The Recluse: The View from JIVi Hermitage

Please join me on yahoo.

2011-09-09T15:13:00.000-07:00

my new blog is on yahoo:

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/jivihermitage_blog/

blessings,

gemma

Reclusion, When Done Properly...

2011-01-25T04:16:00.001-08:00

Should not interfere with anything in regards to family life. Quite the contrary, everything should improve. "Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and everything else will be given you." (Sacred Scripture).

I had already been living the life of a Lay Dominican (and Passionist) since my college days. When the Cloisterites went eremitical, I was advised to live the life myself in order to better redirect the group from a cenobitic focus to eremitical. Combining this with autism, where in some cases one prefers to be a homebody, I found my niche. I was also asked about autistic spirituality by a local autism service provider, and eremitism in such a case makes perfect sense.

I had been using the term 'recluse' because that's what came to me. Upon further research, that's exactly what the layfolk who embraced such a way of life were called when the Anchoritic Movement swept Europe around the year 1000. Anchorites lived in "anchorholds" attached to churches, and some were permitted to go into the church for the sake of giving instruction. Otherwise, they were content to spend the rest of their living days sealed into one to three rooms, praying; giving advice through a grill; and observing Mass and receiving communion through a window. More often than not, they were Third Order Secular.

St. Colette of Corbie, the great Poor Clare reformer, was a Secular Franciscan recluse in her hometown of Corbie, France, before the reform. The scars of the anchorhold can still be seen on the Rue Parmentier side of the church, at the back, between two buttresses. (Google Earth is the next best thing to being there, too).

Back to the year 1000, though. Layfolk were drawn to this way of life, also, but in their own particular circumstances. Two hundred years later, the phenomenon would occur again when St. Clare formed the Poor Ladies in the spirit of St. Francis of Assisi. Rich women had cloisters built onto their mansions. Anchorites/Anchoresses were still in vogue when St. Colette became one, but the Franciscans had strayed from their austere, empoverished way of life, hence the reason why God called her from the anchorhold to become a reformer.

The Code of Canon Law of 1983 resurrected the Order of Hermits, and I don't see any problem with God calling someone from the laity to be counterparts of their vowed eremitical brethren. History supports this trend. I refer to lay hermits as "catechetical" hermits, because the catechism doesn't specify vows, it says only that some are drawn to live such a life. Hermits who have made vows to their bishops are known as canonical hermits, persuant to canon 603.

In the two spiritual traditions in which I live--Dominican and Paulacrucian (Passionist)--both founders placed a lot of emphasis on getting one-on-one with God. St. Paul of the Cross had their convents--"Retreats"--built in secluded areas surrounded by nature for the sake of rejuvenating his friars. St. Dominic would spend the entire night in prayer before going out to preach.

As I tell everyone who comes to Cloister Outreach for vocational support, the cloister is God and the soul--the building is irrelevant. Concentrate on the cloister of the heart first, then if He wants you in an actual, physical cloister living the evangelical counsels, He will provide. And from the looks of the statistics for cloistered vocations, He is indeed calling many to appease His Wrath.

However, in the spirit of St Therese, a cloistered nun-saint who did little things with great love, we should give ourselves over to the Loving Father who is the One True God. He wants a loving relationship with us--always has, always will. No matter how wretched our past has been, He will take us back (contrary to what the pagans/occultists are telling their adherents). St. Augustine was a former Manachean. Blessed Bartolo Longo, TOP, was a former Satanic High Priest.

In our Book of Revelation, Mary is the woman who will slay the Great Dragon (the goddess at her "best"). There will be no defeat of the "judeo-christian god," because He was there before these imposters were. (Please note that in the movie "The Passion of the Christ," the Devil is portrayed as a woman. The movie is based on the revelations of one of the great mystics of the church, Sr. Anne Catherine Emmerich, a German Augustinian nun. Places which she had seen have been independently verified).

In my reclusion, I aim to console the One True God for the insanity which has pervaded our world. Silence fills this little hermitage out of respect for the King of Kings. I am very little, but that massive bloodshed on Good Friday was meant for me, too. It was meant for everyone, no exceptions. This means you, too.

Blessings,
Gemma

Last Post?

2010-12-10T05:09:00.000-08:00

I don't remember a lot about the last several months, aside from going through symptoms that I thought were never going to end. I dragged myself back to the GI specialist, and he said that the systems should have adjusted by then, and put me on some medication. Such proved to be the "magic bullet," but I was still very weak from the previous symptoms. If the gallbladder stuff had happened without the gastroenteritits, I would have recovered faster, and vice versa.

During this time, I learned a lot about the Prayer of Simple Regard, and the Prayer of the Will. The latter I discovered when reading about St. Vincent de Paul's writings on Mental Prayer. He taught the sick to use the "Prayer of the Will," as he called it. I found it to be similar to St. Therese's prayers during the final days of her life. Her sisters found her looking to Heaven with her hands folded in prayer. She explained that that was her prayer--loving Him.

