Introduction:
A year ago this October, I stood in an alcove by the back door of a rental home, my phone pressed to my ear, trying to tell a dear friend something I hated to say. As another retreat approaches, I’m remembering that call, and the two friends we’ve lost since.
Writing Retreat
It was Linda’s event, this gathering of writers-turned-story-mentors from our online writing site. Linda loved working with our author friend, Leslie (on Substack here), and she’d hand-picked a group of us to help on Leslie’s online platform. She loved leading our group of fifteen with her “Mama Bear” personality. It was Linda who set up our yearly retreats, including the one last year in her hometown, to help with her ongoing cancer treatment.
Last year, Linda needed help. I’d agreed to help lead our group where she couldn’t, learning what was needed as I went.
But three weeks before the October retreat, she’d fallen and face-planted in her driveway on the way to an infusion. She remained in the hospital, bedridden, and recovery would take serious rehab. She wouldn’t be at home to receive guests as we’d planned.
On top of the awful news about Linda came the message that another member, Lisa, had entered hospice at the end of her own battle with cancer. Lisa served her community as a business leader, speaker, and prayer warrior, and she added strength and determination to our group. We expected to hear sad news from Lisa’s family at any moment. It was a sorrowful time.
I was familiar with Linda’s hometown from previous visits to care for her. For our four-day retreat, Linda asked me and another friend to arrive early, gather supplies and groceries, and handle the check-in process for the two rentals.
It was a lot for a healthy body. Unfortunately, I traveled with chronic gut and immune issues as well. I trusted that God would provide and care for me while I stepped into Linda’s giant shoes. And so far He had, every step of the way.
The Call
My phone vibrated in my back pocket. I grabbed it amid the chaos of ladies arriving at the two rental homes for our retreat. I glanced down at the name. Linda! I made my way around the corner into the alcove by the back door so I could hear.
“Hi Linda,” I answered, our third call of the afternoon. Around me, the late afternoon sun streamed weakly through the older windowpanes, slanted at an “end-of-season” type of angle. I could still hear the muffled sounds of my friends’ voices, but even in a hospital bed, Linda’s voice came through clearly.
“Jen, I wanted to let you know that you can bring a group over now, anytime. Bring maybe three or four at the most; that’s about what this room can hold.”
“Oh, Linda!” I gulped, not realizing she’d desire visitors on the day we arrived. “I’ve already made two trips to the grocery store today and am about to make my third. I forgot to get salad dressings for tonight! So, I’m heading out to that Aldi’s about twelve minutes away.”
“Oh! I’m sorry. I guess you need that with the salad. OK, maybe you can bring a group by later. Wait—after you eat dinner, because I know you need to eat!”
“Linda…?” my voice trailed off as I held back tears. I stared out at the fading sun, struggling with how to answer. I knew I was at the end of both my physical and emotional rope, but she had no idea. Since she couldn’t join us, naturally she’d want us to join her, but I hadn’t expected it. Frantically, I wracked my brain for a way to make it work, then spoke again.
“Linda, I’m the only one with a car that’s unloaded yet. Some just arrived, but after nine hours of driving…” I continued to noodle it aloud. “Another carload will be arriving soon, including some of the new members I want to greet. Let me run out to Aldi’s…then make sure the pizzas get into the oven… maybe I can get someone else to drive my car and bring a group over. But, honestly…” Choking back my emotions, I hesitated a few more seconds. “I’m beat.”
Linda remained silent while I gathered my thoughts. With everything in me, I hated disappointing her, knowing how badly she wanted to be in the middle of us all. I broke the silence.
“You know how much I love you, all of us love you. I promise to bring a group over to visit as soon as possible, tomorrow morning, right after our devotions! But I’m so sorry, I just can’t do it tonight.” I let that sit, feeling desperately inadequate, still swallowing that lump in my throat.
I knew she felt disappointed. I hadn’t anticipated reaching the end of myself and felt embarrassed. But I knew my capacity, and I was “all done in.”
When Linda answered, there wasn’t a hint of recrimination in her voice.
“It’s OK, Jen, I understand. I can wait! Just take care of yourself tonight, OK? I love you. And tell everyone I love them and will see them starting tomorrow! I think my brother’s supposed to come by anyway after dinner, so it will be fine. Don’t you worry!”
In typical Linda fashion, she listened, heard my heart, and acknowledged my truth. I’d stepped into Linda’s shoes, believing that helping her meant carrying out her instructions and doing what she couldn’t. That afternoon, she showed me it could also mean telling the truth about my limits, and being loved anyway.
God’s Grace
For the next three days, we visited Linda twice a day, helped her with meals, then sang and prayed to encourage her. Linda’s cancer was terminal, so we knew we were buying time— hopefully six more months, or God willing, another year?
After the retreat, we lost Lisa, and I couldn’t face the thought of losing Linda. But none of our tomorrows are promised. It was a mere three weeks post-retreat when Linda’s body failed, and she moved home to Heaven as well.
Remembering the suddenness of it all, I think how kind it was for God to give us that time to surround her and be together before she left.
(Linda and Lisa in the first picture below with Leslie.)
Love and Loss
It’s been a heavy and sad year without our friends. We grappled a bit with how to move forward: what would change, would the group stay together, would the class stay the same?
Grief, depression, and the never-ending sinus infection wrestled me down like tigers most of the winter. Many times, it was a fight to join our Zoom calls because it triggered the grief and pain, yet we all needed each other. I also knew the reason I’d accepted Linda’s charge was to keep us together.
We limped along. Our group created space to grieve and to hold each other up in prayer. When I couldn’t speak or pray, others stepped in for me. And our group continued to move forward over time.
***
As we come up to this year’s retreat without Lisa and Linda, I’m fighting all the feelings: joy for their friendship, sadness in our losses, ecstatic that they now both dance healthy and whole with Jesus.
“But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope.”
(1 Thes. 4:13)
Of course they will always be a part of us. We won’t be able to sing without remembering our “Mama Bear Linda”, or pray without remembering our determined “Lisa the Lion.” What a blessing that when we graduate to heaven, memories remain alive among those whom we loved.
Looking back, I’m glad I told Linda the truth that night, even when I hated to let her down. I’m even more grateful for how she heard it. When I remember how graciously she answered, I think: THIS is my example of how to live and lead, a friend who loves at all times, and no matter the circumstances, can still put herself in another’s shoes.
“A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.”
Prov. 17:7, ESV
(Who has shown you grace, and how to love at all times? I’d love to hear about them in the comments.)
So, we continue the journey that Linda set us on, thankful for what we’ve learned from her over the years.
I’ve noticed a couple of things about “leading” this past year: first, I think the primary job of a leader is to observe, identify, encourage, and then incorporate the strengths of others. And second, I’ve learned that it is not hard to lead a group of other leaders! (Thank you to all of you who’ve held me up this year through your prayers and your check-ins!)
As we approach this year’s retreat, I know tears will come as we remember our friends.
But I can still hear Linda’s voice in my head…”It’s OK, Jen! Tell everyone that I love them, and it will be fine!”
AND, I think she’s pleased that we’ve made it this far.
For Worship:
Find Me and At the End of My Days, Jonathan and Melissa Helser, the Cageless Birds (Thanks Juanita!)
(The last part of this reminds me of Lisa and Linda…)
“At the end of my days, Lord, find me…faithful…”
“At the end of my days, Lord, find me…thankful.”
*Photo Credits: 1) Irina Iriser and 2) L S on Unsplash
**The ESV® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version®), © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. ESV Text Edition: 2025.
Love how you lead us Jen! No, you aren’t our Mama Bear. More like a Monarch going the long distance to warmer climates. Love you!