Another Loss and Another Labyrinth

Fare thee well, dear friend. Fare thee well.

We are so much more connected than we can understand.  Some might say Holy Spirit while others might look at some kind of quantum theories.  But we are connected far more than we can understand.  Bear with me as I share some different pieces and then how they came together today and this won’t be my smoothest reflection but a bit more stream of consciousness.

A month or so ago I wrote about my friend Lynne who had entered hospice care after a long battle with cancer. 

I would be remiss if I didn’t share one other part of the trip.  On our way there, we were able to stop to see a dear friend who is in her final months of life after battling cancer for the last decade or so.  She is a woman who’s taking a chance on hiring me nearly 30 years ago has had incredible ripple effects in my life and her relationships with others has had similar ripples in their lives.  I was grateful to spend a good bit of time with her but it was also deeply bittersweet because I know that will likely have been the last time I see her this side of eternity.  It was a holy and beautiful space as we shared blessings from John O’Donohue and I photographed her and her husband’s hands.  It was a gift to be able to see her and was an incredible bit of coincidental / divine timing that we just happened to be driving that way at this exact time.

That was about four weeks ago and I have been continuing to pray for Lynne and her husband since.  Then this morning around 5:30am, I was pulling into where Scout and I would be going for our hike and I felt this deep weight  of seeing to pray for them both.  I specifically had a sense that Lynne was dying soon.   So I was praying for them as we walked.  Later in the day, I sent a message to her husband letting him know what I had experienced.

Another piece...late this afternoon, I went to visit what has been named “Lisa’s Labyrinth.”  My friend Lisa, who died earlier this year, had asked that memorial monies be given to construct a prayer labyrinth at the church where she had been serving as an associate pastor.   For as often as I have walked and prayed labyrinths in the past, I hadn’t walked one since Lisa’s death in March. (I have traced the one on my arm many times).   But when I heard that this one had been completed and I knew that I needed to go.  So, on my way to an event for one of my children, I went to walk and pray Lisa’s Labyrinth and connect with my dear friend.

It is a beautiful labyrinth in a beautiful place.  There is so much love and care that is evident in the design - truly it reflects Lisa’s compassionate and contemplative heart.  So I began to walk and pray and it was a gift to be walking a labyrinth once again.  As I reached the center, I sat down and found a small rock there and placed it upon the large rock at the heart of the labyrinth.  I sat there in the shade and listened to the birds in the trees around and other sounds including someone on the other side of the trees who was outside talking on her phone.  There was the feel of a gentle breeze blowing through and I even noticed the ants that were crawling around the small gravel pebbles.  I sat with my hand on that newly-placed rock and just breathed into the space and that moment, giving thanks for Lisa and for this space while still grieving the reason it is there at all.

And then my phone.

I looked at it and saw that it was Lynne’s husband and I knew. 

I knew why he was calling even before I answered.

Lynne had died. 

Today, around 1:30pm. 

The same day that I had that deep feeling just about 8 hours before she took her last breath.

Her husband shared about the last few weeks and how there had been periods where she had rallied and then about the last 24 hours or so when her vitals rapidly declined and then, as he said, “she went home to our Father.”  We continued to talk as we gave thanks for her beautiful life and for the ways that her life changed so many others.

After we ended our call, I sat there taking in what had taken place today.  After calling my wife, I placed a fallen leaf and another small stone on that center rock.  I just sat there for another 20 minutes or so and wept and thought about the connections of memories and experiences, about the links between us that we cannot understand but yet are there, and I grieved yet another loss this year.  And I gave thanks for the ways in which Lynne’s life changed my own

When I finally got up to follow the path out of the labyrinth, I started hearing the lyrics to a song of farewell that I first encountered when I left my last congregation (where I had been serving with Lisa).  The song is called Fare Thee Well by Amanda Opelt (you can find it on all the streaming sites - I have linked to YouTube).  The song starts in a lament and in grief over a loss...

Where do the years go?
I never could know
How do you bear fruit?
Why would he uproot?

When is it enough?
When is a life used up?
If I bear witness,
Could I ever forget this?

Who’s the decider?
Where’s the divider?
When is a last breath?
How do I protest?

The length of a life won’t change
That God saw the fight, knows your name
I know it now too
I won’t forget you

These parts of lament are so beautifully honest and raw... how do I protest?  But also held with hope... God saw your fight and knows your name and an affirmation that they won’t be forgotten.  So deeply honest to the reality of loss.

The song them moves from the lament and loss to what feels more like a blessing and a sending into what is next.

Fare thee well
O fare thee well
Fare thee well
O fare thee well

May he draw you up
From the deep dark waters
And lead you out to an open space (4x)

May he draw you up
From the ash and embers
And lead you out to the sound of song (2x)

The last two sets of lyrics resonated once again to me as today I envisioned Lynne leaving this life. As the song closes, Amanda’s beautiful voice blends with the instruments and it feels like that majestic open space with hope rising from the ashes. Music gently filled the space and I see Lynne coming to the place spoken of as the Bible closes...

God’s home among mortals
God dwelling with them
They are God’s people
And God is with them
A place where God wipes away every tear from their eyes
Where death is no more
Where mourning and crying and pain are no more
And the first things have passed away
And all has been made new.
(Revelation 21:3-5)

While I cried most of the way in the car between there and where I needed to be, I hold to the hope that all those whose losses I grieve this year...Lynne, Lisa, Bonnie, Judy, Lois, Ginny, Bob, Betty, Jim, James, Nancy, Wilma, Nancy, and Margi... all have entered into that blessed rest.  And I know that while they are each gone in body, we are still mysteriously and beautifully connected in spirit, in hope, in memory, and in love.

Fare thee well.  Fare thee well.