Remembering Heather Powell | Delisa Hargrove

15 August 2023. Heather Powell is gone.

I just found out that Heather Kay Sabadin Powell, one of the most influential people in my life, passed away suddenly over the weekend. She lived in Spokane, Washington, and a niece I’d never met messaged me the news.

As I sat with this new reality, I thought of how Heather came to mind repeatedly Sunday morning and throughout the day. Think of her. Remember her. I had glimpses of her in my thoughts but was solidly busy all day. Around 8:30 pm, I finally shot off a text to check on her day, but she didn’t respond.

This picture is Heather’s Facebook cover picture. I can’t think of a more fitting image depicting who Heather is.

Heather Powell — Heather’s Facebook cover picture

And now a flood of memories fills my mind. I will share three, inadequate though they be.

The Lasagna Miracle

As newlyweds, Anthony and I moved into a new ward in Lubbock, Texas. After a short time, I was called to serve as the Relief Society president. Relief Society is the women’s organization in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and is organized in every ward or congregation with a president, two counselors, and a secretary who work together to lead the organization.

At one point in my service, the Lord sent Heather Powell to serve as my counselor. I didn’t know her very well, but could sense her wisdom and wit. I gravitated to her like a moth to a flame, though she wasn’t nearly as deadly. (I can hear her laugh at that joke. I love her sense of humor so much.)

We experienced a lot of my firsts together, including a memorable funeral.

Preparing a Stranger for Burial

Bishop Vardeman called to let me know that a sister in our ward passed away. We hadn’t been able to reach this woman. She was elderly and cared for by children who attended another church. The children knew she’d want a memorial service in our church so contacted Bishop Vardeman. The children asked if I would dress their mother for burial.

I had never met the woman. I had never dressed someone for burial. I had also never attended the funeral service of her culture to see or know cultural preferences.

I called Heather for advice. She prayed with me and encouraged me. She told me the Lord had called me for that very moment, and the Holy Spirit would direct my thoughts, hands, and strength if I would let Him.

I went to the funeral home and met this elderly woman for the first time as she lay in her casket. I looked for directions from the funeral home folks, but they quickly left after showing me into the room.

I knelt beside the casket and prayed for comfort and direction. In a semi-dramatic fashion, I felt courage envelop me. Love for this beautiful stranger flowed through me. She was my sister. I stood up and with newfound peace, love, and determination, I began and finished dressing my sister for burial. As I gently worked, I felt such a sacred peace. I felt her spirit near me. I knew her preferences and felt guided in a few small details. The experience profoundly changed me.

Preparing a Family for Burial

We were also honored to prepare a meal for the family. They told us maybe 30 people would attend the woman’s funeral. I asked what kinds of food they preferred, and they said they didn’t want funeral food and did want something easy to eat so they could leave for the cemetery quickly to bury their mother. I decided on lasagna, bread, corn, salad, and brownies and prepared to fix the lunch for them by myself.

Heather said she could come help serve food on her lunch break. The rest of the presidency worked, too, and couldn’t attend. Since there were only 30 people expected, I didn’t ask anyone else from our ward to help.

I’d cooked three lasagnas at home and put them in the the church’s kitchen ovens to keep them warm. I set up tables and chairs. Everything was ready to go.

I walked into the chapel to attend the service and sat at the back. The chapel filled with people I didn’t know. At some point, the realization hit me that all of the people must be my sister’s family! The planned funeral service was super short and was rapidly proceeding. I rushed to the kitchen to think.

Heather arrived. I explained the situation. She walked to the chapel doors to survey the crowd. We hurriedly set up more tables and chairs as we talked about food options. Lasagna is not easy to duplicate on the spot! We didn’t have time for a Plan B!

We fell to our knees and poured out our souls to God. I said that we prepared to the best of our ability based on the knowledge we had. I asked the Lord to magnify our offerings so this family could find comfort in their sorrow and not be turned away hungry as they left to bury their mother.

We rose up from our prayer as we heard the closing song begin. We put the lasagna, salad, etc, on the buffet tables, barely getting everything situated as the family members lined up for their quick meal.

I watched plate after plate after plate fill to the brim. I was so busy restocking the paper goods and the salad and the corn that I didn’t have time to doubt that the Lord would provide. The second lasagna went onto the serving table. Plate after plate after plate filled. All the tables and chairs filled. People stood around the room. We ran to get more chairs. Plate after plate after plate filled. I found more chairs. The room filled to overflowing. Plate after plate after plate filled.

I rushed to fill water jugs and supply extra cups. People went for seconds. I looked for Heather. She was at the serving table. Plate after plate after plate was refilled.

The family loved the food. It filled them. It satisfied them. They found comfort in it. And suddenly, they were all gone.

We caught our breath and then surveyed the food table. A little lasagna remained in the pan on the table.

How was it possible to have any lasagna remaining? I voiced my surprise. I walked back into the kitchen and noticed that still warming in the oven was the third lasagna!

