Life in a Hermitage

One week ago, I began an new adventure – while on retreat with my brothers and sisters in the Lindisfarne Community I took vows to deepen my commitment to a life of prayer, study, and contemplation, declaring my home to be the Wild Goose Hermitage of the Lindisfarne Community.  It was not what I’d ever expected to be or to do, after all, I’m married with step-children and grandchildren, I teach at a small college, and have friends and relations from California to Northumberland.  What does it mean for a 21^st century Christian to commit to a life of contemplation?

God and Women's Bodies

The current conversation surrounding women’s bodies and how women are to be regarded is becoming more and more disturbing.  It’s a topic that comes very close to home for me, and I want to connect my experience with the emerging theology of unity that I’ve been developing in this blog. 

First, I need to share a bit of my past – not only do I have the usual body image and weight concerns, but I am a survivor of marital rape.  My first husband (now deceased) was an alcoholic who needed to exploit my body sexually just to reassure himself that he was alive.  At least, that’s what my therapist said.  For myself, I can say that I got told what I wanted, and in an effort to be a good and loving wife I went along with things I should never have allowed.  But all of that is in retrospect. 

A Meditation on Gratitude

It was a tough weekend.  I left work early on Friday with a very queasy stomach.  Had to miss a meeting with my supervisor to get trained on some new software that I need to know within the next two weeks.  But it just wasn't worth staying there to learn it.  After spending the rest of Friday enjoying saltines and ginger ale, I was starting to feel like myself a bit on Saturday.

There was some laundry waiting to be done, so on Saturday afternoon I put the first load in.  Midway through the second load I heard a strange noise, and looked over to see water gushing out from under the washing machine onto the carpet in the next room.  Stop the machine! The water kept gushing!  Turn off the valves!  Mop up the carpet!  Pull out the soaking wet clothes and get them on a rack in the upstairs bath tub.  And figure out what to do next.  We've had the washer for almost 10 years, and never a need for repair.  Who do we call?  No idea.