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REFLECTION

strangers, I do not shudder and quake and wring my Hungry for sustained and meaningful conversation, they
hands attempting to discern the correctness of becoming, linger in the kitchen to chat. On occasion, mixed mes-
for one short weekend, someone’s soul friend. If, at the sages are received and incompatible roommates billeted
end of their stay, a guest asks for help in locating a spiritual together. Novices may be offended when those keeping
director in their area, it is with delight that I offer sugges- silence refuse to engage in small talk. Guests who enthuse
tions and hunt down spiritual directors in their part of the over the prospect of seeing coyotes remain wary and ner-
world. Seasoned retreat-goers, many of whom have been vous as night draws near. And if the intensity of our talk
seeing a spiritual director for years, are comfortable with at the table threatens to encroach upon the restfulness of
the daily drill and slide easily into the pattern of prayer the atmosphere, it has to be brought tactfully to an end
and solitude that defines our days at the farm. with an invitation to join us for evening prayer. And so,
Greenhorns arrive a little shy and slightly embarrassed as a couple, we function as deans of the dorm, house-
at their unfamiliarity with this thing called “spiritual parents, peers, hoteliers, hosts, trail guides, and friends.
direction” but desiring, nonetheless, to dip their toes in Asceticism must wait for another day—a day when the
the water and learn how to swim. And so I concede gladly house is empty and the guests are gone and we hunker
and guide them gently into that place where a level of down and focus on our own need for silence.
comfort is rapidly reached, and we sit in a corner in front We have had to learn that what God is doing here in
of the fire ready to embark upon holy conversation. this quiet back road is both in our hands and out of our
Chances are that we will eventually break bread togeth- hands. At no time does this become more evident than at
er at the kitchen table sharing a hot meal. Chances are we the moment of departure when our guests roll down the
will also walk the trails and swim or ski as we make the car windows and thank us for the plethora of stars in that
necessary introduction to our landscape, its wonder and clear cold sky, for the choir of tree frogs that delighted
its hazards. Conversation may occur naturally over the their senses, and for the darkest nights they have ever
doing of dishes or the chopping of wood or the gather- encountered and the deepest sleeps. Promising to return
ing of eggs in the barn. And though our old farmhouse with their children to fish in the pond or with their best
divides nicely into two private spaces and silence is friends just to hang out, they spin their tires and leave us
indeed golden on this dusty back road, it is inevitable that in the dust, quite literally, and we are amazed, once again,
we will be destined to mingle—to share a joke and shovel at what God has been doing through us, beyond us, and
snow and discover that we have friends in common some- in spite of us and all of our efforts to get it right. And who
where else in the wide, wide world. we are today and what shoes we will walk in tomorrow
As my husband and I are responsible for making the matter little in the greater scheme of things. Who our vis-
beds, stirring the stew, plowing the lane, and lending out itors are today and in what manner and identity they will
bathing suits, as well as engaging in spiritual conversa- appear tomorrow is entirely out of our hands. For they
tion, this mingling aspect of the ministry has given us too have roles to fill and children to tend and partners to
pause. The natural boundaries that exist between kitchen companion and congregations to feed, and whether they
and chapel and dorm in institutional settings do not will arrive needing a splash in the pond and a good night’s
exist. When retreatants arrive, they are greeted as friends sleep or an intense series of companioning sessions can
and welcomed into our home. There is no staff waiting turn on a dime. Troubles they have shared at dawn may
to take them to their rooms and no fees to be negotiated. evaporate by sunset. The unconscious prayer experienced
Each guest is unique, and we have learned that for many, during a solitary drive into the country often brings our
silence is terrifying and isolation a fearful state of affairs. guests to the door with wide smiles and satisfied souls,
Others savour it, long for it, find an isolated niche and and we know that grace has already been bestowed even
hardly utter a word. Knowing what each guest needs and before they set foot in the kitchen. It is not we who are at
how silence can best be preserved for those who crave it work in the deep places of the heart, but God alone, and
often presents a challenge. Many come yearning not for the shoes ... well, the shoes ... are always negotiable. ■
silence per se, but rather for the peace of the countryside.

Volume 20 No. 3 • September 2014 47