Saturday, June 11, 2022

Reflection on the Past Three Years: A Letter to a Friend

Sevierville, TN

Dear Mrs. _____ ______,

My heart is overfull right now, and I feel like the Lord has stamped your name onto my heart, so with your permission, I’m going to pour it out to you. I may appear to jump around, but I pledge my troth to tie the various themes together by the end.

There is a two-fold purpose in this letter: one is to encourage you, in the midst of the crises of our times; and the second, is to share with you some more personal developments in my own life, and by sharing, gain some deeper clarity in my own heart.

This is the turning, and I don’t know how many souls see, feel, or taste it. Perhaps it’s been on your mind like a wisp of fog hanging over a valley, and you can sense it, but as you focus, it fades away. It leaves only confusion in its wake, and you feel a sense of desolation as you see so many young souls turn away from so many simple truths of love and Lord.

How can the world continue as it is? This misery and sin, this Sodom and Gamorah of film, fashion, story, and universities, must end, at some point. They must realize that these things do not bring them happiness… mustn’t they? How long can a generation seek carnal pleasure, financial success, or the death of their own children?

But they have gone on so much longer than I ever thought they would. The Hundred Years of Fatima is ended, yet where is the reign of Mary’s Immaculate Heart? Did we misunderstand the timeline? What does her Reign look like? Must I change my expectations? When I bring these questions to the Lord, He tells me to wait. In fact, lately, He has ceased to speak to me at all. He only laughs, like there is a great surprise coming, and if I only knew it, I would die of joy, so He says nothing. “Wait and see,” He says, “Wait and see.”

I was just reading The Wind in the Willows, the chapter ‘Dulce Domum,’ which means ‘Sweet Home.’ It’s where Mole returns to his little hole in the ground, and reconnects with the anchor that is his domicile, and if you haven’t read it, I hope this inspires you to read the whole chapter. It is a glorious and unusual portrayal of what home is - even apart from family, parents, or a spouse, just ‘home’.

“But ere he closed his eyes he let them wander round his old room, mellow in the glow of the firelight that played or rested on familiar and friendly things which had long been unconsciously a part of him, and now smilingly received him back, without rancour…. He saw clearly how plain and simple  - how narrow, even - it all was; but clearly, too, how much it all meant to him, and the special value of some such anchorage in one’s existence. He did not at all want to abandon the new life and its splendid spaces, to turn his back on sun and air and all they offered him and creep home and stay there; the upper world was all too strong; it called to him still, even down there, and he knew he must return to the larger stage. But it was good to think he had this to come back to, this place which was all his own, these things which were so glad to see him again and could always be counted on again for the same simple welcome.”

Isn’t that precious? It speaks to me so much right now, because - and here comes a personal detail - I am once again homeless. I laugh as I picture your face, on reading that.

The Flight House Road Trip last year was a short and miraculous trip that gave me the courage and moral resolve to face this new and incredible stage of my life’s journey. Along with my parents and four youngest siblings, we are living in AirBnB’s, with no permanent home. Oh, we’re insane! We’re fools!

The Lord is massively shifting our family’s lives. We left Illinois, which, speaking of Sodom and Gamorah… it really is amazing how much your perspective shifts when you live in a part of the country that does not operate out of fear. Anyway, I’ll start at the beginning, and tell you how I got to where I am now. I promise, it’s a story well worth the telling.

Last year, when I went on the Road Trip, by myself, I had absolutely no idea where I was going. I’d been struggling with health issues for the past year, trying to work full time, build a business with Tim, and serve others. It was actually going very well. I remember you and I talked on the phone. <3 I was realistic about the slow growth of business success, and the sacrifices/front-loading that needed to go into our efforts, so I was absolutely floored by how well we initially progressed in our business. Opportunity after opportunity opened to us, growth and excitement from other creators really excited us, and because of our success, I was convinced that this was where the Lord was calling us.

Apparently, Tim did not feel thus. The week before my birthday, at the end of April, he flew to visit friends in California. While he was gone, I held a beautiful 3-day retreat for women - taking advantage of his absent male presence, heehee - and made some great connections with young women. They all loved it, and encouraged me to have more meetings and events like this. Tim flew home at 11pm on my birthday. We said hello, went to bed, and the next day, my world fell apart.

