The Power to Comfort Part II: Messages of Love

I appreciate everyone’s response to the last blog post "The Power to Comfort". It has been exciting to hear from all of you. It is really hard to share some of my personal experiences, but I know writing about them is helping me. So thank you for reading and listening to me as I share about my experience with Lindsey. Some days are just harder than others and I do have happy days, they are not all so sad.

However, like the last blog post, there are some experiences that are profound. I try to reach beyond my own need for privacy and pride and share what I have experienced, only to honor the presence of God in my life. It is when I see His hand, even His tender mercies, that I can move into greater acceptance that Lindsey has been called home.

It is in these tender moments that I can begin to make sense of all that has happened. When I see that He is aware of my grief, and He is offering comfort in the many ways that He has, I feel remembered, buoyed up, and I can feel His arms around me. I can hear Him whisper, reassuring me that she is okay and that there was some purpose in all the suffering that we witnessed. In some of my deepest grief, I have felt Lindsey’s presence with me.

I think the hardest thing is that she and I can’t talk, giggle or laugh together like we used to. My heart aches and I just want to hear her, touch her hand or be close to her and it is so hard to try to hear her voice through the silence of separation. I can only hear it every once in awhile now.

I have to reach beyond my capabilities to connect to her soul. Sometimes in my reaching and in my straining I connect to nothingness. Oh, cherish the times you have with your loved ones. Make your time with them count. Make sure you create meaningful memories, because when they are gone, all that you have left is the strain of your heart reaching out to hear their voice through the silence of the grave.

Lindsey left me many messages of love. As I am sorting through her things, I am finding old birthday cards from her to me and her handwriting brings tears to my eyes. We have pictures and photographs, certificates, and her diploma from BYU. There is her blanket, her clothes, her make-up, the dried flowers from her funeral, and her wedding dress. All these things remind me of her and send messages of love to me as I remember the essence of who she was here.

But, believe me, all these things are not my Lindsey. I do try to be at peace with her story and God’s plan that I know we all agreed to, but my heart just wants to hold my daughter again. I think in my mind just holding her one more time would help, and then I would be okay. And then I remember back to her sick body and how miserable she was and I think to myself "How can I be so selfish?" Surely she needed to be released. And then I move to some place inside me that is trying to accept that she couldn’t stay here anymore, which is in direct conflict with the emptiness in my heart that can never be filled. . .

When I am gone I want to leave something behind so that those who love me will not have to strain to remember my voice or feel my love for them. I want to leave as many messages of love as I can. One way I want to do this is by compiling stories of the "Power to Comfort". It will bring many voices together; we will all leave a strong message of love that stands as a witness of God and His power to comfort in small and simple things, even through the faith of mothers and daughters.

We can unite in telling our stories that God lives. In spite of our burdens, or sacrifices and hardships, we can bear witness that He is among us, that He has not forgotten or forsaken us, and that He has the power to comfort, even beyond the separation caused by death, through the power of sisterhood.

I am reaching out and encouraging you to record or write down an experience you have had either offering comfort to someone or having someone else offer comfort to you. If you are thinking about submitting a story please do it! I really believe it could bless the lives of many women. As you are considering what you might contribute, please know that the process of writing it down gives you an opportunity to heal and be reminded of the feelings of love and comfort you had during that experience. These books will then serve as an invitation to the rising generation to become a source of inspiration and comfort.

I plan to eventually compile three books. The first will include contemporary stories from mothers and grandmothers presently living. The second book will be our mothers’ and grandmothers’ stories that have been passed down to us. These stories will be what we remember as well as what we can gather from our family about their lives. And the third book will include the stories of our daughters and what life is like for them. I would like each book to have 30 – 50 stories.

Suggestions for stories:

The stories could be a short essay or vignette between 500 – 1500 words or a whole chapter. My blog length is 600 to approximately 1000 words. You can submit more than one story. You can decide if you would like to use your name, or another name.

June 1 will be the deadline to submit your stories for the first book. These are the stories from your own lives. This will be a project we can all be proud of. A portion of the proceeds will be used to reimburse the publishing costs and a portion donated towards scholarships - offering processes and emotional health education for women and children.

