supper; I am stripped of the last of my attachments in human friendships; I am in process of whatever stripping is promised from immersion in Scripture. I am ready and awaiting the official death declaration of Holy Mother Church. Lord, I will relish this death.
This will not come to glorious death until the Bishop allows me to die, to be interred here at Agnus Dei with the blessing of the Church.
Like Joan of Arc, but in different circumstances entirely, I can say, "Bishop, I die through you."
While I wait, the process continues with such suffering, that death, when it comes, will be relished.
My Heavenly Father, the Son Redeemer of the World, and God the Holy Spirit continue to strip me of this life, this world, these people and things. Now, through a friend of Heaven, I comprehend that further stripping, the final stripping, is to be had through the Word.
I turn to the Book of Hebrews. Yes, I love St. John's Gospel and Epistles, but I turn to Hebrews, as I did when lying in the hospital bed for three months following the back surgeries and death experience.
I turn to the Book of Hebrews, now, in this death experience. The Word resonates within my soul, the lilting language and mystical tones.
Pray that the Bishop wait not so long as for me to lose the courage. But I must not fear; I have the five gold-barred chevrons given by St. Joan, along with the round gold amulet, one placed above my heart and the other around my neck. These are for courage and protection from evil.
I've had the Last Supper; I am stripped of the last of my attachments in human friendships; I am in process of whatever stripping is promised from immersion in Scripture. I am ready and awaiting the official death declaration of Holy Mother Church. Lord, I will relish this death.
Heartache
The heart aches and pains yet. It makes it difficult to breathe, or at least gives the sensation.
I told the confessor a secret that only my spiritual father has known, and one priest no longer with us as priest. I'm not sure if it is the cross that is causing the heart to hurt these past couple of weeks, or if it is otherwise. All suffering is connected to Christ, whether we recognize this fact or not. So, it is the cross imbedded deep within.
My new friend, Elizabeth, understood the indwelling of the Trinity, deep within. Perhaps Our Lord is reminding me of His presence, deep within? I think this is so.
And I rest, for St. Arsenius also said: Fly; be silent; rest.
I am resting in the pain today, and the pain is Jesus Christ crucified.
Later, I will move about and work up energy, which will help ease the suffering. But for now, there is too much suffering and not enough breath, to "do."
Lord, I breathe you in and out in
deep in love and out in pain
Indwelling God of love and
dying for love of three in
One and me in All.
I told the confessor a secret that only my spiritual father has known, and one priest no longer with us as priest. I'm not sure if it is the cross that is causing the heart to hurt these past couple of weeks, or if it is otherwise. All suffering is connected to Christ, whether we recognize this fact or not. So, it is the cross imbedded deep within.
My new friend, Elizabeth, understood the indwelling of the Trinity, deep within. Perhaps Our Lord is reminding me of His presence, deep within? I think this is so.
And I rest, for St. Arsenius also said: Fly; be silent; rest.
I am resting in the pain today, and the pain is Jesus Christ crucified.
Later, I will move about and work up energy, which will help ease the suffering. But for now, there is too much suffering and not enough breath, to "do."
Lord, I breathe you in and out in
deep in love and out in pain
Indwelling God of love and
dying for love of three in
One and me in All.
Sunday, June 3, 2007
Help Sent: Elizabeth of the Trinity
This past week has been rather horrendous spiritually and physically. The pain climbed high, bore deep.
A couple of nights ago, at the seeming end of the rope, I called out begging, "Send help!" I asked for anyone "out there" to help me, that Jesus would send help. Shortly after, I got up from bed and went to the bookcase and pulled out a book a seminarian friend had e-mailed he was reading. I had read it, or parts of it, several years ago when a newer Catholic. Just reading a couple chapters in the wee hours brought peace.
The next afternoon before the Blessed Sacrament, I re-read the book. It was a book about Elizabeth of the Trinity. This young woman's struggles to attain the peak of her mission helped me so much in the reading. Particularly, her struggle and torments just before she was to make her profession in Carmel, after having been so sure of herself and joyful with the vocation, helped me realize that I am not alone in the torments and struggles--even some fears.
