When Bob brought the ministry of the Friends of Silence Letter to his home in a wild and sacred patch of forest in the foothills of the Blue Ridge, I "met" Nan. I learned of her faith and courage when in the midst of a city in turmoil and pain (1987 Detroit) she called a contemplative community to welcome the healing power of Silence and pray for peace. The little group was open to all faiths and cultures. It grew from 40 members to thousands around the world linked in heart-prayer and by the Letter, which Nan sent monthly to her "friends of Silence". That Letter carried beauty, compassion, wisdom and love to all who held its two folded pages in their grateful hands.

Fifteen years ago, we promised to hold the tender heart of Friends of Silence. We understood that Nan's hope for the life of her baby went beyond the Letter, and we endeavored to nurture Friends of Silence in the directions that seemed called, to allow the child to grow: a retreat ministry, a website with an archive and a searchable database of quotes, an electronic version of the Letter, and a Substack, each and every one a labor of love.

In this Advent season, when we remember the beautiful ancient story of a Holy birth, I ponder the baby that Nan entrusted to Bob. Just as humble and surprising, the Letter is a living being, filled with warmth and breath, crying out to the Divine Night, to the Mystery and the Silence, for all that we love. This is how I have come to understand that the Letter is alive like a fire is alive.

As the Northern Hemisphere is drawn into darkness, I find myself wanting to re-ignite that warming fire within the refuge of Silence, to do everything I can to place myself in the glow of it. As I wrote in the Letter almost a year ago, I sense that I am not alone in this yearning, and so in this December Letter we offer tinder and kindling to keep your soul fires alight, sparks from every one of us who has contributed to Nan's luminous baby during these fifteen years.

~ Lindsay

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