A poem, in loving tribute to Leanne
A winter morn with silenced breath now stilling
Except that heavenward angels unseen come,
Swift, our beloved―friend and mother-mentor…
Not earth-bound she, but free, beholding Him!
No gossamer girl, but sturdy on her path ascending,
Held faith unwavering, tried by joys and tears;
With earthy laugh, enchanting in its freedom,
Well-travelled hope grown surer o’er the years.
Those happy hours spent deep in contemplation,
Weaving His praise in the fabric of her day,
Then, listening, chose obedience in the hearing,
Went forth to serve His will on feet of clay.
Her Scottish roots sang joyously within her,
Her mother’s prayers had bid her soar with wings;
Though oft in weakness, flowed the Spirit’s power;
Our prophet-scholar, clarion herald of the King.
Belief so truly set in Incarnation,
Inviting us: “Behold the riven* Christ!”
His resurrection life completing her baptism,
Her “Halleluia!” awed by His eternal light.
Always the Cross, the blood, the Presence gifted,
The true self blessed, broken image now restored;
Pointing us upward, outward, farther onward,
Beckoning our becoming, calling us to more.
How well she knew the real, incarnate Presence;
“Come, Holy Spirit” her continual cry;
With holy water fled the demon spirits,
As holiness and truth were lifted high.
Primordial cries, yet deeper still the healing,
Old wounds lost pow’r when she invoked His name,
Mem’ries long-held released now into freedom,
Communion’s cup sufficient for our shame.
Mystery masculine and feminine unveiling,
Healing of will and receptivity,
Uniting mind and heart-desire, imparting
True imagination―brilliant circuitry!
And grateful we for her trailblazing beauty,
Who took the Savior’s road less traveled by,
Remember now this gift, this tender mercy:
Entrusting us pastoral care, pregnant with life.
We bid her words with clarity engrave us,
For pen flowed sure with words of vibrant grace;
We would have kept her longer if we could have,
Yet would not rob that glory face to face!
And all is certain, all is settled, all is finished―
Outside our time, she stepped complete in Christ,
Heard heaven’s call, oh jubilant homecoming,
With this three-person’d God enthralled, alive!
*riven: split or torn