My mother passed from this life one month ago today. This is the essence of the eulogy meditation I gave at her memorial service:
--May 28,
2014
--edited June 24, 2014
We can journey
by foot—by car—by plane. The Songs of Ascent to which Psalm 121 belongs was
sung as by the children of Israel as they went up to Jerusalem to worship—walking,
in fellowship and celebration along the way.
So we pause
on this process of releasing our Mother’s body in return to the dust from which
it came—we pause to worship—and reflect and celebrate my Mother’s life.
The journey of
the Children of Israel going to Jerusalem is probably more like hiking the Appalachian
Trail than our Interstate highway system and jet plane travel that I am
accustomed to. When I think of a journey
I think of traveling by plane. Boarding
a plane and 15 or 17 hours later disembarking on a different continent
separated by a vast ocean.
A plane flight
journey seems to me an apt analogy of my Mother’s life:
After an
initial and fairly rapid period of ascent most of the flight is spent at a
cruising altitude somewhere around 39,000 feet.
Much of it is relatively smooth but periodically there is turbulence,
bumpy patches—some flights more than others and the very occasional air pocket
where the drop is precipitous. Then toward
the end of the flight the descent begins.
Often this starts close to an hour before the touchdown actually occurs. As the plane descends through the clouds the
turbulence picks up. Then comes the
moment when the pilot puts the plane down on the runway—that can be bumpy, but
every one in a while it touches down so smoothly it is at first uncertain
exactly when you are on the ground.
That is how
it was with my Mother. Her decline was
bumpy. And at the ending of my Mother’s
life the journey fogged in—physical and mental capacity was blurred and
diminished in an ever gradual but always increasing descent. But the landing last Friday night, was smooth
as her breaths grew shorter, less frequent and then she was still.
Your presence
and shared memories today of our Mother is so helpful. I understand more deeply now on the receiving
end why we have our end of life rituals in community. You sharing your memories of our mother especially
help us children remember our Mother’s whole life and not only the final years
in the fog of dementia.
My Mother’s
life was a journey of a number of seasons:
Childhood was
overall happy. And Mother would share
memories of her life on the farm. Most
prominent is the Brendle legend of Grandpa Israel Brendle a rural mail carrier.
Grandpa routinely would time and shape his route so that he was passing by home
at noon and he would stop in for lunch.
One very rainy day the Conestoga creek that flowed through the meadow
was flooded so that even the bridge was under water. But the US mail must be delivered, so after
lunch Grandpa switched from the Model T to Maud, the trusty driving horse and
hitched her to the buggy to get across the creek. Grandma and the children watched as Grandpa
and Maud crossed the creek on the underwater bridge. The horse seemed to slip at one point and Grandpa
leaned up and spoke encouragement. The
horse regained its footing and they made it across the creek rather than
getting swept down river by the current.
Mother
graduated from high school in an era where that was not the assumption. Mother continued
to live with her parents in Goodville and worked at PP&L in New Holland,
and Lancaster as a bookkeeper.
Mother
volunteered to serve in Florida in voluntary service, with EMM, and held children
Bible clubs with migrant farm worker children.
And good thing she did because that is where she met a dashing young man
who became her husband.
They were
married. They moved to Terre Hill, the town
and the Concrete business, where my father met Irvin Horning, one of the
owners. Irvin invited my parents to move
to Reading and join in the life and outreach of the 12th and Windsor
St Mennonite Church. And in Reading is where
Joyce and I were born.
My father
then became the principle at Gehman’s Mennonite School and I became a PK. PK usually means preacher’s kids, but I was a
principle’s kid meaning I faced life five days a week rather than just one
where it was my Dad leading. Mother
worked in the office—assisted Dad—tended to home life.
Then came the
major air pocket, the precipitous change when my father became ill with
cancer. But during the months of my fathers
illness as my father’s body grew weaker their faith became stronger. And that life testimony is what the Spirit of
God used to nudge my heart awake and lead me into starting to take on my own
personal responsibility and walk of faith.
After Dad’s
death Mother found raising us four children age 9 – 16 an incredible challenge. Not always confidently but always
courageously she established us as a family that would continue with a Father
present in memory. Dad had a red tool
box that we always referred to as Dad’s tool box. I recall shortly after Dad’s death I was
mentioning the tools and sort of faltered because I did not know how to refer
to the toolbox. Mother discerned my
hesitation and simply said it can still be Dad’s toolbox.
