Looking For Calm

My life is richer for having had Wendy Bailey in it. “We know where light is coming from by looking at the shadows.” (Paul Woodruff)  It feels safe to say that we are in the shadows today and in the days to come as we try and reconcile with the fact that a dear friend, loving mother to Nicolas and Beatrice, loyal wife to Joe, devoted daughter of Marnie and John, and sister to Peter has been taken from us too soon. I met Wendy four and a half years ago at a morning bootcamp called Pure Intensity in Bethesda. Anyone who meets in a school parking lot at 5:30 am is a little nuts, but Wendy had been a committed member of PI for over a decade. I immediately liked her, she was warm, funny, thoughtful, devoted to her family and she was real. We would run together sometimes on those early mornings and talk about life, family, church, her family’s flower shop, how challenging the closest relationships in our lives could be, how much family meant to each of us even amidst the challenges. We spoke about anxiety, our own and some of the anxieties our children faced. I found enormous comfort in talking to Wendy about our son who struggles with anxiety. Wendy listened and understood-not trying to fix my fears but ran alongside me as I processed them. We laughed, we cried, we sweated, all while trying to complete the laps, lunges, planks, burpees, tricep dips, sit ups side to side and suicides that Sara had us doing to keep us healthy, fit and strong.

Wendy and I have texted often throughout her battle with cancer. I would send her prayers, little notes, pictures, the sounds of the ocean, links to meditations, an occasional video, and lots of x’s and o’s.  If anything I hoped these messages might allow Wendy few moments of escape from her cancer or to connect with it on an even deeper level. About ten days ago, I sent her this, “Faith tells me that no matter what lies ahead of me God is already there.” Wendy’s faith and abiding love for God was deep and pure.  I have found some comfort across the last days, weeks and months in knowing that Wendy felt the love of God around her. This love gave her enormous strength just as the love she shared with Joe, Nicholas and Beatrice did. I am grateful that Wendy has been welcomed into the kingdom of God and that she is free from her pain. I know the light she possessed and shared with so many will continue to shine through each of us. I see this light in the eyes of Joe, Nicholas and Beatrice and Susie, her beloved furry companion. We will smile when we think of her, we ought to share stories as we grapple with this inexplicable loss, we should hug each other tightly, and we must continue to live on because Wendy would have wanted us to. The picture above was taken two years ago during peak cherry blossom viewing in Washington, DC. Wendy, Sara and I went downtown early one morning thinking we would have a run before anyone else was awake and enjoy the splendor of the blooms. We did run but there were thousands of people along the tidal basin that morning: brides, grooms, families, dogs, a musician or two, and people behind hundreds of enormous telephoto lens’s trying in earnest to capture the tranquility of the sunrise. We laughed out loud, the three of us, at the conclusion of our run thinking how funny it was that we actually thought we were going to have the tidal basin to ourselves. This was the last run I went on with Wendy. I cherish the memory of it and this photograph deeply.

Thank you Wendy, for your grace, courage, love, faith and friendship. I feel blessed to have known you and to be able to call you my friend. What I have learned from you, I will carry in my heart always.  I know you are among the angels now-which feels right- and you are watching over us with much love and extraordinary kindness.  Deep Peace my friend.