I have had to chill in more than one way. I could not watch TV or read the news. Sensory Integration Dysfunction overload had to be quelled. Absolute silence both within and without. I asked God if there was anything we were missing/overlooking, and my attention was drawn to the master bathroom lineoleum. Once the old stuff was removed, I felt a lot better.

In June, God showed me what He wants me to do after He takes hubby, and it does not include marriage. Hubby then left the church in July, disenchanted by the sex abuse scandals, among other things. When the boys returned to school in late August, the germs were already flying. On the fourth day of school, one was home sick. After what I've been through, I'm a sitting duck where immunity issues are concerned. I have been praying fervently for my guys not to bring anything home to me. In our family history, February and March have been the worst months for it. Germs picked up during Christmas holidays will have had time to incubate.

September brought my Aspie son's 18th birthday, and we have guardianship issues to take care of. October, I was busy putting together a 10 page report for my local bishop on the activities of Cloister Outreach this past year. November I turned 47 and we had a blessed Thanksgiving with relatives. We should always support in prayer those who are experiencing the holidays without their loved ones, for whatever reason they might be absent.

I was also stunned to learn of the death of one of our beloved high school coaches in my hometown. He was not only a pillar of the community, but a deacon of the church in which I grew up. He had been my Sunday School teacher one year, and always referred to Jesus as "God." He was a man of tremendous faith and compassion, and could not believe that God had blessed him with twins the first time he and his wife were expecting.

I am seriously considering giving up blogging. Experience has proven it is not healthy--at least not for me. I started it for the sake of those praciticing lay eremitism. I admit that while I have lived a reclusive life for religious reasons (and my bishop knows about this), my experiences probably have not been all that helpful to anyone. Some readers seem to think I am in need of an "in your face" style of novitiate for some reason. I am not a religious, I am a lay person, and insist on being respected as such. I have no qualms about contacting someone's ISP if they persist in their harrassment. I have an amicable relationship with my local chancery.

The Cloisterites are going to eventually take over Cloister Outreach's webpresence, to include the blogs. If I see that my energies are useful on the blogisphere, I may return. As of right now, I don't have the energy.

Y'all have a blessed 2011,
Gemma

Just chillin'

2010-06-21T13:54:00.000-07:00

I would've blogged sooner, but I sustained a concussion when I ran into the oral surgeon's light's elbow joint last Tuesday. I might be a 94 on the Attention Deficit Disorder scale, but that whack put me at 99.

I am still dealing with the stomach issues. I had a lot thrown at me this past year, and I just simply have to chill and give the body a chance to regroup. My GI specialist wants to scope me, too. I've been working on a couple of novels (I consider myself a freelance writer in semi-retirement), and I'm trying to organize research materials for other works-in-progress. This in addition to my work with Cloister Outreach.

School finally ended on the 11th. My Aspie son made the A Honor Roll; the other son made the A-B Honor Roll. We're catching up on Dr. Who now. The Aspie has oral surgery on the eve of the Feast of Our Lady of Mt. Carmel. He has one tooth impacted, which will be removed. Two others haven't come in yet, but since they are unopposed, they will have to be removed--probably within the next 2-3 years. The only reason I'm posting that is for educational purposes.

Blessings,
Gemma

Surgery Came and Went

2010-04-27T06:20:00.001-07:00

Presently recouperating from laparoscopic gallbladder removal surgery. I met with the surgeon last Wednesday, and Friday morning, bright and early, I was at the local surgery center. State law forbade a stay longer than 23 hours, so I was back home by 5:30am Saturday morning. I'm still deaing with gastroenteritis, though.

My Aspergers son is having feeding issues, too, but the Duocal seems to be stimulating his appetite, finally. He lost 20 pounds last year during the wintertime virus season, and never gained it back. We were sent to the "Kids-Eat" program at Wake Forest, and they put him on a treatment plan.

Blessings,
Gemma

The Real Meaning of Lent?

2010-03-20T11:04:00.000-07:00

I had thought after mom's funeral I would be able to settle into some peace and quiet here at the house, and lead a quietly penitential Lent, but God had some very incredible plans for us. As St. Francis de Sales says, "Don't go looking for the cross, it'll find you."

Our locality was hit hard by wintertime viruses. After being sick for two weeks, the Norwalk virus exploited my Asperger's son's condition. He had a seizure--a result of dehydration--and had to be taken to the ER via ambulance. Once he was through that, my other son was out of school several days with a fever that wouldn't hardly go down. I got the same fever, and on top of that, had to contend with internet slander that was unleashed upon me and the fledgling Cloisterites. My spiritual director, a Dominican involved in full-time formation in Quebec, was a real hero through it all. I am a simple housewife, mother, webmaster, and foundress. In the last two offices, I work entirely within my boundaries.

