SAINT AELFNOTH (ALNOTH), THE HERMIT - NOVEMBER 25

Saint Aelfnoth (Alnoth)

Feast day: November 25

(d. 700)

There are many hermit saints in the history of the Catholic Church - women and men who are so in love with God that they withdraw from society in order to spend time only with Him. The hermit hopes to hear the music of his Beloved's voice, quiet and close, in their inmost being.

But even when the Lord does not deign to make Himself known, and He does not speak or move within, the Hermit loves to think of Him and wait in attendance upon the time when he MAY speak and move and make Himself known. The distraction of others and their voices, the noise of commerce and entertainments, are not of interest to the solitary, except in a pale and subordinate facsimile of common habit.

Monastics live lives of asceticism and offer up their pains and sufferings in reparation for their sins and the sins of the world, but to remove oneself from society to think of The Lord and draw close to him is not a suffering for them and can't be counted as such. Forgoing the supposed joys of common amusements is a pleasure for the hermit. In this way, they are contrary creatures, but it is my impression that the Lord made them this way from the beginning, constructing them so that even from childhood they enjoyed solitary time, at the very least. 

"And when thou prayest, thou shalt not be as the

hypocrites are; for they love to pray standing in

the synagogues and in the corners of the streets,

that they may be seen of men. Verily I say unto

you, they have their reward.

But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet,

and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy

Father which is in secret; and thy Father which

seeth in secret shall reward thee openly."

Matthew 6:5-6

Many hermits in history have lived as married persons, with children and worldly duties, but immediately upon the death of their spouse, they flee to the convent or monastery, sometimes taking their children with them. It appears that our Church does not have much room for this sort of monasticism any longer. It has become obsessed with the young. Like the rest of society, the modern church has little interest in older persons, when it comes to  monastic vocations. There are some practical aspects to this. Supporting people is very expensive. What can be done about that? The world has changed a lot since the Middle Ages. Besides which, many hermits bore their own expenses in those days, having family income to spend for their maintenance, which cost very little at that time. There were no medical bills (or medical care, to speak of!) No electric bills or mortgages. No automobiles or car insurance. It was a much simpler time.

It is no wonder that we know so little of the lives of the hermits because, after they retire to the hermitage, it is all an "inside job" without much for an outsider to observe, except an occasional miracle! (I think patience is, itself, a miracle.) In the case of today's saint, we know just the bare outline of his life. In his early life, he was a cowherd on St. Werberga's monastery property in Weedon, Northhampton, and he is briefly mentioned in Jocelyn's story of Werburga's life. 

Apparently, there was a local official who was something of a bully and he used to torment Alnoth, who responded with patience - a rare trait. Eventually, today's saint retired to live as a hermit and was murdered by two robbers, at night, in his hermitage. His tomb is at Stowe, near Bugbrooke, and it has been an attraction for pilgrims.  The local folk considered him a martyr, perhaps because he was bullied and then murdered because of his gentle Christian temperament.

I know what it is like to be tormented by bullies. I've been the target of bullies since I was a very little girl. Once they discover your temperament, they tend to shake you for either fun or finances. They would like to turn your world on end and hold you upside down to see if they can shake loose any coins or personal possessions that might fall out of your pockets. 

I am generous by nature, so I have had people cynically make friends with me for the sole purpose of divesting me of household furnishings and supplies. Some are just content to block my garage so that I am unable to use my handicap mobility scooter that is stored there.  

Of course, most of you are aware that after my father got Alzheimer's and tried to start his car with his credit card instead of his car key, other folks wrote me out of his will, knowing that I am disabled and poor and have need of the inheritance I was promised by my father, but that my nature is not such that I would be of any danger to them. Then, when he died under odd circumstances and his body was cremated without examination, I was advised of his death. These are distressing events, but I do not have to do anything with them because The Lord of Divine Love and Justice has seen them all, and He has His own methods of regulating justice, in this world and the next.

The bailiff who tormented Aelfnoth must have descendants here in the USA! Not everyone is like that, of course. I have many well-wishers, and I am betting I am probably more feisty than Aelfnoth, being a modern, independent woman. It is just that the bullies and thieves tend to make a an impression down through history. Think of all the years that have passed since that bailiff was harrowing Aelfnoth, and we know almost as much about him as we do the saint himself! 

Today, let us pray for the bullies, the robbers, the murderers and the thieves who risk their souls by acting on their evil impulses. Please offer at least one "Hail Mary" for them. They need it!

I hope and I pray you had a lovely Thanksgiving, and God bless you all!

Silver Rose

COMMUNING WITH SAINT EANFLEDA ON THANKSGIVING

 

The First Thanksgiving, 1621

by

Jean Leon Gerome Ferris

(1863-1930)

I am such a dummy at times. I am sure we have all had realizations which, on their occurrence, make us want to smack ourselves on the head and say, "here it was, in front of me all the time, and I did not see it!  DUH!"

