Even though we live in a world of instant messages, texting, and Facebook, I still find e-mail the most useful tool for communicating-other than the good old-fashion phone, but who uses that anymore? Not many it seems as I'm fielding phone calls less often than electronic updates from friends forwarding dirty jokes as well as personal news-both good and bad, happy and sad, heartfelt and heartbreaking.

This week alone I had three stop-me-in-my-tracks e-mails. The first, from my high school friend, who, in a message titled "A special tribute to my friends", included a link to the YouTube video essay called, "Transcending: Words on Women and Strength", written and read by author, Kelly Corrigan. It's about the process of making friends, keeping friends, losing friends, and transcending to that next plateau in life-with and without our friends.

"Eventually, someone who is not supposed to die, will...We will rally around and hold each other up and wait patiently for the first laugh after the loss..." Corrigan writes.

And in that moment, listening to those words while watching a YouTube video, I began to cry. Cry for those I've lost, and for those I've been lucky enough to hold on to.

See, this same friend who sent the video to our circle of six friends, just had a lump removed from her breast. As we waited for the test results-- reassuring ourselves that all is fine-inevitably you wind up fighting off thoughts that this could be what we've all been dreading:  The cancer that can crumble even the toughest cookie.

"You'll be happy to know that my boobs will grow old and saggy," she wrote in an e-mail update.

The YouTube video was her way of letting us know how much she appreciated our support. And, even though she'd never admit it, I'm sure she was scared too, because as we've come to understand in our middle-aged years-- nothing is certain anymore.

Which brings me to the second e-mail I received this week from another friend-a single mother-letting me know she'd been laid off from work. Oh, the panic that must set in when suddenly the financial future is unknown. And, since recessions are all-encompassing, I had to wonder who else in my circle could become the next victim of this economic crisis, struggling to keep the house or even put food on the table. It's Christmas time, and all I could think about was her worrying about how she would make ends meet keeping a smile on her face as she wonders what to do next.

I moved through my e-mail, and then came the third message from another friend, whom I rarely see, but we always meet for a candy cane martini at Burton's restaurant right before Christmas. Her e-mail, however, was not to secure a plan for our night out, but to tell me that a close family friend had died in a tragic accident. Not even knowing this man, my heart broke for his family.

So, here I sit in my office reading my e-mail, glancing out the window at the gray December day, and wondering how to stay in control when life can be so unpredictable and out of hand.

How do you transcend?

I suppose it's by focusing on the little things that we can manage. The small and ordinary occurrence that is typically lost in the daily hustle. It doesn't matter that we're getting older and losing our figures, we should be pleased that we still have all of our parts!  It's not about the fight for a bigger paycheck, but being grateful for actually getting paid. It's making that extra effort to see that person who means so much to you-even when you believe that you don't have the time-because what happens if there is no 'next time'.

Transcendence, to me, is having the ability to recognize all that is right in your world, when at first glance, it all seems so wrong. It is the healing that we feel when we allow ourselves to experience that 'first laugh after the loss'. Or, simply loving the fact that our boobs will grow old and saggy with the rest of us. And, more important, to know our true friends really care about what happens to our ta-tas.

Perhaps it's simply the ability to pay attention to the subtle messages we receive, even when it is delivered in an inconspicuous e-mail.

By Stephanie Neil

Stephanie Neil is a journalist. Her business, technology, and human interest stories have appeared in a variety of print and online newspapers and magazines including eWeek, Managing Automation, The Harvard Alumni Bulletin, Huggies Baby Network, South Shore Woman, and The Boston Globe.  She lives on the South Shore with her two kids, two cats, and a dog. Contact info: stephanieneil@comcast.net  or 781-378-1652. Follow her on Twitter @StephanieNeil