I was determined to survive the crisis and employed any and every means toward it.
One was devotion to Jesus.
Once I experienced God, it was all about the Godhead.
As a result, I had to work on it.
Increasingly I sought refuge in the vast garden we had.
The four acres land was a veritable blessing for me.
I retreat there for healing, therapeutic healing.
It was here that I started playing spiritual romanticism with Jesus.
I would walk up and down the length of it, singing two favorite hymns,
What a friend we have in Jesus and Be with me, Lord, I cannot do without you.
I would imagine Jesus was there with me as I sang the songs.
My mother had warned us about trees.
She told us never to worship trees because spirits would enter the trees,
And we would end up worshipping the spirits.
For me, those words mean trees have spirit.
I started to treat them like friends.
They became my friends.
I went to them for comfort, talking to them, confiding in them.
I especially love old trees, tree trunks gnarled with age.
They say so much to me with their age and magnificence.
There were two trees standing side by side.
I often talked to them.
As their branches moved and touch each other with the wind or breeze,
I imagine them communicating with each other that way.
Little did I know they communicate underground, not above ground.
There were a few hermitages also in the vast garden.
I often went there for meditation.
One would think that all who entered the monastery entered it to seek solitude.
It was not so. Not to my observation.
Only a few handful of nuns go for private retreat.
The complete isolation was too much for the spirit of most.
Hence, only a few would avail themselves of the hermitages also.
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