Wednesday, June 25, 2014


scenes from my grandmother's garden, rye beach, nh

This week's Aleteia post is entitled "When I Finally 'Got' St. John of the Cross."

Here's how it begins:

"I once did a retreat near the Sonoran Desert.

“Each Friday is observed as ‘Hermit Day,’” read the laminated schedule in my room. “In complete silence and modified fasting, we commemorate the passion and death of Christ and do so in solidarity with workers for justice and peace and with victims of injustice.”

I was way behind the idea of Hermit Day; in fact, I wished every day were Hermit Day.

Somewhere around the 48th hour of any retreat I realized that I don’t really want to be a guest, or a visitor, or a retreatant; I want you to go away and leave me your fully-stocked place that I can stay in alone"...

Read the rest here.

look, the incoming tide formed the shape of a flower!

I have made it to the east coast. clearly...

1 comment:

  1. I didn't read this post (yet), but I did just finish Shirt of Flame. Somehow you managed to bridge (or at least start to bridge) the gap between St. Therese and me. Most of what you write, I get. I feel like you're a kindred spirit. But I react to St. Therese with disbelief, love, envy, admiration, awe, disbelief. The thing is I'm a lot like St. Therese - a LOT. Like St. Therese from ages 4-13! Hey you've gotta start somewhere, right? Thanks for this.


I WELCOME your comments!!!