In The Bleak Midwinter

On these bitter days of winter, I always think back to midsummer. I fill my mind with green and warm and light, to get me through these icy-white and unforgiving days. When I think back to last summer, my mind immediately fixes on one particular day...the Prayer Flag Day.

See my header photo up there? The colorful flags hanging amidst the trees? I took that on one of the most beautiful days of my life, and this is its story. Maybe you always wondered about that photo? Maybe you thought I borrowed it from a stock photo site? Nope. I put it at the head of my blog because it is a constant reminder to me of what this life is all about...

Susan was a friend of mine. The most free-spirited, quirky, funny person you could ever meet. She died last winter of pancreatic cancer. Her daughter was only 12. We all grieved and, even once the summer rolled around, we still felt sadly empty. We wanted to find a way to celebrate Susan, and it came about it the most wonderful way...

Years ago, Susan had come to my rescue in a very dark time. One of my students had died and I was left with the task to tell many of her friends and fellow students the next day at the summer camp I run. I was barely able to keep myself together. How would I manage thirty grieving children the next morning? Susan happened to call me in the midst of it all. I was crying and relayed the news between sobs. "Keri, can I come by tomorrow and do something with the kids?" She asked.

Susan showed up that morning with small white squares of fabric, paints, brushes, twine and things. She sat with us on the ground beneath the willow trees and listened while thirty children and a half dozen staff poured their grief out about losing Holly. She listened and cried with us, and then she passed out the little fabric squares and asked us to paint our love for Holly. Paint the joy she brought us, paint the magic, paint in celebration of her wondrous life. And we did.

And there was music and singing and laughing. There were new stories told and old ones retold. And in the end, Susan took our flags and strung them on twine and raised them up between the willow trees. There was a rainbow of words and prayers to Holly. It was beautiful. And on that sad day, our deep grief was transformed in an amazing way.

Those prayer flags hung in the church during Holly's funeral. They hung in her memorial garden. They hung in her parent's backyard. They hung anywhere that Holly was being remembered and celebrated those next few years. Then, last November, Susan died...

Again, we grieved as a group, we supported Robin, her daughter, in every which way we could. We even dedicated our play last summer to Susan, setting it in 1972. ( Susan was the quintessential hippie!) And one day last summer, during the rehearsal of 'Susan's' play, Holly's mom showed up.

She brought small white squares of fabric, paint, brushes, twine and things. She sat with us on the ground beneath the those same willow trees and listened while thirty new children and staff poured out their grief over losing Susan. Kacy listened, and then she passed out the little squares and asked us to paint out our love for Susan. Paint the joy she brought us, paint the love she showed us, paint in celebration of her wonderful life. And we did.

And there was music and singing and laughing. There were new stories told, and old ones retold. And in the end, Kacy took our flags and strung them on twine and raised them up between the willow trees. There was a new rainbow of words and prayers -- to Susan. It was beautiful in ways you cannot imagine. And on that day -- that wonderful, magical I'll-never-forget-you-day -- our grief was transformed in an amazing, only-God-could-imagine way.

Amen.