I had known, for some time, that I was carrying the bulk of the business on my shoulders, a fact I did not at all mind. I had more training as a coach, more entrepreneurial classes under my belt, and more passion for the coaching side of things… and I had encouraged Tim to discern how he wanted to be involved - even if he wanted to be involved. And he had said, again and again, that he would ‘think about it.’ I loved having him on the team, and he was contributing well at the beginning, but of course, did not want him to commit to something his heart wasn’t in, and the past few of months of inactivity from him seemed to show that that was the case.

He wrote me a letter Saturday morning, the morning after my birthday, and gave it to me at noon. It was not a resignation from the business - that was only about 2 sentences inside the letter. It was a letter rejecting me.

He said I was the reason he could not move on in life. That I was smothering him, and making him fail. That I was incapable of finishing projects, and he demanded that I to move out of his apartment by the end of the month.

I do not wish to dwell overmuch on the letter. There was more, but you get the picture.

I was shattered. I’ve never had a boy-friend; never been dumped; now I had. And for me, I think, this was so much worse.

You know how inseparable we were - how much we loved each other. Apparently, resentment had been growing in him, unknownst to me, for years, and I was blind to it. I didn’t realize it at the time, though I see it now, that the Lord was crumbling my idols. Ever since I was a little child, I idolized my little brother. He could do no wrong. His moods were always justified, and my fault. If he felt smothered, I put pressure on myself to give him more space. If he felt resentment, then it was my fault for not choosing just the right words when I spoke to him. And if he did not approve of a life choice I made, I put a lot of weight on that opinion.

The Lord wanted me to be free from such associations. Love is a beautiful thing, but how easy it is to pervert it! It must be free, freely given and freely received. And it must always be allowed to put God and individual callings first. Tim and I were not each other’s callings, but we were putting our lives on hold, trying to find some sense of false fulfillment in the other. I in caring for him, and he in trying to ride my successes.

It’s easy for me, when I share this story, to start trying to justify what I say, because on some level, I’m still in shock, and still want to claim responsibility for what happened.

I had only just started hearing the voice of the Lord - literally a month before this happened, and what incredible grace He gave me in that, for as I read each line of the letter, I heard His voice, more clearly than I ever had before, saying, “That’s a lie, that’s a lie, that’s a lie.” Without resentment, I accepted the truth of the Lord’s words. These were lies, and not reality. Some of the items may have valid points, but I was not to try and defend or justify myself. Only to submit to the situation, to how the Lord wanted to work within it, and not to try to understand how my brother had gotten to such a point.

Over time, the Lord still reveals more to me about my past, my childhood, and my adult life, negative examples of how my brother treated me, to air them out and help me release them. My parents have been able to help me see patterns, actions, and warning signs they had been noticing for years, but which I had been too blind to see. However, the grace of it all is that I have not lost sight or appreciation for any of the beautiful and loving interactions we had as well. The evil NEVER negates the good. In fact, the good shines all the brighter, sometimes, because the Lord is so very present in it. The ugliness of Hell cannot and never does dim the brilliance of Heaven.

Needless to say, I moved out in a month, bought a car, and, packing all my worldly belongings into it, I set off on a road trip. My brother Dennis and his new bride graciously let me store my things in their extra bedroom, and then I started driving across the US to see where I wanted to live.

I had always wanted to get out of Illinois, but had no idea where I wanted to go.

At about the same time, my parents and I started praying, asking the Lord where we should - separately - move. And, separately, all three of us heard ‘Tennessee.’

So I drove to Tennessee.

Turns out, Tennessee wasn’t quite ready for me, but, oh it was beautiful! I saw it, I sent back pictures to my family, and they started dreaming about leaving Illinois as soon as possible.

I was homeless two months, driving from Walmart parking lots (where I slept a few times), to campsites, to friend’s houses, to historical and geographical landmarks.

I had good family friends, for whom I had babysat in Illinois, who had moved to the western tip of South Carolina, the City of Greenville, and they encouraged me to come visit, and stay as long as I wanted. They also had connections with a Catholic Retreat Center in the Blue Ridge Mountains, only an hour north of them, and put me in touch with the people there.

I asked the lady who ran the retreat center if they might need some help, and how long they might need it, and she said, “We could use you indefinitely.” How good God is!

So I moved to the most beautiful place I have ever lived. In exchange for room and board, I lived in the mountains and beside a lake for 10 months, acting as hostess and custodian for the buildings there, meeting holy and inspiring people, and going for days at a time without interacting with another human being.

