OUR LADY OF THE ANGELS AND THE PORTIUNCULA - August 2, 2022

 

Assumption of Mary into Heaven

Today's feast observance that I am interested to learn also has a strong link to the subject of HERMITS because this little building, the Portiuncula in which Saint Francis lived, prayed and died, was said to have been built by the hermits of The Valley of Josaphat, also called "The Valley of Decision" sometime during the reign of Pope Liberius (352-366.) This fact was only known to us after about 1645, at least in the written record available to us at the current time, so who really knows?

Notice that the story talks about a group of hermits? Very few hermits are actually completely alone, and if they are alone, it is for a short time because other hermits typically join them at whatever location the original hermit can be found. Being a hermit does not mean that one is a misanthrope. It means that the person takes himself/herself out of the typical toing and froing of life to dedicate themselves to thoughts of and prayers to God more than anything else. I do miss that companionship of other hermits, but God has made me strong enough to endure this isolation.                                                                                                                                          

Sometime after the year 516, Benedict of Nursia was the owner/keeper of the Portiuncula. At that time, it was called Our Lady of the Valley of Josaphat or of the Angels - referring to Mary's assumption into Heaven being accompanied by angels. 

There is another tradition that says that the singing of angels has often been heard there, where the little run-down building was hidden among the oak trees of a small forest.

At some point after St. Francis renounced his fortune, he restored this little chapel. He built a hut nearby and was joined by some who followed him in his way of life, and this is where he founded the Franciscans, so this feast day and this little building are incredibly important to the Franciscan order. It was given to him in 1211 and on Palm Sunday of that year, he received Clare of Assisi, and the Poor Clares were formed. Some very poor and temporary little huts were built for the nuns, and their institution was surrounded by a hedge. The friars met in the little church during Pentecost every year.

Death and Ascension of Saint Francis of Assisi

Giotto de Bondone

Evidently, when he sensed he was dying, he had his friars takes him to the Portiuncula so he could die there at sunset on Saturday, October 3, 1226.

Various buildings were erected near and around this little chapel, but eventually they were all torn down in favor of this beautiful Basilica of Our Lady of the Angels which now houses the Portiuncula.

The darling little powerhouse of a church inside of the Basilica, is exquisitely decorated on the outside by various religious artists over the years.

I am in favor of the church maintaining beautiful reminders of its history and its saints. I love it that a grand and gorgeous basilica was built around this little church with the powerful history. Personally, I believe it is a mark of our great love for Our Lord that we exalt him in the most exquisite manner whenever we can. There are plenty of protestants who find fault with this tendency to beautify our churches, our altars and reminders of our history. But the atmosphere that emanates from an object that has been subjected to the proximity of a holy person such as Saint Francis can thereafter help other pilgrims to feel more of a closeness to the Lord who is all beauty Himself. Raising these things to the heights of artistic expression is one manner of showing the ultimate respect and love for the creator who enabled us to participate in His creative power in this way.

THE INDULGENCE

Whether or not the indulgence granted for this feast day was initiated by Saint Francis himself is under question in a couple of the pages I read, but the indulgence has been confirmed several times, officially, over the years, so the typical requirements, when met, will merit a full indulgence. Catholics will know what I am talking about. Anyone else who has a question about the indulgence, can check these sources:

WIKIPEDIA RE: Portiuncula Indulgence

OUR LADY OF THE ANGELS -Portiuncula Indulgence

If you would like to learn more about today's feast of Our Lady of the Angels and the Portiuncula, then here are a few links you can check out:

WIKIPEDIA

VIATOR

COMMUNIO

OUR LADY OF THE ANGELS PROVINCE - Franciscan Friars Conventual

CAPDOX - Capuchin Franciscan Friars Australia

BOOK OF HEAVEN

CHARIOT OF FIRE

CORRIDORS BLOG

ROMAN CATHOLIC SAINTS

I hope you enjoy this beautiful feast day and that you are able to avail yourself of the opportunity to earn an indulgence. Even if you doubt the efficacy, give it a try anyway. It couldn't hurt, right?  And if you could pray for me while you are in church, I would be so very grateful.

May we all be blessed!

Silver Rose

P.S. All of the blog posts I write are independently researched and written by me and all of them are protected by legal copyright, so please just enjoy them here and leave them here where you found them and do not copy any of it to any other place for any purpose.

(c) Copyright 2022, Silver S. Parnell

All rights reserved.

MY COUSIN, SAINT NEOT OF CORNWALL, THE HERMIT - July 31, 2022

 

Stained glass window of Saint Neot

and the deer that volunteered to

plough the fields for him.

Today's saint is a cousin of mine, part of the Wessex folks from whom I descend. He died on July 21, 877 in Cornwall, which is where my great grandfather was born, as it happens. We do not know his date of birth.