Retelling our stories gives us an opportunity to glean even greater treasures from our experiences and share those treasures with other sisters. Maybe in sharing our stories we can illuminate the future for the young girls coming after us. Maybe we will remind them about the value and virtue of womanhood and the importance of listening to intuition and the guidance we receive from God. This collection of women’s stories will be in celebration of the partnership between women and God and what can be created when we come together through "The Power to Comfort."

Power To Comfort

We are passing the six month marker of Lindsey’s passing. The grief of losing a daughter, a sister, a wife, and a friend is affecting each of us in different ways. It has truly been a blessing to have friends and family offer their thoughts and share their feelings about Lindsey through tender phone calls, texts, notes and gifts. It makes me happy that people make the effort to communicate these messages to me and that they remember Lindsey and are aware of her and our family.

I know Jessica found it especially painful this past weekend and so did Savanah. We talk about our sadness and we cry with each other. We try to soothe each other’s pain in our little family. I know that each of us have felt buoyed up and supported by all of our friends in amazing ways. We truly can feel of your love and empathy.

Todd and I went to the temple in honor of this six month marker, celebrating Lindsey’s passing from this world and recognizing that she is not suffering anymore. Of course, I went thinking that I would be fine. I had been feeling okay for most of the week. But, getting to the temple and sitting in such a beautiful safe, quiet setting, I immediately started to cry at the beginning of the session and I could not stop.

I quietly cried through the whole session. As we neared the end of the session, the sister on my left, sitting two chairs over, leaned towards me and whispered “I love you”. I am sure she could hear me sniffling, and could hear my efforts in trying to muffle my tears. Then the sister next to me, on my left, reached over and put her arm around me. At this point I was really embarrassed as I realized that everyone around me knew that I was crying.

And then the sister on my right leaned over and handed me a crumpled up, already used handkerchief. I needed it terribly by then. I had not brought any tissues with me. It felt like I was going to start sobbing out loud, even though I was trying to manage some kind of dignity during a complete melt down.

I whispered to the sister on my right, who was humbly offering all that she had in the form of a used handkerchief, as I told her that my daughter had recently passed away from a brain tumor.

Our eyes met and she reached out and took my hand in hers. She turned her head back to the front of the room and I saw that she was crying. I knew that she was a mother and that she could feel my pain. I could not keep the pain to myself, it was so overwhelming. This kind of grief makes you feel like you are going crazy and you feel like you going to lose all control.

This woman, who was sitting to my right, started crying with me. I could feel that she was offering up a desire to help bear my burden through her tears. She truly was an angel as she sat next to me holding my hand. I started to finally get a handle on my “out of control” state. I just kept clinging to her hand in my lap. She didn’t pull away and it didn’t feel uncomfortable.

She let me hold her hand until the session came to an end. I literally felt so loved and comforted. It reminded me of how I would hold Lindsey’s hand by the side of her bed. It seemed to help us feel close and connected. I loved holding Lindsey’s hand. During all the surgeries, radiation treatments, fatigue and during severe pain and times of sickness she would always reach for my hand, and I for hers.

Lindsey had so many MRI’s I lost count after the third surgery. I don’t even know how many she had during the last 14 months that she was extremely ill. However during every MRI, she would always ask for me to come in and hold her hand when they had to give her the contrast in the form of a shot in her arm. She hated shots. She had such small veins and sometimes it would take several pokes to get it right. Lindsey was so tender and soft-hearted -- it was so hard to see such suffering and such harshness being inflicted on her thin, frail body. To tell you the truth it was more than any mother could bare.

So sitting there in the temple it felt like I got to hold Lindsey’s hand, even if it was for a short time. It seemed like Lindsey was offering her hand to comfort me this time through this beautiful sister sitting next to me.

I know that women have such capacity to feel each other’s burdens, and I have truly seen my dearest friends and family members, mothers themselves, offer such heartfelt compassion -- not only to me, but also to others in so many amazing ways. I have witnessed women gathering around me during Lindsey’s illness and in her passing and offering comfort in ways that I did not know was possible. I know that I have not been alone to bear my grieving.