What a peaceful place for healing, writing, and renewal. The Lord arranged it all, cradling me like an infant in his arms, and I couldn’t have planned it better. My relationship with Him blossomed. Because it was just Him and me, and what better situation is there? There was even a tiny chapel on campus with the Blessed Sacrament reposed. And only an hour away, lived the beautiful Catholic family who loved me like an aunt to their children, and every two months, I drove to Illinois see my family and friends.

I have to say, which I almost forgot to add, that the Lord worked many miracles during those ten months. I was very poor, and wondered, sometimes, if I would have the food, medicine, or gas I needed, when I needed it. I drove on fumes, sometimes. But if I was healthy enough, He got me to Mass. If I was feeling bad from my chronic illnesses (migraines, chronic fatigue, fibromyalgia, and some other issues), and needed to eat more of my food than usual, fearing that I would deplete my resources before my next paycheck, He promised to provide me exactly what I needed. And He always delivered. Sometimes through new friends who invited me to dinner, sometimes through leftovers from a retreat on campus, and sometimes through other random and unexpected ways. It got to a point where it was a sin for me to doubt Him, because the proofs of His goodness were too abundant to deny!

As I was living this new and radical life of trust in South Carolina, my family was living it in Illinois. They were bending all their energies to move out of their rental home in St. Charles, and move to a rental home in Eastern Tennessee, at the end of their lease on March 31st, 2022.

March 31st came. They moved out. And they came to stay for a month at the Retreat Center. :D This was good, because by this point, I had scrapped the very old car I had bought, reduced my work hours (which also reduced my pay), and was stuck in bed with health issues half the week at a time. It was becoming impossible even to make my own food, let alone do work or grocery shopping, and I hadn’t been to Mass in a month.

This had been a gradual descent over the winter, and I kept expecting to get better, but something felt different this time. It wasn’t just stemming from physical problems anymore. For example, sometimes I would experience a new and unusual symptom, and the next day, I would discover that a friend was going through a hard time in some other way, but that symptom was a usual pain for them, and it unexpectedly hadn’t affected them last night, while I was in pain.

After the third time this happened, I decided to have a talk with the Lord about it. After all, I try not to over-spiritualize things, so I often wait a little while before assuming it’s a spiritual attack. I don’t want to give the enemy more credit that he deserves (which is none ;).

The Lord had already promised my mom that one day, she would experience complete and utter healing. (She too suffers from many chronic issues, and has my whole life). We are all watching that prophecy unfold right now before our very eyes as, during this time of homelessness, problem after problem is clearing for her. Praise the Lord!

She asked Him if I, too, would experience complete healing, and though He had answered many questions for her during that prayer session, His response to this was, “She needs to ask me herself.” I had been avoiding the question, because I knew He would speak the truth, but I doubted if I had the graces I needed to hear it. So I was waiting for Him to help me out, and receiving a command from my mom to ask it allowed the graces of obedience to come into play. So, I asked Him.

“Will you heal me?”

That question annoyed Him, and I immediately sensed that I hadn’t been specific enough. “I am always healing you!” He said, frustrated that I might doubt it.

I laughed. “All right, yes, I believe you. Thank you. Let me ask again. These intense, crippling pain attacks that I am experiencing… will there ever be a time in my life when they go away for good?”

I can’t convey the answer He gave. I worded it so that His only recourse was a negative, yet the sensation that accompanied that word, when He gave it, was a full and positive affirmative, that flooded my soul with peace, love, and particular grace. And a sensation, as well, that I had full freedom in this choice. That if I accepted this incredible gift He wanted to give me, He would pour it out like wine over my soul, and it would be a light and easy burden - it would be my path to salvation.

Oh, my friend, it has been so light! Easy - almost never. And sometimes I forget that it is a grace. Sometimes the ease of suffering gets drawn away, and I reside in a darkness of emotional and mental misery… but even that is easier than I ever could have imagined. Because He still is with me, and Mary is with me, and the saints are a chorus of voices reminding me that there is no greater joy on earth than to suffer on the cross.

I suffered for years, ever since I was 15, and I have never known such peace amid my pain. He let me suffer so many years without understanding the redemption that is in everything He asks of us… but now, for whatever reason, our of the graciousness of His love, He has granted me a penetration into the mystery of suffering, and how sweet it is! I understand now why one of the saints, I can’t remember who, declared: If we understood the value of suffering, we would wish to prolong our journey on earth, so we can suffer more.

