Silent Waters Run Deep
I am not there. I do not die.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the gentle showers of rain.
- Mary Elizabeth Frye
When I learned from the online Sunday mass that someone I used to know in college had passed away, I felt quite sad. Although we had almost no more contact in the four decades that had passed since graduation, certain fond memories of conversations with him came to mind. More than anything that was said between us during those very young years, it was the essence of his person that seemed to come to life in memory. His genuine humility, his gentle manner, his deeper love and appreciation of philosophy, his wonder about and quiet openness to people, his candid reflections about family and about life. He had an aura of freshness, like gentle rain that falls on soft grass on a quiet early morning.
The last and only time that we had ever exchanged more than a greeting throughout the many decades that have passed was when I was about to leave the ante room of the adoration chapel and he had just come in. In that brief moment, he shared that he had made a commitment to adore the Blessed Sacrament for an hour weekly. In the years that followed, I suspect that he continued to sustain this commitment. We never talked with each other again, but there were a few more occasions when I noticed he would be kneeling, eyes closed in prayer, in the corner of the little prayer room. Eventually I began going to a different chapel in another location. To my surprise, there were a few occasions when as I would walk out the door, I would notice that at the back portion of this larger chapel, he would be there, kneeling in prayer. Interesting how we still never spoke to each other again. He may not even have been aware that I was also there. And it did not matter. We were just two souls living out our own separate lives, but who both consistently held the same deep love for His True Presence.
Two weeks ago, when I had heard that he had passed away, I felt sad for his family. I imagine that he surely must have been a most valuable and loving presence in their lives. What a severe loss his passing must have been to them. For myself, I also felt quite a nostalgic sadness as I recalled again the different encounters and conversations we had way back in school. Although once he had used the term, 'silent waters run deep' to describe me, I believe he was actually also describing himself. And it seems to also be quite an apt description of the very separate but somehow common path we had been treading along all these decades. In the depth of silence. In prayer.
Dear Friend from way back, may your silent, gentle soul now rest deeply in His True Presence for all eternity! +
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