A Memoir of Mom

It’s the anniversary of my mother’s birthday, born August 28, 1942. Funny how I remember one of mom’s quips, “in 1492 Columbus sailed the ocean blue, in 1942 my mother gave birth to me, Susie Q!” It still makes me smile and because of her, I remember a tid bit of history. My mom passed away on September 28, 1999. She was 57 years old. It’s strange for me to think I’ve now surpassed her in years on this earth. Always this time of year, I get a bit melancholy thinking and remembering her and other family members who have passed on. But on this day, when I remember she breathed her first breath of air in this earthly existence, the day of her birth and the beginning of her earthly life, I’m reflecting on her life and the life she breathed into others. This is what I and my sister shared at her funeral service. As I share it again, May it bring a blessing to you, encourage you and challenge you to find joy, hope, strength and life in all things, but most importantly, in Jesus.

The Joy of the Lord Was Her Strength

My mom, Susan Lillian Gahring Dunn Woods

By: Kathleen Dunn (and Deborah Dunn Yeager), © November 1999

“I have learned to be content in whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Philippians 4:13

During this time of year, I can’t help but be caught in the memories of my mother, who joined my brother 4 years after his passing to be in the presence of the Lord. When my brother passed, I wrote about the gift of time – how precious it is. I still believe that what we can take with us to heaven is the memories and the jewels we will have in our crown is what things that were of eternal value that we passed on to others.

Reflecting on my mother and her life, I can wholeheartedly express that she left a great legacy of faith & joy!

Momma was diagnosed with lung cancer December 1998 and throughout 1999 as we struggled as a family, I watched my mother increase in faith. Sure, there were times we cried together, but the times of laughter far surpassed all others. She did have struggles with all those “why” questions and even was discouraged… but her faith never wavered. In the last 6 months of her life, she was completely bedridden, yet she never complained about it. When people came to visit, she would always be seen smiling and encouraging those who were supposed to be encouraging her.

Rather than go on with all my thoughts, I thought I would share what my sister, Deborah wrote as a memorial to her great legacy of faith and joy…

“One of Mother’s favorite songs was ‘The Joy of the Lord is My Strength’.

You couldn’t just hear her sing it.

You couldn’t just watch her sing it.

You had to give yourself over to the experience of the song.

The laughter and the fun and the praise were real, palpable, contagious. And that is much like her life in general – you couldn’t observe her from afar, as a disinterested bystander to her life. You had to give yourself over to the experience that was Susan. Her laughter and fun and joy were real, were palpable, were contagious.

Never content to sit by the sidelines and watch life go by, she jumped in with limbs flying and bells ringing. She was quick to forgive, quick to embrace, and quick to hurt on behalf of others. Her empathy was such that she spent her Christmas spending money on a homeless family when she came to visit me in San Francisco. Her hugs were like balm to the soul. She didn’t give those hugs where you stand just close enough to bend at the waist and give an obligatory kind of shoulder hug and pat on the back. She embraced you – and when she embraced you, you felt embraced by her life, her light, her energy. She could laugh like no one else – and although always conscious of the volume of her voice, she just couldn’t tone it down – it was beyond her. Her exuberance and enthusiasm could not be contained.

As a mother she was beyond comparison.

She was always a little “more” than other mothers – a little more involved,

A little more emotional,

A little more loud,

A little more herself.

I recently told her I was proud of her, and she said, “what for?” with some degree of amazement. And although I could not begin to list all of the reasons for you here today, let me start with this and give you the freedom to add your own reasons:

Without much formal education, she ran a couple of businesses, organized a mentally gifted minor program, taught junior high school, and became a very successful Avon lady and regional officer for Girl Scouts. She organized neighborhoods to get playground equipment for children, swimming lessons, and safer play areas. She organized parents and participated in the Feingold program for hyperactive children. She taught Sunday school for many years and was looked up to by younger people in the Church. She brought desperate and lonely people into her home, cared for them, and sent them back out into the world. She organized a program to feed the homeless in a Redding park and every Saturday they set up a barbecue to feed the poor. She cared for many elderly people both through her church and through “adopt-a-grandparent” programs. She won numerous awards at various county fairs for floral arrangement, crafts, and photography.

She taught us to stand firm in our beliefs, to love camping and roasting marshmallows and singing campfire songs. She taught us how to make May Day baskets for the shut-ins in our neighborhood, to visit the elderly in nursing homes whose own grandchildren would not be spending the holidays with them, and she taught us how to go without Thanksgiving dinner one year so that we could feed another family. To our amazement, we returned home to find all of the fixings for own holiday meal on our front porch. To this day we don’t know where it came from – but she knew it came from God and so we were doubly blessed that holiday season.

