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It was a summer evening in the year 2000 when four of us, friends through church for more than twenty years, decided spur-of-the-moment to drive from Port Washington to Hartford, Wisconsin, to make what we knew in our hearts would be a final visit with our dear friend, Valerie Arveson. For several years, Val had been waging a courageous struggle against ovarian cancer. The end was imminent. We needed to say good-bye.

We arrived, hesitantly, at Val's home. How do we do this? What can be said? How terribly kind it was of her even to allow us to come.

As we entered her living room, Val's husband, Arv, was completing tubal administration of the liquids that had been sustaining her for some time. We sat down and it was immediately apparent that this was the first time we had ever been with Val that she didn't have the energy to be Val anymore. Her role tonight would be as listener.

We hadn't been there long when one in our group, Jean, got up, walked across the living room, and sat down next to Val on the sofa. Taking Val's hands in her own, and sitting almost face to face, Jean proceeded to share her story. Amidst gulping sobs, and to the total amazement of the rest of us, she poured out a story of light and peace, comfort and incredible love.

You see Jean, too, was undergoing treatment for cancer at that time. While her health had not yet declined to the end stage, as Val's had, I strongly believe that, in her heart, she knew victory would not be experienced here on earth. What Jean had experienced, and needed so urgently to share with Val, had happened to her within the last several months.

Early one morning, Jean was awakened by a startling and intense light -- brighter and warmer than anything she had ever seen or felt before. It filled the room. Then a voice, that she was certain belonged to God, said to her, "It's not time to go yet." The experience lasted only briefly, but over and over again, Jean said to Val, "You have nothing to fear. The love that enveloped me at that moment was greater than anything I have ever felt in my life. I didn't want it to end. I was transported to a place so beautiful, so wonderful, that it defies description. Nothing in my worldly experience could even begin to compare."

Following this pre-dawn experience, Jean's initial reaction was to remain silent. Who could possibly understand? Folks would consider her crazy. It was too personal and too life-changing to share. Being seated in Val's home, however, surrounded by long-time friends in faith, changed that. Seeing a dear friend so close to death loosened the bonds, and it was as though Jean was propelled across the living room. Remaining silent was no longer an option. News of the glory that awaited Val in the next life had to be shared.

Reactions to Jean's story varied among the rest of us. It was so amazing and we were so unprepared. Some of us felt a little bit cheated. Each of us came intending to say good-bye. Opportunity for that diminished as the evening became totally centered around this one amazing experience.

Jean's admission of being not only ready, but also anxious to die, left us confused. We wanted her to continue fighting and she was saying no, the future held such incomparable glory, it was to be embraced, anticipated, longed for. Her words to Val were, "You go and I will follow."

A month or so later, on September 26, 2000, Valerie died. Cancer took Jean's life on November 10, 2001. Each of these women, in her own personal and private way, approached death fearlessly. The fight had been long and painful. They were ready to share the Light.