Bobbie

Too much silence can be exhausting...

Apparently, the only way to take a hiatus from the stillness was to volunteer in the bakery. The bakery was the monastery's primary means of income, producing delectable goods such as fruitcake, chocolate-covered fruit cake slices called fraters (I bought 4 boxes of these), and creamed honey in the savory varieties of rum and cinnamon.

After 3 days of silence, I entered the bakery amid the whirling and swirling of machines, loud instructions of the volunteer manager, and laughter of the volunteers. They joked, sang, shared confidences, and emerged changed somehow, knowing that they made a difference in someone else's life. I took my place on the assembly line.

That was where I met Bobbie. I had seen her during our meals together (we had communal meals), and felt a kinship for her since she was the only other female who seemed to belong to the laity. The other participants of the retreat were priests, one of whom I was acquainted with, a certain Fr. Frank who was a charming, motorcycle-wielding mechanic before joining the clergy.

Bobbie was a beautiful African-American woman in her early thirties from the DC area. She was sensuous, not in the commercial sense, but she positively glowed with a vibrancy that came from embracing life. She told me about the Peace Corp, how she spent several years serving in a remote village in South Africa. She learned how to celebrate from them, from those devastatingly poor folks who extracted every gem of happiness from their arduous lives. They celebrated for days. In a nation where time was a commodity, they always took their time. They did things deliberately.

There was an inter-village bus called a Kombi, which never had a departure time. They would merely wait until the bus was full, and then proceed on the journey. If you were lucky, you were the last one everyone was waiting for. If not, it may be 5 hours before the bus engine was turned on.

Hailing from the fast-paced city of Chicago, Bobbie learned the lesson of patience from South Africa. "What else did you learn?" I inquired.

"Before I came to South Africa, I only knew my own faith. Jesus. It was very clearly delineated in my mind who was right and who was wrong. Those who were saved and those who were destined for Hell. In the context of a foreign country and alien beliefs, I learned that love knows no bounds and God is not limited to one name. Light exists in many souls, in many forms, and inspires the most heavenly actions in human beings. Intrinsically, we are all the same and we respond to the same light, no matter what we call it."

She was leaving her non-profit job this month, intending to continue her spiritual journey via graduate school to study counseling and to help relieve the plight of abused women.

I was amazed by her courage, her ability to follow her heart, to relinquish the stability of a good job, and to follow her calling. I admired the freedom of her soul. She told me that she was in the learning and transforming phases of her spirit, and there will come a time when she will be called to teach.

"Transformation is never easy," she comforted me. "It is painful, intense, and consumes energy. Don't ever be discouraged. Even if you don't always see it or feel it, your heart is
always moving."

Bobbie is an old soul, a kindred spirit. Even though we haven't spoken for months, I believe we will always be connected. Here is the quote at the bottom of all of her emails.

Changing the world is not impossible. We have but to love ourselves, each
other and the Divine who made us. In this way, we will each find change in
ourselves, thereby changing the world one life at time, beginning with our
own.