Betsy, breath and bones

Ah, my dear friend was finally freed from all her suffering today, once and for all and for always. But my heavens doesn't it ache. 

Praying for Betsy has become the Ayars family way. Every family devotion in the morning, every bedtime prayer. Every prayer list, every single day. Always. For almost 3 years. 

I've joked with her along the way that praying for her has gone from our lips and our dinner prayers down to our breath and our bones...praying for Betsy, a part of who we are. In and out prayers. Praying without ceasing. I'm so thankful for the way praying for Betsy has grown and shaped our family.

I'm most thankful for how Betsy has grown and shaped me. Many a time have I asked her what to do with these teenagers! She hosted my struggling-to-celebrate baby shower for Emma and poured in grace. More than once she has shown up unannounced with a crate of berries and mangoes for the Haitian kids and plopped down for an hour of laughter and tears. We'd go to breakfast and stay 'till lunch, she showed up several times at events she had NO interest in simply because we needed a person to show up for us, I sat in a gas station parking lot for an hour in the rain as she vulnerably poured out an intimate and very real encounter with the Lord, she brought me a bowl she was certain the Lord told her to bring me (which I will cherish always). 

She brought me blueberry bushes when Dad died, something beautiful and provisional to carry on, dinner when Nora was in the hospital, again when Emma was, always with fancy desserts...and we never had a conversation that wasn't meaningful. She made it meaningful. The point was meaningful. She never chatted to fill the space, but used her life to meet yours and pour in Jesus. 

Betsy was never afraid to face the pain, to share her pain, or to step into mine. She saw the places I was hurting, and brought light in. She never seemed to worry about saying the right thing...just pointing to Jesus in it, and sharing what He was sharing with her. Betsy wasn't worried about showing up the wrong way, just sitting with you. She also wasn't worried about sharing HER pain the right or comfortable way. Just allowing you the sacred space of carrying it with her. Never apologizing for pain or tears. 

The last time she came, her face was glowing. Visually. It's like the closer she came to Jesus and to leaving her failing body, the more she looked like she'd been with Him. I told her and tears sprang to her eyes. She knew.

He rejoices over her unabashed wholeheartedness in painful places few dared to go.

That's a rare dear friend. And sitting with her, carrying her burdens, praying in my bones, often without words, asking the Lord for and believing for the things she was asking and believing for...was such a sacred privilege. Betsy was really good at running to the sound of pain and pointing out Jesus was already there. 

ALL the healing Betsy was believing for is finally HERS, every ounce. The Lord never failed her and never will. 

Pray with me for her husband, parents, children and friends...in just a moment we'll be with her.

I'll carry her on, in my bones and I hope, in unabashed love.