I kept thinking the abdominal pain I was experiencing was just stress, or a virus, but when the pain increased, and I had to start double-swallowing, I knew I needed to get to the dr. Four ounces at a time, and even that didn't want to be happy where it was. I am reclined more than I am up. Gravity makes the symptoms worse. TV and radio--sound for that matter--are intolerable. I need to spend the time with God anyway.

An ultrasound showed gallstones, but that doesn't explain the rest of my symptoms. A barium swallow is scheduled for this week. (Hopefully, the country doesn't melt down before that).

I will have to close here, since I am weak from not eating and from the symptoms themselves.

Blessings,
Gemma

Black Wax Post

2010-01-05T21:06:00.000-08:00

In colonial days, if a letter arrived sealed with black wax, news of a death was within.

Mom passed this afternoon during the Hour of Divine Mercy.

I am more at peace than I thought I would be.

The funeral will be at my BIL's funeral home (Owen) in Louisville, KY, on Saturday. I will be present for visitation on Friday.

Blessings,
Gemma

The Black Wax Post

2010-01-05T18:20:00.000-08:00

In Colonial times, wax was used to seal letters. Any color could be used, and black was reserved for death notices.

Mom passed this afternoon during the Hour of Mercy (3 to 4 pm). I am at peace with it.

The visitation and funeral will be this Friday and Saturday at my BIL's funeral home (Owen). I will be present for the Friday Visitation.

Blessings,
Gemma

I See I Have a Lot to Update

2009-11-13T07:20:00.000-08:00

Mom got moved to a nursing home this week, so now that she's weaker, she has around-the-clock professional care. We were concerned that her caretakers who had been staying with her would not be able to evacuate her safely in the event of fire--despite the FD headquarters being across the street. Mom's move has already had positive influence on her. She was too isolated in her apt, and kept telling her caretakers that she wanted to go to sleep and wake up to see the face of Jesus. She also wanted to see me, her baby, one last time.

I told her that Jesus might have another plan, and that He might want her to meet more people. Then one of my sisters announced that arrangements had been made for the nursing home. The move took place this past Monday, and the sister in charge of the move declared mom to be in "magnificent" shape.

My MIL seems to have perked up now that the holidays are approaching--and we will be visiting. The ghosts are still giving her fits. We shall see what's happening when we get there. The last time she was going through this, I had to sprinkle Lourdes water throughout the house, and place Miraculous Medals in every room. I even bought her a large St. Benedict crucifix to keep in her room, and a St. Benedict rosary to keep on her person. Since November is the month of the Faithful Departed, I would almost expect more activity--if indeed that is what it is--during this month. During the "triduum" of Halloweeen; All Saints Day; and All Souls Day, the activity increased. There have been a lot of religious (and laity) praying for her and her house.

As for my Aspie son, I prayed to know what to feed him to help bulk him up--actually just to get weight on him, and "Muscle Milk" kept coming to me. I had seen weightlifters at the gym purchase it from the front desk, so I asked him if he would like to try, and he was desperate. The boy typically is very finicky about what he eats--texture problems due to the autism--but I guess this was a "shot across the bow" for him. We ordered two cases from the Vitamin Shoppe and he alternates between Chocolate Mint in the morning, and Vanilla Creme at bedtime. I also bought him a "City Gainers" smoothie at the gym (I use a "City Burners" during every workout--keeps the muscle pain at bay), and that did more for putting weight on him than anything, including ice cream. We have one City Gainers in the freezer, and he partakes at his leisure.

I am trying to get him into a special clinic at UNC-Chapel Hill for the sake of his liver problems. We have permission from his GI specialist to use Advil--Tylenol is discouraged but permitted. The last time I gave him Advil was for a migraine, but the jaundice came back quite darkly in his eyes, so prevention is the course at this time. We see an endocrinologist this coming week to see if my family history of thyroid problems will be heeded. All three of my sisters have had their thyroids removed, and my aunt and her two daughters have had problems, also.

As for the other members of the family, we got my neurotypical son over a recurrent case of "Bulbous Impetigo". We thought it was just dermatitis, so the dermo--who thought it was shingles--did a biopsy. Two weeks of Doxycycline, and the bubbles (blisters) are no more.

Hubby has quit graduate school to concentrate on politics. He has been to five demonstrations--two in DC--and plans to attend more. We are dismayed that there are no more than just him from the Triad area, or NC for that matter, attending these things.

Pray for us as we pray for you.

Blessings,
Gemma

Prayers, please, for Aspergers son

2009-09-30T13:58:00.000-07:00

We've had a lot of problems with him since the viruses that took his weight down from 127 to 98 pounds earlier this year. He simply cannot get the weight back on, despite having grown upward an inch.

At first, we all thought it was leukemia, but those tests came back negative. We discovered a liver enzyme quirk which is hereditary. Now, he's battling a suicidal depression, and I'm clutching at straws as to what to do. He can't focus in school, and if we increase his Adderall, there's a good chance of doing away with any appetite whatsoever. He hasn't been sleeping, despite Lunesta, but now he's on Rozerem, and is doing better. His dr thought perhaps an anti-depressant would be in order, along with psychotherapy. Seems the state of the world has bogged him down, and school is overwhelming.