He was related to my 33rd great grandfather, Saint Alfred the Great (who visited him many times and sought his counsel), in which case, he is more than a shirt tail relation to me, but some kind of first cousin, probably 38 times removed. Something like that.

Some people express disdain when they hear the degree of relation, but they are ignorant of history. Saints of the United Kingdom and Western Europe who were part of the nobility have extensive written records to corroborate their family lines and, once you establish your relationship with one of them, you can be sure you are descended from or otherwise related to many others, as all the nobles were related to one another in some fashion.  At least, it seems that way to me!

We know that Neot's father's name was Ethelwulph, which was a fairly common name of the day, but other than those two facts about his family origin, history records little else about his ancestry. We know a fair bit about his reputation, movements, supposed miracles, and the disposition of his relics, and if you are interested in this little saint, then a simple Google search can tell you a lot.

I found Neot to be quite interesting. First, as a matter of simple curiosity, I was interested to learn that he was only 4 feet tall. We know that modern man is a bit taller than in previous centuries, but even in those days, 4 feet tall would be exceedingly short. It makes me wonder if he was one of the little people, as they're sometimes called. I find it charming and lends even more mystique to his mythic story. I find it a particularly good sign that someone a bit different was accepted into the vowed life of that era, which we sometimes think of as being a backward and more prejudiced and superstitious one.

Neot's name was originally something else but somehow was given this moniker that originated in the word "neophyte." It represents a sort of nickname, and you can read more about that online. 

The ruins of Glastonbury Abbey

where Saint Neot began his

monastic life

Read more about the history of Glastonbury Abbey on Wikipedia

Saint Neot was known for having both a remarkable intellect, a love for study, and an intense devotional nature, and he began to attract some attention at Glastonbury Abbey, where he was a monk and was ordained as priest at one point.

People will sometimes gather around a spiritual personality like this. But Neot wasn't interested in fame or flattery. In order to save his spiritual life, he removed himself to a hermitage in Cornwall (the remains of which have been obliterated, and we have no idea where it was.) He lived there for 7 years.

There are a lot of stories passed down through the ages about the miracles of St. Neot. In one of them, Neot is responsible for some fish coming back to life. He was mostly a vegetarian but God had given him permission to eat one fish a day. His attendant in the monastery made the mistake of bringing two one day. Neot, like most spiritual people, take their instructions from God in a rather serious fashion, and concerned about that, he had his attendant return the fish from where they'd been caught - and they both came back to life. This is how he became the Patron saint of FISH!

I used to love to fish, and I like to paint them. I also enjoy stories about fish, so I am interested in learning more about St. Neot and this reputation as a fish whisperer.

The above painting is a watercolor I did of the New Mexico Brown Trout. I used to love fishing, but I am not physical able to do it any more.

It is common for some saints, especially the hermits, to be attributed with some special harmony with the wild animals they find in nature - and it makes sense to me because animals, especially prey animals, have to be very sensitive to the vibrations of other living being around them, in order to protect themselves. Animals can often tell when a person means them no harm and when it is safe to be around them. 

One of Neot's miracles has to do with the wild deer offering themselves as draft animals to pull the plough on the monastery grounds. They would, supposedly, arrive for work in the morning, offer their necks to be hitched up, plough the ground all day, and then go home at night. It's a darling story, and one of the stained glass windows at a St. Neot's church location celebrates it:

Stories get built up over the centuries until they are a bit fantastic, but it probably started with something very simple - perhaps a special relationship with the deer of a local herd. You can well imagine the seed of this purported miracle. You could see how this man's friendship with the local deer could be considered a sign of his great spirituality.

Today I relate to a part of the story about my sainted cousin because he became peeved at the number of spiritual tourists that started to come and bother him.  My apartment location has gotten more and more busy. There are all sorts of people walking back and forth, inches from my window

None of this is conducive to the life of a spiritual person trying to lead a quiet life of prayer, on top of constant traffic outside my window, and people staring into my apartment with their noses inches from the glass.

I have been yearning to move to a different location for the longest time. Having an urban hermitage CAN work out, if you have the right setup, but this place is far too big and there are too many people living here and impinging on my privacy.

Statue of St. Neot

Please pray for me, that I may somehow move to a more conducive monastery space that will allow for a more concentrated prayer life, as well as some room for the art projects that proliferate and with which I hope to better support the place, as well as others who may come after me. But most important, of course, is that our spiritual lives remain fresh and lively and that we are happy within ourselves and with The Lord.

May we all be blessed!

Silver Rose

P.S. All of the blog posts I write are independently researched and written by me, and all of them are protected by legal copyright, so please just enjoy them here and leave them here where you found them.  It is illegal to copy any of it to any other place for any purpose without my express written consent.

Please understand that it is not allowed to copy this elsewhere, credit me with the writing, and then think you have done what is right. Contact me for permission.

(c) Copyright 2022, Silver S. Parnell

All rights reserved.