What I experienced that day and at other sacred times during this experience with Lindsey is that there is a certain “power to comfort” given to women and mothers that resembles the same power offered by angels themselves. This “power to comfort” is not from this world, but is heaven sent and divine. It is this “power to comfort” that women possess, which makes it possible for any one of us, as mothers, to not die when we bury a child. It is the women who have gathered around me and given me the courage to continue to move forward. They have literally lifted my hands that hang low and encouraged me to keep going. I have had angels, in the form of sisters, gather around me in the very moments that I thought I could not go on and literally carry me to the other side of the abyss of death.

May we as women understand this power and not be so hesitant to share it with each other, but have courage to offer what we have to offer, even if it is a used handkerchief. It may be someone else’s saving grace. May we offer, without hesitation, this “power to comfort” and may we also offer this same gift of angelic love to our husbands and our children. Let us not be tempted to misdirect, or squander this power by focusing on the things of this world.

Thank you, sisters, for bearing my burdens and making them lighter and mourning with me as I mourn. Thank you for responding, and thoughtfully holding the space for my personal grief. I thank God that he sent his love not only through his son, but also in the form of women acting as angels on this earth. I pray that I might develop this art, even the ability to love to this degree, that I might someday offer comfort to a mother who has lost a child or is struggling in other ways.

Ministering to each other in such profound ways is an honor. May we truly embrace our gifts as women in nurturing and offering emotional support to each other. May we have a desire to be instruments in God’s hands. May we teach our daughters and our granddaughters that they too have “power to comfort”. It is an innate part of being a woman. It is a gift. It is a sacred responsibility. The “power to comfort” has the ability to heal the giver and the receiver at the same time.

A Special Request to My Readers:

So, at the end of this entry, I would like to extend an invitation to any of you that have experienced something like what I have described here about the “power to comfort”. I am interested in true stories of women serving each other. I would love to hear from you so write about your experience either giving or receiving this kind of comfort and send it to my email pam@ihaofutah.com. I want to compile stories of women comforting other women. I think it would bring strength to me and offer strength to many others. I would love to hear from you. . . love always pam.

Witnessing a great power in Arizona

I just returned from visiting our satellite school in Phoenix, Arizona. What a wonderful experience. The students and graduates had arranged for two previews and a children’s clinic at a beautiful healing center. They made it possible for me to reach approximately 75- 80 people during my time there. I was able to process an amazing five year old girl for the demo at the Thursday night preview. Kayla was the daughter of one of the students in the school. She was absolutely darling.

Our children’s clinic had fourteen children participate. We learned about heavy feelings and light feelings and what to do when our anger alarm goes off. We did the hokey pokey and made pet rocks. We had good support from students and graduates as they coached the children during the class.

It was approximately four years ago that one woman living in Gilbert, Arizona approached me about coming to Arizona to do a training there. Penny Hansen shared with me over the telephone that she was committed to do whatever it took to bring the Institute of Healing Arts and the year long program to Arizona. She even volunteered her home for one year so the class would have somewhere to meet.

Right around that time one of our graduates moved from Utah to Arizona and was willing to participate as a trainer. Her name was Diana Hainsworth. Diana, along with Penny Hansen, sent out fliers and talked to everyone they knew. They coordinated the previews and we eventually had our first training in Arizona. Today we are experiencing the fruits of their vision to bring the process to this area.

We now have our current trainer Barbara Porter, who graduated from that original class. She is doing an amazing work in teaching and supporting our current students. The class started last October, and the transformation that we witnessed this past weekend was so powerful. These students gather every Tuesday night to address issues and learn the technique of processing. They are a wonderful support to each other. Some of the original graduates, including Penny Hansen, are attending as well for round two as they strengthen their skills and offer support as coaches to this new class.

Everyone welcomed me with such open arms; I felt so loved by the group. My heart was touched as I became aware of some of the sacrifices that students and families are making for the school to even be in Arizona. I honor those students and graduates in Arizona who are making this all possible. We truly witnessed the power of the process in Arizona this past weekend.

I love Arizona.

Time To Rest

So I am finally writing again and a few weeks have passed since I wrote about being on the beach in San Diego. As we have turned the corner and moved into 2012, I have had a few thoughts I would like to share. We have the opportunity at the beginning of each New Year to do self-reflection and identify places where there can be improvement in our lives.

