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 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

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