Dear All Souls Book Group,

As many of you may know, April 1, 2010, would have been Rebecca Stallings' 58th birthday.  Rebecca--or Becky, as most of us knew her--had been a parishioner at All Souls for decades before her unexpected death, along with her guide dog and devoted friend, Nasha, in a car accident on March 15th of last year.  She was also a regular member of our book group.

For those of you who didn't know Becky, Becky was one of those amazing people you only read about until you actually meet one.  Blind from childhood, she earned a Bachelor's Degree, in Psychology and English, from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, then going on to earn a M.A. in English Literature, and second M.A. in Deaf and Blind Rehabilitation.  She then went to work here in Asheville for the North Carolina Division of Services for the Blind, where she remained for thirty-one years.  At NCSB she served in many positions: Social Worker; Vocational Rehabilitation Counselor; Children's Program Consultant and, lastly, as Counselor-in-Charge in the Asheville District Office.  A faithful parishioner at All Souls, Becky gave constantly as a volunteer: as a Lay Reader; as the Chair of the Outreach Committee; Member of the Vestry; Stewardship Committee; an All Souls Book Group member; and as a volunteer with Loving Food Resources.  Becky laughed easily, loved music, reading, and the outdoors.  I think anyone who knew her could see that she loved life.

The last time I was supposed to see Becky was Monday, March 9th of last year, when she was to attend a book group meeting about Emily Dickinson.  She wasn't there; the next day I received an e-mail saying she had meant to come, only had "needed to be outside," as it was "just so pretty."  This would be the last Monday of her life.  And the last time I saw Becky was another pretty evening later that week--I was in my car, and she was walking through West Asheville with Nasha.  I was too far away to say hello.  As some of you may know, Becky took long walks with Nasha nearly every day.

Enclosed are four poems culled from my shelves that seem to me to speak to Becky's spirit, and/or to the experience of losing her.  Included also is a poem offered for the occasion by Janet Shaw--thank you, Janet.  I miss Becky, as I imagine many of you do as well.

All best,

Emilie


1.

Journeying On

Toward morning, Death,
a barred owl, settled into our maple tree.
From our window, I could see
the cloak of brown feathers,
the wise eyes, and hear the soft call,
"Come, now.  Come, now."

So I left my body behind
and went to the roof peak
where my owl waited for me.
I wasn't afraid to follow her into the light.

--Janet Shaw


2.

1540

As imperceptibly as Grief
The Summer lapsed away--
Too imperceptible at last
To seem like Perfidy--
A Quietness distilled
As Twilight long begun,
Or Nature spending with herself
Sequestered Afternoon--
The Dusk drew earlier in--
The Morning foreign shone--
A courteous, yet harrowing Grace,
As Guest, that would be gone--
And thus, without a Wing
Or service of a Keel
Our Summer made her light escape
Into the Beautiful.

--Emily Dickinson



3.

SONG

My heart, my dove, my snail, my sail, my
   milktooth, shadow, sparrow, fingernail,
     flower-cat and blossom-hedge, mandrake

root now put to bed, moonshell, sea-swell,
  manatee, emerald shining back at me,
    nutmeg, quince, tea leaf and bone, zither,

cymbal, xylophone; paper, scissors, then
   there's stone--Who doesn't come through the door
    to get home?

--Cynthia Zarin


4.

I explained it to St. Peter,
I'd rather stay here
Outside the pearly gate.
I won't be a nuisance,
I won't even bark, I'll be very patient and wait,
I'll be here, chewing on a celestial bone,
No matter how long you may be.
I'd miss you so much, if I went in alone,
It wouldn't be heaven for me.

Unknown Poet

5.

THE WAKING

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.

We think by feeling.  What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Of those so close behind me, which are you?
God bless the Ground!  I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.

Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me; so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.

This shaking keeps me steady.  I should know.
What falls away is always.  And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.

--Theodore Roethke