Death is not a word I use often. It's physically hard for me to say. Six years ago, I could speak it with ease. But now? It bothers me. I guess that comes from having a life and soul that death has touched in ways I don't often think about. Even typing the word floods my mind with memories and brings a longing to see my dad so fierce, it consumes me. All of me.
I have a lot of opinions about death. Everyone does. Most of mine aren't nice, fluffy, hopeful opinions. They're edgy and harsh. They may soften over time, change into something more positive. But then again, maybe they won't. The ripple effect of death is long and broad and changing.
A friend of mine left this life Saturday night in her sleep. I just found out last night. She was in her 70's (I think?). And her death seems to have brought this topic front and center in my mind. I'm still in a debate with myself over that being a good thing or a bad thing. Maybe it's a little of both.
In the quiet parts of my heart, I find myself taking inventory of all the beautiful things this woman taught me. So many lessons, it's hard to catalog them all. The greatest gift she gave me was the knowledge that we have a Heavenly Father who sees us with 20/20 vision. Every minute, every day, with detailed precision. He watches over, guides and loves endlessly. The joy that brings really can't be described.
My friend offered me a quiet porch to sit on and an outside view of the courage it takes to change your life. Quite exquisite gifts. I have a profound gratitude that I was given a chance to be a small part of her life. Because she had a large effect on mine. Life is beautiful when it works that way.
Thank you Paula for filling a small corner of my life with grace.
May rest find you well.