Well Done

Ok, first of all a disclaimer.  I am a poor musician.  I lay claim to accompanying my daughters to piano lessons for my formal training.  But I love music, and I can't seem to get the lyrics and the melodies to stop forming themselves in my brain. But I rarely take the time to write them down and do much more with them.  So one of my 60x60 goals is to write six songs.

And in a few months I will be 60 and I haven't written down one song yet.  So last month I dusted off a song I had started several hundreds of years ago, and finished it up (with a lot of help from my sister Susie, who gave me wise advice and suggestions that made an okay piece a whole lot okayer.) It was originally written as a song to be sung as a flag retirement ceremony for Spark Up (women Scout leader training we had for a while in Lehi).  But as I looked at it, I realized it would be most appropriate as a song celebrating the life of a good person who passed away.

Fast forward to Saturday.  Brent came out to the yard while I was puttering in one of my gardens and told me Kathy had just called.  Marlene passed away about an hour before.

Marlene.  Dear sweet Marlene.

My heart broke.  She was young, only about 46.  That is too young.  I felt sad she was never able to live the life she envisioned as she matured into a woman.  She was sideswiped by MS and robbed of so many opportunities and goals.  Her trip to France did not end up in Holland, but closer to upper Syberia, I think.  I also felt so sad that I will never have a chance to know Marlene as well as I wanted to do.

I've thought a lot of her the last few days.  Her funeral will be tomorrow.  I have so many regrets.  So many wishes I could go back and change things.  I first learned of Marlene shortly after our ward was changed and we lost a subdivision over the tracks to the west to be replaced by a few blocks of homes to the north of our ward.  Marlene and Bishop Don Beckstrand live in one of those homes.

Bishop Beckstrand came to Church faithfully every week.  Alone.  Brent and Bishop Beckstrand had served at the same time, Brent as bishop of the Twelfth Ward and Don as bishop of the Seventh Ward.  They shared building, they shared challenges, and they shared successes as bishops do.  But Marlene's health had declined during that time.  Bishop Beckstrand finally realized he would need to be released so he could care for his dear wife.  She was already mostly bedridden by the time they were placed in our ward and that was hard for her.  She lost the established support system the Seventh Ward had in place and got moved to a ward full of strangers instead.

I always wanted to meet her.  I'd tell that to Don.  He'd say just come on over, she'd love the company.   But somehow that was a huge brick wall for me.  Would she really love the company of a total stranger?  What would I say?  What would we talk about?  Would she talk to me or would I have to come up with all the topics, etc., myself?

I missed out on so many months of getting to know her because of my own anxieties.  And I missed so much because of that.  When I was asked to be her visiting teacher along with Janys Hutchings, I was delighted.   Now I had a valid excuse to go into her home, at least.  But the first month didn't turn out to be a good one visiting teaching wise for me.  We never made it to her home.

The next month the RS president called me and said never mind.  Marlene had requested that they not send visiting teachers.  She never knew if her health would allow her to keep an appointment and she just didn't want to have to deal with that.  I was crushed.  Already my chance to meet her had been squashed.  I was genuinely disappointed and felt like I had let the Lord down.

So I prayed for a second chance.  And I felt prompted to call her and just talk to her over the phone, introduce myself, offer to bring a meal in (that seems to be something we do best).  And it was a little awkward.  I held my breath as the phone rang.  Would she answer it?  Would she hang up on me or would there be, even worse, silence and expectancy for me to do all the talking?  What if she told me to just leave her alone?

She answered the phone.  I introduced myself.  I launched into a speech (should I ever worry about being at a loss for words?), and soon found the few minutes had turned into nearly an hour long visit.  At the end she agreed to have me bring in some dinner one night.  Janys was happy to help, and we took the meal to her home, met her in person, and visited again at length with her.

Later I received a sweet card in the mail, the first of several she sent to me.  In it she said she changed her mind.  Would we please be her visiting teachers?

I was elated.  Because when we entered her home I found something I wasn't prepared for.  I found a home so filled with the Spirit of Love it infused and blessed my life every time we went to visit.  Unfortunately, those visits were limited to a handful.  Her health continued to decline.  She had a constant migraine that the most powerful pain medications could not remove.  And then her health got worse.  We missed seeing her in April because she was never up to the visit.

We took a meal in last Wednesday.  Don met us at the door and invited us in.  With tears in his eyes he said she could easily not be here the next day.  I guess I was in denial.  I thought he meant they were going to have to take her back to the hospital.  But no, she was ready to go home.  To return to her Father in Heaven, to be released from her pain and suffering.  The last time I saw her was that night.  She was sleeping on her little bed in the family room area.  She never woke up while we were there.

In the brief time I knew Marlene, I grew to love her in ways difficult to describe.  She was so easy to love.  I wished I could take away her pain.  I wished there was some way to ease her suffering.  But that was not a task, apparently, given to mortals to do.  I will always be grateful for the privilege of knowing her, feeling of her beautiful spirit, of calling her a friend.

Goodbye, Marlene.  Until we meet again.  Well done, you beautiful woman.  Well done.
This song is for you.