A Friendship Remembered

by Barb Laymon

In 1989 it was my unexpected pleasure to begin working as the Director of Christian Education at St. John’s, Johnson City, where the Reverend Walter Robert Page was a permanent deacon. At that time the deacon shared an office with the DCE. Bob greeted me and soon we spent a day moving furniture, hanging pictures, and going through his books. He had many books on spirituality; and, as I was a voracious reader on the subject, our friendship was quick to form.

It was of course out of kindness that Bob Page made me his friend. I could talk about Christian mysticism; Bob understood it. Looking back I realize the patience he showed, putting up with my beginner’s analysis of the contemplative life. Once I told him that I had never experienced the dark night of the soul, the spiritual dryness described by St. John of the Cross and other saints as well. I supposed I would not have this experience. With a smile Bob looked at me and said simply, "You will."

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Hanging his pictures we found several Madonnas, among them the most wonderful smiling young woman with a happy, chubby baby in her arms. Bob said it was his favorite. His view of Mary was not one of sorrow, but rather of the joy coming to those who will say with abandon, "Behold I am the handmaid of the Lord, be it done to me as the Lord wills."

Bob cheerfully accepted what life brought to him. Although his Parkinson’s Disease was steadily worsening during those years, he never complained. Instead, he continued to visit the sick of the parish, continued to preach sermons, and continued to pray for us all. If he saw me looking concerned, he would smile and declare the words of his favorite saint, Julian of Norwich, "All shall be well, all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well."

Bob’s sermons were a beautiful reflection of his faith. He once explained that a childlike faith is important for adults because, as he put it, " We have learned to distinguish friends from foes and have learned that pain and vulnerability go hand in hand with true love, yet they go on, foolishly though it may seem to others, loving friend and enemy alike because that is what Jesus teaches us to do."

Once at a congregational dinner we were asked to introduce ourselves by making a list of several facts, including one false statement. Bob, his eyes dancing with fun, presented the following list:

1) I was offered a contract as defensive tackle for the San Francisco 49’rs.

2) I was aboard the USS Tennessee at the Battle of Okinawa.

3) I gave up a lucrative job in Venezuela to marry my wife.

4) I served a 2 year hitch in the Black Watch (British Army), 1946-49.

All the statements were believable, for Bob was a big guy, looking much more like a football player than my mental image of a holy man. As it turned out, all the statements are true except number 4, he never served in the British Army. And it was typical of Bob to mention his wife Virginia, to whom he was devoted. I might mention that he also talked often of his children and grandchildren, niece, brother, and assorted family, with joy, pride, and love.

Bob loved people, and he was a keen observer of human nature. Once he started a sermon with the story of a man condemned to death, who, when asked if he had any last words, responded, "Yes sir, this sure is going to teach me a lesson." Bob pointed out that we so often fail to grasp the meaning of our experiences, but even this he did with humor, not condemnation. He loved people as we are.

An improvement to our office at one point was a beautiful kneeler that has once been near the altar before renovations to the worship space had caused it to be stored in a spare room. Bob loved this piece of furniture. When his health worsened to the point that he needed to move to Nashville to be closer to his extended family, it was the one item he requested to take with him. When my family and I visited him, first in a small apartment and later in an even smaller nursing home room, it was still with him. Obviously he could no longer use it, but it represented a devotional life that meant everything to him. Bob once wrote a poem about Lancelot Andrewes, a Bishop of the 16th century, which shows his piety:

Tear drops stain his manuscript
Tears he shed in loving emotion,
as he wrote down his words of purest devotion.
Words of devotion written of thee,
Lord teach me to love thee as much as he.
Much he loved thee as he prayed
prayed in his prayer of contemplation,
of Jesus’ love and inspiration.
Prayers of devotion he prayed to thee
Lord teach me to love thee as much as he.

Tear drops stain the manuscript,
Tears he shed in heart felt contrition.
Shed for mankind’s sinful condition.
Tears of Joy for thy saving grace,
For our salvation you took our place.

Lord help me to love thee in Andrewes way,
with prayers of devotion every day.

May 1991                                                                        

In one of my last letters from Bob, he told me that his condition was continuing to deteriorate and, as he put it, "then taps. But be of good faith; I am happy knowing that it’s all in God’s hands and ‘all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well’." His funeral service included the hymn, "The strife is over, the battle done, the victory in Christ is won, Alleluia."

I think about Bob in heaven now, free of pain and, I’m sure, still praying for us here in the Diocese of East Tennessee. He would want us to remember that he is still praying for us. And I think he would want us to remember his example of faithfulness, courage, and humility, not to bring honor to him, but to glorify the God he had come to know so well.

Barb Laymon is a communicant of Grace Church, Chattanooga.