BLOG HAS CHANGED NAME - DIARY OF AN ACCIDENTAL HERMIT IS SILVER COTTAGE HERMITAGE NOW

Silver Parnell

Sannyasini Kaliprana

Accidental Hermit

Readers will notice that I have changed the blog name from "Diary of an Accidental Hermit," under which I have been writing for the last ten years, to "Silver Cottage Hermitage," which is what I named my hermitage residence, years ago.

I had not planned to do this but it was thrust on me, like so many things are these days. A poor, disabled, senior woman cannot even keep those things that she herself creates when people with more resources just mow them down.

A woman I knew, peripherally, 30 years ago resurfaced on Facebook recently. The monastery/convent she helped create was closed, and she and a couple other members left institutional life and moved into an apartment building in the Southwest.  They were getting set up to teach online classes and whatever else she had in mind to support herself. I did my best to help her, offering to advertise her online classes about a saint we both admire. I was happy to be in touch with her again, as we had a lot in common, plus a small bit of history.

On about May 29th, I sent her a private message with the link to my blog "Diary of an Accidental Hermit" with some explanatory conversation about it, telling her I had been writing it for the last 10 years, etc.

Shortly afterward, in June, I began to see advertisements for her. She was now being called "The Accidental Hermit" which is not how she'd ever been known before this time and did not describe her situation at all. These advertisements obliterated my blog when my readers tried to find it in a Google search. Even if my readers typed in my exact blog name, no one would be able to find it.  All you could see, for pages and pages, were advertisements for this woman's podcast.

Of course, I questioned her about it on Facebook and sent her the link to my blog again, but she ignored me for two weeks, so I sent her an email. In her response, she claimed it had nothing to do with her and that the interviewer had invented it out of whole cloth, but when I listened to the podcast, it was obvious she had fed it to the interviewer. Of course, I have no idea whether it was deliberate or accidental, which really did not matter because my blog had been obliterated. For all intents and purposes, ten years of work and close to 400 blog posts had vanished.

"The Accidental Hermit" is a catchy moniker and had been used by 2 other people in the last 30 years, but in our situation, my blog could not even be found, with nearly 400 posts, in addition to which, she and I are doing something EXTREMELY similar and there was a risk that our work would be confused with one another's. She had recently set herself up as an urban hermit in an apartment in the Southwest, which is what I have been doing for the last 20 years.

This woman was then and now remains unapologetic about the chaos that she caused me. She is too busy gaslighting me and criticizing me for how I wrote my email.  She also got the interviewer involved and wrote her an email that gave the impression that I was just some stranger that had swanned in from out of nowhere and was sending her "disturbing" emails. Like the internet version of a deluded homeless woman.

A bit of a minor celebrity, it is possible that this woman is used to people deferring to her, but to be honest, I have encountered similar officious and hostile reactions from people who have been caught violating my copyright with some biographies I have written in connection with genealogy work I did, so perhaps this is just the reaction that grasping people will give, as a matter of course, when they are caught doing something unethical.

Rather than fighting about it, I changed the name of the blog to conform to the name of my hermitage, and am in the process of switching out the individual blog addresses on some of the posts. It has cost me a lot of hours of work, but I exert myself willingly if it will save me from this sordid mess. I intend to put it behind me as quickly as possible and move on.

It IS disappointing that my friendship has been repaid in this way.  "No good deed goes unpunished!" I can't say I'm surprised, however, because this incident is yet another example of why men are in charge of the world. Most women simply do not know how to support other women, working instead to undermine one another. I've written about this tendency many times.

As is my custom, I will find whatever beneficial and holy thing that can come out of this change to the blog and pray that my little band of readers can eventually find me. I will put some work into tagging my blog posts with the original name of the blog, and hope that this will do the trick. We will be "up and running" soon.

In the meantime, may you all be blessed!

Silver Rose

Sannyasini Kaliprana

P.S. All of the blog posts I write are independently researched and written by me and all of them are protected by legal copyright, so please just enjoy them here and leave them here where you found them and do not copy any of it to any other place for any purpose.

(c) Copyright 2022, Silver S. Parnell

All rights reserved.

SAINT KINGA OF POLAND, MY COUSIN - July 24, 2022

 

Saint Kinga of Poland

Depicted holding her monastery

at Stary Sacz

b. 5 March 1224 - d. 24 July 1292

My 7th cousin, 25 times removed

My 7th cousin, 25 times removed, is Saint Cunegunde, also called Zinga, Kioga, or, more popularly, Saint Kinga of Poland. Saint Kinga of Poland, Patroness of Poland and Lithuania, was born 5 March 1224 In Esztergom, Hungary.  She was the princess daughter of King Bela IV of Hungary and was a niece of Saint Elizabeth of Hungary and the great niece of Saint Hedwig.  An illustrious and pious family, her sisters were Saint Margaret of Hungary and Blessed Jolenta of Poland.

