A NOTE From The Editor: As I said in the regular edition of PNN, this week has been a tremendous reminder of how precious life is. I was all set to run a cute little story of a little girl's faith on a hot day, but have decided to share with you, instead part of a conversation that I had with our featured author ,Glenna Hellar, which I believe can provide healing those in need.

More than one of our PNNers has lost loved ones. Sometimes we lose those we care about to illness, sometimes to auto accidents, and other times to violence. Perhaps you remember the Special Edition entitled, "Linda's Pocket Full of Miracles." As I told about Linda's experience, I mentioned "her girls." Unfortunately, one of them came home from work to see her Soul Mate being carried away by the paramedics after he was gunned down point blank from a young tenant who refused to pay his rent. I know this isn't exactly positive or uplifting, but I've come to believe that there is always a lesson, always a gift in every situation. Glenna's column about the gift of united prayer resulting from last week's plane crash gave me hope that somehow Rudine could make it through this and find the strength to raise their little girl without her father. She's heartbroken and lost right now, as any one of us would be. I wrote Glenna to thank her for the hope she had given me and told her of my struggle to see any kind of blessing in the situation, much less the ability to help Rudine see this tragic loss as anything other than painful. Today's Special Edition is what Glenna wrote back to me.

When I asked Glenna if I could share her private thoughts with all of our PNNers, she responded, " I know Margaret would want to contribute this to our readers. She is such a love-face! She died a couple of years ago from lupus. This would be a tribute to her in the process; something I've always wanted to do is share her sharing of this experience."

So thank you, Glenna. And thank you, Margaret, for the beautiful words that affected Glenna so profoundly and I know will touch our readers and perhaps contribute to our healing.

And to you, Rudine, I dedicate today's PNN and wish you the courage and strength to carry on in these most difficult circumstances. Our hearts and prayers are with you.

Sometimes there is no gift. Not immediately, and not ever. Sometimes, I think, it's just a lesson in getting up, appreciating the sweetness of the morning air as compared to enduring a tragedy. Sometimes it's just a bitch, without any rhyme or reason.

My friend Margaret lost her daughter to violence. To a group of us, she described her first year after the loss. It was so beautiful, the room was silent with love. This is what she said.

"Jenny was a light -- a beautiful, hilarious, glorious, brightness. When she left, there was only black. Everywhere I looked was black. Every time I opened a drawer, each time I used a certain casserole dish, walked by a particular tree, I would inevitably think, "The last time I opened this drawer, my Jen was still alive", or "The last time I used this dish..." Or, "The last time I smelled that tree..." until finally there were no more first times without her.

The blackness was still there. But it turned to a satin ribbon. And the ribbon wove through the tapestry of my life, all the brilliant oranges and soft mauves, the striking royal blue and seafoam greens... The black ribbon was so very beautiful, and I grew to love the richness of that experience too.

One day, at last, I woke to find myself thinking of my Jenny. I passed a mirror while doing so. I was smiling."

Time. That is God's use of time. Bless her. She has a blessed life experience in this. My prayer will be that she can embrace this experience and allow Holy Spirit to use it for the good of mankind. Amen.

My love to her...

Glenna

  --- © Glenna Heller & Margaret

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