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Last year in Combermere at the annual meeting of the directors of our houses, we heard a call to pray about how we are living poustinia* in our houses. We pondered what this meant for us in England. Our house was already saturated with silence and prayer, and people were coming to swim in its waters.
We were happy to read Poustinia for our spiritual reading, but it was like preaching to the choir. Until last August.
That’s when two priests, four seminarians, and one consecrated layman came to spend a week with us around the Feast of the Assumption. (Two of them had to stay in the village, because there was “no room in the inn.”)
Four of our guests were able to make a “real” poustinia, and the rest promised to return for the opportunity.
Of those who made one this time, two were completely new to the experience; one had never spent a full 24 hours in the poustinia, and the last one was an old hand at it.
Each one felt called into the poustinia at that time, gave himself fully to it, and was deeply blessed.
They reminded me of a young man who had carefully chosen the date of his first poustinia and was so excited that he showed up at the door with flowers and a huge grin.
We kept the flowers, but they were clearly for his Beloved. He admitted he hadn’t felt that excited and nervous since his wedding day. He knew he was entering a trysting place.
Something shifted for me last August: I was moved by the fresh, expectant spirit of these men entering the poustinia, which contrasted with my own this-is-just-what-I-do spirit.
Moreover, we had so many visitors and people wanting to go into poustinia last summer that I couldn’t get into our little prayer cabin for over a month. I was beginning to thirst for poustinia, and I began to wonder if perhaps we should think about getting a second cabin.
Then in the fall, we hosted a men’s group for a day of recollection. At the end, when they asked if we needed anything, I found the word “poustinia” coming out of my mouth.
Before we knew it, they had purchased a little trailer for us, and they laboured for days in the cold, readying the only suitable site for it. Then they installed it with electricity and handed it over to us as our new prayer cabin.
Months ago, someone had suggested creating a pamphlet that would highlight the joy of silence and solitude, and I had considered such an “advertisement”.
But before we had a chance to proclaim the beauty and challenge of poustinia, it was calling to our visitors.
God himself had “advertised” for us! And even while we were discerning whether or not to pursue the possibility of obtaining another poustinia, it came to us.
Recently I gave the book Poustinia to a priest who was deeply taken with the experience, and I discovered that we had only one copy left. This was a shock, as I had replenished our supply last May.
I determined not to let go of any more copies for a while. But along came another priest whose life was being changed by the book, so what could I do?! I gave him our last copy.
I did find a final last copy hidden away, but if someone else’s heart were to be set on fire by Catherine’s words, could I deny him the book?
Where did all our books go? God himself must be distributing them while I wasn’t paying attention. So we’re ordering more copies to try and catch up with him.
Just today, the latest issue of our diocesan paper came out. Last month, our bishop devoted his front-page column to his recent two weeks in Combermere, and he gave a synopsis of Catherine’s life.
This month he described and promoted her books, starting with Poustinia. I can see already: I’ll need to increase the number of copies in that book order.
For the first time in seven years, we journeyed to our house in Belgium, to share a week with our sisters there. Three of those days were spent on retreat. The topic? Poustinia, of course. I think we all feel a renewed desire to live from this interior place of silence and union with Christ, which is the heart of our life.
But prayer in solitude is not just for Madonna House; it is a universal need. God whispers to each heart, calling us each into this interior trysting place, and with or without us, he’ll bring it into being.
Last May, we decided to dedicate this year to poustinia. But God had already done so. He had prepared the ground, whetted the desire, and provided the means. Typically, we are running to catch up to him. Perhaps we should just relax in the wake of our Divine Speedboat and enjoy the ride.
*24 hours or more of solitude with God in a simple room or cabin with only bread and water (and tea or coffee) and the Bible. The room or cabin used for this is also called a poustinia.
