Fly Free!

I returned yesterday from a two-week retreat in southern Colorado. A little after noon on the day before I left for retreat, and about a half hour after a yellow butterfly zigzagged leisurely in front of me and my friend, I received a text. "Mom passed away this morning. Thanks for visiting her yesterday." A couple of days later, while alone in my little cabin, another text: "The funeral will be on Friday at 11:00 a.m."

On the day of the funeral, I would be a little over halfway through my two weeks of retreat, and four hours away from the church where Betty would be remembered. It didn't seem rational that I would interrupt this precious time by going to Denver. And it made no sense that I would never see Betty or her family again.

I decided to go. I had no transportation of my own, but many kindnesses got me to Denver a couple of hours before the funeral, then back to my cabin that evening.

Goodbye, Betty. Thank you. I love you.


Thank you.
As is the custom for these types of things,
the Episcopal priest in his white robe
stood before us telling stories of Betty,
butterflies throughout her home,
her final words the last time he saw her alive —
Thank you,
which, according to Meister Eckhart —
and he may have been correct —
is the one prayer,
if one is all you have.

It was true
about the butterflies,
and thank you were always her last words,
even for the aides who needed her
to stand longer than her weakened body
would allow.

My one prayer today:
Thank You
for butterflies,
for the huge yellow one meandering by
minutes before I got the call
(I won't make meaning - even
a coincidence gladdens the heart),
for the privilege of knowing You,
in Your beauttiful disguise of
healing mother, teacher, and friend.
Thank You
Thank You
My heart is shattered.
Thank You