For me personally, I know that there are some changes that are needed in my life. Many of you know I love processing and the work that I am involved with at the Institute of Healing Arts. After Lindsey passed I poured my heart and soul into my work to help me cope with the grief that I was experiencing. It seemed to help time pass more quickly and work helped distance me from the pain of her death. Because of the overwhelming grief it seemed like I only had two options. One was to work, and work hard or go to bed and die. I chose to work.

I do believe that hard work can be a solution for many things. My mother taught me to work hard and helped me to see that it could help my feelings of sadness and depression. She taught me that serving others was the very medicine that would pull me out of feeling sorry for myself and help me move towards productivity and being able to find meaning in my life. After Lindsey passed I needed to work and I needed to work hard. I am grateful for the blessing of work for the last few months.

Now, I feel that I can start to slow down and catch my breath. Maybe because time has passed I am ready to move on into some different phase of my personal grieving. Now, I get to include some other ways of coping and since some time has passed it doesn’t seem to hurt so bad as it did at first. So for me working hard was the solution and now having it balance out and slow down will be my focus for 2012.

I have had to get used to a lot of changes. Things are different, very different without Lindsey and Josh and the way we once knew them. Josh is busy working and going to school and our family functions are often missing these two precious children. I am not only grieving the loss of Lindsey but, also the loss of Josh in the role that he had when she was alive. At family dinners and other events, I have to keep counting my children to see if we are all there. Mothers who have lost children have expressed that they have felt this same way. The dynamics have changed so much.

Sometimes I want go back and remember the way it was and yet a larger part of me wants to move forward. Because I know that Lindsey is not in the past but, will be reunited with our family in the future. So it is forward that we are moving, all of us, as time takes us where it will. And in the year 2012, the year predicted for great change, I will continue to work, but at a more balanced pace. I am settling into the changes that have already presented themselves in our family, and I will continue to find moments of joy and celebrate living and life itself with a deep sense of reverence.

The other thing I wanted to share is that after the whole experience with Lindsey I thought there would never be another hard thing. It felt like the whole experience with Lindsey’s illness and her death totally topped everything I have ever been through. But I still face challenges and I have to make hard decisions and there is adversity and struggle even in everyday living. As I face these difficulties I can be reassured that whatever I face in 2012 it will never be another brain tumor. That after four brain tumors it is done and nothing compares to those experiences. And when I see the current adversity and say to myself, “this is nothing compared to a brain tumor” it minimizes the difficulty that I am experiencing and makes it feel miniscule or small. And I remember that I can handle hard things, because, if I can do what I did with Lindsey over the past eleven years, and then in the end . . . letting her go . . . I can do anything.

So I am facing 2012 with a desire to work hard but, also realizing that life doesn’t have to be so hard. I can live from joy and peace knowing that Lindsey isn’t suffering anymore and is finally resting. It is my time to rest too.

The Beach

On Christmas day our little family gathered on a stretch of beach across the bay from San Diego on Coronado Island. We played and splashed and gathered shells and watched a crab move in and out of his shell. We laughed and drew pictures in the sand and watched the most beautiful sunset. The light reflected pinks, oranges and yellows off the turquoise blue water. We gazed at the brilliant colors as they filled the sky over head.

As the sun began to set we huddled together to observe this sacred event that happens every night no matter where you are on the planet. It represents the close of the day and creates space for the creation of a new day. There was a chill in the breeze and our feet were cold from playing in the water and yet we felt a feeling of reverence. The beach can be a sacred place of beauty.

As we stood by each other gazing out across the ocean I had memories of being on this same beach just before Lindsey got sick in 2010. We had played and danced with no worries or cares as we watched gold flecks of sand sparkle from under the water. Silver strand beach is named for these gold flecks that gleam in the dark wet sand. As I reflected back to that time we had no idea what lay ahead of us. Sometimes it is good to not know what lies ahead. The beach holds the place for past, present, and future.

I remember that it was on a beach further up the coastline when I first met Todd. We were on our missions and at a winter zone activity at Zuma beach. Of course, we were there serving and committed to our missions but later we shared our feelings about meeting each other that day on the beach. When we met we knew that we had known each other from a space and time before we came here. On the beach it felt like I was saying “hello” to a long lost friend. The beach can bring people into your life.

