Hazel and Joan, 1983

The Birth of a Friendship

I met Hazel in 1961 when I was a beginning schoolteacher. Hazel’s husband John was the new pastor at my church. She taught our young adult class. We felt a kinship right away, despite our different generations. She had children my age, so at first it was like a mother-daughter relationship. Soon we became more like sisters. We were always adventurers-together; idea-sharers, like iron sharpening iron. She was a fabulous mentor, although I seldom realized I was being mentored. 

Hazel was there when I married Bob and when our children were born. When our little family moved to Alaska, our friendship continued through a correspondence that only ended with her death in 2006. I saved a big box of her letters written on whatever was at hand…notepad, lined tablet, church bulletin, back of a restaurant menu. Through her letters, we joined her and John as they followed the Lord’s leading from Washington across the USA to Pennsylvania and back to Michigan. I made a number of trips to visit them “back east,” and my husband saw to it that she flew to Alaska for several weeks each summer.

She fell in love with Alaska on her first visit. We went for long walks at midnight, enjoying the flaming sky as the sun dipped below the horizon, then came right back up again. Whenever we were together, we made time to go exploring, although we had to share most of our lives through written correspondence.

“Hold Loosely Everything That is Not Eternal”

In 1987, after I wrote to tell her about my young nephew’s death in a plane crash, Hazel’s reply included a quote that summarized her life philosophy: “Hold loosely everything that is not eternal.” The letter ended with her characteristic enthusiasm, “What a beautiful morning! Let’s go somewhere and celebrate!”

She did hold loosely the things of this world, though we shared an intense joy in the beauty if offers. Her poems praised her Lord and Savior, and her stories told her adventures in introducing others to Him. Hazel took time to listen to people, then turned the conversation to what was at the center of a person’s problem before pointing him or her to the one who had the answer. She always prayed the Lord would give her someone to witness to on her plane flights, and he always did.

Letters Can Bind Friends Together

We were connected in ways I can only explain as God’s. Often Hazel called or wrote to say she’d been impressed to pray for us. Invariably, we’d been in some crisis and needed those prayers. Or God would impress us to pray for her and her family. Even when her dear husband was dying, her comments were always positive, i.e., “If John had been promoted when the doctor gave him up, you dear people were one of the first on my list to call.”

Her house was always busy with people coming and going, so many of her letters were written from “oft-frequented coffee shops…my friendly neighbors can’t reach me here.”

Later, puzzling over a letter from me that had gone missing, she said, “Dear long-time-no-see Friends, Like you, Joanne, I save most all of your letters, and I wouldn’t want a blank space in my memory bank, ha! (There are so many blanks already.)” Her P.S. said, “Your letters, Joane, are a real uplift to our spirits. We continue to pray for a job-opening for you, Bob. Don’t be discouraged. It’s coming.” I smiled over this letter because despite the closeness of our friendship, I never knew how she would spell my name.

Friends Till the End

Not long after these letters, John was promoted to heaven. Our trips back and forth continued yearly. Then Bob, too, passed away, and six years later I married Hank. He and Hazel immediately forged a special relationship, teasing and joking like siblings. He went with me on a couple of visits to Michigan. On one trip we bought her a little e-mail machine and she tried valiantly to make it work. Then I added her e-mail letters to my collection.

Today, letter writing is almost a lost art, but for us, it was a wonderful way to grow and maintain a friendship. Whether we were together in person, or via mail, I often heard, “What a beautiful day! Let’s celebrate.”

She spent her whole life preparing for the beauty she’s been celebrating now for 15 years. But when I reread her letters, I hear her voice as clearly as if she were here in person, and I am blessed.

I am grateful to my friend, Joan (pronounced Jonnne, but spelled, simply, Joan) Rawlins Biggar Husby for this guest blog. I, too, attended the  church where Hazel and Joan met. Joan was my Sunday school teacher when I was a 6th grader. A sweet friendship was rekindled and has blossomed over the past 30 years as we have encouraged one another as writers and sisters in Christ. Joan’s has written several books, including A Logger’s Daughter: Growing up in Washington’s Woods; Living Gold, The Story of Dave and Vera Penz at Kako, Alaska; Heart’s Gold, Monte Cristo Memories; and several adventure novels for middle readers.