When I went to sleep last night, I prayed for two things: (1) that I would be able to sleep at least 6 hours to get the amount of sleep I am told we "need." Plus, I wanted to be fresh enough to go to my cousin Bobby's house for Thanksgiving dinner, and (2) that The Lord would give me some insight into His intentions for me with regard to my contemplative monastic vocation because I am making a hash of it and clearly I have gone off the rails somewhere.

Well, I woke up after only 4 hours and, no matter what I did, I was unable to lure myself into any more sleep. I was simply awake. PERIOD. So much for prayer number 1.

(As an aside, we all know that if we have told him we want to know His will, He will not give us what we pray for if it is not within the orbit of that will (unless there is a lesson in there that will bring us back around to it) - and especially if we have not recognized A GIFT HE HAS GIVEN US.)

I have lately been complaining about how my environment is not conducive to spiritual life, how it is noisy and the people disruptive, and how, in addition, I have all these physical problems which I do offer up, in a general way, but have yet to really incorporate into my spiritual disciplines or my understanding of what God wants from me.

But one of those very maladies that has appeared over the last decade, as mentioned before, is a "terrible" case of insomnia in which I am absolutely unable to sleep any longer than 4 hours at a time (at which point I wake up ready to take on the world) unless I dose myself with melatonin and marijuana, and a Benedryl chaser. (P.S. I have a prescription for the marijuana exactly for this purpose, just to be clear. I had never been a cannabis imbiber until that doctor suggested it. I am FAR too square to be a druggie. Hey, I don't even drink.)

When I first embarked upon my solitary contemplative monastic vocation, the first thing I worried about was that I would not be able to fulfill the vision I had of this vocation because my entire life I had been unable to interrupt my 8 hour sleep cycle.

Please don't laugh at me. I am as dense as anyone else at times.

I was watching a video that I just "happened" to find this morning on YouTube, while having my morning coffee, after my 4 hour sleep, of a man giving a talk about converting from Judaism to Catholicism and how his trip to a Carthusian monastery impressed him so very much. He recounted the schedule of the monks, who must rise at midnight and chant the office until 2:30 a.m. or thereabouts.

He mentioned a film I have seen, not once, but at least three times, about the Carthusian contemplative orders, and I suddenly felt a prodding from within:

"Ummmm...Silver Rose...you COULD just use this gift of 4 hour sleep cycles to incorporate chanting the Holy Office - in the middle of the night - when it is dead quiet," The Lord seemed to be saying to me. "Seeing as how you've been complaining about your inability to do all the prayers and supporting practices that I like to hear from my monastics." You can just hear the smile in His comment, can't you?

Of course I laughed at myself, which I end up doing quite frequently these days. Thank goodness there are no humans about to see all my mistakes, but I sometimes wonder if human beings are akin to God's form of television entertainment, in which case, I am a funny reality show, complete with pratfalls and stupid utterances. (It's not a perfect metaphor, I know, because God is probably both the watcher and the director, as well as the production crew, all in one.)

Today' saint, my cousin, Saint Enflaeda, may be sitting in Heaven enjoying the farce also. "HOW long did it take this woman to figure it out?" she may rightly say.

I have a LOT of ancestors and cousins who began life as a normal sort of householder, or even a royal one, but because they came from a long line of saints, by the end of their lives they were firmly ensconced in the monastery, praying for the rest of the world, and usually RUNNING the darn thing because God was prompting them from within and everyone else could see it.

Saint Enflaeda, (3rd cousin, 39 times removed) was the daughter of King Edwin of Northumbria and Queen Aethelburh of Kent (or Leminge) (my 2nd cousin, 40 times removed). She lived between 601 and 647 A.D. Their marriage heralded the beginning of the conversion of the northern part of England to Christianity, since a condition of the marriage was that King Edwin had to convert. Aethelburh was Christian, and if he wanted to marry HER, he had to do this.

 

Whitby Abbey's Ruins, today

Their daughter, Enflaeda, (today's saint, whose feast day it is) in turn, married a minor king Oswiu, and after HE died she retired to Whitby Abbey, where she guided the nuns as co-Abbess with her daughter Aelfflaed, who had been raised in that place, under the original Abbess, Hild, from the age of one year old! (These people were serious about their religion and it was not uncommon for very young girls to be given to monastic institutions to be raised as a nun from very early years.)

Oswiu had been married before, and because this was so far back in time, we are not positive which children belonged to which wife. There is general agreement of probability, but that's the best we can do. All I know for certain is that Eanfleda was both queen and mother and had an active worldly life until her husband died. Aelfflaed, who was given to Whitby at the age of one year old, was certainly her child.

A sketch of Whitby, as it used to be

Generally speaking, if you want to join a Catholic convent, then as now, you pretty much have to be either a virgin or a widow. (And sometimes you had no CHOICE about it.) Otherwise, you must remain at home and conduct your spiritual practices there. (Many saints, such as Rose of Lima, naturally gravitate toward the home base anyway.)

