I got through this time, as did all of us who were this beautiful woman's friends, by planning a memorial service for her, as no one in the family could do this for her friends at university. About eighty people came. I organized the readings, music, participants, artwork on the program, making of the program and the booking of the room and set-up and so on.
Afterwards, a person who is still a non-believer, came up to me and said how necessary and lovely the service was. Most of the people there needed a time to mourn and pray. We moved towards God in that service, away from death and sadness, away from loss and doubt, to the foot of the Throne.
What one does in such times of great sadness and trouble is to face the light.
Several years ago, in 2010, to be exact, I had a fourth brush with death. I shall not give details, but while convalescing, I had a strange dream which was striking.
I was standing on a beach by a pristine sea which was lapping up against light colored sand, when a young girl of about fifteen came up to me and grabbed my hand. She was dressed in Elizabethan clothes, like a wedding costume, with pearls all over the headdress and dress. She was lovely. She looked very healthy, with pink cheeks and bright eyes. She was not thin, but stocky and "sporty" looking, like an athlete. She ran with me, still holding my hand, to a white lighthouse up a small hill at the edge of the beach, to the east, as I knew, and we literally raced up the winding stairs to a large window at the top. There, the young woman pointed to the bright, bright sky, the bright sea, the bright sand-a beautiful world of light. She said my name and then added, "Look, look to the Light. Look to the Light, always."
Then, she disappeared. When I awoke, I knew my illness was not unto death. I felt "well" and peaceful. I knew what the dream meant. Always look beyond the trial to Christ, the Light of the World. I was puzzled as to the identity of the young woman. I shared the dream with my son, who, as I expressed that I did not know who the girl was, gave me one of those, "Boy, Mum, are you dense," looks. "Mother, what was the girl wearing?" (I had taught son and others in Socratic Method, so I was getting this back, btw.) "Elizabethan costume," I murmured. Son replied, "And, what is the name of your sister?" "Elizabeth." I said with the little lightbulb going on in my head. Son went on. "Your sister, Elizabeth, Elizabethan. She was trying to tell you something."
My sister died a few days before her first birthday. She is, of course, in heaven. I added to the discussion with my son, as I knew that pearls, as in my favorite poem, The Pearl, are symbols of virginity and purity. She is with the virgins, the pure little ones, in heaven.
Yes, it was Elizabeth, Beth Ann, teaching me a deep, abiding message.
When in difficulties or even facing death, look to the Light, who is Christ, Beth Ann's Bridegroom and mine.
The world will become more and more dark, more and more evil, as God is allowing this trial to come upon us because of the many sins, such as abortion and sodomy, to name just two, which cry out to God for vengeance.
|Jane Seymour Painting with Similar Design|
But, we do not have to concentrate on the darkness. "Look, look to the Light," said little St. Elizabeth of Davenport. "Look to the Light always."