The sisters:
Saint Margaret of Hungary, Saint Kinga of Poland, 

and Blessed Jolenta of Poland

Both Kinga and her husband, Boleslaw V "the Chaste" embarked upon a marriage in which both parties were vowed to perpetual chastity.  Boleslaw's family was similarly pious and sincere.  His sister was blessed Salome of Cracow.  When he ascended to the throne as Prince of Cracow, Kinga became his princess.  Kinga soon began to devote herself to the care of the poor and the lepers and was known, both for her deep concern for the people, and her obedience and devotion to Christ and His Church.

Saint Kinga's husband

Boleslaw V "The Chaste"

Duke of Poland

b. 21 June 1226 - d. 7 December 1279

The storyline in which a saintly person vows lifelong chastity is common in Orthodox Church,  Catholicism , as well as other major religious traditions. In the Hindu faith, it is linked with the path of Enlightenment through meditation. Without celibacy, progress on the path toward spiritual enlightenment is considered negligible. Each religion has its own narrative of exactly WHY this is true. I just think it is interesting that the focus on restraint of the sex urge is an important one in all major religious traditions.

Kinga is patron saint of the salt miners, and the salt mine of Wieliczka in Poland has a large chapel dedicated to her that is 101 meters under ground.  It is a remarkably beautiful Cathedral that is able to accommodate about 400 people.

Poor Clare's Monastery

at Stary Sacz

When her husband died in 1279, Kinga sold all her possessions and gave the money to the poor.  Not long after that, she joined the Poor Clares monastery at Sandec (Stary Sacz).  Matters of state, and the prestige of her royal position, held no interest for her.  She was too modest and humble to have any taste for such power. Her heart belonged to Christ alone.  In fact, she would allow no one to call her by her official title of Grand Duchess of Poland.

Hers is a beautiful comment on the reality of the emptiness of fame, wealth, status and prestige. None of it comes close to the experience of the Lord in our hearts. Touched by the grandest force of all, humility would naturally occur, don't you think? It is from her humility that I surmise that she had a profound mystical experience of the Lord at some point.

While her life with the prince had been characterized by charitable works and service, her time in the monastery was spent in silent contemplation.  In 1292, at the age of 68, she passed from this world. In 1690, she was beatified, and in 1999 she was sainted.

Saint Kinga's convent, the Monastery of the Poor Clares, in Stary Sacz, Poland, remains a much-beloved landmark in the oldest section of this historic little town.

Poor Clares Monastery

Stary Sacz

On June 16, 1999, Pope John Paul II visited Stary Sacz, the town of his birth, for the proclamation of the canonization of beloved Saint Kinga.  A papal altar was erected on the common outside of the monastery that Kinga created and in which she had died.

Wooden altar at Stary Sacz

built for Pope John Paul II's visit

When suffering from headache, I recommend very simple rote prayers, such as the Jesus Prayer or the Rosary

Jesus Prayer

Lord, Jesus Christ,

son of God,

have mercy upon me,

a poor sinner.

Saint Kinga would have been familiar with the Jesus Prayer. It is a prayer used very much by Orthodox monastics and often "counted" on rope prayer beads. I have a set of these myself.

My prayer rope

I keep it in a box with my

Chaplet of Divine Mercy

The Jesus Prayer was probably first set out in the Philokalia, that great Orthodox spiritual work, in a discourse on Abba Philimon. What I have written out, above, is the "long" version that can be reduced to the shortest form: "Lord, Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me," but the version in the Philokalia only omits "a poor sinner" from its text.

Here we have another example of how the major religious traditions mirror one another in certain spiritual practices. The Jesus Prayer of the Orthodox faith, counted on knotted rope strands, is reminiscent of the Zen Koan's and the Hindu Mantra, and a little less similar to the Rosary, which is far more complex and involves meditations upon a variety of concepts.

Contrasting the role of Jesus as "son of God" with our own, "a poor sinner," sets us up for a more humble frame of mine. I imagine it is probably always good to keep in mind the difference between ourselves and The Lord.

Care has to be taken not to become attached to these things as a sort of magic talisman, of course. Advanced spiritual aspirants realize this without being told. I DO like to advocate for the beauty of the rosaries, chaplets, prayer ropes and the like, because beauty DOES attract us and, if it can attract us to something good and holy, then beauty serves a divine purpose. This is why I am not one of those people that blabs about how we should live so simply that we do not allow ourselves any beauty at all. That philosophy is the death of art and just causes stress, as far as I am concerned. Some Protestant sects are overly concerned with making things as PLAIN as possible. Certainly, a plain rosary is absolutely fine to use - but must we all have the same? No.

Rosary I made for myself

with my 29th Great Grandmother,

Saint Margaret of Scotland,

in the center piece

(Design is my original and copyrighted!)

A few years ago, I made myself a nice rosary of St. Margaret of Scotland, with her centerpiece and some lovely beads and charms that remind me of my Celtic, English and Scottish heritage. I did something unique with the bead caps to help keep me going in the right direction so that as my vision recedes more and more, I am able to follow the rosary without a problem.

