In Loving Memory

Joan and Lynn, October 2010

Twenty years ago or so, I faced a personal crisis and knew I needed help and tools.  I was participating in a spiritual program, but was an atheist, or an agnostic at best.  I wanted to realize the promises of the program - to be happy, joyous and free.  But how?

Joan was the most spiritual person I had ever known.  Her words were powerful, her commitment was passionate, her joy and love for life - despite adversity - were tangible. Among other things, she had lost an addicted son to murder.  Losing a child, the worst possible loss.....  and yet, she was full of faith and laughter.

Everyone knew Joan - she was kind of the rock star of the recovery community.  I asked her if she would help me, even though I knew she was so busy.    "I would be honored", she replied to me.  

And so it began, two decades of a relationship.  I shared the most intimate details of my life with her.  She knew my mistakes, my questions, my inadequacies and my confusion. And still she loved and affirmed me.  She understood.   

I asked her "How will I know if something is God's will or mine?".  She would smile, and refer me to those steps. And she would say that  “You'll know when you know”.  Sometimes I really hated those kinds of answers.

Joan was an example for me in admitting her own "humanness" and fallibility.  She did so with a smile or a laugh, allowing me to feel safe to do the same.

Over those years, she was always there for me.   With every feeling of loss, for each question, at each crossroads and facing each change.  “The only way out is through – keep going”    She was a constant source of great big love and every piece of her was filled with the assurance of God's love and presence in her life -  and mine, too.   

With Joan’s gentle support, I moved from using nature as my higher power; to attending my first hippie church sitting in a circle with guitars ; then to a "12 Step" church (no cross or Christ); and much later to a "real" big stone church downtown with communion and robes and a choir - where they made me a deacon.  Go figure.   Who would have ever guessed? 

But my favorite place to pray was still in the woods or in the sweat lodge, and all of that was OK with Joan, a recovering Baptist “PK” (Preacher’s Kid).

When I went home to visit in October, Joan said to me "Oh, my prayers to God have been answered to see you once again".   I got a chance to be in her presence, to hold hands, to cry and laugh together.  

It was difficult to leave and go so far away, when what I wanted was to be able to ride through this phase of her journey by her side.  But she sent two black angels from her collection with me.  One angel is on the altar in my bedroom in Thailand, with the Buddha. 

Joan and I spoke on the phone as the months passed and one time I told her I didn't know
what I was going to do next.  She said "Oh Baby, you know that God has a plan for you for your highest and best good".

She grew weaker but emanated her faith, courage and love.

I was blessed to know, love and be loved by this most extraordinary soul.  I will miss Joan. Her strong and resonant voice, her huge smile, her raucous laugh.  How she could get all fiery, those “PK” genes kicking into high gear.  The way she called me "Baby".  And carrying that darn heavy purse of hers!    I am changed, and she is with me, always.  

Joan made her transition on August 7, traveling the star trail to someplace beautiful, the grateful faces of so many lives touched (addicts, alcoholics, parents of murdered children, and the families impacted by addictions) smiling as she soars by to her heaven and to a next incarnation of great beauty and grace.