His father kept insisting on his keeping up with the news, but I've put an end to that. The boy will live a sheltered life. Since he's having such problems with school, I, at least, am entertaining the thought of homeschooling, again. Our school added four portable classrooms this year, if that tells you anything about how crowded the hallways have become.

His neurotypical brother said he dealt with his teenage depression by sleeping (I thought as much), then revealed that he had had something to do with attempted suicide twice. He simply made the decision to get over it. That's not so easy for the Aspie, though. It's easier to find a needle in a haystack than to find someone who knows how to deal with autism around here.

At least I can rest assured that my mom and MIL are both covered by LifeAlert. My BIL who had the esophageal cancer surgery at Duke is home and recovering. He has a cough, and fluid in his lungs, so that needs prayer.

But, most of all, please pray we can get to the root of my son's problems.

Blessings,
Gemma

God Spared Us

2009-09-22T10:36:00.000-07:00

Okay, so my "neurotypical" (NT) son has his driver's permit. So does the Aspie, but he's not driving until his meds get worked out. (Another story for another time).

We didn't pick up our rider as usual--a young man who has had some coping problems with family and school, but he seems to have warmed up to us. He was at home sick. Perhaps it was intuition on his part.

We were at a crossroads which, if one arrives at just the right time during morning rush hour, has no traffic. We were at an "off" moment, when traffic was coming. My BlackBerry buzzed, and I looked down to take care of it. My NT son had not done anything stupid, so far, while driving, but, unfortunately, this morning was different.

Something made me look up after he started the turn onto the highway, and I saw BUS in my peripheral vision. Bus too close, that is. "WHAT THE #$^*ARE YOU DOING!?" I screamed (please keep in mind that I am not a cussing woman). I kept screaming this as the bus bore down on our bumper. "PULL OVER UP THERE!" I commanded as my son was about to break down into tears.

I don't know how long we sat in the neighbor's driveway. I had to calm down before starting to drive. Some kind soul let us back out, but I had to wait for the other direction to clear out, too. Remembering that detail was like a shock to my brain. On the way to school, I told them that if we had been killed, my Aspie son would have had a lovely birthday present, waking up in Heaven. The NT son, OTOH, could have lost his soul because of stupidity like that. No telling where I would have ended up.

When we got to school, I ordered a group hug before everyone got out. Once home, I emailed the principal, assistant principal, and my Aspie son's case worker/advocate, and let them know what happened just in case the boys were "unsettled" today.

I have never in my life been that close to sudden death, and I pray I'm not taken suddenly in the future. I've had a couple of near death experiences due to health issues, but never anything like this. I now understand the meaning of the word "discombobulated." And I still am to a certain extent. When hubby came home for lunch today, I didn't have the nerve to tell him what had happened. I'm going to wait and see what happened at school before I tell him. Even then, God will have to give me the words. I still haven't reconciled myself to what happened.

Whether I live or die, all is for Jesus. He makes the decisions around here.

Blessings, Gemma

One long weekend

2009-08-04T09:50:00.000-07:00

I usually have a couple of weeks to prepare for trips. Trying to throw stuff together on a moment's notice is not easy for those of us on the autism spectrum. I know God has a sense of humor, but when I was making hotel reservations, "Mother and Child Reunion" was on the piped-in music.

I had expected the trip to be much rougher physically due to our usually taking the truck, but hubby said we were taking the car, and that helped tremendously. He and our 15 year-old shared the driving, the latter driving us to the state line, then doing a Chinese fire drill at the welcome center. My Aspie son and I enjoyed our solitudes in the back seats.

One of my sisters phoned my BlackBerry just as we stopped at Bob Evans in Charleston, W.VA. for a late lunch. Mom was taking everything in stride. "I'm 90," she said. (Actually, she's 89). Hospice was being arranged. MRI reports said that the tumor was two and a half centimeters, and in the center of the brain, and apparently had been there for some time. Her dr said she was the poster child for geriatric health. Other than the tumor, she could live to be 120.

I still felt as if I'd been slammed against a wall. But, just as with the sudden death of our Canaan Dog, Michael, by autoimmune hemolytic anemia, I never whimpered against the Will of God. Same here. If He is wanting to take her, that's His business. I pray for the grace for all of us to be resigned to what He wants.

We arrived in Louisville in what could be considered record time, but the traffic wasn't that heavy. We soon learned, however, that our hotel was not going to work. To put it as tactfully as possible, we had ended up in Louisville's Little Castro. We couldn't hardly go to the bathroom in our room because the perfume the men were using was somehow wafting into our quarters. I made sure the boys stayed in the room, and did as little errand running as possible.

I called one of my sisters, and she said that our eldest was having a time with mom. For some reason, Haldol had been administered, and mom was getting loopy because of it. Actually, loopy doesn't quite cut it--she was hallucinating. On that note, I put the BlackBerry to charge, said a prayer for all involved, and corralled everybody to bed. My Aspie son had to take Lunesta at 9pm, so everyone else was going to hit the hay, too.