There is nothing wrong with incorporating beauty into one's spiritual accoutrements. Certainly one can achieve the same result with a wood rosary or a silver one, but it's a matter of style, as far as I can see, and we shouldn't judge one another by it. Everyone has their own taste and inclinations.

This coming week, I have another eye doctor appointment. It seems like I was just there yesterday! I am praying that I do not have to have another shot in my eyeball, as I did last time! The doctor keeps lobbying to just give me the shots every month, and he gives me a headache with the pressure. My blood pressure goes up after he gives me one of these shots, and I just don't want to have them unless something is happening in my retina that calls for it. I am not fond of the anaphylactic approach.  Besides which, if I know that I am definitely getting a shot in my eye, I tend to apprehend it and my anxiety level rises. It's just what happens with PTSD. There is no magic bullet to make this stop. It's just one of the symptoms I have to deal with.  Anyway, please pray for me that the necessity for the shots will disappear and that I can stop doing this every month! I do know someone who had three shots and then never had to do it again, so it is not unreasonable to hope that I may do likewise.

Please pray for me as I pray for you, dear friends!

Next month is my birthday, and I have made an Amazon birthday wish list. I am still trying to do something positive with my diet, but food is so very expensive at the moment, it is hard to do! Ordering is easy. Amazon has my address and mails to me direct.

Here is the LINK - CLICK HERE

May we all be blessed!

Silver Rose

Sannyasini Kaliprana

P.S. All of the blog posts I write are independently researched and written by me and all of them are protected by legal copyright, so please just enjoy them here and leave them here where you found them and do not copy any of it to any other place for any purpose.

(c) Copyright 2022, Silver S. Parnell

All rights reserved.

Saint Ealhswith, my 33rd great grandmother, July 20, 2022

 

Saint Ealhswith

aka Ethelwitha, Etheldwitha,

Ethelwida

 b. abt 850 - d. 5 December 905

Wife of Saint Alfred the Great

Patron saint of (Unknown)

Information about Saint Ealhswith, the wife of Saint Alfred the Great, is very little. Although he was a somewhat noisy saint, winning a major battle against the Vikings and that sort of thing, his wife's role in history is quiet. I get a subdued feeling when reading about her. She was probably fascinating. Still waters run deep and all that. We know that she was a noble lady, a daughter of Aethelred, Ealdorman of the Gaini (a race of people), and Eadburgh, a noble lady of Mercia.

Mercia was the ancient name for the approximate area of modern day England, and most of my ancestry hails way back to the very ancient beginnings of that land and of Wales and Cornwall.

Map of Mercia from Wikipedia

Read about Mercia on Wikipedia

Though my great grand was married to the king, she was not called a queen. Evidently this was due to some superstition in Mercia at the time that started when a woman who did have the title of queen accidently killed her husband, the king, when she intended to kill someone else. So my great grandmother did not get the title of queen and was not addressed as such during her day. History has put a damper on her tale, as if a big thick blanket had just been thrown over her.  A hidden life - but in plain view.

A hidden life, in plain view is very much how it feels to be a city hermit in Albuquerque, come to think of it. The days are rushing by now. The older I get the quicker they go. I have lists of things I mean to do on every day, but the speed of time conspires against me. No matter. I can't get fired.

My 33rd great grandmother established a convent called Nunnaminster, and retired there sometime after the death of her husband. It seems to me that it is natural for people to dedicate the last years of their life to meditation on the Lord. In the Hindu convent, I read about how some Hindu elderly people would retire to the forest to live the "sannyas" monastic life. They would put on the orange colored robe and from that point on, live as brother and sister, a euphemism for living celibately together.

Nunnaminster is buried below the gardens of

Abbey House, at the resident of the Mayor

of Winchester

read about it HERE - at Early British Kingdoms

Celibacy is a crucial, primary feature of monastic life, though I don't see many non-institutional people discussing it these days. It isn't a popular topic among Americans. There are some folks on the internet claiming to be independent monastics of some sort, calling it by various terms, including monikers such as "anchoress" or "hermit" -  while at the same time living with spouse and children and conducting an active sex life. Monastic life is a solitary life that is sometimes lived together among others who are ALSO living a celibate/chaste life, which is known as a "cenobitic" arrangement. Sex activity is not part of the deal!

Most hermits I've read about do not spend their entire lives in that state. It seems to be a type of life to which some religious folk resort for a time certain, and then they return to a more active life or, as in the case of the Hindu Sannyassinis, it is a lifetime occupation. Even so, followers would often gather around the people - something I discourage, especially since I am not attached to any institution that would support it.

