In Loving Memory of Becky Groves Bailey

June 15, 1954 – December 2, 2021

“But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.”  Isaiah 40:31   KJV

I sat nervously at the memorial service, my heart heavy with sorrow, surrounded by a sea of faces – an emotional tapestry of feelings woven together by grief and love – all united by one common thread: our cherished Becky Bailey. The atmosphere was filled with a tangible sense of loss, the air heavy with unspoken words and shared memories.

A table facing the crowd was adorned with a portrait of Becky, capturing her radiant smile and sparkling eyes. Fragrant bouquets of flowers, vibrant and alive, seemed surreal in contrast to the somber occasion. The soft strains of her favorite music played igniting a cascade of memories within me.

On one occasion Becky’s timing couldn’t have been more perfect. While confined to a hospital bed, she reached out to me through a straightforward text, saying, “I’ve been thinking about you. “Those words struck a chord deep within me. “Thank you, Becky, for understanding without even knowing the battles I’ve been fighting. In that moment, as I lay on my own bed, consumed by feelings of worthlessness, your message of thoughtfulness brought a glimmer of hope into my weary heart. I’ve been tirelessly praying for guidance, seeking for a sign that I’m not alone. And you send this message, like an angel, reminding me that I’m seen and cared for.

But it didn’t stop there, Becky went above and beyond, sending me a video about eagle leadership. Intrigued, I clicked play, not knowing what to expect. And as the footage unfolded, I found myself inspired by the message of the majestic nature of eagles, soaring fearlessly with grace. God gave the lady minister in the video a message, “It’s time Eagle Leaders to take flight for this generation. Fly above the storm.” A pool of tears slid down my cheeks soaking my pillow. “Your gesture, Becky, was no coincidence. It was a gift from above, a message from God to remind me that I too possess the strength to rise above my challenges. Just like the eagle, I can tap into my inner leadership qualities and overcome any obstacles that have been weighing me down. So, thank you, Becky, for being the vessel of encouragement I so desperately needed. You have given me renewed faith in my purpose and reminded me of the power of connection”

 The wind continued to dance among the leaves, pulling me in and out of memories. I felt a renewed sense of purpose and determination. I am ready to spread my wings and embrace the leadership qualities within me, just like those majestic eagles. From the depths of my heart, Becky, I am grateful for your timely presence and the impact you have had on my life.

May we both continue to inspire and uplift each other on this journey, fueled by the winds of change and the power of friendship.

Around me, friends and family whispered in hushed tones, their voices muffled by the weight of their sadness. Tears glistened on cheeks, serving as testament to the impact Becky had made on each person present. She had been the beacon of light in our lives, a source of laughter and joy, but now, left she’s in the embrace of God’s care. Her absence left a void impossible to fill.

As the memorial service began, the atmosphere fell into a contemplative silence. The minister’s voice, somber and gentle, rose and fell like waves crashing upon a shore. Her words merged with our collective thoughts, lifting them to the heavens, searching for solace in the midst of this heart-wrenching farewell.

I clung to the memories I had of Becky, playing them over and over in my mind like a cherished film reel. Her infectious laughter, the way her eyes sparkled with God’s love, the warmth of her embrace – these moments become even more precious now that they are memories.

My mind wandered to the countless moments we had shared, the adventures and secrets we had entrusted to one another. I recalled the nights we had talking to one another on the phone. There was laughter, tears, engaging in conversations about God’s miracle working power. We believed and knew that our friendship was eternal, that nothing could ever sever our bond.

But as I sat there, surrounded by the swell of sorrow, I came to understand the immense impact Becky had on all of us. She had an uncanny ability to bring people together, to create an unbreakable bond within her circle of loved ones.

As the memorial service came to a close, each person rose, their faces etched with sadness and acceptance. We might never fully recover from the loss we had endured, but we would carry Becky’s spirit forward, letting her memory guide us through the darkest of times.

I stood up, my nerves now replaced by a resilient determination to honor Becky’s legacy. As I walked away from the memorial service, I felt a glimmer of hope amidst the sea of sorrow. Though our hearts were heavy, Becky had taught us the power of love and friendship, and that, in itself, was a solace that would endure.

As the words flowed effortlessly between us, a cascade of understanding and recognition enveloped our shared conversation. Becky, with her lineage tracing back to a lineage of prophetic brilliance, saw me not just as a friend, but as a kindred spirit. The weighty responsibility that comes with bearing the title of a prophetess was not lost on either of us. It was a path shrouded in complexity, one that demanded unwavering faith and relentless perseverance.

Yet, despite the challenges and the burdens we carried, there was an undeniable sense of excitement that coursed through our beings. To find someone who truly comprehended the intricacies of our unique calling, someone who could relate to the trials and tribulations we faced, was nothing short of exhilarating.