I recall my
Mother as a women of incredible faith nurtured in the Word of God and
prayer. Supported by friends and sisters. In close proximity was the Irvin and Grace Horning
family and Aunt Arlene and Uncle Erwin, Aunt Marion and Uncle Darrel at a
greater distance and all the rest of you as well brought a community around us
that navigated us through that bumpy portion of our ride. Watching my Mother’s vital faith and
dependency on God was what taught me to grow up in Jesus: as a vital, real,
interactive presence throughout my journey of life.
Then were the
Provident Bookstore years that blended into retirement. And retirement allowed a more flexible
schedule with still substantial health.
I recall I traveled in Europe for a few weeks after I graduated from
college. A friend joined me part way
through and my Mother sent along some extra money since I was running low. And with the money was a note, Enjoy
Switzerland for me because I will probably never get there although I have long
wanted to see the Alps. But a few years later she did have opportunity to
travel to Europe and Holy Lands with Aunt Louisa and her daughter Karen. Mother came to visit us in Hong Kong 3 times,
and even traveled into mainland China.
Mother’s
first time to Hong Kong was when Lia was born; to fulfill the privilege and
duty of helping out with the immediate needs of adjustment to parenthood. But how do you schedule an international
flight around a baby’s birth? Those
dates are not easy to predict with precision.
So Mother told us she prayed and chose a date for the ticket as she felt
led. When Lia was born I gave Mother a
call that her granddaughter and namesake was born. Mother slept a few hours, traveled to the
airport, boarded the plane and came from the airport in Hong Kong direct to the
hospital to see June and Lia where they were still admitted. The next morning they were discharged and we
all went to our apartment together. Mother
prayed and God told her which date to come for maximum purpose.
Fairmount retirement
season initially became a new lease on life since she had many fewer things to
take care of. But then it increasingly
became overwhelming to care for her things and finally overwhelming to care even
for herself. I recall, Lia, saying one
day when she observed that Grandma was not able to focus and pull thoughts
together: Grandma is changing but we still love her.
Finally the dementia
and falling season of her journey arrived.
Dementia and falling linked together because she could not remember that
she would lose her balance if she tried to stand or walk without her
walker. And in one fall she broke a
vertebra in her neck, and never recovered strength and ability to walk after
that.
The loss of
life with dementia has a thousand moments of loss. Each one a jab that is grieved as our loved
one slowly vanishes.
Over the last
two years the prayer I would pray most as I would leave after a visit with my
mother was, God don't let her body outlive her spirit. This prayer God answered because it was only
in the last several months as we would peer into her eyes that there would
sometimes be a look in her eyes searching for a connection rather than the
ready love and appreciative pronouncement of our names. For Mother too it was painful, as long as she
had awareness it was a painful letting go.
As Mother began her long and gradual descent at first the flow,
the connection of insight, recognition, fondness, love—would be there in her
eyes even though she would mess up and say I was her brother rather than her
son, or she would wonder where she was and how we could find her, or she knew
but just could not find the word to get out what she was still knowing.
But in recent months and weeks the spark of recognition and
response dimmed—her spirit was leaving.
And God our loving Father gracefully landed her journey of earthly life
in a smooth transition as she crossed the thin veil and her breath stilled in
time and began face to face with Jesus in eternity.
The landing
season meant letting go of control of her things, her relationships, her mind,
her life breath.
Finally last
Friday as we siblings gathered by her bedside in one final tribute of love, and
care for her, she had nothing left to offer, she had given it all away. All she possessed as she lay there in bed--was
her breath. We were so tuned into that breathing, how much
longer would it continue. Not always
steady but always present, quite audible at times; in and out, pause, in and
out. And then the breaths subsided, and
she was breathing in rhythm with Jesus, arriving there within several hours of
exactly 40 years after my Father died.
Even though her mind was riddled by a disease that kept her
from understanding the present: Is it possible that she kept a sub-conscious
clock? Possible that God did?
Forty is a number used a lot in the Scripture. Forty years
in the wilderness. Forty days Jesus was
tempted in the desert. It indicates a
time of completeness and a move to a new season. That is where we are at, completeness of one
and movement to the start of a new season.
And so it is a transition for us entering a new season of a
journey. True for us: I now am in the
elder generation. But to my children and
nephews and nieces, before you start harassing me about getting old realize
that this means you are now in the middle generation.
But for mother—my goodness, what a transition! She shakes off the limits of time and steps
into the Kingdom of Heaven of eternity. Mother’s
new body will not break down, dementia no longer has a hold, loss of balance is
no longer a problem, she thinks with a clarity and creativity beyond our
imagination!
