I watched ice form on the river outside my window one Sunday afternoon and felt loneliness more intense than any I could remember since childhood. The day had grown incredibly still -- so deep it seemed poised at the edge of eternity... Nearly empty, I could not hope to fill myself -- certainly not with human companionship -- and I began to sense that this was exactly as it should be. God wanted me empty, alone, silent and watchful. I was suffering from both sever laryngitis and a lame leg, and had to laugh at myself, wondering if I was really so dense that God had to resort to these extremes in order to get me to shut up and be still.
In 2000, while I was in the hospital for by-pass surgery, an old man called out for help each night. All the prayers for his comfort and quiet seemed to float away. One night I found myself saying,
"Old man, you are not going to be miserable this night. My soul is coming over and our souls are going out dancing!"
I don't have a rational explantion, I only know he was quiet that night, my soul uplifted. I believe our souls danced that night. The next day the old man died. Such is the power of Spirit in our lives.
~ in a letter form Jacqueline White, a Friend of Silence
