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She could never be a saint

July 22, 2019 by Amy Welborn

Hey there from not too, too far away from home:

In between grocery store shifts and music lessons, we’re on a little jaunt over in central Georgia. It could be done going back and forth in a day, but that would have required people to Get Up Early, and people around here are really not up for that unless they’re being paid.

So, hey. See other things, too. I’ve seen all these things, but the boys haven’t – and I’ve not been here in a good while.

First stop – very late this afternoon – was the Trappist Monastery of the Holy Spirit near Conyers, Georgia. I’ve been here several times, even on an overnight retreat once years ago. My experience at Compline here figures heavily in the introductory material in The Words We Pray. Gethsemani up in Kentucky will be coming in for a revisit over the next few months – family matters are going to bring us to the area – so it was fitting to come here to see this monastery, founded from those Kentucky roots.

I had never seen their museum – and oh my – it’s a wonderful addition. Built in the barn structure that was the first monastery, it offers an historical and spiritual overview of monastic life over all and specifically in this part of the world.

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The image on the lower right is a reproduction of one of the original monastic cells in the barn. Click on the images for larger views. I was particularly taken with the way in which the museum displays invite the viewer to spiritual reflection – as on the lower left and then very top left.

After a quick stop in the bookstore – if you want a signed book of mine, they have a few now! – and a look at the amazing bonsai (long an occupation of this monastery), we walked down to the lake for a bit – the pen that over twenty years ago bore a small sign that said that Flannery O’Connor’s peacocks lived here after she died – was still there, overgrown and falling down, but I didn’t see that sign. Just lots and lots of very stupid geese.

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Then, Vespers. In which the boys were introduced to the wonders of Monastic Time.

Monk Leader: We pray for the sick….

Lay newcomers (immediately): Lord hear our prayer

Monks (three seconds later): Lord hear our prayer.

As I said to them: it’s not as if they have anywhere to go, right?

And it’s a reminder: slow down. Be present. Listen and speak meaningfully, not just because it’s your turn to make some noise.

To Milledgeville. I was hoping to get some college-town downtown cafe action, but it was pretty dead, so Diet Coke and snacks from Wal-Mart it was.

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But with a stop at the Georgia Military College campus – the original Georgia State Capitol building and the spot where they voted to secede.

Also, this:

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I’ll be you can guess what tomorrow holds….no detours, no cats hidden under car seats. Promise.

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  • Today is the feast of St. Margaret Clitherow. Linked is a post on her, and attached are a couple of images -  from the entry on her from the Loyola Kids Book of Saints, and the others from her shrine in York, which I visited last summer: There is more than one kind of death, and there is more than one kind of tomb in which the dead parts of ourselves lie, dark and still. Jesus stands outside every one of those tombs. His power is stronger than the stone, stronger than any kind of death. He stands; he desires our freedom; and to each of us he calls, “Come out!   On Flannery O'Connor's 98th birthday, a post with photos of her home at @andalusiafarm  as well as links to much of what I've written about her over the years.  Images from the Loyola Kids Book of Catholic Signs and Symbols, the Loyola Kids Book of Bible Stories, and the new Loyola Kids Book of Seasons, Feasts and Celebrations related to the #Annuncation.  From my 2020 Book of Grace-Filled Days. It's the Feast of the Annunciation - a few pages from my books related to the feast.  Most are published by @LoyolaPress. For more: Me on a certain element of John Wick 4. You can...probably guess which one.  Some thoughts on #solotravel and the #emptynest which of course turns into a Big Ol' Metaphor... "...as I get older, my position in this body seems to be shifting. Sitting in the front speaks of a life centered on quieting, teaching, forming and directing, of a time of life when molding and shaping other people is your job and actually seems possible.

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