I missed her call. The only fingerprint she left was her name on the caller identification. When I finally called her back, she was gone.
We had a cherished friendship even though long periods of no contact characterized our relationship after I moved away. We were both busy. Her with aging and ailing parents; me raising two boys. But, it was glorious when we did talk . . . we always picked up right where we left off.
Our most recent time of reconnection came last February when I mailed Lisa a care package. It had been about eight months since we last spoke. “Shona, that lotion and soap you sent is tops!” We decided that since her parents had both passed and my boys were in the twenties, we should be able to chat more.
We did, but then she got sick. Sicker than I thought and, perhaps, sicker than she realized. Terminal. We talked at the onset of her pain. I comforted her after a tumultuous visit to her local emergency room. Her voice was strained through it all; pain oozed through the phone’s earpiece. We struggled together through her visit and exploratory surgery with a doctor who she trusted. The result? A mass in her abdomen. Suggested treatment. A stronger voice and a hopeful attitude seemed to replace the earlier anguish. But, now she was gone, and I missed her call. Was she on her deathbed? Was she as taken by surprise at the ultimate result as was I? Why didn’t she leave a message? I know one day, in Heaven, I’ll get those answers when we reconnect once again as we did so many times here on Earth.
Boy, I could easily let guilt get the better of me for not calling back sooner. Good grief, she was ill!! But, no message, no worry, right? Wrong – oh so wrong. Wrong on so many levels. I deserve to beat myself up, but thankfully before I got too deep in that darkness it seemed there was much more to consider. Honor. How could I honor my friend? Knowing her for so many years, I’m pretty sure she would not be happy if she had anything to do with me feeling guilty. There was something bigger brewing that would make her smile in Heaven.
Love
Lisa loved! She loved her parents and her friends. That stemmed from her simple love of Jesus. She had left me a legacy of love that guilt wouldn’t honor. There was much about her life that, in death, was a legacy for me to draw from.
- She never had children, but encouraged me as a young mother.
- She had a simple faith that inspired me spiritually.
- She wasn’t a blood relative, yet her heart bonded with my family . . . a sister and auntie-in-love.
- She didn’t have anyone to take care of her, but she met the needs of others.
- She never asked of others, but gave selflessly.
Can you see why it would be easy to jump on the path of guilt? She did all that for me, yet I wasn’t there for her in the end. Thankfully, better thoughts slowly stepped into my pondering. Possibly reminders from my heaven-dwelling friend? I’m not sure WHO sent them, but they were words that surely had divine origins. It was as if Lisa was speaking directly to my heart:
“Shona, you invited me into your family.”
“Shona, I loved the care packages you sent.”
“Shona, I felt your prayers.”
“Shona, you gave me a shoulder to cry on when life threw me too much.”
“Shona, I love you.”
With leaky eyes, my gaze traveled over to my kitchen cabinet where hot pinky sticky tabs serve as reminders to pray for certain people throughout the day. LISA A. She was there. God was there. I had been there in prayer. I wish I had been there to pick up the phone that day, but Lisa knows I love her, too. The message was loud and clear. Lisa would want me to dwell on a legacy of love instead of guilt.
Honor
Honor is the better part of life. Guilt honors the negative and ushers in darkness. How could I honor Lisa? I don’t ever, ever want to allow a cherished friend to slip through my fingers again. My introverted nature, and that of many of my dear friends, makes it normal to have long periods of silence over the miles. It may work, but it’s not the best. As a result of Lisa’s legacy of love, I picked up the phone and contacted a dear friend of mine. She was like a mom to me when we lived in the same town. Her sweet southern drawl was like balm on my heart when she answered my call. She asked about my boys who were toe-headed preschoolers when we used to hang out eating calzone rings and going to Bible study. She shared her life as a widow. As usual, we picked up right where we left off. It was a sweet reunion way too long in coming. Love.
I made an effort to text another friend who, like me, isn’t much of a phone talker. She inspires me, and I want to encourage her as she deals with many stresses in life. Love.
I will continue to make more of an effort to stay in contact and pick up the phone with more alacrity. I’ll honor my friend by passing on a love like hers and not wallowing in guilt.
Lisa, your death kicked me in the gut, but your legacy of love is a sweet gift. Thank you, friend. I miss you. I apologize. Your love will forever be engraved on my heart.
Prayer Needs:
- Pray that the spirit of guilt will lift off our citizens.
- Pray that, personally, you will identify any missed opportunities that has allowed guilt to settle in your heart. Pray that God will help you learn the lessons and take the actions to put those dark things behind you.
- Pray that guilt will give way to the Light of Jesus to illuminate our beautiful state in your life and the lives of others.
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