It is clear to me that The Lord definitely intends for me to live this life for the duration because my circumstances keep trending in that direction very strongly. For instance, the constant aggravation with the caregiver situation. Although I was approved for a caregiver at least 2 years ago, I have yet to find one. There is a terrible dearth of "caregivers" in general, and ALL the agencies are scrambling to try to serve their clients.  I have had some terrible experiences with agencies. The people either do not show up at all, or show up whenever they feel like it, or show up drunk or stoned, or show up and tell me they are disabled and can't do any real work, or show up and steal from me - or some combination of the above.

 

Saint Ealhswith's statue at Winchester

Today, the 3rd day of a new caregiver, she was late for the third day - in other words, late EVERY day - but today she is refusing to give me the simple courtesy of a phone call to tell me that she will be late. 

Not only is she refusing to give me a simple phone call to advise me she will be late, but the schedule we agreed upon has VANISHED somehow, in lieu of which, she expects to wander in here at some point after dusk - whenever her other activities allow, which definitely does not work for me.

The work that she DID manage to do was sloppy, not to requirements, not in accord with what I asked, and in some cases she ruined some things which had to be thrown out. I am having to re-wash all the dishes, including the blender, which I showed her how to clean. When I brushed my teeth this morning with my battery-operated toothbrush, the unmistakable flavor, scent and pucker of Ajax chlorine bleach powder hit my nose and my taste buds.  It was horrifying. The taste of some kind of filth also lingered, and I became convinced she had either dropped my toothbrush onto the floor or had used it to clean the grout in the sink (something she denies.) I rinsed and rinsed and rinsed and rinsed, then I gargled with hydrogen peroxide. And repeated.  I had a headache the entire day.

Every time a new "caregiver" is slated to start, I prefer to think well of them. I try to find whatever seems good about the person. It makes me happy to do this, but, conversely, when it does not work out, it may be that my initial assumptions work against me and make me feel more disappointed. I always start with high hopes. There is something odd happening with certain types of service jobs. There is a name for this tendency to abandon service jobs in favor of others that allow you to work at home or that may pay more. Covid started it, but I believe our nation's steep disparity of income that has increased in severity since the 1970's is to blame.

DISPARITY OF U.S. INCOME

1970 through 2005

Data from the Dept. of Labor

The first question that goes running through my mind is; Why do these people have such a crappy work ethic?

But the second thought is the understanding that this is just another way of the Lord enforcing my hermit state but unlike a hermit with institutional support, I am just as alone over here as the Desert Mothers - and perhaps MORE so. I am not without friends. Don't get me wrong. I have some lovely friends, but they have husbands and families and live on the other side of town.

After two years of disruptive irresponsible "caregivers" coming to my apartment and wasting my time training and instructing them, only to find myself shat upon in one fashion or another, I am resolved to TAKE THE HINT and give up on the idea of a caregiver. (Face it - the caregivers have given up on ME, really. It is silly to pretend that I can CHOOSE to give them up, since I can't seem to keep one here.)

Because I am physically disabled and cannot keep up with dishes and cooking, and because this is the main source of the mess in the apartment, aside from the paperwork that has gotten away from me, I need to figure out a completely different method of getting myself fed. I may need to eat at a restaurant every day.  I really don't know. How could I AFFORD that? It seems unreasonable.

If I lived near a health food restaurant or store where I could pop in and have something to eat quickly every day, that would be ideal - if I could figure out how to afford it.

Even CANNED food has to be heated up in some utensil, and then bowls and spoons involved, etc. Likewise a salad involves washing and cutting, and then cleaning of bowls, plates, flatware.

Frozen meals used to be affordable, but they're not, really, especially since the electricity keeps getting shut off over here, endangering the safety of eating food that has been partially defrosted and then re-frozen again.

I thought about making smoothies, but those also involve washing and cutting of the fruits, assembling the blender, making it, then taking apart the blender and washing it and the glass that I use to drink from. All of these activities require a certain amount of standing for prep work and dish washing that I just can't do. 

This topic stimulates some lovely memories I have of when I was a nun in a Vedanta (Hindu) convent in California and I often volunteered to do the cooking part of the work schedule that the younger nuns had to do. Cooking is a marvelous way to demonstrate to others a certain care for them and is an aspect of loving service that we all NEED. Feeding someone literally keeps them alive. It is hard, now, to be so physically compromised that I cannot even cook for myself, much less in service to others, but it is important for me to learn to surrender to the reality of the situation. I do my best to be a light burden on others, at the very least.

Now, if I was Saint Ealhswith, I would never have to worry about how to feed myself because others would be doing it for me. She was a queen, a station of life that relies on a model in which one person gets served by dozens of people, which is rather more the opposite of monastic life. It is fascinating to me that I am descended from so many kings and queens because that life is certainly different than the one I have led!

Saint Alfred the Great

READ ABOUT ST. ALFRED HERE

I am going to bring this to the Lord and ask HIM to fix it up for me. After all, HE is the one who has made me THE ACCIDENTAL HERMIT. It is up HIM to fix it. Isn't it?