On Christmas day I reflected about the power of the ocean. It’s power to heal, its power to hold all my sadness when I can’t carry it anymore and even its power to give life. The ocean is one of the most peaceful, beautiful places on the planet. It is a place for meditative reflection. The beach brings feelings of wonder and awe.

I also remembered being on a small beach at Utah Lake the night of Lindsey’s funeral. People gathered in jackets and blankets as we lit lanterns and released them in honor of Lindsey. As we lit the lanterns and let them go, we watched the lights float higher and higher in the sky. Again, it was a sunset and there was a little chill in the breeze. You could feel in the air that summer had come to an end. People were gathered on a beach to say “good-bye” to Lindsey.

Standing on Silver Strand beach in California, four months after Lindsey’s passing, I reflected about the cycles and patterns of mother earth, and Lindsey’s birth, her life and her death. Being there in that one moment in time my breathing changed and I began breathing deeply, I could taste the salt in the air. With a few tears in my eyes, I felt my body relax and begin to trust the rhythm of mother earth. I started to settle into a deeper space of acceptance.

I know in my mind that life here is temporary and this is not our final destination. But, emotionally and physically I was allowing myself to embrace this truth on a deeper level. As I have been going through the grieving process I am experiencing over and over again an acceptance about Lindsey’s passing and I continue to do this in many different ways. I was being gently reminded again that we are all visiting here and mother earth takes care of us while we are here and then we move on. Lindsey’s visit is over and she has gone home.

In Todd’s talk at Lindsey’s funeral he shared a poem about death being like a boat sailing off in the distance and those of us on this side saying good bye to loved ones while watching them sail away saying ‘there she goes”. . .and those gathered on the distant shore watching the boat as it gets closer and saying “Here she comes.”

I love being close to the water and the ocean, seeing the boats sailing on the waves. As I watched the boats from the shore I felt supported and was reminded that I am not drowning and that I am being supported while I am healing from the loss of my daughter, my child, my baby. Being renewed on the beach I felt the power of the ocean and I know I will survive.

I had made a pilgrimage to the beach to release Lindsey. Emotionally I needed to come to peace with what happened to her, to Josh, to me and my family. On Silver Strand beach I watched the golden flecks of sand reflecting time in the water. The beach is a place where time transcends this world. My time with Lindsey is not over we are not separated. She lives…I feel supported while I am healing from the loss of my child. The love between a mother and a child is fluid like the ocean, we may be bound by our mortal bodies, but love cannot be contained. Love knows no bounds, it has no limitations. As I am reminded of these true principles my heart is set free.

At some time in the future I will make the journey from this realm into the next and there will be Lindsey standing on the far distant shore and as she sees me coming she will say “here she comes.” In my heart the beach is a place for play, for letting go, settling into acceptance and also holds the hope for sweet reunion.

Sleep in Heavenly Peace

Music is such a big part of Christmas. We listen to Christmas carols, Christmas hymns, preschool programs, orchestra and band concerts, and recitals. We hear music in the car, in the stores, at the mall and we may even hear others humming the songs of Christmas. Sometimes we find ourselves singing along to the old familiar Christmas songs.

We know there was music at the first Christmas where angels sang to the shepherds announcing the birth of Christ. The heavens and the earth sang for the Christ child and I am sure he heard his mother’s lullaby as she gently rocked him in her arms.

Christmas music brings back memories from Christmas’s long ago and reminds us of family and connections to loved ones. Christmas music reminds us of our own childhood and the joy and splendor of sparkling lights, decorating the tree, baking in the kitchen, Christmas dinner, learning the story of Jesus, and playing the part of an angel in the Christmas play.

Music also has the power to reach tender places in the heart and release pain about sad times as well. Christmas music could remind us of finding out on Christmas Eve that your father has just passed away. Or it could bring back memories of finances being really tight and the family finding ways to give to others, or a Christmas when you were the recipient of someone’s generosity. Christmas music can bring a feeling of homesickness for family and loved ones who have passed to the other side.