I’m not sure I wish for more suffering - I haven’t that grace yet - but I understand how such a desire, paired with knowledge, can exist. And I believe that suffering really is that redemptive.

I want to get back to my narrative, but this is taking me back to the beginning of my letter, because we must suffer from sin. It is the only way to attain Heaven. And yet, the cross has made our suffering sweet. It’s a paradox. A glorious one! Even as souls persist in sin, even as they perpetuate their own misery, they live ever in the opportunity to return to the Lord, and the suffering they experienced before conversion will become a redemptive light in the cleansing of their soul. For they were never truly satisfied, but starving, they ate from garbage cans, and how much more will their affinity for The Eucharist expand when they remember the filth of their empty lives?

I can’t believe how much I’ve written you - and all in one sitting, too, isn’t that impressive? But I’m so grateful for your patience as I unfold my narrative. I feel the Holy Spirit pressing me to tell all, so I will finish.

My family arrived in South Carolina at the beginning of April, and we all took a month-long vacation. I thought I would keep working at Heart Ridge Retreat Center while they visited, but the Lord allowed my pain to increase to such a pitch that I couldn’t even walk from one building to another. I had told my parents we would need to discuss and discern next steps with my life. Their dream of a homestead in Tennessee had been building as my dream too for the past half year, but they were planning to rent for a year before purchasing land, so I was planning to live in SC until they had land; now, my health proved that plan impossible.

We had a discussion among the three of us, and we decided to merge my fate with theirs. They had no home, no definite path, and yet my father bravely chose to include one more dependent under his non-existent roof.

My brother Andrew, age 23, was graduating from Wyoming Catholic College midway through May, and it had been my parent’s plan to stay at Heart Ridge until the end of April, then do an extended road trip across the western US, being on the road for a month. My mom has been sensing the coming societal collapse, and wanted the kids to experience the country now, while we were between crises that affected inter-state travel. It was nice to forget about Covid from South Carolina to Colorado. Colorado was the first state on our trip that had signs about it. In Illinois people still wear, and sometimes even require, masks. Not to mention all the vaccine billboards on the highways. Fear is a contagious thing.

Turns out, Andrew had been elected by his class to give the commencement speech, and it was so good! What a blessing to be present, and hear him give it. So many tears! He’s five years younger than me, and I’m so proud of him!

We drove ‘home’ by way of South Dakota (so gorgeous!), Minnesota, Wisconsin, Illinois, Indiana, Kentucky, and ended in Knoxville, TN. In Wisconsin, we stopped at the Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe, where we ran into the associate priest from our brand new parish here in Knoxville (the very first person my parents met when they came to scout out this area of the country), and the family who hosted them for dinner when they scouted the area. We had no idea they would be there, and it was such a proof from the Lord of his unique care of us that, once again, we haven’t been able to doubt His plans for us, no matter how despondent we get.

We are currently staying in an AirBnB outside Knoxville, and my parents are looking at rentals. But I will say this - I believe we will have a homestead in August. The Lord has promised it to me and my mom, and although we cannot fathom how He plans to fulfill such a promise, I can only say that I must continue to trust Him.

And to declare it to you is to render Him more glory when it comes to pass. And it will come to pass, even if it looks different than what we expect. But I will not lower my expectations, because I have learned, over the past year, that He loves to surpass them! And when I lower, I miss what He chooses to give me.

Home has become the Lord. It has become what He chooses to give me.

He is restoring the idea of ‘home.’

As a society, not only have we lost sight of the value of children; not only have we lost any appreciation for the life-long commitment of marriage; not only have parents flung their children off as if they were an anchor preventing them from pursuing the precious retirement plans of their youth… in addition to all this - as a by-product of flipping the world on its ear - society has lost the very simple and precious idea of ‘home.’

Home is the place we are held - home is, foundationally, a slice of Heaven, here on earth. It is Dolce Domum, the Sweet Home.

