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Our world gets a little bigger each day—our world gets a little bit smaller too.

As a group, we stand in faith to pray for those in need. This week I had requested a prayer. We lost a few members of our group; one member lost her husband, one her father, and another her mother.

A few weeks ago, I had the honor of being with a woman while she was in her final hours. I was with the family when they said their last goodbyes. Emotionally, they were not able to be there and asked if I would sit with her. I was blessed to be asked and I accepted with love and understanding.

Another woman allowed me to enter into her mother’s energy before she transitioned. I was able to relay to her daughter things that gave her peace, including knowing her mother was going to be alright. I held the hand of a close friend at the celebration of life for her father, trying to comfort her during this time of loss.

Death is difficult and beautiful at the same time.

I was recently sent a recording of a poem by Linda Ellis, “The Dash.” Read it slowly and absorb each and every line:

“I read of a man who stood to speak at the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the dates on the tombstone from the beginning to the end.

He noted first came the date of the birth and spoke the following date with tears.
But he said what mattered most of all was the dash between the years.

For that dash represents all the time that they spent life on Earth.
And now only those who loved them know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not how much we own, the cars, the house, the cash.
What matters is how we live and love, and how we spend our dash…”

(Read the rest of the poem here.)

I share a mutual friend with one of the members we lost this week. While messaging her, this friend simply asked, “Why does it hurt so much”? I was given a message from God, my guides, or maybe even the friend who had passed, and thought I would share it with you as well.

I responded:

“It hurts so much because you know first-hand the pain of cancer’s torment. It dangles a carrot of hope and then sharply pulls it back. It’s a mind f*ck to all of the family and friends witnessing it slowly take away the body of a once healthy loved one. It leaves only a glimpse of a shell of who this person once was.

But know that the spirit and soul are strong. She was a fighter and cancer pissed her off. This anger made her fight harder; she was not one to give up on a challenge. I will miss seeing that smiling face walk into the shop, but I know one day I will see her again. Till then, I’ll tell myself she’s on vacation from working a ‘job’ her body did not like. She is basking in the sun seeing the ocean and mountains all at the same time. She is breathing in love and light, seeing those who left for vacation before her.

She is in the most ultimate peace and unimaginable love that one day we will all experience. My spiritual side sees the beauty in this, but my human side is heartbroken.

Her dash was filled with love. She touched people’s hearts, especially those in need of a friendly, loving face.”

My friend, whose mother passed away, shared with me that everyone was family to her mother. She would always welcome you in for coffee and toast. Her dash was being a mom to the motherless, a friend to those in need. A warm home with food and friendly conversation.

My friend, whose 93-year-old father passed, mentioned to me that she was not sure how many would show up due to the fact that most of his friends would have most likely already passed. When looking around at the turnout there was well over 100 people who walked through the doors to tell stories, laugh, cry, and just be present for the family.

His dash was raising a family and being the father a lot of people wished they had. He was well-known in the community and married to his wife for 71 years. They both still lived independently together in the home they built until the day he passed, building memories that we viewed though photos that were chosen to share.

I never officially met the husband, who had passed, of another member. But I could tell you that from the way her eyes lit up when she spoke of him, I saw him through her eyes. His dash was being the love of her life, a constant companion, best friend, provider, and husband.

I tell you all this from my heart because it brings about the question: What’s in your dash?

I often wonder what I will be remembered for. How long and full will my dash be? Will I be proud of how I am remembered, or will I have regrets? I try to do a self-inventory from time to time. Rethinking things I do or say. I question if there was a better or more loving way to respond to whatever the situation may be?

We are all being sculpted into a masterpiece, a work in progress. We are chiseling away the unneeded stone around the creation of who we are to be, what is filling our dash. If there are regrets, face them and fix them if you can, but find peace.

You will often hear me speak about how little gestures can make a large impact on someone. It costs nothing to be kind and loving. They say a smile goes a long way. Don’t waste the kindness of a smile—share it and pass it on. Try to do one act of kindness every day. Fill that dash with random acts. Text someone, “Thinking of you.” Buy someone a cup of coffee or invite them out to lunch. Shovel someone’s driveway when it snows, even if you do not know them.

There are so many things to place in your dash. Is there something you’ve always wanted to do but were afraid? Kick fear out of the dash and replace it with faith. We are here only for a short time. Fill that dash with as much as you can. Live your life fearlessly, faithfully and amazingly.

“For that dash represents all the time that they spent life on Earth.
And now only those who loved them know what that little line is worth.”

It is not the beginning or the end that is your legacy—it is the dash in between.

I pray you live a life you love and love the life you live. If not, you are the only one who can change it.

Peace and blessing to you.

~