February 7: Everything is Going to be Okay, William Stafford, "Bess"

Tonight, I have a friend who's really struggling in her life.  She's a single mother with two boys.  Her sons are almost the exact ages as my kids.  In the last few months, she's had to move and, just today, she realized that she's going to have to take a job that she's going to hate.

She texted me earlier, told me that she's been crying all day long.  When I asked her if there was anything I could do, she texted back, "Just tell me everything is going to be okay."

I texted her that everything was going to okay.  I texted that message to her over and over.

William Stafford has a poem about a woman in a difficult situation.  Bess is dying, and yet she is able to hold on to joy.  It's a poem that never fails to move me.

Saint Marty prays that his friend finds some joy in her life.

Bess

by:  William Stafford

Ours are the streets where Bess first met her   

cancer. She went to work every day past the   

secure houses. At her job in the library

she arranged better and better flowers, and when   

students asked for books her hand went out   

to help. In the last year of her life

she had to keep her friends from knowing   

how happy they were. She listened while they

complained about food or work or the weather.   

And the great national events danced   

their grotesque, fake importance. Always

Pain moved where she moved. She walked   

ahead; it came. She hid; it found her.   

No one ever served another so truly;   

no enemy ever meant so strong a hate.   

It was almost as if there was no room   

left for her on earth. But she remembered

where joy used to live. She straightened its flowers;   

she did not weep when she passed its houses;   

and when finally she pulled into a tiny corner   

and slipped from pain, her hand opened

again, and the streets opened, and she wished all well.