This is our first Christmas without Lindsey and when I hear Christmas music I do feel buoyed up and light as I hear the choirs and the musical instruments singing out in joyous praise for God and the miracle of Christmas. But, it also reminds me of Christmas’s with Lindsey and her violin and how much I miss hearing her play. Lindsey started playing the violin when she was nine years old and she took lessons from an aunt that she dearly loved. She seemed to have a good ear and started to quickly learn the hand positions, the notes and the songs.

She played in the early morning orchestra at Grovecrest Elementary in Pleasant Grove for three years. She would get up early and carry her violin to school twice a week for rehearsals. They would start practicing Christmas songs early in the season to prepare for the Christmas concert. We were so thrilled when the music she had been practicing started to sound like familiar Christmas songs. Weeks of practicing and then it would be the evening of the concert. She would be dressed in black and white, the traditional colors for the orchestra.

When we would arrive it would be very chaotic in the lunchroom while the instruments tuned and families found their seats. Up on the stage we would see Lindsey sitting in first or second chair for violins. She would be nervously watching for us in the audience. Our eyes would catch and she would smile her very big smile, we would wave and she would seem to relax, so would we.

After the tuning of instruments and the audience quieted down, the conductor would welcome everyone and then turn and face the orchestra. With his arms outstretched and a nod of his head he would start the concert with the downbeat of his baton. Matching the beat of his baton the song would begin and we would hear the sound of Christmas music prepared by these little performers. They would be diligently playing so as not make a mistake and yet working to keep their eyes on the conductor all at the same time. Feet would be taping and pages turning and then in that moment there would be the most glorious rendition of Hark the Herald Angels Sing, Away in a Manger, Jingle Bells, and other familiar Christmas music.

Then after the applause ended for the song we had just listened to, and the room had quieted down, the conductor’s arms would be raised in ready position for the final number. He would be waiting for the last pair of eyes to focus on him before he started. Then finally the nod and the orchestra would begin to play Silent Night.

Parent’s heads would be stretching to see their child play the most famous Christmas song ever written. Mothers and fathers with tears in their eyes hear the pure melody of Silent Night permeate the sacred space in that simple lunchroom. For a moment it feels magical as the melody transcends the hustle and bustle of Christmas and reminds us all of the greatest gift of all. . . a child.

And in that one moment time a powerful memory is created and stored in the hearts of the parents, where it can never be taken nor can it be destroyed. And this memory is wrapped around Christmas songs and realizing that this Christmas concert is a priceless gift that mothers and fathers will cherish, long after the concert and for a certain mother and father, even long after the life of their daughter.

After the final notes are played and the conductor turns to face the audience, the parents quickly wipe their eyes. The young performers are invited to stand and bow, while the small audience gathered in an elementary school lunchroom, stand to applaud them.

My fondest memories of Lindsey were watching her perform every year in her school orchestra Christmas Concerts where she would perform some of the most beautiful Christmas music I have ever heard. I remember her up on stage even in her older years and her nervousness would turn to concentration and then she would begin to play with such elegance and beauty. She would sway to the rhythm of the music and it was if her whole body was singing the song.

I remember being so grateful that she loved music as much as I did and that she was able to share the Christmas Spirit with her gift of music. We attended Lindsey’s orchestra concerts starting in elementary school through junior high, high school and college at BYU.

Christmas music brings the songs of the angels to the earth during this special time of year. Christmas music can help us remember happy times and can help us connect to loved ones who have passed on. Sometimes Christmas music lets us visit the memories of our childhood and in special moments lets us visit the childhood of our own children. Christmas music heals and renews our souls each year. This year it helped me remember Lindsey in a beautiful way by allowing me to revisit her childhood through the songs of Christmas.

My favorite Christmas carol is Silent Night and I can still remember rocking my babies and softly singing “Silent Night”. Lindsey I hope you can hear me singing the words of the most precious lullaby that I know. It goes something like this. . .

Silent Night

Holy Night

All is calm

All is bright

Round yon Virgin

Mother and child

Holy infant so tender and mild

Sleep in heavenly Peace . . . Sleep in Heavenly Peace.