I didn't know if my own restlessness was due to the drive and circumstances--Little Castro literally surrounded us on the fifth and other floors--or if the intuition had gone into overdrive. I had managed to fall asleep, when BOOM, BOOM, BOOM outside jolted me awake. "Oh, my God," I thought. "Here I've made it to Louisville to see my dying mother and I'm going to die in the wake of someone's meltdown." Shotgun, I thought. We were seriously undergunned. The time was 10:30pm on the dot.

BOOM BOOM BOOM.

We all jumped up and went to the window. Guests at the hotel across the street were doing the same. BOOM BOOM.

"Sounds like it's coming from the parking garage across the street," I said.

BOOM-BOOM

"Double tap," said hubby, a Gulf War I veteran.

"Tonight, there will be a fire alarm," I heard in my heart as I got up to call the front desk. "You know you've got shotgun blasts out there?" I asked.

"It's fireworks from the stadium. They have it every Friday night," said the desk clerk.

"Why didn't you put that on your website?" No good response to that, so I hung up.

"Fireworks?! In a hospital district?!" hubby mused.

We all managed to get back into bed, and asleep.

EEEP EEEP EEEEEEP

What the. . .? I opened my eyes. 11:30pm. EEEP EEEP EEEEEP.

Stinkin' car alarm! Why doesn't someone take care of it?

EEEP EEEP EEEEEP

I looked up at our own fire alarm, but the light wasn't flashing. "Remember what I said about a fire alarm?" I heard in my heart.

Three of us spontaneously got up and went to the window. Guests were gathering in front of the hotel across the street. Sirens were finally sounding. I could see the flashing fire alarm lights in some of the rooms. A Baker Aerialscope ladder truck pulled up in front. (I took a pic, but I'm still trying to figure out how to get it from the BlackBerry to here). "That's the only good thing I'm getting out of this," hubby complained. "At least I get to see a Baker Aerialscope." That wasn't the only 'mouthing' he did while we were there.

False alarm finally over, we all went back to bed. I was praying those who were frequenting the gay bar around the corner would be civilized when they returned. Apparently they were, as there were no further disturbances. I had three good hours of sleep. After continental breakfast, we checked out. Hubby determined that we would stay in the Comfort Inn out by my BIL's funeral home, despite its being about 10 miles from the hospital.

When I was in practical nursing school in 1981-82, I lived in the Spalding University dorm on 4th street. The downtown sounds were disruptive until a certain point, then they were simply background noise. What a difference 20+ years makes.

Anywho, back to finding my mom's hospital room. I knew that Jewish and Norton Hospitals were across the street from each other, but I had no idea that the four city blocks had been made into the "Louisville Medical Center" which had taken Kosair Children's Hospital and Frazier Rehab under its wing also. This place is so big, it's got its own steam plant. Parking is free on the weekend, and after this engineering family marveled at the cooling tower, we set about trying to find mom.

Mom was still a little loopy when we got there. She thought we were more medical personnel. She thought my 15 year-old was someone else. And we all had double heads. The tumor wasn't pressing on the optic nerve, but it was putting pressure on the nerve track. Second heads were either on top of our own, or on our shoulders.

We had a little bit of time before the doctors made their rounds, and the nursing assistant ran us off so mom could get a bath. I made sure I tracked down mom's nurse, and asked her to get mom anointed. Mom's Baptist, but she received Catholic anointing before surgery years ago, so I requested it for her. Come to find out, Protestants receive anointing, too. But we're still going to get one of the "family" priests to give her the Anointing of the Sick. My catechist, and a racecar driver-priest are both family friends. Surely someone can get the job done.

Two of my sisters showed up. The third was still asleep, but would come in later. We sent the guys on a sight-seeing trip of the locality. Hubby was determined to find a bigger, better hotel room, so they took care of that.

Mom was cognizant of all of us. She talked with the doctors, and was resigned to her situation. The nurse came in and said the chaplain would be in around noon to do the anointing. After the sister closest to me in age came in, we borrowed chairs from the dr's dictation alcove. Always such a rarity to have all four of us in the same room. Mom gasped, and hugged herself when we drew her attention to the fact.

I took photos of them, but no one photographed me. There's a good reason for this. When I was growing up, the only time anyone took my pic was after I had been provoked to reaction. When one of my sisters asked me to write about growing up with autism, I mentioned that little fact. All three got the message. Nobody photographed me. I was quite content. (I was really PO'd at the media during Gulf War I as one TV photog proved intrusive while hubby and I were sharing a parting moment).

