Our dear friend Flora Bullman passed away last night, and my heart is heavy.
My heart is heavy because I didn’t know her well – at least not as well as I would have liked – or as well as I should have.
But I knew her well enough to know she was a beautiful person. A person with a deep love for her family, friends, community, and people. She was a good friend to, and staunch supporter of, our group, Nape Na Si, from our humble beginnings as a group of well-meaning, blundering, curious, white mid-western Christians to our present status of well-meaning, blundering, curious, white, mid-western Christians with an ever-deepening love for our Lakota brothers and sisters – a love that has been fostered and encouraged by patient Lakotas like Flora, far too many of whom have passed on.
I knew her well enough to know that she believed in us and the work that we are trying to do – to be the hands and feet of Christ – to the point that she decided to give us a small plot of land that she owned in Potato Creek to help us in our efforts. That gift never actually came to fruition – the rules about land-ownership on the Rez are labyrinthine – but just the knowledge that she thought enough of us and what we’re trying to do to even try it is a huge, humbling thing. It implies a level of trust and faith in us that even I struggle to achieve. Her trust, and faith in us is truly greater, and more valuable, than the land itself – at least to me.
I knew her well enough to know that her faith and trust were not in us, but in God, and her intentions were not to glorify herself or us, but to help her people, particularly the Lakota people of Potato Creek.
My heart is heavy, not just because I didn’t know her better, but because her death has shown me that I don’t know any of my friends on the Rez well enough. But this writing is not about me, it is about her.
She was a beautiful woman, both inside and out, quiet and, as I recall, always smiling. She was generous and cheerful, and I never heard a negative word from her.
My favorite memory of her is how she laughed one night when I was trying to get a group photo of us all. Thanks to my lack of agility, the distance I had to run, and the height of the retaining wall I had to jump on to, it took at least 3 tries to get the picture, and she laughed and laughed. I’m happy and honoured to have made that good woman laugh.
I’m thankful to have shared so many meals with her over the years, especially the Indian taco meals that she and the other Lakota ladies have made pretty much every Friday night that we’ve been out there.
My heart is also heavy that, thanks to the pandemic that took her far too soon, Dave and I won’t be able to attend her funeral to pay our respects. I wish we could.
I hope her family knows that we would be there if we could, that we are with them in spirit, and that they are in our prayers.
My heart is heavy because I miss my friend, and will miss seeing her smile when next we’re able to return to the Rez.
But my heart’s heavy load is lightened by the knowledge that her suffering is over. It is lightened by my faith that I will see her smiling face again, in that land that is promised – a land that does not know suffering or disease or poverty or pain, or loss, or any of the other things that our beloved Flora is free from.
We will see her again, and there will be great rejoicing.
Finally, my heart is heavy because I can’t seem to find a single picture of her, although I know I have some. However, if any of you have some and would be willing to send one to me, I’d like to have a photo of her to add to this post.
Also, if anyone has any memories of Flora they’d like to share, please feel free to add them in the comments below.