Reflections

When I first heard the news of Stacee's death, and got so upset, I was of course very sad for her family, but, I am ashamed to say, I was also being selfish. She and I weren't really close friends, but I had been praying for her healing, really praying, believing God was going to do a huge miracle and remove all the cancer, and when He didn't--well, I threw a hissy-fit.
He is so patient with me. Almost immediately He used facebook friends to lead me to the song, "No More Night," and reminded me that she really is healthy and whole and rejoicing in heaven. Really--it's real, not just something we say to try to feel better. (And I'm SO ready for the day we'll all be there together.)

Then He used another facebook friend to remind me of a play Mike and Stacee were in together...as a married couple, actually! She was this obnoxious character named Anoria, with wild sparkly sunglasses, and Mike was her mousy little husband. He gave her a pedicure and foot rub for most of the play! It was hilarious!! And it made me laugh to remember it.

I also remembered the first time I met her, visiting from Idaho, wandering through the preschool department at church, trying to figure out where my children went. She helped me out and made me feel comfortable leaving them with people that were strangers to them. I can't help loving people who are good to my children. Then we got to live in Conway for a year, and I got to know her better through awesome days at Wild River Country, working at VBS and in the nursery (She used to bring the teachers/workers candy mid-way through the service--you gotta love that!), and teaching at the preschool. Jessica and Mikayla both made professions of faith that year, and Stacee gave me books to work through with them.

One day last week, my devotion for the day included Psalm 34:18, which says, "The LORD is close to the brokenhearted, and saves those who are crushed in spirit." And also Psalm 46:1, which is the verse God put in my mind when I got the news about my own Daddy's death: "God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble."

On Friday I drove back up to Conway and spent the night with Mom, so we could go to the funeral together on Saturday. It was a very sweet service, lots of people, lots of flowers. Lots of tears. Her young nephew, Joseph, sang a duet while we watched a wonderful slide show of her life and ministry...when he got choked up near the end, we all cried with him. When I saw pictures of activities my girls participated in with Mrs. Stacee, I was so thankful that God gave us that year in Conway, and let me know her. She really did live with such joy. When Bro. Dave got up to speak, he said that what he said probably wouldn't matter to Stacee as much as how he said it, so--and he ducked behind the podium and came up wearing Anoria's sunglasses and talking in her voice! It made us all smile. I think I looked at those sunglasses, above the coffin, the rest of the service.
It was a closed-casket funeral, and at the end they wheeled the coffin down the aisle and out the door. I hate that part. I know this sounds dumb, considering, but it is just so final. The last time we'll see her in this world. And her family just broke my heart.
We didn't go to the cemetery, but did get to hug a few family members in the foyer. Then I looked up and saw my friend Dana, who also worked at the preschool with me, holding her 5-day-old baby boy. He was so tiny and perfect and precious, and I thought, "He gives and takes away...Blessed be the name of the Lord!"

Here's what her Dad wrote in the program:
Our Stacee went along home last night. Kidney cancer took her, but not before she could teach us more about life and death than we have learned in all our years before. For five and one-half months after her diagnosis, she endured the torture and looked death in the face with a courage we could not believe.
The last couple of months, she could talk barely or not at all. She made no religious statements. She wanted her children and the rest of us to simply know she loved us.
At the hospital she twisted in bed and whispered, "The pillow is not straight, Daddy, but I love you." I bit my lip. "I love you, too, Punkin', but what do you want me to do with the pillow?"
She was just exactly forty-eight on the day we took her to the hospital for the last time. Born March 7, 1961. She saw things and spelled words backwards, but she fought her way to the top. She had a BA degree and two Master degrees. She had a way of seeing things in their most simple forms and so had excellent communication with children. She was the Children's Minister at Woodland Heights Baptist Church when she died. She loved Brother Dave Hatfield, her "right arm" Marnie Osborne, and all the people of that church. They returned the love in great heaps. No obituary can ever sum up the life of such a pure soul.