I am the Luckiest

I am the luckiest.

And the grief still takes my breath away.

But I know I am the luckiest.

And it overwhelms me with thankfulness.

It is the season of holiday cards. Of slips of paper tucked in envelopes, licked shut and stickered, then sent on their way across our world.

Silly ones. Simple ones. Religious ones. Photo ones. Short and sweet ones. Lengthy letter ones.

I love them all.

But I love the connections even more. The special texts and messages and emails and calls that come from the vibrant reminders that someone, somewhere, was thinking of us. (And the grumbling from realizing they were thinking of me so much they sent a card with glitter… the gift that keeps giving all the way to Valentine’s Day!)

So I wasn’t surprised to see my mentor on my caller id the week after I mailed out cards. I was delighted!

But it wasn’t her. It was her daughter, Sydney, letting me know my friend Debbie had passed away.

The ground moved from under me. I couldn’t catch my breath.

She was one of the most influential people in my life. There isn’t a big enough word for it. Mentor. Friend. Guide. They seem small words compared to the magnitude of impact she had on my future.

It all started when she overheard my mother tell a choir member that she didn’t know what to do with me because I didn’t think I was beautiful. Debbie didn’t even talk to my mom about it. She just invited me over.

Over and over again. She welcomed a very hurting teenager into her home and her life. And then she let me bring other hurting teenage girls into her life as well. We were all a mess. Wounded and hurting. And she welcomed us.

She was living Brene Brown style vulnerability long before there was a New York Times best seller to tell you how it was done.

She shared openly with me about exactly where my self-destructive choices were going to take me. She shared where it had taken her. Her story was so hard, but she trusted me with it. And I wasn’t a trustworthy person then.

Her testimony remains one of the most powerful I have ever heard. Jesus was enough for her. She was sure he would be enough for me, too. And she stayed by my side for years before really seeing the fruit of her influence.

She loved me through my roughest decade. And she kept cheering for me in the decades that followed.

She made my wedding gown.

Her pearl earrings were my something borrowed.

She was the first to display my artwork large scale in her home. And to keep it up for over 20 years!

I am the luckiest because she was in my life.

I was looking forward to seeing her on our next trip to Naples, but when I think about it now, the floor starts to move again. It is hard to catch my breath.

But grief brings into the clearest focus the beauty that surrounds us.

It makes every single card I open this season sweeter. It reminds me to celebrate the time I get to share the earth with these friends a bit longer, watching their families grow, hearing their stories, sharing their grief.

Are you navigating the holidays with both joy and grief, too? It can be so hard, being the luckiest, can’t it?

You are loved.

Kat

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