The next afternoon, after having read a chapter in Pope Benedict's book Jesus of Nazareth, the Holy Father's treatment of Jesus' tempations in the desert as being part and parcel of the trials of His mission and the means to focus and strengthen to that mission, made me realize that the Lord was using the Pope to help me, also. For what greater earthly, spiritual authority could one ask?
Pope Benedict writes:
"Matthew and Luke recount three temptations of Jesus that reflect the inner struggle over his own particular mission, and, at the same time, address the question as to what truly matters in human life" (p. 28).
Then, "Listening to God becomes living with God, and leads from faith to love, to discovery of the other" (p. 32).
While one should not reduce the writing to extracted thoughts, these thoughts speak clearly to the life a hermit with inner sturggles over her own particular mission!
As for Bl. Elizabeth of the Trinity, I am now reading another book I'd purchased, not comprehending who this "Elizabeth of Dijon" is until the clues arrived. Here is a book by von Balthasar, and it deals with Elizabeth of the Trinity's journey to live her mission by the doctrine which evolved slowly but yet in rapid succession in her young life. She listened, she lived, and was lead from faith to love and discovery of the other. She suffered and died young.
Elizabeth of the Trinity refocused me, thankfully. Last night at Mass I had an interior vision of being at a large table, and of God saying, "Ante up". Before me were piles of round chips, like Hosts. I leaned forward and swept them all out to the center of the table and said, "Take them all. I'm IN. I'm in with whatever it takes and is taken from me, for I give it all." Then I sat back and continued, aware, participating in the Mass at the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception.
This was a turning point, another one. After Mass a couple included me in a fine dinner out with a priest. I would never eat in such an expensive place, but it seemed a celebration of the giving out to God, deeply, everything. I considered my own three temptations ever since I became quite aware that the Lord chose for me the hermit life. The first, shortly after, was the attentions of a very kind and devout widow. But I swept him aside for Jesus is my Spouse. Then came the offer to write a newsletter for a Catholic group dedicated to vocations; but I found it necessary to refuse. Now, recently, has come the withdrawal of a very good friend, and that has been a painful letting go. But I had decided at Adoration the other day, to let go, for a consecrated eremitic must not have particular friendships, hard as that is in some cases.
All three of these temptations for me might be quite easy for someone else to avoid. They each had a certain irony for my particular life, for they represent aspects of my life that I had so desired along the way: a man's companionship and support, a job to do, and a close Catholic friend.
Perhaps the realities of Carmel and of her life of silence and suffering and a kind of solitude, transversed into silence with God, suffering with God, and solitude with God--are what Elizabeth of the Trinity faced just before she made her profession at Carmel. While she knew what it was to be a Carmelite, the stark reality when in the present moment, can suck the breath.
Such has been the case with me in the past week or so, with the breathing quite difficult, physically, and the realities of what it means to give all to Christ facing me squarely.
But I am IN, and I told God that not only in words but in action, and I sealed it with a kind of last supper.
This morning, the Vicar General spoke meaningfully and meekly about the Holy Trinity, and emphasized that we are all children of the Father and have Jesus so close to us through the love of the Holy Spirit. After Mass, I mentioned to him how God had sent help through Elizabeth of the Trinity, that Jesus is my best friend, and that I had ante'd up and had told Jesus I am IN. He smiled and said we must do that daily.
How could he comprehend? No one can, for I cannot fully comprehend other than God sent help. About an hour ago I realized the impact all the more in my new friend's name: Elizabeth of the Trinity. It is a Holy Trinity Sunday moment of grace. Thanks be to God for sending me help in sending His little Praise of Glory to be quite some good friend.
A couple of nights ago, at the seeming end of the rope, I called out begging, "Send help!" I asked for anyone "out there" to help me, that Jesus would send help. Shortly after, I got up from bed and went to the bookcase and pulled out a book a seminarian friend had e-mailed he was reading. I had read it, or parts of it, several years ago when a newer Catholic. Just reading a couple chapters in the wee hours brought peace.
