How was your Saturday? We went to a Celebration of Life service for one exceptional lady. We knew her and her husband, Peg and Bob, because they sang in an a cappella chorus with Mike. I didn't know them as well as Mike did because I do not sing . . . because I cannot sing . . . in the chorus. But I'd had several nice chats with them after performances and at chorus related get-togethers. I was always impressed with both of them, they seemed like such "real" people and took the time to actually engage us in conversation, which meant they really cared.

Last Valentine's the chorus met at a restaurant after their concert. I came in late (really?) and a seat was saved for me in-between Mike and Peg. While visiting with Peg I shared a little bit of my adult history, which hasn't always been easy or pleasant, mostly because of bad decisions on my part that were, however, made in good faith. I noticed that her eyes teared up with compassion. That anyone could be so moved about a casual acquaintance took me by surprise. Then she mentioned just a bit about how one of her children was going through a difficult experience, so she could relate to and empathize with me. She went on to say, sort of incredulously, You know, my life has been so blessed, nothing really bad has ever happened to me. I think she said that because to her the pain that I had faced and her child was facing were in stark contrast to her charmed life, which included marrying her childhood sweetheart, raising four wonderful children and living adventuresomely. It hurt her, especially for her child, I'm sure, to know that not everyone had ALL of that, that many people do suffer excruciatingly, even though we are all blessed, too, certainly. I know her life as a whole wasn't without some degree of normal human aggravation and sorrow, as it would be impossible for anyone's existence to be completely absent of problems or grief. But I'm thinking not only was her life unusually happy and productive, but it was BECAUSE of her positive outlook and delight in the Lord that it was so. I was very touched and grateful that night, I considered her kindness and being placed together a gift.

Not six weeks later she was diagnosed with inoperable pancreatic cancer. Apparently the symptoms came on abruptly, and Peg underwent tests for her diabetes. I don't think anyone could have imagined pancreatic cancer, it was unfathomable. Even after this monumental blow her spirit stayed 1,000% positive, her faith remained steadfast and she continued on with her life, although now the treatments and research took a lot of her time and energy. I saw her on three occasions after the diagnosis. She looked so good and was still darling, lovely, lovable, twinkly Peg.

You can imagine our shock and devastation when just two weeks ago we received an email from Bob telling us that during a camping vacation in Maine, Peg had suddenly become disoriented, pain had set in, she was admitted to a hospital and died two days later. They were in the midst of a sort of farewell tour, perhaps. But NO ONE was ready for this. I mean, just in February she'd told me how "perfect" her life had been. A few weeks later that life was turned upside down, mind-numbingly so, and a few months after that the Lord took her to Heaven?? Fragile. Unbelievable.

The service today was beautiful and unforgettable. Her four children each spoke from their hearts, and it was apparent the love, admiration and respect they each held as they remembered their beloved mother. They rose up and blessed her. The minister spoke, and he, too, held the highest esteem and offered words of praise for Peg. She TRULY was a unique, God-fearing, gentle and fun-loving soul -- with an infectious smile as an exclamation point! It was obvious from the packed church and tears shed that MANY people were graced by her life, loved her dearly and will miss her acutely. The minister did joke that Bob admitted one instance where Peg was less than perfect. Uh-uh! He told us that Peg was very smart and did the Sunday crossword puzzles in INK. ONE time Bob noticed that she got out the Wite*Out. That story was a spot of joy, and there were many such memories scattered amongst the tributes because she WAS the personification of joy, love, patience, etc.

Peg was also an accomplished musician, a singer, church organist, pianist. She LOVED music, and so there was much gorgeous music played and sung in her honor. I was fortunate to hear her accompany a choir on the harpsichord one time. Her poise and flawless playing impressed me. A few times when I was asked to accompany the a cappella chorus on the piano, she made a point to approach me to say something complimentary. That meant so much, coming from a professional, but mainly because of her generous, encouraging spirit. Once I was very nervous, and between the warm-up rehearsal and performance she talked with me and confided that she, too, had nerve issues. It was so nice of her to reach out, I didn't feel so alone in my fear.

Another time I narrowly avoided disaster. My music was arranged in order on the piano ahead of time, ready to go. Or so I thought. Sometimes I have to use extra copies of the music so I can arrange them to avoid difficult page turns, pianists have all sorts of tricks :) After I played the first page I had a hair-raising moment because when I looked up at the next page, GASP!, it was opened to the wrong one. Apparently during the warm-up I had not flipped all of the pages back to the start position. I just short of panicked because I do NOT play by ear, if the music falls off the piano, hello, the song is OVER. But it happened at the end of a phrase for the choir (thank you, God), so I held that last chord with the pedal for an extra measure, hoping it would float seemlessly, while I turned back a couple of pages. This was followed by a short piano interlude, as written. It was such a blur, let me tell you, those few seconds seemed eternal. The choir knew I was off, even though the audience didn't. So the director mouthed to the choir, WAIT. I played on, the director brought the choir back in on cue and the minimal damage was one added measure to the piece . . . and heart failure for me. This was the final concert Peg attended. She wasn't singing, of course, since her diagnosis. But I went up to her afterwards, and said, OH MY GOODNESS! SHE knew, SHE understood. She said, That could have been disastrous! Again, she related to me, and again, I appreciated the connection. I knew she was so happy for me that it was NOT a disaster, but oh, so close. It was like she met people where they were, she could find within herself a point of reference and offer comfort. And she did so gladly.

At the reception I enjoyed seeing photos of Peg. One caught my eye, she was just a small child, but a beautiful little girl. I think she was born with that dancing light in her bright blue eyes. Maybe she was born with a tenderness, too. I mean, I see pictures of myself as a child and wonder what pickle juice I just drank. I do believe some people are predisposed to an easier-going nature than others. I didn't know Peg well enough to say, but I would think she was born with a naturally sweet temperament and that she wisely nurtured it.

She was, in our eyes, leaving us too soon, a young 72. But let her go, we had no choice. I am SO THANKFUL to have known her, oh, so briefly. I could sit here and fret, wishing I'd known her longer and better, but instead, I'm going to cherish that God allowed me to enjoy this exquisite lady at all. In just a few short exchanges she made a world of difference for me. Today we were inspired by Peg. We aspire to such a fruitful, becoming life, to follow after the goodness the Lord worked in her that was so useful to others and drew them to her. Although we cannot exactly emulate Peg, we can study her life and strive to make a difference ourselves.

In closing, I will share that in the tiny hospital in Maine she was so concerned to not bother the staff, she was FINE, you know. She was always FINE. What extraordinary strength and dignity. Peg didn't know the meaning of self-centeredness, her life was about God and others. When the time of her passing was close, the chaplain told Bob to go ahead and say good-bye so Peg would know it was okay to let go, go to Jesus. He told again the love he and the entire family had for her, how special their marriage had been, but that she could go now. Right then she opened her eyes a little and whispered, I love you, too. Then her soul was absent from her body and present with the Lord. But she will NEVER be forgotten by any of us. Our thoughts and prayers are with the family at this time of indescribable loss.

Good-bye for now, Peg. Can't wait to see you again.

KEM