On that final May 23, 2014 day, 40 years, all that made
heaven wait was the breath in and out of my mother’s body. Breath: in and out—it was the sole presenting
attribute of her life.
Throughout the last day of my Mothers life I was so
conscious of her breath. Her body
insisted to stay involved in life by her breath, hours longer than the doctor
initially projected, her body unaware that letting go is the start of a
resurrected and glorified body that is no longer subject to the curse, and
where the 2nd law of thermodynamics does not apply.
The breath of God shows up in Scripture. The Greek word for Spirit and for breath are
different forms of the same word. So we
can think of the Holy Spirit of God as God’s breath, God’s Spirit movement: at
times tree bending dramatic—at other times the refreshing breeze that wafts the
aroma of the presence of God upon a troubled situation like the evening breeze
carries the scent of honey suckle in a Pennsylvania early summer outdoor Bar-B-Q.
Jesus tells Nicodemus: The Spirit, the breath of God, is
like the wind that carries an impact. An
influence that provides evidence of a reality even though it cannot be seen as a
substance in and of itself. Life as
influence, as breath of relating: In and out; give and receive; it is the
rhythm of life. Healthy humanity and
especially in the body of Christ life is designed this way: life connecting
together, not standing alone: Life with others is like breathing: spirit breathing.
One aspect of spirit is that breath of life that connects us
one to another-the rhythmic giving and receiving: Does a human being know he or
she is human if there is no relating with another human? It is in the connection one to another that
the spirit is evident: Can’t see it but we catch the unmistakable impact.
I think of my Mother in this way: Value added into
relationships around her, receiving even as she was giving:
o
Young Mother’s Sunday School class
o
Carol Wert, worker with EMM in Wales, wrote: My
first job was at Provident and Ruth took me under her wing and cared for me to
succeed
o
Nieces commented of your fond memories of Aunt
Ruth’s personal interaction with you: entering into your world and valuing you
My Mother did not start a cause, no Young Mothers Walking
with Jesus Support group. It was not a cause it was a call into relationships. A call of Jesus to influence through sharing
where she was and what she valued, giving and receiving—in and out—a breathing
rhythm of life.
After Jesus’ death the disciples hid away in the Upper Room
and locked the door. They were afraid
the Jewish leaders that killed Jesus would be after them next. And then to add confusion to their fear
reports were circulating that Jesus had risen. What a confusing bewildering
time. Suddenly: Jesus showed up among
his disciples. When I read this I always
stop to wonder which was more surprising that the walls and locked doors did
not keep him out, or that if so that the floor still seemed to hold him up?
Jesus spoke first and said: “Peace be with you”
Jesus often started his statements like this: Do not be
afraid. It is pretty unprecedented to
have God among you in flesh the incarnate God standing in your living room. Lots of unusual stuff can happen when Jesus
shows up. Jesus speaks again and says, “I was sent by my Father now I am sending
you”
Then Jesus “Breathes
on them” and says what you have received, now give, and keep receiving so
you continually have to give. This word for “breathe” is the only time
it is used in the New Testament. Translated
into Hebrew you would use the same word in Genesis 2 when God first breathed
into Adam and Eve the breath of life.
Now Jesus breathes into his disciples the new creation:
o
Old has gone all has become new
o
Kingdom of God inaugurated at this point
o
Death defeated, no longer the final word, because
Jesus had just risen from the grave
o
New life now existed and called out to breathe
in that new creation breath: Life taken on that starts today and lasts for all
eternity
…by the breath of Jesus.
Talk about a journey! Journey from time to eternity: Even
now while we still live with time—we measure value with eternity in view. Journey of ultimate meaning and destiny:
Destiny to be face to face with Jesus—to see his first glance of recognition,
his eyes light up and say: Well done!
Well done, because you kept breathing my life all along your
journey—good times and struggles: Breathing up to God and out to others and in
from God and others in the rhythms and seasons of life. This 3 dimensional breathing: up to God
giving in worship, receiving in return his life transforming forgiveness and
love, breathing out to others and breathing in what we receive from them. This is a God honoring; Jesus focused
life. It is the life I saw my Mother
live to her last earthly breath.
When the shadows of
life lengthen and the brightness of eternal glory becomes a greater reality
than the noon day sun; heaven and earth draw close together, and the barrier
that separates time and eternity is but a breath.
Let that breath that
captures our consciousness be the sweet breath of Jesus our Pilot that calms
us—and calls us into a new season.
Come Holy Spirit and
breathe your breath of peace and grace into our spirits.
Amen.
