Not for a Moment

I was sitting at my desk yesterday, alternating between working on show stuff and enjoying Lynne's birthday with her when I got the text.

Don't know if you heard, but Arlene passed away.

I held the phone in my hands and shook my head no, as if in some way, that would change the news.

My response: Are you serious? Even after a second affirmation, I went to Facebook page after Facebook page looking for news that someone else knew, hoping in my heart if no one else did, it might just be a rumor. Then I saw the words from her sister...I will miss you so much. You are beautiful, so beautiful...Your work was completed on earth.

It didn't feel complete to me. It felt so very unfinished.

She should be at church Sunday morning to shake her head when I walk in to Sunday School, followed by a "Look at you...always coordinated...even your purse and nail polish match. I just love you." She should be in her pew during the singing time, praising away right there in my line of vision. At least that's how it goes in my mind.

His Mind is higher than mine.

Last summer, when I was baptized, she and her husband were the only two attending who had actually asked to attend. When she heard what I was planning, she pulled me aside and said, "I don't know if this is okay to ask but I'd love to come to your baptism if you'd let me."

How glad I am that she asked. I treasure this picture.

Yesterday afternoon as I tried to wrap my brain around the news, I searched my mind for our last conversation. It would have been about a month ago, right before her stroke. I could not think of our last talk. I searched harder. I had to remember. What had I said?

Then I remembered. We were in our Experiencing God study, and before Sunday School started, I'd wandered over to her table to talk to her. She said her back and neck were sore, so I started rubbing them. She said I could stay all day if I wanted. So I did stay. I stayed until the class began and I had to go back to my own table.

I settled back into my seat with much relief. Our last moment together was filled with doing something for her that she wanted and she loved. If there has to be a last memory, I'm glad it's that one.

And then I remembered another talk we had just a week or so before that, I'd imagine. Church had ended and she stood behind my pew asking how the house sale was coming along. I rolled my eyes and said, "Well, I still own it!" She gripped the pew and said, "I pray for you and I don't understand why it hasn't sold, but selfishly I'm glad God still has you here with us. He has something special for you. I just know it."

Oh Arlene. He does. I know it too and now you know it from Heaven's viewpoint. How I love that while simultaneously missing you so much. When those answers come to pass, how much I will miss sharing them with you and seeing the joy on your face and feeling the warmth of your hug.

Arlene loved her some life...and now she's loving it to the full and I love that for her, but oh how my heart aches. And through my tears, I hang onto these words.