In Writing

As mentioned, I lost a dear friend this week.  Her name was Karen Stone.  She was a youth leader in my church.  And she was one of those people that made you feel so loved.  Whenever she would smile at you, you knew that you were her favorite person in the world.  I had the privilege to sing at her funeral with a group of young women.  And I was thinking that every girl up there probably thought that they were for sure her favorite.  That's just the way she was.

One of my memories of her, one I don't want forgotten, involves me being a little pitiful and her being insightful.  We were camping as a group of girls and leaders, Girl's Camp we call it.  We had a testimony meeting, when we share what we know that is true about the Church.  I sat there throughout the whole meeting sobbing.  This is typical behavior for all of the girls, but this time I was sitting there in agony.  I was so afraid that no one cared about me.  I was terrified that no one worried about me, that they simply thought that I was the girl who would always be ok.  I needed validation that someone cared, and I needed that selfish validation from someone other than family, who I always know loves me.  Someone cared about me.

Sister Stone got up.  She was bearing her testimony.  And she said that she had stayed up all night, many nights, worrying about us girls.

I never told her this story, but her testimony made everything ok.  The knowledge that she had fretted and worried and stressed about us, these girls that she really had no obligation too, was what I needed.  She saved me from those yucky, unloved feelings.  She always made me feel beautiful and ok with life.

Yesterday was her funeral.  Last night I had prom.  I felt guilty about going to her funeral in the morning, and then going and partying at night.  But I know that she would have loved it.  As my mom said, after all my make-up was done and I almost started crying, that she would have been so proud that I was dressing modestly.  She would have wanted to hear all about the date, and my dress, and the guy I went with.  And I am so thankful that she was the type of person she was.  That I don't have to worry about what she would have said, but rather know that she would have been excited for me.

I am so lucky that I got to know her, even for a short time. I am so lucky that I have her example in my life.  I am so lucky that I know I will see her again.  I am so lucky that I have a Heavenly Father who loves us each so much, and I know that He has even bigger plans for Sister Stone than what could have even been imagined on this earth.

I want it in writing of her influence on my life.