In The Spirit Of Friendship

This holiday season I have so much to be thankful for. I love my family. They are truly the love of my life. My husband, children and grandchildren bring so much joy and sunshine into my life. Because of my wonderful family, I feel fulfilled and have meaning in my world. We had a beautiful Thanksgiving dinner and yes, I did make Lindsey’s apple pie and it turned out beautiful and very tasty. I didn’t even burn it.

This time of year I am also grateful for friends. I have such dear friends who have sustained me through the most difficult times in my life. I have literally been sustained through the love and support of my dear friends. I have received texts, flowers, hugs, listening ears, tender hearts holding me while I cried, meals, cards, emails, words of comfort and an offering of strength from other mothers who have lost children. These mothers have offered their love and understanding from a remarkable place of power that has come through their own suffering. I have truly been buoyed up by the love of God through the blessings of friends.

During our greatest struggles this past summer when it felt like I was in the pit of despair, I can see that I was sustained through the power of friends and family gathering around us physically, emotionally and spiritually. It was my friends outpouring of comfort and love that helped me understand that God was calling Lindsey home. My friends also helped me accept God’s will as he responded with a firm but, gentle “no” to our desperate pleas and prayers in Lindsey’s behalf.

Friends loving arms around me helped me understand that I couldn’t go with her and that I am still needed here. I was being invited to surrender my will and trust in God even if it meant giving up my daughter. Friends have literally help me cross over the deep abyss of death and brought me to the other side.

So this Thanksgiving marked three months exactly from Lindsey’s passing. I did shed a few tears and we talked about her and spent time remembering her. We thanked God for all we learned through this blessed daughter. She was not only my daughter but she was my friend. I know that Lindsey is helping us from the other side, she and many others. I know she has helped me personally with my work over the last three months.

During all this I have been working on editing and preparing my book The Bright Red Bow for a second reprint. I have had friends working on this project for several months. This week it goes to print. We will have it at our Christmas Party Dec. 1, 2011. I just wanted to thank God, my family, and my friends for their love and support in all the many ways their support has been expressed. I have truly been blessed. I am acknowledging that all this couldn’t have happened on my own accord and that it has been through the work of many that we are even crossing this bridge of completion.

If you notice the cover, it was designed by Joshua Karr, Lindsey’s husband. The cover was designed in June and will always remind me of Lindsey and Josh and the time we spent together in our home. It is a beautiful design and again, brought forward in such a way that I cannot deny that it came from God in a loving and supportive way. The Bright Red Bow was rewritten during my last few months with Lindsey and if you put that with the creation of the design by Josh, and this book will live as a legacy in my mind and heart. The creation of this book will serve as a tribute to Lindsey and her life and the sacrifice Josh made in letting her go. They both participated in the coming forth of this book in the spirit of friendship. It has required great sacrifice to bring it forward. This book represents the beginning steps of my own personal healing and it has come back around to help me get through my healing after Lindsey’s passing.

I think the thing that I am coming to is that Lindsey was truly a friend to everyone she came in contact with and it has been the power of friendship that has carried me through all this. And I think about the Savior saying that “no man hath greater love than this, than he lay down his life for a friend.” I say that this kind of love is more powerful than death. This kind of love has the power to reach beyond the veil and is the kind of love that cannot die or be destroyed. It is the power to suffer with those that suffer, to mourn with those that mourn, and to lift up the arms that hang down.

As Lindsey was with us her last few hours in this world, her best friends and family gathered in the spirit of friendship and supported her til the end . . .when it was time for her to pass over. Such tender expressions of love and concern were shared with her, and heartfelt goodbyes with soft tears flowing, as we bid her farewell to the other side of the veil. A true spirit of friendship I have never witnessed than what was offered to Lindsey and our family on that day and since then.

I trust that I shall never forget that moment. I pray that as many gathered to support Lindsey and our family in friendship that I might be able to give back and be a friend in the ways that I have truly experienced friendship. I shall never forget the gentle acts of caring that have been shown to us by all of you and that have been given to us by God. God truly made the ultimate sacrifice, his own Son.

May we continue to learn about friendship and deepen our capacity to love in the ways that God and the Savior have shown us. May we come to understand on a deeper level, the beautiful gift of friends. From the bottom of my heart and soul, thank you dear friends for your sustaining influence in my life and especially this past year. May God bless you and may he bless us all with the renewal of the spirit of friendship.