Catholics nurture a horror of divorced persons, even if the divorce was made prior to baptism. That's been my experience. I stopped fighting the prejudice long ago, despite the official position being something else entirely. There is a Catholic culture perpetuated by cradle Catholics, for the most part, in which Catholics treat converts as if they were supposed to behave as Catholics their entire lives - even when they were heathen. It makes no sense and, like I said, it is not the official position of the church because it discounts the importance, function and implications of baptism. But I'm too sick to fight it at this stage of life, especially since I am now fully disabled and going blind. I am my OWN abbess at my OWN monastery. I call mine "Silver Cottage Hermitage."

The Shrine in the Main Room

at Silver Cottage Hermitage

This brings up the topic of praying for something and hearing "no" as an answer, only to discover that God was watching out for me with His "no." Perfect example is my inability to get support for my monastic vocation. Two decades after dedicating myself to God, I've become so disabled as to become useless to any institution and, on my bad days, would have been a positive drain on whatever place that had found itself stuck with me. In my case, I can clearly see that The Lord was simply turning trouble into transportation to where I needed to be, even if the reasons given initially were poppycock.

I still think I am due for a change of monastic atmosphere somewhere in the future, but I am not sure where or under what conditions. I have already lost the central vision in my left eye, so when I lose the vision in my right (if that does, indeed, come to pass) then a LOT of the activities that I do now will become obsolete, and the space for them will no longer be required. I can envision giving away my library of physical books, as I won't be able to read them. Also my art supplies, my craft supplies, and various other possessions. I will be traveling light, once more, as I always used to do. I wouldn't be driving, that is certain. That may be another decade down the road.

My depth perception is already very bad, and I am bumping into things and dropping things constantly. Every day I must learn a new technique to keep from destroying the world around me. Only God knows what this life will look like before long. We shall see what He has in mind for me.

In the meantime, I do the very best I can, with my limited resources, understanding, and supports.

I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving. Mine was very quiet, as I was not feeling well enough to travel to someone's house and spend hours there. I've eaten simply and enjoyed my time researching today's saint.

Tonight I will see if that movie about the Carthusians can be streamed without charge on Amazon or elsewhere, and I will start to research their schedule and open up my imagination to how I may simplify something for myself, here at home, that is flexible enough to accommodate my disabilities.

By the way, I am still campaigning to get some food into the cupboards. Inflation has wreaked havoc with my food stores, there are certain things my doctors want me to eat, and some money-making attempts have failed miserably while sucking up my resources at the same time. Amazon has my address and will mail to me direct. Any and all help is very much appreciated.

HERE IS THE GROCERY & FOOD STORAGE WISH LIST ON AMAZON - CLICK HERE

May we all be blessed!

Silver Rose

SAINT WILFRETRUDIS, NOVEMBER 23

 

St. Gertrude of Nivelles

Aunt of today's saint

I usually present the dilemma of the day to the saint of the day to get some clarity on what I might do or how I might behave, if that saint were here to talk to me. That's a problem for today's saint, because almost nothing is known about her except that she is the niece of Saint Gertrude of Nivelles and was the Abbess of the monastery at Nivelles. Both of these saints are cousins of mine. Obviously, there are a lot of generations that separate us because Wilfretrudis died sometime in the 6th century. She is my first cousin, 29 times removed.  Her aunt is MY great grandaunt, about 30 times removed.

Let me tell you what happened today, and we'll get back to the saints.

Saint Begga of Landen,

also related to Saint Wilfretrudis

First of all, I got several pieces of bad news about financial things, then after a frustrating day, at about 6 in the evening, just about sunset, I went out to pull my car into my garage. Every day is a dance of pulling my 30 year-old car out of the garage so I can bring out my mobility scooter and use it when I "walk" the dog, and then put the car back IN at night so that it won't be broken into. (This neighborhood is RIFE with thieves who will break your windows just to steal some coins they think they MIGHT find on the floor boards. My car has been broken into many times since I moved in here, and the last time was a riot. They stole EVERYTHING, even a bag of trash. Poor Mr. Charlemagne lost his little doggie booster seat and seat belt.)

I was unhappy to find a car parked next to mine, blocking me from moving mine into my garage. I stood out there, honking the horn, on and off, for about ten minutes. I have no idea whose car it is. They have ignored TWO signs on the building that say "NO PARKING" AND the cross-hatching across which she parked AND the painted sign on the ground that said "NO PARKING" and "RESERVED" for my apartment number. She also, apparently, did not see the garage. I call this CONVENIENCE BLINDNESS. Self-centered people just do what suits them, even though they know they are co-opting someone else's space. They take what they want, without a thought to others.

To THEM, it is no big deal. How could it POSSIBLY be a big deal when I have something they want and it is convenient for them?

