The world is a scary place sometimes.
There is war, confusion, angry people full of hate. Sometimes I hear the news and just want to hide. But we’re not out here to hide.
My woods are dark and wild at night. I can hear the trees rustling as I walk out to the outhouse or sit out alone under the moon. Sometimes at night the sounds are scary. Sometimes I can hear coyotes, or the occasional wild-cat, too close to home. When we first moved out to the land I used to dream of St. Anthony waiting under the birches to keep us safe at night. It made me feel safer, and helped me get to know the sounds our forest makes, now I can walk alone at night without fear. I love the wildness of it, and the darkness.
The wildness of our civilized world is less comforting; but I know I have saints waiting there as well. To walk with me through that darkness..no matter how frightening it is. I prefer my little hermitage. I prefer the seclusion, to sit in silence with my woodland saints, hands pressed against the aching earth, and pray. Because no matter how far we go from the pain and despair the world is feeling around us, no matter how content we are in the stillness of the night – we are connected. And the quiet contented prayers of my little family, of the holy hermits, of monks and nuns are all wrapping out around the hearts of our beloved earth, holding it close, and rocking it gently.
We can do that even from here.