Dear Fran,

I could feel it at the time. 

I thought I knew the value of it.

I knew it was a huge priority in my life.

But now, my dear friend, Mon Fran, that you are gone,

The hindsight that only death can impart is falling upon me.

God-imbued, Rarefied, Kairos-time was ours.

Continual caring and sharing over the years, on the phone, through email, at the table.

Defining spirits of presence and learning, of passion and faith, of wisdom and truth, of humor and love.

Within which we grew as women, we grew as servant leaders.

Continual gentle urging to create, to write, to share the interiors of our hearts, our souls, our lives.

One summer afternoon we, the three, sat outside at Cynthia's picnic table to make a name for ourselves, to find a word to describe, to inspire, to infuse our intention, our commitment to each other.

We called ourselves the Cephers --- the biblical Hebrew word for Writing.

Continual creative conversation over the decades, on the phone, through email, at the table.

I miss our times. I miss us.

Mon Fran, the spirit you brought to friendship, the commitment you held to sustaining our conversation, and the many ways you empowered us were gifts that will never be replicated.

You will never be replicated.

You were, and continue to be, a brilliant gem in God's big bag of grace.

Through the remaining length of my days the gift of your friendship will accompany me.

The meaning of your life will continue to unfold.

Your voice will continue to call me to put the words down --

                                   "Mon, Sher, what are you writing?"

LORD, Thank you for your servant, Fran.

Thank you for her spirit, her joy, her laugher, her creativity, her support, her inspiration.

Thank you that she is safely Home with you now.

Please take care of the rest of us who miss her very much.

And the people say Amen.

All the people say Amen.