Lunch arrived just after the black lady chaplain did. Mom said she'd rather have food for the soul than the body at that time. The chaplain said she usually didn't come in on the weekend, but God had put it in her heart to get there. "You're in God's heart," she said to mom. She also read three passages of scripture, the first being that the psalmist had never seen the righteous forsaken, nor their seed begging their bread. Two more passages--one from Psalms, another from Isaiah--both mentioned grey hair, and how God would care for the family. After a reading from Max Lucado, I saw the lady chaplain take something from her bag--the consecrated oil--and she made the Sign of the Cross on mom's forehead with it. As the chaplain prayed over Mom, I extended my right hand, which is what we do in church.

My sisters and I left mom to her lunch after the chaplain's departure. We went downstairs to the cafe to get a snack. I had determined via BlackBerry that Mass for my family would be at 4:15pm at St. Louis Bertrand's, the Dominican church downtown where I had become a Tertiary. We'd all have supper at the Kingfish across the river in Jeffersonville, Indiana.

As my family drove to the church that afternoon, I was rather dismayed to see the urban decay that had set in. When I was in college, the neighborhoods were thriving. But I thought of how an urban-based diocesan hermit could make something of a difference in these decaying neighborhoods--even if just to give someone a smile. Or encourage someone to go to rehab. Sometimes that's all it takes to make a difference.

"Louie B's" hadn't changed that much. The interior had just been renovated and was spectacular. I thought of how the friars had been based in the Springfield, KY, area at St. Rose when they first arrived in KY before the Civil War. From there, the Dominican influence in Kentucky had grown. I was rather dismayed to see no reference to the Third Order, though, and wondered if a split one of them had reported to me years ago had been the chapter's demise. I wore my Veritas shield pin on my t-shirt, and pondered the memory of how we Tertiaries used to sit in the first 10 rows on the right side at the front. Mom used to pick me up from college in Berea and would take me to the meetings once a month. I reminded God of her solicitude toward my spiritual life.

The new pastor had the Mass. During his homily, he said he had been reading the history of the parish, and how they had come from St. Rose to establish this parish. Okay, so my intuition was wide open today. That and five bucks will get a coffee at Starbucks.

After Mass, we drove around Old Louisville. What lovely old homes in various stages of repair and disrepair. Although some may have been Sears Pre-cut homes, most were red brick with elaborate limestone trimmings. We found 2nd street, and made our way to the Kingfish after crossing the 2nd Street Bridge.

Everyone converging on Kingfish put 'straggle' into the word 'Straggler.' After about an hour, all nine of us were finally seated. My nephew had driven up that afternoon, and joined us. Just as the server presented my eldest BIL with his cole slaw, he knocked over his water. 'Cole slaw' became the joke of the hour. "Here is a man truly enthusiastic about cole slaw," said my second oldest BIL, a retired journalist. We dissolved into giggles. (Why he doesn't do narration for the Comedy Channel or something similar is beyond me. He has the voice for it). "Job security," said the server as she wiped the ice off the table into a dishpan.

We found our way back to the new hotel after dinner. I was moved by the Spirit to procure drinks and snacks for everyone for in the morning. Since I seriously needed 1000 mg of Tylenol for a headache, I went ahead and ate my snack. I fell asleep watching--thank God--the British Comedies on KET2.

We missed continental breakfast--they closed an hour earlier than at the first hotel. I distributed the snacks which the Spirit had so wonderfully guided me to. Hubby let me off at the hospital, and I found mom leaning over on the over-bed table. "I'm listening to the TV," she said. "Meet the Press" was on. We recounted our enthusiasm for Louisville sportscaster Bob Domine, and the fun we had running his fan club in the 1970s. She also recounted some of her childhood growing up without TV. She never knew to be prejudiced because of the black train foreman who lived in their neighborhood, and playing with his kids.

My second-oldest sister walked in. Then the doctors came in on rounds. Mom's geriatric hospitalist came in and talked about her regular physician visiting her at home (yes, he makes housecalls, and even has breakfast with the pt sometimes). The hour was over, and I had to leave. She was slightly upset because I was headed back to NC. She thought I was going to be at her apt that afternoon. As my sister put me in the car, she said, "Make her cry and hold her" to hubby.

To round out the weekend, we received a call on my son's cellphone from a neighbor saying cop cars were in front of our house, and a cop was in our back yard. The cops had also blocked off our street. Allegedly, someone's ex-something-or-other had busted in a lady neighbor's door, and had tried to stab her. When we got home, nothing was going on. We learned the truth the next day--car break-ins. Since our truck was untouched, they investigated our property.

So, now mom's back at her apt sending out emails and entertaining hospice; my BIL with esophageal cancer is in Duke at the moment; and I'm trying to set up medical tests for my Aspie son to see why he has such bad ADHD without his meds. Pray for us.

Blessings,
Gemma

mom has inoperable brain tumor

2009-07-31T04:07:00.000-07:00

We're headed out today to see my mom. She's been in hospital a couple of days, and the MRI showed an inoperable tumor at the center of the brain.

On top of this, my BIL will be having esophageal cancer surgery at Duke. My Aspie son's medication wonked his health, and that needs management. And a long-time friend of mine, whom I met on retreat 20 years ago, is having a CT scan for headaches.

