To live in this world

you must be able

to do three things:

to love what is mortal;

to hold it

against your bones knowing

your own life depends on it;

and, when the time comes to let it go,

to let it go.~ Mary Oliver (From In Blackwater Woods)

I would have preferred to stand on the shoreline to say my goodbyes. Instead, I walked to the park inside my condo community and sat at a picnic table located underneath the shade of an oak tree. It was early morning and not yet hot. A light breeze rustled the tree branches and I could see a few geese gently entering the water at a nearby pond. A bird flew near me and settled on a fence post. I wished I could reach out and touch the little bird. It was so close, I could see the shining black bead of its eye, see the outline of feathers on its breast.  But of course, it would fly away if I went near. So I stayed put and talked to my friend who had recently passed away. Yesterday I attended her memorial service.

The poem by Mary Oliver was on the back of the memorial program. I sensed my friend was saying to all of us who loved her, "Let go now. I'm free. I'm okay. I'm more than okay. I'm healed and enjoying life in the Kingdom. But you are still living and have more days to walk by faith, to live in this world." 

I told my friend that she'd modeled living in this world so well for me, that I prayed I could reflect the traits she exhibited so beautifully. It was synchronus that I sat at a picnic table. A few years ago, she invited me for a picnic at a verdant park near our homes. We each brought our sack lunches and did what we always did when we got together--talked politics and faith, books and authors, fitness goals, dreams for our lives, how much we loved our families, and what we were reading in the Bible. Aways lots of laughter, and tears, too, at times. Then as we walked to our cars, she said, "Priscilla, I have something for you. I opened a purple gift bag and removed a coffee mug. On the side of the mug written in turquoise lettering were these words, "Go to the place where you feel most alive." My friend said, "I thought of you when I saw this cup and wanted you to have it." 

My friend, I think, was already practicing the phrase on the cup and wanted to pass on the imperative to me. 

I brought myself out of the memory of the picnic lunch and said aloud in the quiet solitude of the morning. "I know you'd want me to let go, to keep embracing each day with gratitude and faith in God. But I'll miss you, even though I know I'll see you again. I'll really miss you." And it's as if I heard her voice, "I know, Priscilla. I know. Living in this world is sometimes very painful. And you'll be okay. I know you will." I turned my head to look at the bird on the fence post, startled to find it was still there. "Thank you for sitting with me, little bird," I whispered. And then, the bird cocked its head, raised its wings and flew away. And I watched the bird fly away into the distance, until I couldn't see it any more.