Wigbert
Saint Wigbert, born in Wessex around 675, was an Anglo-Saxon Benedictine monk and a missionary and disciple of Saint Boniface who traveled with the latter in Frisia and northern and central Germany to convert the local tribes to Christianity. His feast day is August 13.
Life
Wigbert was an Englishman of noble birth, older than Boniface, who embraced the monastic state. It has been supposed that Wigbert was a monk of Glastonbury, but Löffler finds this improbable.
When Boniface felled Thor's Oak near Fritzlar in northern Hesse in 723, he built a wooden chapel from the oak's wood and in 724 established a Benedictine monastery in Fritzlar. Boniface called Wigbert from England. Wigbert was certainly older than Boniface. He went to Germany about 734, and Boniface made him abbot of the monastery of Hersfeld in Hesse; among his pupils there was St. Sturmi, the first Abbot of Fulda.
About 737 Boniface transferred him to Thuringia as Abbot of Ohrdruf, where he established a school for missionaries operating in Thuringia. Wigbert died in 747, and was initially buried in Fritzlar in the stone basilica he had built to replace the original wooden chapel. His former student, Lullus later had most of his body (except for a few sacred relics which remained in Fritzlar) interred in a gold and silver shrine in Hersfeld Abbey. Wigbert is patron saint of the town of Bad Hersfeld. His feast day is August 13.
Podcasts:
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by Autopirate
Say It Louder! (you Might Be The Nicest Thing I Have Ever Seen)
by: AutopirateWe must be better off, we must be better off alone,
Than stuck here in this clever mess of a life.
But the ties we share are too strong to sever,
And it looks like we'll be together.
The story, the story has been around forever.
You just don't get it, you just don't get it at all,
It's less about you and more about the way that we say goodbye before we even say hello.
We even start to believe that it's the way that it should be,
Just ignore those thoughts of reason in the back of our heads.
(Forget them, forget them, forget them all)
You left me with nothing, you left me with nothing but the fast,
Beating of my heart.
Racing in the back, as your glance caught mine in the car,
That collided with mine.
Let's see how fast we can go.
You just don't get it, you just don't get it at all,
It's less about you and more about the way that we say goodbye before we even say hello.
We even start to believe that it's the way that it should be,
Just ignore those thoughts of reason in the back of our heads.