Preparing for the Memorial

We're up early and getting ready for the memorial service. (I'm waiting my turn for the shower as I write this.) Yesterday the Chapmans arrived from California and we spent an afternoon chatting and catching up before heading out to dinner. Our families spent a lot of time together while I was growing up, and it was an incredible blessing to see them again. I am so grateful they flew out here to Texas to be with my dad and honor my mom. My brother also arrived sometime last night, but I haven't seen him yet. We had all gone to bed before he was scheduled to arrive.

Here's what I wrote out to share at my mom's service this morning. I hope I don't "stick to the script," but figured I ought to have it all written just in case my emotions get the better of me.

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It’s funny how our memories work. All this past week, as I’ve been surrounded with reminders of my mom, my thoughts have been flooded with different “snapshots” of her – memories of different events that captured her personality and spirit, moments in time captured in my mind of who my mom was.

Mom was a fierce and relentless optimist. She was determined to see the good in others and hope for the best in every situation. I remember so many times when she heard one of us complaining about something, she’d just start singing “You’ve got to accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative.”

In fact, music was a big part of mom’s life. Oh, sure, she couldn’t carry a tune. But she sang away loudly and joyfully just the same. When our family arrived here in Texas, the keyboard at mom’s house still had her favorite old music books on the stand, filled with hymns and songs that mom treasured. Our family still jokes about the time when mom got the song “Ramblin’ Rose” stuck in her head, but she couldn’t remember the words. For days she just kept singing the first line of the song over and over again.

Mom’s optimism extended to her cooking as well. She was adventuresome and loved trying out new recipes. After dinner she’s ask us guys to give it a thumbs up or thumbs down, and that determined whether or not the recipe was saved. But, after a while, she kind of gave up on old recipes altogether. I remember mom telling me that there were so many recipes in the world that it’s more fun to always try something new than to go back to the same old things over and over.

Mom was busy with so many other things in life that she never cared much about being a great cook. Still, she made a fantastic applesauce meatloaf. And whenever some of my buddies were coming over the house, she’d always… always… whip up a batch of chocolate chip peanut butter cookies for the gang.

And if things didn’t always go well in the kitchen, that was okay. I remember several Christmases in a row when she tried to make divinity. She’d dutifully pull out the candy thermometer and follow the recipe, but something always went wrong. The batch would either overcook and become hard, or it would taste just fine but be a weird brown color. One time she tried to fix it by adding green food coloring, and the result was really hideous. But instead of being frustrated, mom just laughed about it and tried again. That was just mom’s optimism at work.

Mom was also pretty competitive. She loved card games of all kinds, from Bridge to Canasta to something called “Oh Hell” (and we always teased her for cursing when she talked about it). I have lots of great memories of playing games with mom. And I have to tell you: She was the most fearsome, merciless, cutthroat Monopoly player I’ve ever seen. She wheeled and dealed relentlessly – always with a smile on her face, and almost always winning.

Mom was an incredibly generous person – something she learned from her father. Whenever she went out to dinner with friends or family, she insisted on taking the check. Almost every time we talked on the phone, she ended up by asking if our family needed anything. She volunteered her time at our church in California in all sorts of different ways. She pitched in regularly at a local soup kitchen. And she and dad have spent their retirement traveling around and volunteering their time on various construction projects for camps and churches and all sorts of other organizations.

And she loved to travel. God blessed mom and dad with the opportunity to see the world – from traveling all over Europe to cruising down the Amazon river, from exploring the ruins of Greece and Egypt to seeing wildlife in Africa, from touring Russia to visiting the Holy Land, from New Zealand to Panama to Alaska to China to the Caribbean, they’ve had some incredible opportunities.

Somehow, whenever they traveled, mom had this uncanny way of running into people from Alabama. It was amazing. She could be in some far away place and would strike up a conversation with a stranger, only to recognize the southern drawl and talk about their shared heritage. And mom was proud of her Alabama heritage, especially her alma matter. “War Eagle,” mom!

Mom loved people and was fearless in meeting strangers. I remember so many times up at Lake Tahoe when us guys would go skiing and mom wanted to spend the evening blowing through a roll of nickels on the slot machines – not really in hopes of winning, but using the opportunity to sit next to interesting people. She was a big people-watcher, and she had a knack for goofing around with waiters and store clerks that she met.

So many memories. So many moments and experiences to savor.

I remember the way she honored my dad and had a zero-tolerance policy if my brother and I got sassy. She would be quick to remind us that dad always deserves our respect, and she strived to model that in front of us.

I remember year after year when mom would plan a special trip for her elementary students to visit the California beaches and see the elephant seals. It became an annual highlight in her teaching career.

I will always savor the last special vacation we shared together, not long after she recovered from surgery related to her hydrocephalus. Together with Margo’s mom, our families spent a couple of weeks down at Disneyworld, just exploring the place, laughing, and being together as a family. I especially remember one night at a Polynesian restaurant there where they served these surprisingly potent drinks in pineapple shells, and mom kept calling the waiter over to order another round for everyone. She just loved having fun and being generous (even though she didn’t realize that Margo and I were picking up the tab that night).

Mom loved animals in general, and especially her French Bulldogs.

She never ordered her own dessert, but never hesitated to help dad finish his.

She liked to have noise around her when she was falling asleep, whether it was the buzz of a television or the sound of conversation. There were many times when she’d be visiting at our house in the afternoon and tell everyone to just go on talking so she could doze for a quick nap.

Mom trusted my brother and I with a lot of freedom growing up, and was always there to encourage us in whatever activity we were doing.

I’ll never forget the special moment I shared with her when I escorted her to her seat at my wedding, and the way she beamed at Margo and me.

But most of all, I treasure my mom’s faith. She really, really loved the Lord. In fact, at times it seemed as if she was frustrated that she couldn’t love him even more, or do more for him. She enjoyed studying the Bible. She enjoyed worshiping every Sunday. She enjoyed serving alongside other Christians. She enjoyed praying for the people she loved.

So many memories – more than we could possibly have time to share today. I look forward to carrying those memories with me for a lifetime, and I am so deeply grateful to God for the loving faithfulness and relentlessly positive attitude of my mom.

Margo and I are sad that we missed the opportunity to visit with her and say goodbye by just one day. But as I think about it, I’m so glad that she didn’t have to wait even one more day to be in the presence of her Savior. She didn’t have to go through the hardship of chemo or radiation. She didn’t have to give up her own bed in exchange for the long, lonely hours of a hospital stay. God simply welcomed her home peacefully and quickly.

Now she is free from the cancer, free from the decades of Gorlin’s Syndrome, free from skin surgeries and broken bones and all the other little frailties of our mortality. And I imagine she’s in heaven this morning loudly singing God’s praises in a voice that is pure and sweet and beautiful… and probably on key.

The world feels a bit empty today knowing I can’t pick up the phone and hear mom’s voice, or hold her hand as we walk on some errand, or laugh together over a holiday meal. But I know it’s only temporary. We’ll all be together again, and we’ll sing and laugh and dance and be joyful forevermore.