A Sad Day

The sister in our ward who AM visiting teaches died this morning of cancer.

She was one of those women who just loved people.  Their home was the place to be for many, many ward events, with its huge fields and mountain, the large party shed, the pool, and the great food.  And everywhere Debbie smiling and chatting and making everyone feel welcome.  She was a young woman advisor for many years until she needed to be released because she just was too ill , and I am sad that JA will never get to have her as a teacher.

It hard to imagine the ward without her.

Many of her friends, sisters in the ward, young women and children in the ward, contributed squares to a quilt that AM had the opportunity to do the final assembly on, staying up late all last week to try to finish.  They got to give it to her yesterday.  So glad they did, although I am sad that she was too far gone to get to read all the words of love that were written on it.

The words of a poem by John Donne come to mind:

DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.