Nivelles Abbey

Where Wilfretrudis was Abbess

from 659 to 669

In my case, for instance, all of the bones in my hips, knees and feet were killing me. It certainly isn't convenient for me when I have to stand around in the freezing weather, with my bones screaming at me. I needed to put the car to bed so I could walk the dog and put myself to bed. I have yet to meet an interloper that would care about any of that. The neighbors know I am disabled. They see me on my disability scooter all the time, but they don't have sympathy. They let their visitors block my garage and don't tell them where to park. They apparently don't ASK their visitors where they did end up parking or, if they did ask them, they do not make them move. Nor did they bother to leave a note or send someone downstairs to knock on my door and tell me what was going on. For them it is no big deal because for them it is no big deal.

I had no way of knowing which of the 75 apartments was responsible for blocking my garage and, even if I did, I could not climb the stairs to the second or third floor to chase up the interloper.

Saint Itta of Metz

Grandmother of Saint Wilfretrudix

and

MY 29th Great Grandmother

This apartment complex has very little visitor parking and, in the past, I have made arrangements with another neighbor for her regular visitor to park next to me during times when I don't have to move my car. We worked it out together. But mostly, people just squeeze in and I have to get them to move so I can function.

The woman who finally came out of my neighbor's apartment was polite at first, but she gave the same excuse that others have done, i.e., "I was only going to be a couple minutes," which was not true. My body was hurting more and more. All daylight had disappeared, and it was getting harder to see with my one good eye.

At this point, I can feel myself getting irritated and anxious. I never want to lose my temper. It isn't what one does when one is determined to be a good Christian and a kind person. But my body and the weather are acting against me - so there begins an inner tension. I have to hold myself back. I was able to remain low-key, but I'm sure my tension was obvious.

Finally, when she came to move the car and I went inside the garage to get the mobility scooter  moved into the right spot, I heard this woman yelling at me in an indignant tone, saying, "do you even need to get out of the garage?" She wanted to know if I was making her move "for nothing," you see. This always happens, if I don't move fast enough for the interloper and they haven't figured out what I am DOING, for Heaven's sake! I have also heard some version of "do you NEED to use the garage?" They want me to justify my request that they remove their vehicle from my premises. They demand I answer to them about my schedule, which is not something I would ever be comfortable having to do because these people are strangers to me and they are already invading my space with an air of entitlement. What next?

Blessed Pepin I of Landen & Wife Saint Itta

Saint Wilfretrudis' grandparents

My 39th great grandparents

I did not answer her, but said instead, "what are you asking me?" and she huffed off, got into her car, and left. Fighting off frustration and sadness, I finished what I had to do, then moved my car into the garage. If she had not moved, I could not have done it. 

Of course, I have friends and well-wishers who live here, but there are some very aggressive and demanding people here. Every day when I get in and out of my car, I have to see the car of the woman upstairs. Across the window, it says in HUGE letters, "F - - K THE POPULATION." (spelled out completely.)

Some of these people on the low-income program see a disabled senior, and, instead of being helpful and sympathetic, they seem to begin calculating how they might take something from me or torment me somehow. There are even a couple of ex-residents who no longer live here but who follow this blog so they can report to others who still live here if they think I am writing about a known person. (I know who you are, by the way.) This is detrimental to my psychological disposition. It is hard to believe that people like this exist outside some film noir drama, and I had no experience with this sort of thing until I became disabled and my income dropped down to poverty level.

I can't commune with my cousin, Saint Wilfretrudis about how SHE would handle this because the monastic institution and circumstances protect those nuns. Most nuns do not have to own a car individually. The convent will usually have one or two, and none of the nuns have to think about how to pay the car insurance bill or the repair bills. It is an organizational thing, and it is someone's JOB to do that. lt is easier to live with poverty when it is lived together. Their entire life is engineered to support the spiritual aspect. They are not faced with hostile neighbors who disrupt the peace and quiet. Not typically, anyway.

We can't forget that Saint Wilfretrudis had a very strong family behind her. Her grandfather was Blessed Pepin I (The Elder) of Landen and her grandmother was Saint Itta of Metz. These two were my 39th great grandparents, and I only wish I had them more concretely on hand to help me with some things.

I DO have the constant companionship of the Lord however, and, although He is not in the habit of just stepping in and FIXING everything for Me, He stays with me through all of it and I pray that he gives me the inner urgings to guide me in the way he wants me to go.

Blessed Pepin I of Landen

and wife Saint Itta

My 39th great grandparents

and Saint Wilfretrudis' grandparents

Having lived as a nun in the Hindu convent, which was modeled after a Benedictine convent, I know how monastic life is supposed to look, how it is organized, how peaceful it is. This is not it.

Always attracted to contemplative life, I had hoped to be able to create it here, but it is not possible. Too much noise. Too many people. And it takes me f.o.r.e.v.e.r to do just about everything. Between the physical inability and the loss of my depth perception due to the blindness in my left eye, I have to be very careful about how I move, otherwise I am banging around and dropping things right and left.