The next afternoon before the Blessed Sacrament, I re-read the book. It was a book about Elizabeth of the Trinity. This young woman's struggles to attain the peak of her mission helped me so much in the reading. Particularly, her struggle and torments just before she was to make her profession in Carmel, after having been so sure of herself and joyful with the vocation, helped me realize that I am not alone in the torments and struggles--even some fears.
The next afternoon, after having read a chapter in Pope Benedict's book Jesus of Nazareth, the Holy Father's treatment of Jesus' tempations in the desert as being part and parcel of the trials of His mission and the means to focus and strengthen to that mission, made me realize that the Lord was using the Pope to help me, also. For what greater earthly, spiritual authority could one ask?
Pope Benedict writes:
"Matthew and Luke recount three temptations of Jesus that reflect the inner struggle over his own particular mission, and, at the same time, address the question as to what truly matters in human life" (p. 28).
Then, "Listening to God becomes living with God, and leads from faith to love, to discovery of the other" (p. 32).
While one should not reduce the writing to extracted thoughts, these thoughts speak clearly to the life a hermit with inner sturggles over her own particular mission!
As for Bl. Elizabeth of the Trinity, I am now reading another book I'd purchased, not comprehending who this "Elizabeth of Dijon" is until the clues arrived. Here is a book by von Balthasar, and it deals with Elizabeth of the Trinity's journey to live her mission by the doctrine which evolved slowly but yet in rapid succession in her young life. She listened, she lived, and was lead from faith to love and discovery of the other. She suffered and died young.
Elizabeth of the Trinity refocused me, thankfully. Last night at Mass I had an interior vision of being at a large table, and of God saying, "Ante up". Before me were piles of round chips, like Hosts. I leaned forward and swept them all out to the center of the table and said, "Take them all. I'm IN. I'm in with whatever it takes and is taken from me, for I give it all." Then I sat back and continued, aware, participating in the Mass at the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception.
This was a turning point, another one. After Mass a couple included me in a fine dinner out with a priest. I would never eat in such an expensive place, but it seemed a celebration of the giving out to God, deeply, everything. I considered my own three temptations ever since I became quite aware that the Lord chose for me the hermit life. The first, shortly after, was the attentions of a very kind and devout widow. But I swept him aside for Jesus is my Spouse. Then came the offer to write a newsletter for a Catholic group dedicated to vocations; but I found it necessary to refuse. Now, recently, has come the withdrawal of a very good friend, and that has been a painful letting go. But I had decided at Adoration the other day, to let go, for a consecrated eremitic must not have particular friendships, hard as that is in some cases.
All three of these temptations for me might be quite easy for someone else to avoid. They each had a certain irony for my particular life, for they represent aspects of my life that I had so desired along the way: a man's companionship and support, a job to do, and a close Catholic friend.
Perhaps the realities of Carmel and of her life of silence and suffering and a kind of solitude, transversed into silence with God, suffering with God, and solitude with God--are what Elizabeth of the Trinity faced just before she made her profession at Carmel. While she knew what it was to be a Carmelite, the stark reality when in the present moment, can suck the breath.
Such has been the case with me in the past week or so, with the breathing quite difficult, physically, and the realities of what it means to give all to Christ facing me squarely.
But I am IN, and I told God that not only in words but in action, and I sealed it with a kind of last supper.
This morning, the Vicar General spoke meaningfully and meekly about the Holy Trinity, and emphasized that we are all children of the Father and have Jesus so close to us through the love of the Holy Spirit. After Mass, I mentioned to him how God had sent help through Elizabeth of the Trinity, that Jesus is my best friend, and that I had ante'd up and had told Jesus I am IN. He smiled and said we must do that daily.
How could he comprehend? No one can, for I cannot fully comprehend other than God sent help. About an hour ago I realized the impact all the more in my new friend's name: Elizabeth of the Trinity. It is a Holy Trinity Sunday moment of grace. Thanks be to God for sending me help in sending His little Praise of Glory to be quite some good friend.
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