With heavy heart, I'm passing along word of the passing of Deb Walters a/k/a Slick. She'd had a long fight against cancer, with good stretches and bad. Her executor, Bill Armstrong, reports that "she went peacefully and she was reasonably comfortable."
Deb has been a constant champion of MFO, even as the events in her life made her less visible here. She was the first person to become an ongoing subscriber to MFO with a generous monthly contribution, she conceived of using year-end challenge grants to motivate support, she herself pledged two of those challenges, and she was working hard to help me find a path toward financial sustainability for MFO. Quite beyond that, she was calm and sharp, both cheerful and a cheerleader on particularly gray days.
While comfort in her passing is hard to find, just now, I'll close with the words of the poet Jane Kenyon.
Let the light of late afternoon
shine through chinks in the barn, moving
up the bales as the sun moves down.
Let the cricket take up chafing
as a woman takes up her needles
and her yarn. Let evening come.
Let dew collect on the hoe abandoned
in long grass. Let the stars appear
and the moon disclose her silver horn.
Let the fox go back to its sandy den.
Let the wind die down. Let the shed
go black inside. Let evening come.
To the bottle in the ditch, to the scoop
in the oats, to air in the lung
let evening come.
Let it come, as it will, and don’t
be afraid. God does not leave us
comfortless, so let evening come.