From mom's memorial service (6/21/21)

 

My mom didn’t seek out the spotlight.  Maybe it was just her personality;  Maybe it was years of being a pastor’s wife and the feeling of being observed closely in that role; Maybe it was a result of the impact MS had on her vision, which made it hard for her to see faces or social cues.  In public situations she tended to stay in the background, to listen, to observe.   I take after her when it comes to speaking in public, so I feel better sharing my thoughts about her in writing.  

In our small town in Indiana, many congregations were too small to support their own summer bible school, so we took part in one big summer bible school with all of the other congregations in town.  It was an exciting week every summer.  Each morning started off with an inter-generational opening session for everyone to attend.  There was always a lot of singing and usually a devotion.  One summer, when I was 9 or 10, the opening speaker for these sessions was a woman well known in the community. She was talking about faith and bravery and told this story about a very brave and faithful woman from our very town.  The woman and her husband had tried to have a child, but hadn’t been able to.  Then, she became very, very sick – losing her ability to see well and having trouble walking. In the midst of all of this, the woman and her husband learned that she was pregnant.  The doctor told her that pregnancy would make her symptoms worse, but she insisted on carrying on with the pregnancy, despite the dangers.  The pregnancy resulted in a healthy baby, and it actually had the reverse effect on her illness – stopping it from progressing any further than it already had.

It was a great story and I was paying closer attention than normal, trying to figure out who this woman might be.  You can imagine my surprise when the woman telling the story ended with the phrase, “and they named their daughter Faith.” Then, she called my mom to the front.

I was shocked. I had never heard that story before. My mom was so quiet and unassuming, and I had never thought of her as brave.

Since that day, I have paid close attention to my mom’s faith and bravery.  It was never obvious, but it showed up constantly. She stepped out of the comfort of a tiny Minnesota town to attend St. Olaf, which had to be scary as a first-generation college student.  She became a pastor’s wife and moved with my dad to rural Indiana in her 20s, far from her family and friends and what she knew.   Due to her vision, she navigated through much of life with a dependence on other people, and she was never afraid or ashamed to ask for help.  As dementia slowly became more apparent, she had visions and struggles that were terrifying. In the last months of her life, she was isolated in a care facility, due to COVID, which must have been terribly confusing. Yet, the staff at the New Richland Care Center often spoke of how pleasant she was and how much she smiled.  She faced all of these situations with a steadiness that can only be the result of bravery through faith. 

One of mom’s favorite hymns, and a lullaby she sang to me often, was Children of the Heavenly Father. listening to it always has, and always will, make me think of her. It’s almost like a gift in how it quietly and meaningfully represents so much of who she was and what she believed. 

Children of the Heavenly Father
Safely in His bosom gather
Nestling bird nor star in heaven
Such a refuge e’er was given
 
God His own doth tend and nourish
In His holy courts they flourish
From all evil things He spares them
In His mighty arms He bears them
 
Neither life nor death shall ever
From the Lord His children sever
Unto them His grace He showeth
And their sorrows all He knoweth
 
Though He giveth or He taketh
God His Children ne’er forsaketh
His the loving purpose solely
To preserve them pure and holy