Tonight, as I was changing the lights on my Christmas tree (favorite lights+wrong current=poor idea), I kept accidentally ringing the bells that are nestled on several branches. Each time, I thought of It's a Wonderful Life, where Clarence announces that each time you hear a bell, an angel gets his wings.
For the past month, my friend and former coworker Dawn has been on my mind. She was diagnosed at the beginning of November with late stage cancer that had thoroughly invaded her body. I was invited by one of her dearest friends, another coworker, to join Hugs for Dawn, a Facebook group.
The group grew rapidly to over 500 people whose lives Dawn has touched, just as cancer continued its malicious march through Dawn's body, which was too weak for chemotherapy. What was strong, in contrast, was an outpouring of love and togetherness unlike any I have seen in this medium.
Each day, posts and replies and 'likes' pour in. There are YouTube clips of fun times on disaster deployments for Red Cross, jokes galore, fierce "Kick Cancer's A**" calls to action, commemorative profile change days with friends sporting favorite pictres and lately, prayers. Friends and family have inundated the site with pictures of beaches, one of Dawn's favorite vacation spots, as they have sent thoughtful and imaginative care packages with fresh fruit, hand-knit Santa hats, and soothing teas.
She also has several dear friends who have tirelessly encouraged, supported, nursed and amused her at her home the entire month. What love. What incredible, clear and selfless love.
George Bailey learns the impact he had on the world when he is transported to another reality where he was never born. Dawn's loved ones have illustrated and recounted her joie de vivre, kinship with mischief and merriment, calmness and caring in a challenging disaster response career, and ability to create lasting and fulsome bonds with others. How many of us shared this with her in the past four decades?
A coworker remarked this week that he has made a promise to himself to tell others "nice things". Inspired by him and by Dawn, I will do this as well. I will tell people they matter in the here and now. I will compliment delightful characteristics. I will embrace a "new dawn" in the way I meet the world.
As my activity tonight brought light to the tree, I feared in a small way that each tinging bell could be the harbinger of Dawn getting her wings. Her dear friends tell us she is getting weak and slipping away from us. If this tiny clarions sound her welcome to Heaven and her release from pain and distress, I can only lift her up.
"Sleep well, sweet princess; And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest."
For the past month, my friend and former coworker Dawn has been on my mind. She was diagnosed at the beginning of November with late stage cancer that had thoroughly invaded her body. I was invited by one of her dearest friends, another coworker, to join Hugs for Dawn, a Facebook group.
The group grew rapidly to over 500 people whose lives Dawn has touched, just as cancer continued its malicious march through Dawn's body, which was too weak for chemotherapy. What was strong, in contrast, was an outpouring of love and togetherness unlike any I have seen in this medium.
Each day, posts and replies and 'likes' pour in. There are YouTube clips of fun times on disaster deployments for Red Cross, jokes galore, fierce "Kick Cancer's A**" calls to action, commemorative profile change days with friends sporting favorite pictres and lately, prayers. Friends and family have inundated the site with pictures of beaches, one of Dawn's favorite vacation spots, as they have sent thoughtful and imaginative care packages with fresh fruit, hand-knit Santa hats, and soothing teas.
She also has several dear friends who have tirelessly encouraged, supported, nursed and amused her at her home the entire month. What love. What incredible, clear and selfless love.
George Bailey learns the impact he had on the world when he is transported to another reality where he was never born. Dawn's loved ones have illustrated and recounted her joie de vivre, kinship with mischief and merriment, calmness and caring in a challenging disaster response career, and ability to create lasting and fulsome bonds with others. How many of us shared this with her in the past four decades?
A coworker remarked this week that he has made a promise to himself to tell others "nice things". Inspired by him and by Dawn, I will do this as well. I will tell people they matter in the here and now. I will compliment delightful characteristics. I will embrace a "new dawn" in the way I meet the world.
As my activity tonight brought light to the tree, I feared in a small way that each tinging bell could be the harbinger of Dawn getting her wings. Her dear friends tell us she is getting weak and slipping away from us. If this tiny clarions sound her welcome to Heaven and her release from pain and distress, I can only lift her up.
"Sleep well, sweet princess; And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest."
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