Maybe this is why I’ve written all this to you, but to me, your family stands as a shining symbol of Dolce Domum. Your Family Paper is only one example, but it demonstrates what home is. The _____ Scoop is not written as an online blog for strangers, posted on Instagram, or read aloud on Youtube; in fact, it would lose its very value if you did that. What I’m about to say may sound negative - because the world views this word and concept negatively - but I mean it as a true compliment: your scoop is too simple for that. It is a simple compilation of simple stories about simple activities; it is a ledger of a self-contained kingdom. Because your home itself is a kingdom. And those to whom you send the stories enjoy a peep not into ‘domestic bliss’, exactly, but into a world apart. It is not an example to others of how to live, but a sample of a home lived well. It stands as ‘The Times’ for the kingdom of your Home.

In so many ways, our family really struggled to have that ‘home’ feel. Others came to our house and felt so loved and received, and we were blown away by the graces they seemed to enjoy just by walking through our doors, but for us, that feeling was utterly elusive. We felt tossed about, ungrounded, never really planted on firm rock. As renters, as homeowners experiencing foreclosure, as homebuyers who never payed off the full mortgage… my parents felt left behind by the world.

Now, ironically, we’ve left the world behind.

One of my brother’s lines in his commencement speech mentioned the call of WCC students to enter into the world and carry their education with them. He said that most are called to live in the world, and as a joke, he added that not all people and able to depart from the world and live on a secluded homestead. How my mom and I laughed with each other when he said that! He didn’t even know our full dream yet! And he’s right. Such a life is a gift.

Yet, we do not wish to renounce the world, but only the ways of it. We wish to provide a space for those who have to live in it to find rejuvenation. Nowhere, in the world, is there a place that feels like ‘home’ to the tossed about, lonely souls of those who are seeking to follow Christ. We wish to provide that.

We will be a secret place, not advertised on social media or youtube. The Lord will send us those who need this place He will give us. We will be a little slice of Heaven, here on earth.

My friend, when I lived at Heart Ridge, I kept telling people that I had found a home. And every time I said those words, the Lord rebuked me. He said, “Your temporary home.” I didn’t know what that meant, other than to imagine that He was reserving the word ‘home’ for when I found my future husband. In some ways, that’s true. But in a broader sense, Home is not a person, it is a reality.

And for the first in my life, as I move from place to place, living on 4 outfits out of a shared suitcase with my sisters, I feel at Home. He’s no longer correcting me. I am home.

I said at the outset that this is the turning, and I meant the turning of the ages. Revelation has begun, and after it unfolds, we will understand it as we never have before.

But not even Catholics believe it.

They say things like, “We have seen bad times before, and the Church always pulls through.” “We can never know the day or hour.”

Conveniently, they have forgotten to keep their lanterns wicked. They have forgotten that moral degradation, on all levels, is more telling than external tribulations. They have neglected the call to keep a watchful eye to the Horizon, and that many small revelations have taken place over the millenia. Their age is not exempt. We have not been forgotten.

Many will perish in this time, but do not despair. You are responsible for no one’s soul but your own, and those of your small children. And even toward them, you owe only guidance, and an example of personal virtue, to teach them to steward their own souls.

The world cannot continue thus, and it cannot save itself. Individually, saints have learned through the ages that their vices are not enough for them, and yet the world thinks it can redeem its own shortcomings. Without the intervention of the Lord, virtue will not return to the land. Without His aid, we swing on the pendulum of lust and prudishness, murder and tolerance, change and conservation.

Mary’s Immaculate Heart is already reigning, and how she desires to enter our hearts. She is preparing us for the final confrontation, pruning the errors of our souls to strengthen us against the winter that cannot be turned back. Never lower your expectations. Expect to hear the voice of the Lord. Ask Him what promises He has in store for you.

I say again, He tells me to wait. There is a great surprise coming, and if I only knew it, I would die of joy. “Wait and see,” He says, “Wait and see.”

Thank you for listening. Thank you for receiving.

In Christ, through Mama Mary,

Elizabeth

P.S. My friend, (In spite of being almost 30, and an adult when I first met you, I always think of you as Mrs. ______), I have to add another proof of how much Jesus loves me. When I began this letter, I really wanted to mail it to you physically, but we don’t have a printer, and getting out of the house, with my health, has been a strain. I knew I had too much to write to have the strength to write it out physically, so I decided to just accept that I would need to email it to you. Then, I paused writing and came out of my room for dinner, and what did my dad have sitting on the kitchen table? A brand new printer. God is good, all the time!

P.P.S. If you would like to write back, you can reach me at…