This weekend, I attended the funeral of a friend. For many days previous, we were subjected to listening to the media describe how she died. Tragically. Unexpectedly. Mysteriously.
But thankfully on Saturday I had the good fortune — no, the blessing — of hearing about how she lived.
What I heard is that Jenny lived a valiant life. A creative life. A life filled with love.
For her children, her family, her friends.
Upon listening, I honestly felt deprived. I wished I had known Jenny longer because I sensed I missed out on the great beauty of those that had known her all their lives.
Like her brother, Jeff. His eulogy was passionate. Truthful. Eloquent.
And at every turn he kept saying:
Jenny made the insignificant moments in life spectacular.
I met Jenny at the barn. When we talked, it was usually about horses. Sometimes about spiritual things. But mostly about horses. The thing I remember about Jenny is that she loved life. Nothing was missed. Always a celebration.
Like this: One beautiful Fall evening, Jenny introduced me to a Cosmo. She was shaking them up at a barn party. A Lonestar happy hour. I had never had a Cosmo before and she insisted I try one. It was unbelievably delicious. And I was quite glad for the introduction. A little insignificant moment turned spectacular.
At her memorial service there were dozens of spectacular moments:
Singing Amazing Grace.
Listening to Reverend Buckley talk about God’s unique one of a kind design in Jenny.
Hearing the Lord’s Prayer.
Then watching Jenny’s children release a white dove … and seeing it fly home.
And realizing Jenny was finally home. With God.
Afterward I sat with my barn friends at the reception. And we remembered the spectacular life of Jenny Ring.
And while we did, a butterfly lit on a flower and gently opened it’s wings.
It was quite simply … spectacular.