Becky spoke of her mother, a woman of great spiritual insight, and how she had been groomed from a tender age to walk in the footsteps of the divine. The legacy that Becky was now entrusted with was a daunting one, but it was also awe-inspiring. We shared tales of our encounters with the divine, of the profound moments where heaven seemed to touch earth, and the extraordinary visions that shaped our destinies.

In the midst of our shared experiences, it became evident that our connection ran deeper than mere understanding or empathy. We were, as Becky so eloquently put it, kindred spirits. It was as if our souls had danced together in a different realm long before we ever met in this earthly existence. Our laughter I believed entertained God. Time became irrelevant as hours slipped away, lost in the enchantment of our conversation. We had not just found a companion in each other, but a confidante, a true ally in this arduous journey we were on. The weight of our responsibilities felt a little lighter, knowing that we were not alone.

For in the realm of prophethood, where the boundaries between the divine and the human blur, the real glory lay not in the acclaim of mortals, but in the humble act of sitting at the feet of Jesus. It is in those moments of communion with the divine that our hearts are nourished, our spirits rejuvenated, and our purpose reaffirmed.

As our shared conversation drew to a close, a bittersweet feeling washed over us. We knew that this newfound connection was a gift, one that would forever shape our paths and strengthen our resolve. The excitement we felt in that moment would linger, fueling us on the days when the journey seemed too treacherous.

Becky and I had transcended the limitations of time and space, bound together by a shared understanding of a sacred role. We were not just two souls conversing, but two vessels of divine revelation, united in purpose and solidarity. And together, we would continue to walk the difficult path in the prophetic, finding solace in the knowledge that we were never truly alone. It’s not an easy position to walk in nor is it glorious! The only thing glorious about it is sitting at the feet of Jesus.

The first time we engaged in a conversation we felt we knew each other all our lives. Kindred spirits is what she said we were.

September 2021 at 12:09 pm 

Ginny and her family had asked me to keep Becky, their sister-in-law, in prayer. I had been diligently doing so, but perhaps there was something more I could do to uplift her spirits. “You both have so much in common. Why don’t you reach out to her? A simple text letting her know that you’re thinking of her and praying for her could bring her some much-needed encouragement,” Ginny said.

After hanging up I searched for the right words to say to her. As the dishes clinked in the sink, I found myself lost in thought.  I didn’t know what to say, how to express the depth of my concern and the extent of my prayers. In that moment, I felt a sudden pull, a whisper from above. It was God, guiding me with His word, “But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint. Isaiah 40:31.” His voice resounded in my heart, urging me to share this scripture with Becky.

Swiftly, I set aside the dishes and reached for my phone. A quick search led me to the scripture, Isaiah 40:31. As I scrolled through the images, one depiction caught my interest. An eagle soaring near a cliff, gracefully banking in a 45-degree angle turn. It was the perfect visual representation of the scripture’s words, capturing the essence of hope and strength.

Without hesitation, I posted this image on Becky’s Facebook page, accompanied by a message, “God told me this is your favorite scripture.” I pressed the post button, feeling a sense of urgency, as if time were of the essence. And then, the reply came beneath it. Becky’s words appeared on my screen, filling my heart with joy. “It is!” she exclaimed. In that moment, I knew that God had used me as His messenger, reaffirming Becky’s faith and offering her the encouragement she so desperately needed.

I learned so much from this beautiful woman of God! Our hearts were enclosed with the passion of seeking the face of God with fervency. We exchanged testimonies about our secret place, our prayer closet, with the Lord our God. There we had caught the attention of heaven to bring it down to us. “This is who we are Becky. Isn’t God amazing and hard to comprehend?”

“Yes, He is,” She answered quickly.

One-night Beckey and I talked for hours, she asked me to pray for her son. “Darlene, she paused, “please don’t stop praying for my family.” Tears swelled in my eyes, “I won’t Becky,” I said taking a breath, “I promise.”

Becky accepted me for who I was. Freedom filled the space around us. She understood me so well.

In the depths of our souls, we were kindred spirits, bound together by the fire of our faith. The woman, a magnificent vessel of God’s love, touched my heart in ways I never thought possible. Her presence alone radiated with an ethereal glow, as if she were truly an angel sent from above.

We shared our stories, baring our souls in the hidden sanctuary of our prayer closets. There, in the sacred stillness, we poured out our hearts to the Almighty, seeking His divine guidance and mercy. The intensity of our prayers seemed to reverberate through the heavens, capturing the attention of celestial beings.

“This is who we are, Becky,” I whispered, my voice trembling with awe. “Isn’t God simply astounding? He is beyond our comprehension, yet He desires an intimate relationship with us.”

A smile graced Becky’s lips, her eyes shining with a profound understanding. “Yes, He truly is magnificent,” she murmured, her voice laced with adoration. And in that moment, our souls danced together, entwined in the rhythm of praise and worship.