Please pray for us.

Blessings,
Gemma

As the School Year Winds Down. . .

2009-06-01T09:09:00.000-07:00

A number of things we've been working with:

Break-ins in our subdivision. Last night as we were at Mass preparing for communion, one of my sons leaned over and suggested we leave straight away after communicating, for the sake of the house. We weren't a mile from the church when a friend of his called his cell phone, saying he had just chased the Person-of-Interest from our property. There have been six break-ins in the last few months, and four took place two week-ends ago. One happened at a cop's house.

On a lighter note, 0ur school year is winding down, and my Aspie son had a great IEP review. He has made tremendous progress this year. I hope we can get his other needs addressed this summer. After the start of the next school year, we will be attending six counseling sessions at TEACCH, which is where he and I both were diagnosed as Aspergers Autistics.

Both boys have concluded that they wish to be engineers. I am encouraging the civil branch, as that has more opportunity in more places. Our school system has career tracks, so both will be pursuing the engineering track. Both boys are gifted with doing algebra in their heads.

The recession has taken its toll on hubby's job. He had his pay docked 10 percent, and is home every other Friday until further notice. He will be proctoring End-Of-Course exams at our high school this Friday. One of our sons will get extra credit for it.

Our summer will be taken up with driver's ed again, only for my youngest son.

Part of being a lay hermit is learning how to keep peace within one's heart while moving through life and adversity. We are all so used to our own spaces, but an occasional meal together at a fast food restaurant is essential to family unity. I'd use my own dining room table, but it was turned into my Aspie son's workbench for his Fundamentals of Technology class. Another thing we can work on over the summer--family meals at the table again!

And speaking of food, I would highly recommend everyone start storing up food. I usually take doomsday warnings on TV with a grain of salt, but I did receive in prayer this week that I needed to start laying in provisions, and therefore I pass the information on to you.

Blessings,
Gemma

Overwhelmingly overwhelmed

2009-04-09T12:24:00.000-07:00

Will post more after the Easter holiday. A lot of illness in the family.

Blessings,
Gemma

Husband's Surgery Monday

2009-01-24T05:17:00.000-08:00

Please pray for a successful surgery on my husband's back. A herniated lower back disc will be removed. He will be here at the house for two weeks recouperating.

Since hermits are permitted to be caretakers for one person, this should prove interesting as to how caretaking gets integrated into the horarium. I know our Cloisterite Hermits will benefit from the experience.

Consequently, I will not be able to update any of the blogs until mid-February. God be with you.

Blessings,
Gemma

"Don't go looking for the cross, it'll find you" (deSales)

2009-01-13T07:11:00.001-08:00

The next few weeks will be "caddywhumpus" for us.

Our main computer is in Staples' "hospital," awaiting diagnosis. I had to run it over to Staples after Hewlett-Packard said they would not support us, as the machine was over 5 years old.

We're using my Dell laptop presently.

My boys are on half-days, as this is finals week at school. They return to a regular schedule next Wednesday.

I'm trying to fit in every-two-hour-ten-minute lay-downs for my neck, as per my physical therapist's instructions. Three MRIs on my back before Christmas vacation showed bulging neck discs and vertebral bone spurs. My neurologist called for physical therapy. I'm going to request a second opinion, as I'm having numbness in the arms.

Last, but not least, hubby will be having lower back surgery (herniated disc) in two weeks, and will be recumbent for the next two weeks after that.

Pray for us.

Blessings,
Gemma

Reparation -- Our Way of Life Here

2008-12-01T08:25:00.000-08:00

Aside from taking bits and pieces of Fray Justo, OP's Rule for Hermits as part of my own personal rule, I have the following:

"YOU are the hermit, not the family.

Don't want complaints from the family that this way of life ruined theirs. If they remember you for anything, it should be for being the best spouse and parent ever. Ideally, they would see only that, and only family-friendly devotions.

As Fray Justo advises, do not be opposed to spontaneity.

When caring for the family, offer it in reparation for those who don't.

Vigils will be when family illness awakens you. Offer it in reparation for those caretakers whose mouths are on auto-complain or for those who are in ignore mode (speaking of family caring for sick family).

Pray the office when able. Join sufferings to Jesus Crucified.

Take care of your health, that it may serve you to serve God (St. Francis de Sales). Try to work out thrice weekly, more if possible.

If obligations keep you from Daily Mass, pray to be able to attend at least on Thursday, when your emerging charism is making reparation for sins against the Blessed Sacrament.

Being there for God is also being there for the family. As St. Vincent de Paul says, "You're leaving God for God."

Blessings,
Gemma

"Dedicate Yourselves to Thanksgiving"

2008-11-24T08:54:00.002-08:00

A short thought about the Pauline year, and his admonishment to "dedicate yourselves to Thanksgiving."