Or shall I just retire the kitchen cooking supplies, give up all food prep and struggle on? I don't know.  Saint Ealhswith, my grandmother, please inspire me today and intercede for me at the foot of God's holy throne.

May we all be blessed!

Mother Silver Rose

Sannyasini Kaliprana

P.S. All of the blog posts I write are independently researched and written by me and all of them are protected by legal copyright, so please just enjoy them here and leave them here where you found them and do not copy any of it to any other place for any purpose.

(c) Copyright 2022, Silver S. Parnell

All rights reserved.

SAINT ARNULF OF METZ, My 38th Great Grandfather, July 18

 

Saint Arnulf of Metz

during his hermitage

The only way for me to get a blog written today is to just let it roll and ask for your understanding. I don't have the time or the health to cut it down to size! So - "stream of consciousness" is the mode of the day.

Today another ancestor is celebrated as a Saint. Some people scoff at the idea that one can know that information or rely upon it, but they do not realize how many people are alive today that are descended from some wildly interesting folks in the past. 37 generations have passed since Saint Arnulf walked the earth, and that represents, most likely, quite a few living descendants. Each saint who HAD children has their own peculiar family line, of course, and it is true that some have only a small handful of descendants living today, due to a break in the lineage in which few children lived to produce offspring, but I don't have that information ready to hand. I always enjoy doing the genealogy of friends I meet along life's path because every once in a while we discover that we are cousins, with a saint in our history.

Arnulf is the third great grandfather to Charlemagne, another ancestor of mine. There is such a wide range of historical events on which my ancestors impinged that I admit to being unable to remember it all, though I am trying to be more thorough about that. What is important to me, however, is not the political or cultural events on which they had some influence, but the spiritual lessons and guidance I may gain. I suppose that's obvious.

In Catholicism, if someone is designated as an official saint, it typically means (among other things) that one can be sure that the person is residing in heaven and not purgatory or hell. I believe they have to have been held responsible for a certain number of miracles as proof of their heavenly abode!

Saint Arnulf's miracles seem a bit thin to me, but how much can we know, really, about miracles in the 6th century? One of them involved a small amount of beer that turned into a large amount of beer miraculously, enough to quench the thirst of everyone present, in a beery version of Jesus turning the water into wine. Therefore, St. Arnulf is the patron saint of brewers! Next time you have a beer, drink one in honor of Saint Arnulf! Personally, I have never been much of a drinker, and my medications react badly with alcohol anyway, so I won't be hoisting one for my 38th great grandfather, but I'm pretty sure he won't mind the slight.

I LOVE the idea that we can talk to these ancestor saints just as we would a beloved grandfather who is sitting in his favorite chair in our parlor. I never had a grandfather in this life. Where some people have pictures of their parents and grandparents, I have icons of the saints I'm descended from. I haven't collected all of them, but one day I will start a prayer corner that has pictures of all them hanging on the wall. It should probably be a collection of miniatures, because there is more than two dozen of them.

Personally, I rely upon my sainted ancestors quite a great deal because my more immediate family, which admittedly was quite small, gave up religion several generations ago and I was not close to any of them. They were cruel to me. I think there may be a correlation.

Some people use religion to cover themselves in respectability, using the semblance of faith as a tool to pop open other people's wallets. I feel sad for them, to be honest, because they've sold their souls at such a pitiful price. Houses, cars and the manipulations that money allows haven't brought them half the joy they thought it would. But perhaps joy is not the word. Relief from fear is probably more accurate. 

More hellish then spending your golden years in poverty, to my mind, is facing that yawning abyss at the end of each of our lives when we will have to meet our maker. The clock ticks away, and every day each of us is one step closer to the final curtain on our earthly drama, and all the money in the world can't save you. Sneer at the cliché as much as you like, but you are just inches from breathing your last, and then what?

These are the thoughts of the saints, I believe. Look at the ordinary lives of someone such as Saint Arnulf of Metz. He pursued the expected goals of the day, participating in wars and schemes. But his wife (my sainted 38th great grandmother Doda) inspired him - or perhaps she scared him by enumerating his sins, which wives often know better than even the man himself. She took the veil while still married to him and not long afterward, he gave up his privileged life and retired to a hermitage to live out his last years.

Even such people as these can be used by God to reflect his glory or accomplish his aims because, being all good, he can (and often does) bring the greatest good out of the greatest evil. In this way, he frustrates (and infuriates) Satan, who thinks he is winning the war against God when he can lead a person to pervert their own character and do his work for him. This is the spiritual reality behind that old saying about every cloud having a silver lining. Good always wins in the end, though it is sometimes hard to recognize it when one is too much involved. Sometimes you've got to be detached and step away from that cloud before you can see the silver lining.

When we read about a saint, such as my great grandfather Arnulf, they seem, at first to be ordinary for their day and station in life. When we see them develop into saints, it is sometimes hard to fathom. How does one "become" such a saint? But the saintliness has been there all the time - buried deep within, and the only change is the removal of dirt from the glass that covers the lamp of the soul. Spiritual practices removes the dirt, and then you can see the light.

