Din't wanna miss a drop of it, so I got out bed came down stairs. Got half a mind to go out in my nightie and git soaked. Nuthin' like a drought to make ya appreciate rain.
It's quiet, save the pouring rain. I'se readin' about cantankerous saints--mah very favorite sort. Ya know, the ones who love humanity but gits annoyed wif' people. They move to the desert. Or up a cliff face. Somewhar' quiet and devoid of human caterwallin'. I git that.
But did'ja ever notice how dearn few hermits The Good Lord lets be? Saints din't git saintly by looking dreamily toward heaven wif' that otherworldly shinnin' countenance ya see in picture books.
Heh, oh no.
Ah, no. Saints is gritty folks. I mean....gritty. Think about little Hildegard who went off an walled herself in as an anchorite. Think the village would git the hint? Heck no--letters and visits poured in--even Henry II and his Eleanor sought her counsel. Ya jes' cain't git no peace this side of heaven. Ya might as well quit wishin' fer a monastery to escape to an' jes' go ahead an deal wif' all the souls in front of ya'.
Poor Hilde, 1oth chile of a rich man, had been an apprentice anchorite wif' the beautiful and rich Jutta (who lived in a cell adjacent to the church...gick! What kind of people call a poor baby girl a gutteral grunt name like "Jutta" or "Hildegard"?? No wonder they tried to hide.) Hilde jes' wanted to write about her visions an' make a few herbal remedies an' write a tune or two. Nuthin' doin' Hilde! Git yore head outa the clouds of antiphons an' speak to the live people on earth.
She were so cool that now idjits like new agers try to appropriate her. She would'na given them a sou fer their silly ideas. More marvelous by eons is Hilde's real work...
which makes me think of Sister Wendy, another would be hermit, an wif excellent reason. She has buck teeth an' an unfortunate Cupie Doll, Sweetie Pie voice. Ya know the playground bullies never run outa mean stuff to say to her--mercy.
But God has high standards fer suffering would-be saints (wha? ya thought it is easy to become saintly?) God yanked her right out into the light of day an' smacked her down on TV, Cupie Doll voice an all.
I'se gonna git to Wendy---but now I'm sleepy so, later.
Well, this is a weird post. What'd I imagine it would be in the wee hours of a gully washing rainy night?
Posted by Aunty Belle at 1:35 AM