A friend, a builder, lived with us off and on for over a year as we remodeled our home. In the process he came to know us as a family, and also came to know and appreciate Missy. When he learned of her death he wrote a poem to us which contained the lines above.

Solitude was part of the beauty of Missy. She found herself in her music. The discipline involved in practice and reed making became a part of her.

Solitude did become her. Missy's devotion to solitude and introspection was part of the beautiful mystery of our dear Missy.

Your death, Missy, in solitude, brings all the more pain as we think of your alone-ness there in the valley of the shadow that day. Our vision is of you and the Lord, alone yet together, working out the reality of your homecoming.