Not only is this environment hostile to spiritual disciplines and simple prayer life, but since my son died I have no close family. At least Saint Wilfretrudis had her association with a family that was rife with saints. Not mine. I am the only Catholic in my family, that I know of, and I have no one close.

I just want to be clear that I am not weeping about this, mind you. I am not sitting here and typing this through tears or what not. I have never had close family - not really. I was terribly abused as a child and could not WAIT to leave home shortly after I turned 17. I've gotten used to being my own company, and after years of placing my mind at the feet of God, I have come to the point where I always feel his presence. People ARE made for one another, but there are the rare exceptions, and I suppose I am one of those. At least, God is accompanying me on my journey because He sees that my mind is with Him.

There is also a wonderful line from a Psalm that I love, Psalm 27:10..."For my Father and my Mother have left me; but the Lord hath taken me up."

When I was a little girl, one of my relatives gave me a book about the Bible, meant for children. I don't know how they got away with doing that because my parents were anti-religion, as was my grandmother. But I was always keen to find out about God, and so He has been with me since I was a little girl. I am not impervious to the disappointments of life, by any means, but I have faith in God.

For the 20 years since I first retired, I have been battling the worldliness I am forced to accommodate because I have no support for my spiritual life. If I was not physically disabled, it would be a lot easier. I would not have to live so close to non-monastics or, if I did, there would be boundaries established by the institution. In order to get my most basic needs met, I cannot just give my space to others and let them overrun me. It is a fine balance. I have to get my needs met without destroying anyone's peace - including my own.

Simpler days, when I was in

the Hindu convent

For some time now, I have been disappointed in how I have managed to create a monastic contemplative space. When I decided, 20 years ago, to return to living as a monastic, I had this vision of how I would transform my living situation into a peaceful, inspiring palace of meditation, but I realized tonight that I have been asking too much of myself. My heart was in the right place, but I am disabled, I live VERY close to other people, and there is only so much I can do.  

If it takes more time than I really have to take care of my physical needs, how can I possibly devote myself properly to long schedules of prayers? I just CAN'T. The contemplative model is only possible in a limited way, unless I were to be able to move elsewhere. So far, my efforts to bring in more income and thereby pay for more appropriate living quarters and some paid help have proved to be failures.

Amethyst Celtic rosary I made with

St. Margaret of Scotland center piece

and tree of life "our father" beads

My whole life I have had artistic side "gigs." I've sold paintings and sketches, jewelry and pottery, writing of all kinds, and many different creative products, but it is much more difficult at this time. I used to be unique - at least my friends and I believed I was. But since YouTube has so many excellent free videos on how to do just about everything, the market is glutted with ladies who make earrings or fingerless mittens or w.h.a.t.e.v.e.r.

I can't really live as an old-style hermit. Their lives were (and are) much more ascetic than I am able to be. Asceticism was never my strong suit anyway - because I have never been terribly physically fit. 

My life DOES revolve around the Lord, but it isn't supported by a monastic institution and it is unreasonable for me to expect my life to look like Saint Gertrude's or Saint Wilfretrudis's would look today. But I sometimes have to remind myself that a lot of these saints led "normal" lives before retiring to the convent. But I don't remember reading of any of them being physically disabled.

The pressures of householder life, especially when lived under the pall of multiple disabilities, in close proximity with hostile, non-religious folk cannot look like my favorites monastic saint's lives. Everything is an "inside job", without any external support. 

The only solution, I think, is to rely upon the Practice of the Presence of God. I'll have to speak more about that spiritual discipline later, but I will just say that it is a wonderful practice that helps keep me centered, and I believe I may need to practice it even more in the immediate future.

Hermit in the garden

by Hubert Robert

1708 - 1803

I think also that it may be more practical to find inspiration with my ancestor saints such as Saint Margaret of Scotland, who was both a queen (a VERY busy life) AND a saint. She found a way to become a saint in the midst of what could have been an extremely worldly life. I will have to meditate on a different vision of how to live this life devoted to God. Contemplative life cannot happen in noise and chaos, I don't think.

Dear Saint Wilfretrudis, my great grandmother Saint Margaret of Scotland, and all my other family of saints in Heaven, please intercede for me at the throne of God and help me find my way in this harsh landscape.

Saint Margaret of Scotland

my 29th great grandmother

God bless us all.

Silver Rose

PRESENTATION OF MARY IN THE TEMPLE - NOVEMBER 21, 2022

 

Today's Marian feast is known in the Eastern churches as "The Entry of the Most Holy Theotokos into the Temple." It is a feast day that is widely observed, but does not appear in the Bible. Instead, the apocryphal "Protoevangelium of James" tells about how, in response to a message from God, they would have a child after many years of barrenness. In gratitude for the gift of this holy child, they brought Mary to the Temple to consecrate her to God.