I shrieked. Heather ran into the kitchen. I pointed at the full lasagna in the oven. She shrieked. We hugged each other and cried.

Then we fell to our knees on the kitchen floor and praised our God of miracles who, instead of loaves and fishes, multiplied lasagnas for a family mourning the loss of a dear mother.

For quite a while after that, every time I saw Heather, we would hug and relive the miracle of the lasagnas. We talked about it again on a recent phone call.

That experience with Heather changed me.

Punch Anyone Making a Dumb Comment in the Nose

Heather served with me when I miscarried for the first time. She found out the Sunday after I miscarried, which happened to be Mother’s Day, after a terrible, awkward moment during Sacrament meeting. I don’t feel like reliving the moment now but have written about it here for anyone who wants to read about it: Why I Avoided Mother’s Day Like the Plague and How I’ve (Mostly) Changed.

The women rallied around me, most not knowing I miscarried. But a few women kindly demanded to know what was up. Heather, Dee Brown, and Cindi Davis all huddled around me until I told them I’d miscarried a few days earlier. They hugged me and comforted me.

Further along on the path I’d just started, Heather brought me a red envelope. I opened the envelope and found a red card upon which she had written:

This coupon gives you the right to punch anyone making a dumb comment in the nose.

Love, Heather

We laughed and laughed. Then she put her hands on my arms, turned me to look her directly in the face, and while still holding me in place, Heather seriously warned me that people would say very dumb things to me about fertility. They wouldn’t mean to say dumb things, but they would say hurtful, thoughtless, and sometimes mean things to me. She had heard them all. I needed to make a choice about how to respond. I could either become bitter or compassionate, angry or self-assured, offended or not offended.

Also, I had a coupon permitting me to punch them in the nose. We laughed again.

As people began to learn of our circumstances, the dumb comments did come our way, and continue to come our way 26 years later. Her preemptive wisdom prepared and empowered me. I carried that red coupon around for a long time. Just knowing I was understood made such a difference for me.

Heather’s thoughtfulness created a positive foundation that lasted way longer than we both expected I’d need it to last. I still regularly dig deep into that defining, pivotal moment. I’m happy to report that because I chose how to respond beforehand, I never physically punched anyone in the nose.

You Deserve Eternity, Decide What You Want

Miscarrying repeatedly wreaked havoc on my personal peace. Exhaustion, stress, and instability led to the biggest blow-out of our three-year-old marriage; well, it was the hugest blow-out of our entire marriage actually. Some things were said that left me reeling. We’d never left each other after an argument, but I grabbed my car keys and stumbled out of the house shattered. I drove around to clear my head, but it wouldn’t clear.

It was the middle of the night. I drove to Heather’s. She invited me in.

At that point in time, Heather lived in Dottie Kay’s converted garage. Heather’s husband, battling brutal addictions, depleted their bank accounts. They lost their house and almost everything that Heather used to define herself. She’d separated after trying every possible avenue to help her husband, but couldn’t afford her own apartment at that point, even though she was at the height of her own career. Her best friend offered Heather space, and Heather chose the detached garage with a little walk to the nearest bathroom.

Heather and her two pups invited me into their sanctuary. I never thought I’d go home again. She offered me space. That was so like her.

We talked the rest of the night. Heather wasn’t a finger-pointing, blaming person. We discussed ideas and concepts and options. As morning dawned, she summarized our discussion and told me that I deserved eternity. I needed to decide what I wanted for myself. She suggested I create and maintain some boundaries and honor those myself.

My whole self-concept shifted. I’d never had to really define who I was like that before. I knew what I wanted. I knew who I was.

I drove home as the dawn’s light chased away the darkness. I walked into our bedroom, woke up Anthony, and made my declarations.

I deserve eternity. If you’d like to be a part of that, great. If not, great. I am changed. Some things needed to change.

He deserved eternity, too. He was on board. Some things changed. We learned to communicate, and did. We’ve never looked back.

But mostly I was changed because of my friend’s example. While living in a tiny, borrowed garage, Heather still stood in her power. She knew who she was. Heather knew Jesus Christ. She called upon the powers of heaven to sanctify her soul. Heather, whose name even identifies her as one who flowers amid rocky surfaces, taught and lifted and encouraged and showed me what is possible during the rockiest moment of my life.

Heather, whose courage and strength remain largely unsung, who died alone, who also deserves eternity, I know you are wrapped in the arms of Jesus who knows your triumphs and your heartaches, who’s walked beside you all your days. You epitomize an angel on earth. And now you’re an angel in heaven.

From my Mother’s Day text to Heather this year:

Happy Mother’s Day! You personify so many characteristics of our Heavenly Mother! You are one of my heroines of mortal life!! Your strength has strengthened me as I’ve followed you on the covenant path! I thank God for you! Love you!

Heather, thank you for all you’ve become, for who you’ve been to me and everyone whose lives you’ve touched, for your kindness, wisdom, wit, and laughter.

From a random, shareable Come Follow Me takeaway text Heather sent to me: