Betmaryam (House of Mary)

Once more the thought of anchoring down and the expense to do so, sickens me. Yet, I remind myself that I must live somewhere on this earth while still in bodily form, and to be stable and anchored is a great challenge for one who does not belong to this world anymore, as of three years ago, officially.

To build a house for Mary is perhaps a cop-out. (I use this term undoubtedly because there is an undercover cop sitting at a table nearby in this coffeehouse, low-toned discussing his cases.) Is the house really for Mary? Will she really live there, and am I truly her maidservant? In faith, I say "yes" to these questions.

What is it to be a maidservant of the Handmaid of the Lord?

It is to get up in the morning and get dressed in neat and attractive clothes, hair and teeth brushed, and off to morning Mass. On time, I should go on time. The maidservant of Mary would not speak much, not chatter, although she would be grossly chattery compared to the one she waits upon!

Chatter. This past weekend I went to a wedding in Cincinnati. My cousin and her husband drove, and my aunt went along. I was grateful to not have to drive, yet I rather dreaded the ride because my aunt chatters nearly non-stop. What is the content of her chatter? I'm not sure I can recall except that it dealt with what she eats, what other people eat, what she wears and what other people wear, how external things appear, especially those which are materially pleasing and those which are not, and just about every detail of her daily existence she could recall, which is quite a bit of detail.

She even pulled out a benign book with grand-sounding wisdoms (such as we must die to ourselves, but without any explanation of this concept), and read it with lips moving and noise emitting from her mouth, but softly, rapidly, like a 6-hp motor on an aluminum fishing boat.

Later, when our room was double the size of my cousin's and her husband's room, I suggested we trade with them so they could be more comfortable after the long drive. My aunt said quite peevishly, "Well, I'M NOT GOING TO GIVE UP MY ROOM! Their room is AWFUL compared to ours!"

So much for dying to self.

I came alive to the horror of incessant chatter. I commented to one of my daughters, via phone, that I do not want to be severely thin and grotesque when old, nor do I want to chatter. My daughter said I already do talk too much.

She is probably correct. I mentioned this to my cousin, and she said I talk about things of substance.

That is highly debatable. Of course, my interests are of the spiritual realm, of Catholicism, of prayer and saints and the spiritual life, of soul improvement and love of God and omnia pro Deo. But it seems a fact that I lean in the direction of excessive verbosity. Or, I could have these tendencies which seem to be born out in not only this aunt but another one, as well as some cousins.

The priest in confession yesterday told me that those who chatter never really have the opportunity in their lives for the chance of saying anything profound.

I found this expressed thought to be rather profound.

The maidservant of the Handmaid of the Lord must learn interior and exterior silence. She also must pray for the grace of that peace which passes all understanding. To rest in the Lord while doing her daily duty, while working quietly and humbly for the Handmaid of the Most High.