On a moonlit night, as the world slept beneath a blanket of stars, our conversation flowed ceaselessly. Becky, with a vulnerable yet courageous heart, confided in me about her beloved son. The weight of her worries etched lines of sorrow upon her face, but her faith never wavered.

“Darlene,” she spoke softly, her voice layered with emotion, “please, don’t ever cease praying for my family. Your prayers hold a power beyond measure. I trust in the intercession that flows from your heart.”

My eyes welled up with tears, reflecting the depth of my love for this remarkable woman. “Becky,” I whispered, my voice choked with emotion, “I will. I promise Becky.”

With those words spoken, a profound peace settled upon us. In this sacred moment, Becky embraced me for who I was, flaws and all. The chains of judgment and expectation were shattered, replaced by a freeing acceptance that enveloped us both.

In the presence of this woman of God, freedom soared, igniting our spirits and releasing us from the shackles of conformity. We reveled in the understanding that we didn’t have to fit into society’s mold; instead, we were called to be authentic in our worship and love for the Creator.

Becky understood me on a level no one else could. She saw beyond my frailties peering into the depths of my soul through the eyes of God. In her presence, my spirit flourished, unfettered and unapologetic.

Oh, how I cherished our moments together, those precious hours filled with celestial dialogue and unwavering faith. Becky, a beacon of God’s love, taught me the power of vulnerability and the beauty of surrender. She forever remains in my heart, a testament to the boundless grace and compassion of our Heavenly Father. We discussed over and over how I had become blood. “I forget that I’m not related,” I giggled in response.

On Thanksgiving in 2021 a few of her family members celebrated with me. She sent me a message saying,” Tell them I said Happy Thanksgiving.”  Pausing from fixing their plates I relayed messages from us to her.

An unsettling intrusion interrupted the special occasion. Suddenly I didn’t feel like celebrating, I envisioned myself dressed for a funeral. Becky’s fight with pancreatic cancer had been a fight. No, she’s going to get better! I argued within myself. Death I will pray against you! My inner argument failed as it continued to prevail.

 Before she passed away, I talked to her for the last time. She said, “Darlene I’m trying to hold on but I’m so tired.” I felt her tiredness. “I love you so much Becky!” Faintly, I love you to honey.”  

Before she passed away, I had the privilege of speaking to her one last time. Weariness echoed in her voice as she whispered, “Darlene, I’m trying my best to hold on, but I’m so tired.” I could feel the weight of her exhaustion seeping through the phone line. My heart ached.

With tears welling in my eyes, I replied, “I love you so much, Becky!” Her response was a faint whisper, barely audible, “I love you too, honey.” Even in her weariness, her love for me radiated.

Days turned into weeks, and the inevitable moment arrived on November 26th. I had drifted off into a deep nap on the couch when a knock at the door jolted me awake. It was Becky’s brother-in-law, concerned about my well-being. After verifying that I was physically okay, I lay back down, surrendering to exhausted slumber.

In the realm of dreams, a surreal drapery unfurled before me. An eagle perched on a majestic mountaintop; its wings stretched wide against the ascending sun. The sky transformed into a canvas of vibrant orange and yellow, as if the very horizon burned with the intensity of a charcoal flame. Amidst this ethereal panorama, Becky’s face materialized in the billowing clouds, her presence vivid and undeniable.

The sky itself held an air of sovereignty, a stage awaiting the grand arrival of the eagle. Her silhouette was still visible, a tender smile etched upon her face. Happiness beheld her, knowing this was but a dream, a fleeting moment of consolation, freedom, and strength.

But as I woke, tears streaming down my face, denial clung stubbornly to my heart. I refused to accept that she would be leaving us, clinging to hope that she would miraculously recover and rejoin us, her absence merely a transient illusion.

Yet, night after night, the same dream enveloped my restless sleep. Each time, as the sun arose above the distant hills, casting its last golden glow upon the world, Becky’s silhouette faded into the dawning of finished journey, the eagle on the verge of taking flight. The dream began to unfold like a bittersweet celebration, a solemn dance of farewell.

Then, in the final dream, the eagle’s cry pierced the air, reverberating through the depths of my soul. It spread its magnificent wings, spanning the breadth of the sky, as if bidding a final farewell. As the majestic bird embarked on its journey, I could almost hear Becky’s voice whispering gently, “I’m no longer in pain.”

In that moment, my heart shattered into a million tiny fragments, the weight of the inevitable crashing down upon me. The eagle soared into the boundless expanse, carrying within its wings the essence of Becky’s spirit, the embodiment of her strength and love.

And so, with tears streaming down my face, I bid goodbye to the silhouette that had graced my dreams, intertwining with the sunset’s embrace. Yet, even as she faded from view, I knew deep within my heart that her love would emanate forever, like a beacon in the night, guiding me through my wilderness moments. Becky Groves Bailey saw eagle characteristics in me: I couldn’t see it for myself.

No, cancer didn’t prevail over Becky. She embraced peace, love, and joy.