Arnulf was a multifaceted person. Like many of my ancestors, he belonged to the nobility. He served at the Merovingian court and got his training under Theudebert II, another relation of mine, with scantier attachment. (He is a cousin or great uncle of some sort. I would call him a "shirt tail" relation.) Arnulf was initially made a "dux" which is the precursor of the word "Duke," I believe. Anyway, it is the same sort of thing. He ruled somewhere along the Scheld River in Northern France, Belgium, and the Netherlands.

At some point, he was offered "the See of Metz," near the junction of France, Germany and Luxembourg, and he thus became bishop.  But before this, his wife "took the veil!" I'd like to have been a fly on the wall for THAT conversation! Of course, in those days, especially with the nobility, marriage was a business arrangement between two families. "Love matches," something we take for granted, were rare. His wife, Dode or Doda was ALSO sainted, and historians do posit that it may have been her holy influence that turned him more toward God.

But, before holy orders, Arnulf joined Pepin of Landen (my 39th great grandfather, who was also a BLESSED) in a war against Brunhilda, who ruled Austrasia and Burgundy on behalf of her grandchildren. Brunhilda was married to my 40th great granduncle Sigebert. She was quite something, a very strong lady who wielded a lot of power, but I don't think she was a particularly religious person. Brunhilda was tortured and killed, and I believe Arnulf felt some guilt over this and other sins.

Toward the end of his life, Arnulf retired to become a religious hermit - so here we are, come full circle. Another hermit in the family!

I got very little done today. The older I get, the slower I go. The routine gets harder and harder by the day. I don't mind - not really. As time goes on, and I become more and more accustomed to the reality of growing older whilst being physically disabled, I feel myself surrendering to it. I had better surrender because, when I don't, I get SO frustrated, I just want to throw things. It's no fun feeling like that. The good thing about all my limitations is that I don't have the stamina to do much sinning. I can be grateful for that! 

Tomorrow I have been promised a caregiver to come and help me in the house. I pray that it works out because I've been without help for the last couple years that I have needed it, and it has been very hard on me to live surrounded by the mess. I was always a meticulous housekeeper. and now I can't do it.

I don't pray for release from my physical ills, but I do pray for the grace to endure it. We all grow old, if we are lucky not to die young. In the meantime, I offer it all up as an ascetic practice.

I just wish I was a better writer or artist. I would be able to better support myself in my old age. I am learning how to make wire wrapped jewelry, but so far it does not look like I have a remarkable talent there EITHER. It is very frustrating. Then I remind myself that it is not important in the general scheme of things. End of days.

This one has a little St. Benedict

medal hanging from the bottom, 

which can be blessed by your

parish priest, if you choose.

My car is missing TWO windows now! It is very inconvenient when the temperature is in the high nineties. I have a GOFUNDME campaign, but I don't know that many people to whom I can advertise it, and my story isn't pathetic enough, I suppose. It sounds like a "first world problem," but people don't realize that I am STRANDED without a car, and I will faint if I have to be out in 90 degree heat. The caregiver may be able to help me with some of this until the car is fixed. The weird thing is that I worry that the bugs in the garage will move into the car before I have a chance to get the windows fixed. We have SO many big bugs here!

My little "bug," Mr. Charlemagne, has been sucking on his teeth and his little body is beginning to feel a bit warm - which means, of course, he needs to have his teeth worked on and he probably has an infection in one, an abscess or something. So I have to take the little guy to the vet, which I cannot afford - at all.  There are many reasons to have a service dog in my life. It was recommended by the police because I was getting constant attempted break-ins, and living without ANY form of affection for another creature is not healthy, but it isn't fair to a little animal to let them suffer with pain and illness because I have "adopted" something I don't have the money to care for properly. So this little guy is my last dog because instead of the relief one is supposed to experience from the affection of an animal (especially a guard animal) it represents to me a tremendous amounts of stress.

The emergencies all pile one on top of the other when living on a fixed income. I'm not the only one experiencing it. All these ladies that live in this apartment complex endure some version of it, especially those who do not have family. I'm just the only person TALKING about it.

Charlemagne, named after

another relative of mine

I am trying hard to be as surrendered as possible, to accept all the pain, inconvenience and limitations with grace. What I find very interesting is that the more difficult circumstances become, the closer the Lord comes to me. It is remarkable. I had not expected it, but this is the way it works.

Please pray for me, as I pray for you.

May we all be blessed!

Mother Silver Rose

Sannyasini Kaliprana

P.S. All of the blog posts I write are independently researched and written by me and all of them are protected by legal copyright, so please just enjoy them here and leave them here where you found them and do not copy any of it to any other place for any purpose.

(c) Copyright 2022, Silver S. Parnell

All rights reserved.