On the South River

On the South River

The South River flows through our property. Chaminade asked me if I would like to take a boat ride with him and I was glad that he asked me. It was not something I would have thought of doing on my own. We loaded the aluminum boat on a van and Augustine drove us to the river and said that he would pick us up down on the bridge at Oglesby Bridge Road three hours later at the far end of our property. It was a beautiful morning, sunny and cool.
We got into the boat and we headed south. Each of us had two oars and the River was calm. For much of the way we held the oars inside the boat and let the current glide us along. I looked about a lot, hoping to see some animals. We did see a hawk flying high above us, screeching as if to get our attention. Chaminade saw a deer ahead of us on the bank of the River but it bounded away as soon as it caught sight of the boat.
We got stuck twice on submerged logs but with Chaminade’s deft handling of the oars we were soon back to an easy glide on the River.
It was so peaceful and silent and we both commented on that. The only sounds that we heard most of the time were the chirping of the birds and the soft splashing of the water as the oars broke its surface. We were able to maneuver the boat by rowing on different sides. As we moved down the River, we chatted about a lot of things – our life here, how things are with our families. We spoke of writing and rowing, we spoke of the silence about us and the beauty of the day.
A voice called out and looking up to see who it was, we spotted our abbot, Francis Michael, who had driven down in his van. He called again and we rowed over to where he was and chatted with him for a while. He took pictures of us, which I hope to see later. We then continued on our way and Chaminade said that we were near the place where Augustine would be waiting for us. The three hours passed by quickly.
We reached the bridge at Oglesby Bridge Road and Augustine was not yet there. We pulled the boat out of the water and carried it up a rather steep incline, rested a bit, and then carried it the rest of the way to the road. Augustine arrived and we loaded the boat into the van and headed back to the monastery. He brought some candy bars for us from the Monastery and they were good.
It was all good. Chaminade’s asking me to go was like rousing me from my typical routine of either writing or reading, of hanging out somewhere here on the property with the ground beneath my feet or a chair beneath my rear end.
As we rowed I thought about the rousing that is God’s call to each of us in life. It is a call to be attentive to him, to be loving to each other, to live life with care and to know oneself through love. It may sound like a lot, but if life can be likened to a trip on a River with a friend who is loved, I think I relearned something yesterday.
Chaminade rowed behind me – I could not see him for most of the trip but could hear him. I felt the boat move in slightly different directions as he guided it with the oars. He gave me a bottle of water and some cookies he had brought. He was careful to tell me things – about the hawk above and tell-tale high water marks on the banks and trees. I could sense that he wanted to share with me what he knew and liked about his previous trips on the River.
The three hours passed by quickly. And so does life.
I have often wondered if God exists anymore as a Being in and of himself, as a separate Divine Entity. Maybe one time he did. But since the Incarnation, when he became one with creation, how could He exist apart from life and within it at the same time? Maybe it is a mystery and I should let it go at that. So I will never know for sure just how God is in this life. But I do know that the waters pass beneath me every day and there are voices near me, guiding me along for smooth sailing. Gifts are given – food and water and friendship, beauty and surprise visits from friends on near shores. We are a living part of each other. I feel that as I move through life and listen and feel a voice within me, behind me, and at a distance, calling to me.
I like to think about these things, and write about them.
Strange, how I say we sailed the river when it is truer to say that the river took us. We were taken along by its currents. The hardest part was carrying the boat. So it seems that life is heavy at times, but once we get with the flow, it moves us along.
Augustine told me recently that he was writing something and was fascinated with how as he was writing the words on a piece of paper, memories came to him. I knew what he meant and told him that words, once taken and written, have a life to them and they bring us wonderful things – like memories. You put a hand to paper and the words bring gifts. I think of him as I write this, when I put an oar into water and words come to me, too. Words flow to us from everything – once we are roused and write, or row, or touch our dreams.
Chaminade roused me from a routine and we sailed on the South River and the water now seems to me like words – words flowing and moving, whispering and gently loving, as we let the waters take us, further south, further into God who will someday be there to pick us up, and take us home.
For someday this River of Life will take a new and strange bend. It will be the end of life as I know it. And Someone will be there, waiting to take me to a new home. Maybe He will bring food from that place. I will tell him my memories, about a River ride with a friend, and he will give me something to eat and tell me that he was there, just behind me and above me, all along. And He will speak and I will know the voice and recognize the face as the same that was behind me and near me my whole life, telling me things about sailing, about friendship, about how he was in me and Augustine and Chaminade and maybe even in the hawk that flew so high above South River.