I have a strange split in my life; on the one hand I hear God call me to a simpler life and yet, on the other hand, I also work occasionally with senior managers in large companies and I occasionally need to think in a businesslike, strategic way. The problem is that I find that I slip so easily into managerialism, dynamic leader, directive, make-this-happen mode and I leave behind servant mode. I find that, so easily, 'success', 'I-can-afford-it-so-I'll-have-it' thinking infects me and knocks me off balance. Sadly, servanthood rarely seems to infect my work with managers. sigh
I was fretting about this the other day when I heard a voice calling. I looked up to see who was in my lounge with me.
She was a smallish woman, perhaps a little older than me - late fifties. She was square set, not beautiful but the eyes, oh the eyes were so wonderful. Have you ever talked with someone who's eyes seem to see right through you, right to your heart? Scary isn't it. Well this woman's eyes did that to me but, I can't explain how, they seemed to say that they liked what they saw, that she was pleased to be with me.
I was a little taken aback, and looked each way for an open door, after all I live on my own. She noticed and smiled at me. "Hello," I said "err, sorry, I'm not sure we've met before, I'm Caroline" OK, so it wasn't an imaginative opening but how often have you had to handle a woman in her late fifties arriving out of fresh air into your living room? "My name's Hild," she said "and I've been getting to know you a little over the last few years, Caroline, it's good to get this chance to meet you face to face."
Now I was really scratching my head. I'm a good 'ol protestant and don't hold with this praying to saints but I confess that recently I've wished that I could have a long chat with Hild of Whitby. I just thought that maybe she would be able to help me balance out the competing demands of my life. "Oh, pleased to meet you; do you often pop by folk from the Northumbria Community? She shook her head, "What would you like to ask me, Caroline?" I paused, I knew exactly what I wanted to talk about but now I had the opportunity, I couldn't quite put it into words... "I don't know, Hild, I make such a mess of working in two worlds, the worlds of business and Christian service. You seemed to do something similar so well. How? How did you do it?"
I think that she looked genuinely shocked. "Do it well?! You've got to be kidding! I used to get so wound up about the visits from the bishops and Lords. I was on my knees for days afterwards trying to regain my balance, as you describe it." It was my turn to be shocked. "But you managed the role of a nun, living simply and the stories tell of how you welcomed and counselled rich and poor alike. The great men and women of your day came to Whitby for advice; the peasants came to you as well. You treated them just the same."
"Harrumph," she said; "I didn't exactly ask for the great and the good to come and see me. Why do you think that I wanted to join my sister in the convent in France? I wanted to get away from my old life at the Northumbrian court amongst royalty. I wanted to leave all the finery behind and instead it came and invaded my poverty; those lords, ladies and bishops all parading in front of me in their pomp." I looked at her and could see a tension in her face, almost as if she was living out the memory of trying to control anger and frustration. She continued "I'm not sure that I ever really forgave Aiden. You know that he was the one who persuaded me to stay in Northumbria?" I nodded as she went on, "He was such a wonderful man. Now, he really was a saint! He never seemed to want anything... I saw him give a fine horse he'd been given by the king, to the first beggar he met! My cousin, King Oswald, just shrugged his shoulders in mock despair. You see, I don't think that Aiden had ever been rich and so he was content with having nothing and he was so generous, so wonderfully able to share whatever he did have. I wasn't like him."
I lent forward, looking at her. Those eyes that had been so beautiful were clouded now. There was regret and sadness in them. Her head was tipped forward, it almost seemed to me that she was ashamed to catch my eye. There was a long pause. It was my turn to encourage her, to give her permission to talk. "Was it very hard to give up your place in the royal family and all the attendant wealth?" I asked gently. Hild looked up and said, "Not at first. To begin with I was just thrilled at the opportunity to spend time with God. The chance to pray, study and be with others was more of a delight than all the feasts and parties at court. I particularly liked working with the younger nuns, encouraging them to try out new skills and learn to read and the such like. I guess that I was quite good at it, for the authorities encouraged me to set up a new convent as Abbess quite quickly."
"No, to start with, I didn't regret the move at all. I think that two incidents started my struggle. The first was when my younger cousin, Eanfrith, came to visit me. I don't know if she did it deliberately but she was wearing my favourite gold broach. I'd loved that broach and giving it away had been a powerful symbol to me of my calling to the convent. It had been a moment of freedom when I had unclasped it and walked away. Yet there it was before me being paraded by a young woman. I was shocked by the effect it had on me. I had wanted to give it away, so why did I hanker after it again now, years later? What was it's hold on me? I remember being livid with Eanfrith for wearing it - How selfish, how inconsiderate, how mean ... - it was as if I was taking out on her the anger I was feeling about myself."
"The second incident happened a few months later. The Earl of Hexham visited Hartlepool, where I was abbess. A few years before, there had been talk of a marriage between us. He was a good man and I suspect that we would have made a good team. We were both politically astute, both good with managing estates and people. He came to me for advice and we talked easily. There was a sadness in his eyes when he told me me that he could never talk to his wife like this. He was about to say something more but stopped himself. I spent the next week imagining what he might have been intending to say to me"
She stopped again and I suspected that she was back in that room again; wishing again, a millennium and more later, that he had continued with some words of love and approval but she weadded, "so you see Caroline, I'm not much better than you in dealing with riches and service" She smiled at me, a smile that was infectious so that we shared a contented silence of shared understanding. "But you managed to keep going" I encouraged. "Yes," she said "it's wonderful what a good bit of gardening or calligraphy can do to take your mind off things. I don't think that any of my friends in the convent really knew. I think that I was able to hide from them what really, rather shamed me. But I did want someone to talk to, I wanted someone to understand. Maybe that was why I prayed so much. I guess that I thought Jesus, who left heaven for a carpenter's shed, would understand."
There was another silence between us. We looked up at the same moment and I said, a little choked up, "I can't tell you how much it means to me to have heard your story Hild. How much more real and earthy your saintliness has become" She laughed at that, "Ha, saintliness.. I've got a feeling that was Wilfred's doing! I suspect that he felt a bit guilty after the Synod of Whitby and wanted to feel that he'd done something to repair the damage to our relationship. Foolish Wilfred, always so keen on titles and prestige - he'd have wanted to get a sainthood (or whatever it's called) did he ever get one?" I nodded. "Oh, I'll have to tell him. Mind you it'll matter less to him now. Everything matters less when you're actually face to face with Jesus. Actual fact, I almost like Wilfred now. Lucky, I suppose, because we've got to spend all eternity together!" We both laughed out loud. I was just about to get up to give Hild a hug of gratitude when suddenly I noticed she was gone, as suddenly as she had come. I jumped a little and my cross stitch fell from my lap onto the floor,I stretched a little and looked at my watch, surprised at where the time had gone. Time for bed I thought.
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