Beth’s soul is full of colour. It spills out of her, onto canvas, like diamond drops of raw courage and beauty.  She creates worlds. With her paintbrush she makes doorways that lead from what is, into what might be.

The thing I know most about her, is that she is alive. More alive than most people could ever begin to be. There is a monumental grace to her, and something toweringly lovely, like the last light in a kingdom or the highest bird in the sky.

She offers kindness to people everyday, and she has learnt the art of being honest. Not just in the sense that she tells the truth, because many people try to do that, but because she also allows herself to show us her vulnerabilities. She asks for help. She lets people know when something is beyond her capabilities. She is wise enough to understand that because we love her, we want to see her exactly as she is.

Sometimes you meet someone who you know is rare. You feel they are the key that can unlock something important on this earth. That they must have a purpose because their impact is so great and so good. It is a power, and Beth has it. Everywhere she goes she leaves patches of sunlight. She knows how to turn the wheels that lower the drawbridge for weary travelers to walk across into a safer place.

And then, while you are watching this person live as though they know how to dance on the tops of the clouds, or speak with butterflies, you realize how much she suffers. Raw, visceral, unacceptable suffering, that could tear lesser hearts asunder.

Is this a just world? Do you believe it is, and do you believe it ought to be? If there is any justice Beth will get better. There are some tragedies we cannot remedy. There are some things we cannot fix, but we can help Beth. We can give this girl, who ought to have her wings, the tools to help her get them. Not just for her, but for us too. We need her.

— Sarah Louise Feather Jordan