Later writings say that she was to be left at the Temple at age 3 and left there for her education, with an eye toward preparing her to be the Mother of God. Can you imagine?

The "Gospel of James" also known as the Protoevangelium of James was written in the second century in Greek, and, until today, I don't believe I ever read anything from it, so I figure that now is the time. Interestingly, this is the earliest record we have of the perpetual virginity of Mary.

According to Wikipedia, this "Gospel" was condemned by Pope Innocent I in 405 and was rejected by the Gelasian Decree somewhere around the year 500. But the messages and stories from this Gospel still influence our ideas about Mary today. More information about this Gospel can be found

HERE, for a start.

In 1974, Pope Paul VI wrote that despite its origins in apocryphal sources, this feast represents "lofty and exemplary values and carries on the venerable traditions having their origins in the Eastern churches."

So what does that mean? What it says to me is that the meaning of the story has value that is in concert with the collection of Catholic values that we hold dear. 

For me, personally, I have always found Mary's "yes" to God and his angel to be very inspiring and a strong encouragement for me in my personal spiritual life. I hope to always be saying "yes" to God, and it is something that I think about a lot. I try to always keep it in mind and to keep trying to be attentive to the Word of God and what He may be asking of me in particular. I pray that He guides me from within so that my actions are in concert with His wishes for me. I tell Him frequently that I just want to do what He desires of me, and I ask Him to correct me if I should misunderstand His will.

The history of the observance of this feast can be found: 

HERE - Wikipedia page about the feast

HERE - Franciscan Media page

HERE - Marians of the Immaculate Conception page and,

HERE - at Simply Catholic

****************

God bless us all...

Silver Rose

SAINT DOMNE EAFE, OTHERWISE KNOWN AS SAINT ERMENBURGA - NOVEMBER 19, 2022

 

Minster Abbey in Thanet, Kent, U.K.

It is a delightful surprise to see how much I am learning in my 60s, in comparison to other decades of my life. Part of it has to do with the availability of so many websites, especially YouTube, which is an excellent source of information for the "do it yourselfer" that wants to get all handsy with their household and/or creative ventures. There is no question that the internet has been an incredible boon for my artistic soul, AND a fabulous research tool for my writing, which used to require that I hop down to the nearest library. Likewise with my genealogy. It was much harder to do, as much legwork and location scouting had to be done with one's feet in the old days. 

Something close to my heart is the research I am able to do about the Saints, especially the grandmothers from whom I descended, but also the many royal and sainted cousins that, thanks to the history books for the various royal houses of Europe, I am able to trace through time. Today's saint, Feast Day November 19, is one of these. In the modern era, she is called Ermenburga, but based on the wide-ranging reading I have done about her, it appears that Ermenburga was actually the saints SISTER, and that the Saint under discussion bore the name "Domne Eafe." This name has been spelled variously down through the ages because spelling was more of a suggestion in the early days, rather than a hard-and-fast rule.

"Domne" was probably more of a title than a name, in fact.  Eafe, or some version of that, was likely her moniker. She is my 4th cousin, removed by many generations - I think something like 36, since she was born sometime in the 7th century.

She was the daughter of a king and queen, was married for a limited time to some kind of "sub king" named Merewalh, and gave birth to 4 daughters, all saints, and one boy child who died young. After her husband died, she devoted herself entirely to religion, as many women did in that era. 

Merewalh, her husband, has an interesting history. He may have had Welsh origins (Which forms a large part of my background.) The Welsh are an ancient and wildly interesting and intellectual Celtic people that fascinate me. I have considered learning the language at some point, but there is only so much a person can learn!

HERE is Merewalh's page in the Wikipedia website.

From her cousin, King Ecgbert of Kent, (to apologize for killing her young nephews to protect his throne) Saint "Ermenburga" obtained the land in Thanet, Kent for the building of a church and Abbey. The method used had an element of magic to it. She had a pet deer and was granted the amount of land that the deer would run across, and she ended up with quite a lot. (King Ecgbert was my 35th great grandfather, by the way.)

The inside of St. Mary's Church

Minster-in-Thanet

Kent, U.K.

Domne Eafe vowed never to marry again, and thus retired to the monastery she founded. One of her daughters was also Abbess there for some time.

I was DELIGHTED to learn that there is an order of nuns living in the Abbey at "Minster-in-Thanet." The place has changed hands a time or two but it is now under the care of an order of Benedictines.

In 1538 it was seized by The Crown. It was a private residence for about 400 years. In 1937 it was put on the market and an order of German nuns purchased it, and by some miracle they succeeded, in Hitler-era Germany, to relocate there, where they dedicated the place to Saint Mildred.

 This institution has a wonderful history of nuns producing various works of art. Can you imagine? This place has had holy women living in it since the 7th Century! 1300 years of prayers, work, and art.

An interesting newsy blogpost about the history of the nuns at Minster-in-Thanet can be found HERE.

One of the first things that occurred to me, of course, is how terribly cold that place must be. I wondered at the sturdy constitutions of the nuns that live there. I would make a lousy ascetic. I can barely stand to turn the thermostat below 68 in my apartment, otherwise my bones scream at me!

Speaking of screaming bones - I went to my parish today for the first time in several years, San Felipe de Neri, the oldest church in Albuquerque, and located very close to me. Once again, I bemoaned the lack of consideration for disable people that most public buildings demonstrate.

When I arrived I parked behind the building and displayed the placard that the lovely office worker had given me the day before. As previously instructed, I walked through the back gate and tried to get to the church through the gate that is just beside the front entrance, and I found that it was LOCKED. In vain, I rattled it a bit. No luck. So CLOSE to my goal, yet so far! Why does no one think about the disabled? 

The locked gate meant I would have to go back to the courtyard and enter the church through an interior door near the altar. But where was it?

There were about 10 doors leading off of the large brick courtyard, with nary a sign in sight. I tried a couple of the doors and they were locked. No one was around. I suppose this was because it was Saturday afternoon.

The interior of San Felipe de Neri

Fortunately for me, a nice older couple came tottering in and they pointed out one of the plain white doors and when I went in, I saw that it lead immediately into the church, just off the altar.

I was too late for confession - something I would normally do on a more regular basis, but I have been in too much pain to attend the last several years, and I was wary of Covid, since I have asthma.

By the time mass started 20 minutes later, the church was packed with people, and it seemed that every sick child in Albuquerque, who had a productive croupy cough, was sitting behind me. Only 4 people were wearing masks, including me. 

One of the sick children was coughing onto my cheek and my neck. I kept trying to move away from him, and he kept inching toward me, the phlegm in his chest noisily moving up into his throat. Several happy babies were gurgling and burbling and shrieking directly behind me, through the whole thing. I caught 2 or 3 sentences of the priest's homily. Between the noise of the congregation, the coughing and sneezing, the terrible sound system, and the Father's thick accent, I could not get much out of it - but that's the advantage of the Catholic mass. It is basically the same, no matter what day you go or which church you attend. Even if we can't really hear it, we KNOW what is going on. The priest is conducting the sacrifice and we are there with him.

As time went on, my arthritis pain increased more and more so that, by the time the good Father was finished with his homily, I thought I was going to die from pain. I had forgotten to bring a cushion, but I doubt it would have helped much. My bones throughout my body have disintegrated to a point that a measly cushion is pointless.

Soon, I realized that I was going to have to leave, otherwise I was not going to be able to make it to the car. After a lifetime of taking care of myself, and mostly living alone, I felt the real need for someone to help me - and the bleak reminder of my solitary state.

At an opportune moment, I got up and made it to the front of the church. I could not exit the way I had come, otherwise I would disturb the congregation. Because of that damn locked gate, I had to walk 3 blocks AROUND the entire church just to get to my car. 

Our society is FULL of locked gates that prevent disabled people from having access to most of what everyone else takes for granted.

Realizing that this was probably the last time I would try going to mass by myself, I kept reminding myself that soon the incredible pain of walking would be over and I would probably never have to do this again. One foot in front of the other, limping along with my cane. 

There were a lot of people on the streets, walking around, coming in and out of the shops, on their way to restaurants, enjoying a brisk autumn evening in Old Town. The sun was low in the sky. The chill intensified. I struggled to my car across the uneven sidewalk and then back through the dirt parking lot.  With great relief I managed to get inside my car and collapse, saying "thanks be to God!" many times.

On the way home, I gave thought to my spiritual life. I was disappointed not to have been physically able to stay longer and enjoy the Eucharist. It is a very special thing, but I was also keenly aware that Jesus had followed me into the church, sat with me in the pew, and accompanied me on my walk back to my car. He was with me on the drive, and later at home, and I felt His companionship, as I usually do. Sometimes, in fact, it is much easier to experience His Presence when the noise and activity of others around me is not asserting the distraction of random outside influences.

Jesus does not usually step in and fix all pains for any person. He saves his miracles for specific reasons known only to Him. I trust His decision on when to do this. I am not one of those people that whines, "why me, Lord?"  Rather, I have always felt, "why NOT me?" and felt lucky that my life circumstances are not worse than they are.

The important thing, for me, is that He accompanies me on my journey through life. He is in the pains and the pleasures, holding me in His love. He saw how I struggled, trying to attend mass for the first time in a long while. He was right there - encouraging me and loving me.

Jesus knows that if I could go to mass every day, I would certainly love to do that, but I have always felt, on the other hand, that the power of the Eucharist is so all-encompassing that if I have taken the Lord within me in such a way just once in my life, I have Him within me completely in an equal manner as if I had taken advantage of this Blessed Sacrament every day. The key is what is in one's heart.

I sometimes plan my days as if I am still that independent young woman who went all sorts of places by herself and took care of her own business just fine. Some aspects of this have changed - probably forever - and I think this may be what The Lord was demonstrating to me today. By the time I reached home, I had decided how I would pivot on this newly accepted reality. Until something changes, I will make the best of things and try to get someone to bring the Eucharist to me, when there is someone available to do that.

We do not know our limits until we test them, and that is one of the new things I learned in a concrete way today.

God bless us all

Silver Rose

Web sites:

My parish: https://sanfelipedeneri.org/

The Orthodox "take" on "Ermenburga: https://orthochristian.com/80901.html

Benedictine Nuns of Minster Abbey - https://minsterabbeynuns.org/1937-monastic-life-returns-to-minster-abbey/

Wikipedia article:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Domne_Eafe

Early British Kingdoms:   https://www.earlybritishkingdoms.com/adversaries/bios/aebbeminster.html

SAINT ELIZABETH OF HUNGARY - NOVEMBER 17, 2022

 

My cousin, Saint Elizabeth of Hungary,

Feeding the poor, as she did regularly

Without realizing it, the study and writing of this blog, over the years, had become a valuable part of my spiritual life, drawing me close to God through the saints - especially those saints from whom I descend or am otherwise related to.

Saint Elizabeth is usually depicted holding

loaves of bread that she was famous for distributing

to the poor that she loved.

So here I am again, and this time I do not think I will be doing as much work as I was doing previously, but I am happy to bring my mind back to an inspiring aspect of the Heavenly realm, and I hope to bring you with me.

Today I am focusing on Saint Elizabeth of Hungary, my 6th cousin, 26 times removed! I'm not going to reinvent the wheel by explaining her entire story, as I will provide you at least one link that will give the details, but I have to say that reading about her makes me a little ashamed because her faith is so strong and so muscular, I can't imagine being as much of an ascetic as she was.

She was a royal child, born to the Hungarian King and Queen on July 7th, 1207. She was quite young when she married Prince Ludwig, which was customary in that era, but they were also very much in love, which was not necessarily common among the royals for whom marriage was part of the process of duty. I was touched by the story of their regard for one another. They soon had 3 children.

Even though she had every advantage of being assured of a comfortable life, she gravitated toward austerity, and she devoted a lot of her time to feeding the poor.  I think this may have something to do with her mother's murder when she was only 6 years old. anyway, this reminds me that I miss being of service to others, due to my disabilities, but writing this blog feels like a type of giving, and I will be content with that.

Unfortunately, her husband died very young, due to some illness, and she also died when she was only 24 years old. But even while she was still alive, she was known for certain miracles, one of which had to do with the appearance of roses, which is a common theme in Catholicism with holy people.

She lived an austere life, practiced many penances, wore simple clothing, and served the poor. She could have done the opposite of this, as the opportunity was certainly there.

She died in her 24th year, on November 17th. Her remains were interred at the Elizabeth Church in Marburg, and miraculous healings began to be experienced at that site. I found it deeply sad to read that one of her own descendants later removed her remains and scattered them haphazardly during the reformation. 

She is the patron saint of beggars, bakers, brides, charities, death of children, homeless people, hospitals, Sisters of Mercy and widows.

It occurs to me that even though my means are quite limited, I probably live very close to the comfort level of a king or queen in the era when this saint was alive. I sometimes wonder if the stark difficulty of their lives did them the favor of making their mortality very close in their consciousness so that it became more urgent to seek God's favor.

Today I pray that my cousin, Saint Elizabeth of Hungary, inspire me with her life of simplicity and service. I thank the Lord for letting me live so much longer than she was able to live, and thereby give me the opportunity to learn so much over the years. It seems like every week I am moving through some sort of learning phase that brings me to a place I had not anticipated.

Between my increasingly worsening disabilities and their accompanying pains that are wearing on me mightily, and the radical changes that our society is undergoing, I sometimes feel almost as if I am going to lose my very breath trying to keep up with all of it. Currently, I am struggling to deal with a heightened level of meanness and animosity by a surprisingly large percentage of the population. It is almost as if the negativity that they previously knew was inappropriate and which they hid from the world has been given permission to just come out in full force. That is difficult for the rest of us. Even folks who claim to be Christian will, at times, come onto social media, such as Facebook, and express the meanest sentiments toward suffering people. We live in difficult times. I am doing the best I can to endure with kindness and not to respond "in kind" to the meanies among us. It is not easy.

Here is a page devoted to Saint Elizabeth.  Of course, you can Google her and find all sorts of things - but this is a start, with my favorite web site to look up saints every day:

Saint Elizabeth of Hungary on Catholic.org

Thank you for accompanying me in my journey with the saints on this blog. I hope it brings you some inspiration and some hope, and I pray that you stay with me on this road. It is the only service I am able to provide, other than my prayers, which I also offer for you. 

God bless us all

Silver Rose