"The happiness of incessant victory, the happiness of fulfilled desire, the happiness of success and of total satiety - that is suffering! That is spiritual death, a sort of unending moral pain. It isn't the philosophers ...but I personally, Gleb Nerzhin, a prisoner in harness for the fifth year, who has risen to that stage of development where the bad begins to appear the good. And I personally hold the view that people don't know what they are striving for. They waste themselves in senseless thrashing around for the sake of a handful of goods and die without realizing their spiritual wealth. When Lev Tolstoi dreamed of being imprisoned, he was reasoning like a truly perceptive person with a healthy spiritual life." Gleb Nerzhin, Gulag Prisoner.
"You are poisoned by the stink of prison-latrine talk - and you want to see the world through that haze." Lev Rubin, Gulag Prisoner.
- From The First Circle by Alexander Solzhenitsyn
Most of our lives are packed in medium to large size moving boxes. The realtor comes to our home this week at some point to put a price on the house we are leaving. The mortgage company wants the house before Halloween. Even sooner than Christmas. We shall see. I am supposed to be writing them a hardship letter, telling them why we were late a couple of times and why they should help us. This, after they have already told us that they will not help us. We still do not know what our reinstatement amount might be. They refuse to offer us that as well, even though they are required to do so.
Today, we did not go to Mass or Divine Liturgy. I accidentally packed everything except a pile of work clothes and some underwear. Not very liturgically appropriate. I emailed pertinent Fathers to let them know of our absence. So, we prayed the Rosary instead. Too covered in dust and debris to receive the Eucharist just now.
In one week, we were visited by the sheriff informing us of our right to argue foreclosure - though we have no idea what our rights are other than paying off the entire loan. No one will answer our questions.
My uncle is dying in a VA hospital in Oklahoma.
And my iron has fallen so low that I will shortly need a new infusion, because my iron loss is causing Dystonia. This is something that I have had for years, and was probably some of the reasoning behind an incorrect MS diagnosis, but it makes the muscles in my hands, arms, legs, and face contort and contract very sharply so that they cramp up and I can't use them. I have to quit my packing jobs every half hour or so. I have single handedly packed most of my 2000 square foot home, and I have to take pain killers every night to get and do more of it in the morning. The strangeness of all this has certainly made me far more acquainted with my local thrift store, where I have deposited a good 1/3 of our needless household goods.
Yes, even books. I have rid myself of 99% of all my Stupid For Funs. No more Grisham, no more Roberts, no more no names. Just Chekov and Hemingway and Joyce and Doyle. And Twain. All the classics - except my extra Les Miserables. I have a new version now. I kept that and gave the college version to the thrift store.
So, off we go soon. Off to a new home and new life. Truly. My parents can't peak in my windows or insist on weekly angry BBQs with doomsday talk on the horizon. Instead, we will be on our own without the entire world walking in and out of our front door like it is a revolving entrance to the Grand Marquis.
And no one will follow us the Eastern half of Catholicism, so we will be free to worship without irritation as well.
Just some friends. We have several who already live on the street we are moving to and this is great.
Sometimes good things happen in the middle of things that look very bad.
And just as a side note that proves such a notion...I am reading Solzhenitsyn right now at night when my arms get too monkey-like. The First Circle. I highly recommend the Russians when one is struggling with any life-changing event. Well, honestly...I recommend the Russians at any time. Books are my compass. Thank God for the Bible, or maybe I would have become a pagan. Who knows?
"You are poisoned by the stink of prison-latrine talk - and you want to see the world through that haze." Lev Rubin, Gulag Prisoner.
- From The First Circle by Alexander Solzhenitsyn
Most of our lives are packed in medium to large size moving boxes. The realtor comes to our home this week at some point to put a price on the house we are leaving. The mortgage company wants the house before Halloween. Even sooner than Christmas. We shall see. I am supposed to be writing them a hardship letter, telling them why we were late a couple of times and why they should help us. This, after they have already told us that they will not help us. We still do not know what our reinstatement amount might be. They refuse to offer us that as well, even though they are required to do so.
Today, we did not go to Mass or Divine Liturgy. I accidentally packed everything except a pile of work clothes and some underwear. Not very liturgically appropriate. I emailed pertinent Fathers to let them know of our absence. So, we prayed the Rosary instead. Too covered in dust and debris to receive the Eucharist just now.
In one week, we were visited by the sheriff informing us of our right to argue foreclosure - though we have no idea what our rights are other than paying off the entire loan. No one will answer our questions.
My uncle is dying in a VA hospital in Oklahoma.
And my iron has fallen so low that I will shortly need a new infusion, because my iron loss is causing Dystonia. This is something that I have had for years, and was probably some of the reasoning behind an incorrect MS diagnosis, but it makes the muscles in my hands, arms, legs, and face contort and contract very sharply so that they cramp up and I can't use them. I have to quit my packing jobs every half hour or so. I have single handedly packed most of my 2000 square foot home, and I have to take pain killers every night to get and do more of it in the morning. The strangeness of all this has certainly made me far more acquainted with my local thrift store, where I have deposited a good 1/3 of our needless household goods.
Yes, even books. I have rid myself of 99% of all my Stupid For Funs. No more Grisham, no more Roberts, no more no names. Just Chekov and Hemingway and Joyce and Doyle. And Twain. All the classics - except my extra Les Miserables. I have a new version now. I kept that and gave the college version to the thrift store.
So, off we go soon. Off to a new home and new life. Truly. My parents can't peak in my windows or insist on weekly angry BBQs with doomsday talk on the horizon. Instead, we will be on our own without the entire world walking in and out of our front door like it is a revolving entrance to the Grand Marquis.
And no one will follow us the Eastern half of Catholicism, so we will be free to worship without irritation as well.
Just some friends. We have several who already live on the street we are moving to and this is great.
Sometimes good things happen in the middle of things that look very bad.
And just as a side note that proves such a notion...I am reading Solzhenitsyn right now at night when my arms get too monkey-like. The First Circle. I highly recommend the Russians when one is struggling with any life-changing event. Well, honestly...I recommend the Russians at any time. Books are my compass. Thank God for the Bible, or maybe I would have become a pagan. Who knows?
Posts
Even if you were moving back to Oregon, you would not be able to get rid of us ;P
ReplyDeleteOur thoughts and prayers and love to you all.
BTW, we found those boots for Dave. Ha ha ha! It's amazing what you will find when you are cleaning stuff out!
Hugs and kisses and we miss you!
Most people tell me they find reading the Russians depressing--but you and I know better---you are the only friend I have who finds hope in the pages of A.S.'s works.
ReplyDeleteI have no words--just much love and hugs, and prayers---always those.
MT
Hey MT,
ReplyDeleteI thank you for all those hugs and prayers. We need every one you can spare:)
Yes, I find tremendous comfort in the words of the Russians - especially Solzhenitsyn. He knew things...