They were Lucy and Ethel. Lucy, the clown, was the preschool teacher…much beloved by students, parents, and staff. Ethel, the straight woman, was the para in her classroom. They were a great team for twenty years and remained friends in the years since. Mutt and Jeff…peas and carrots…peanut butter and jelly.

When Ethel’s beloved husband died, it was Lucy who rallied the troops and gathered a whole box of joyful gifts and sent it to her. There were fuzzy pens and silly hats, coloring books and crayons…all manner of trinkets that spelled out “I love you”…wrapped in brightly colored tissue paper. Ethel’s mood was visibly lifted by these precious gifts as well as the explosion of color all round her on the kitchen floor. This was the nature of their love for each other.

Then Lucy got sick. She had an aggressive breast cancer and in spite of three courses of chemo, radiation that burned her severely, and a double mastectomy, it finally got to the point where all the poisons Lucy endured shut down her organs one at a time. When she finally got the word there was nothing left to do, she ordered up mimosas and gathered her best friends in her room for a songfest. Lucy didn’t give up easy. She fought to stay here…for her life, for her friends, but most of all, for her 17-year-old daughter. But, once they transferred her to a beautiful hospice room with a view of a dozen birdfeeders and family photos all around, it was literally only a couple of days before Lucy left her family and friends behind and went on her next Grand Adventure.

Ethel was bereft. She was just gaining a little footing after losing her husband four years ago and now she had to lose the other half of her…her Lucy. She spoke at the Celebration of Life and shared a poem at the end. It is a beautiful image of crossing over to the other side and I asked her permission to share it with you today.

I was sitting in my car when her text came in. I haven’t intruded this week. She needed her space to begin processing her grief and collect her thoughts before she reached out. She knew where to find me. I had just finished purchasing and shipping two huge tins of potato chips to MY Lucy. Friends since we were kids, my Lucy was everything I wanted to be…petite, blonde, tan, sassy. She could play the piano and sing. She’s having a health issue so I sent her some love from home in the form of the best, the ONLY, potato chip produced in West Virginia…Mr. Bee’s. I was waxing sentimental when my friend sent me this poem. It reduced me to tears right there in the parking lot. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

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Gone From My Sight

I am standing upon the seashore. A ship, at my side, spreads her white sails to the moving breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.

Then, someone at my side says, “There, she is gone.”

Gone where?

Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast, hull and spar as she was when she left my side. And, she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port. Her diminished size is in me — not in her.

And, just at the moment when someone says, “There, she is gone,” there are other eyes on the far shore, watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout, “Here she comes!”

~Henry Van Dyke ❤️

“and you will receive a rich welcome into the eternal kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.”
‭‭2 Peter‬ ‭1:11‬ ‭NIV‬‬

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