Perhaps we can learn from not only the ancient Hebrews, but the Native Americans as well. The Hebrews had their own Thanksgiving festival. The Native Americans had such a feast after each harvest, which meant they certainly had more than one celebration.

Of all the religious orders in our church, only one is actually dedicated from its foundation to the practice of Thanksgiving. They are the Poor Clares of Perpetual Adoration, who have been made famous by Mother Angelica, the TV nun.

We are such children when it comes to receiving gifts--and being thankful for them. We should take more responsibility for offering thanks, and make it a daily practice, particularly when blessing our meals.

Our loving God is a generous God. We are the ones who fall on our faces when dealing with our gifts. We should not only offer more Thanksgiving, but also ask for the graces of better stewardship of such gifts. And I'm especially praying for that gift for the Obama administration.

Blessings,
Gemma

'Steal Away' to Jesus

2008-11-17T15:23:00.001-08:00

I grew up Baptist, and after the aforementioned eremitical experience, I wanted solitude.

Our church was a rather large structure, built of native limestone in the 1800s, with a square sanctuary, and extensive education building. Some of my more spiritual moments in the tween years came when I found the church unlocked and totally vacant.

Dangerous, I know, but this was back in "Mayberry days." (They really haven't left, we just have to resurrect them, but that's for another time/post).

The way the education building was built made it like a tower--albeit two-storey. When all of the doors were open in the Sunday School classrooms, one could just about see 180 degrees around them.

Perhaps I should make a note about Protestant Sunday Schools. In this case, there were three or four different age groups to two large rooms, with smaller rooms for the age groups off the side. When all of these rooms' doors were open, one almost had a panoramic view.

Once I came of age, I started attending the 8:30am service, which had the youth choir (yes, I was in it). I would oftentimes get there early, just after the custodian had opened the building for services. This helped me get centered on the task at hand--the worship of the Almighty.

It also gave me a fighting chance of getting a choir robe that fit. Petite robes were the exception and not the rule. Our youth choir robes were almost metalflake blue with pointed gold collars. The adult choirs' robes, OTOH, were gold with pointed burgundy collars. My dad was in the adult choir.

What's the point of this post? Actually an exercise in retrospect--making note of the times God called me to the desert and I did respond. In future posts, I will reflect more.

Blessings,
Gemma

New Blog

2008-10-18T05:14:00.000-07:00

The Holy Ghost works on attraction, and I discerned the pull to blogspot.

So, what's a married woman with two teen boys doing with a blog with "hermitage" in it? Particularly, why such a peculiar name for the hermitage?

I will answer that, but please keep in mind that I was 16 when I entered the Roman Catholic Church. This is important.

When I was about 12 (and a Baptist), my sister and brother-in-law, and some of their friends, took me to an art show on the grounds of historic Spalding Hall in my hometown of Bardstown, KY. After touring the tents out in the front yard, we went indoors, looking for more displays. We found them in the chapel of the former boarding school.

All I can say is that I was "touched by grace" there, and when I returned home, I wanted to be a monk in my own home. I didn't want to wear what the nuns wore, I wanted what the monks wore. There was just something about that hood.

Fastforward thirty-something years, and here I am in the process of founding an eremitic religious organization (known in lay terms as "an order"). During this process, I was to live as eremitic a life as possible within my primary vocation of wife and mother so that I could discern the future hermits' plan of life. And it was during this process that I remembered my life-changing incident at Spalding Hall.

I'm already a Lay Passionist, and since I no longer homeschool, everybody is out of the house until around mid-afternoon. From 7am on, there is plenty of time for prayer, etc.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church tells us that there are indeed faithful who are called to live an eremitical life, and many of these may or may not feel led to seek out official recognition from the Church. In that light, I can say that in the course of my discernment of the hermits' rule, I have also deepened my own Passionist spirituality, and am tapping into spiritual resources I never knew existed.

Why "JIVi," though?

That's the anacronym for the patrons of the Spalding Hall chapel--Sts. Joseph; Ignatius; and Vincent de Paul. My "second mom" used to be a curator at Spalding Hall's two museums, and despite the volumes of information on the building, nobody had made note of the chapel's patrons. That is, until I came on the scene, insisting on knowing whose patronage it had enjoyed. I only felt it right to name my hermitage for them, since that's where I'd felt the call.

So, now you know.

And what about the Cloisterite Hermits?

We're on foundational hiatus until I can retain a spiritual director. I'm getting close, but it's not the easiest process in the world. Please pray for this. I hope to have everything running again by the date of the Pro Orantibus--"For those who pray." It's the international day of praying for cloisters and their vocations. It's also a fundraiser. And it's also the day before my birthday.

If you've never heard of the Pro Orantibus, google it. Some dioceses create lists of nuns and monks within their boundaries. In the course of learning about the Pro Orantibus, I learned that Spain walks off with the distinction of having the largest number of monasteries in the world--911.

Italy is not too far behind--they have 700+.

I'll leave you with those mind-boggling statistics. And don't forget to pray!

Blessings,
Gemma