She taught us how to sing, “do your ears hang low”, “waddly atcha” and “under the spreading chestnut tree”. She taught us to treasure our gifts and the gifts of others. She taught us to give when it seemed you had nothing to give – such as when she gave balloon animals to the cancer patients and staff in the cancer care center in her clown wig and horn – she, who was dying of cancer, still thought to bring joy to others.

But most importantly she taught us how to love, how to laugh, how to smile, even in the hardest times. She taught me, toward the end, what it means to have faith, true faith, and what it means to be content. She told me that God had really blessed her – and she was content those final months”. – by Deborah Dunn Yeager

Momma has left all that knew her a great legacy of faith and joy. My thoughts are best expressed in the following words to a song I wrote for her and for all of us who will carry on her legacy of faith & joy.

Some watching said you were a fanatic.

Still others thought that you were odd.

But in the watching and the waiting,

We could see the reflection of God.

Handing out food, balloons, or your hugs,

Traveling dusty roads even as a clown,

You hugged the dirty, the lonely, the outcast

And encouraged us all to sing along…

That the joy of the Lord will be my strength.

I will run and not grow weary, I’ll not faint.

And I can do all things, all things,

I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.

We were watching when you lost your son, my brother.

The gusty blows came sudden and hard.

But through it all you showed God’s forgiveness

In the midst of all your pain and your doubt

You sang and smiled your way through all the sorrow.

Altho’ you wept your faith stayed so strong

You shared your laughter and your joy.

We couldn’t help but laugh and sing along.

That the joy of the Lord will be my strength.

I will run and not grow weary, I’ll not faint.

And I can do all things, all things,

I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.

Then watching your struggle with cancer

Full of pain every breath a miracle

Still you smiled, you blessed, you gave

You laughed and sang to us still.

The promises, and the scripture verses

The Bible passages all marked and worn

Still speak to me and those you love

Of a joy, a peace, and of a world beyond.

When it was time for you to pass over

And the night was growing dark

Your song of joy joined with the angels

And your laughter and your song still carries on!

And the joy of the Lord will be my strength.

I will run and not grow weary, I’ll not faint.

And I can do all things, all things,

I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.

For this season and in the months and years to come… no matter what trials, woes, or tribulations come… focus on the eternal things, the things that will not pass away… fix your gaze on the Author and the Finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross… He will be your strength, your hope, your joy, your life.

“Go and enjoy choice food and sweet drinks and send some to those who have nothing prepared. This day is sacred to our Lord. Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.” Nehemiah 8:10

Mom and I, Summer 1999

Grief, Understanding, Hope…

I’ve been overwhelmed with grief this week & especially yesterday. Now that decisions were made & death is “done”… a sense of relief has come. But… the depths and cycles and seasons of grief continue. My dearest friend lost her father on Wednesday, September 19th. Then we put to sleep our dear sweet cat, Misty Rose on Saturday, September 22nd.

I remember after losing my brother (he was 26yrs. old) suddenly from a drunk driver in August 1995 and going to church between his death and funeral, a friend not knowing what occurred made an innocent comment, “why do you look so down, it’s not as if someone has died.” I was cut to the core by the insensitive statement. Later, she apologized profusely.

I once went to a conference just a few weeks after the death of my mother after a prolonged time in hospice care from cancer in September 1999. I attended one of the many workshops offered between the main sessions. It was entitled something along the lines of “Dealing with Death, Grief & Loss”. Granted, my emotions were raw, and why I chose this over others were mixed. However, I was completely unprepared for the opening remarks of the speaker, “I don’t know which is worse, the sudden death of a loved one or the gradual dying and death of a loved one. Having not experienced either one, I can only imagine what that might be like.” I remember promptly standing up in the middle of approximately 50-100 people and saying something like, “then what qualifies you to speak at all.” Then not waiting for an answer I walked out, sat down in an isolated corner and wept. Some friends came and silently comforted me.

I had experienced both kinds of deaths. Sudden unexpected ones, prolonged ones, and ones of elderly family members.

I had before and after that time lost others close to me, friends, family and my dear pets.

Recently, during this week of “death”, a friend mentioned “they would call and nothing would get in the way short of someone dying”. Unknown to them my dear friend’s dad was on death’s door and our cat was very ill.

I only bring these three examples to our attention because we often say things jokingly, sarcastically, or as “just a phrase or manner of speaking”. But often are “innocent” comments hurt deeply.

We should choose our words wisely and only speak truth in love. In the case of deep sorrow, even the words, “I understand” or “I know how you feel ” followed by “because I’ve been there.” Can cause intense pain and/or anger.

To be truthfully honest we truly do NOT understand nor do we know how another feels. Each death is uniquely different from every other one or other person’s perception of it.

Each person is uniquely different and each relationship with the loss of the loved one was uniquely different – this is true within families, this is true with each pet. The loss of a person or pet is felt differently and because we all process death in our own way, no two deaths will ever be the same.

Having said this, there are behavioral and psychological studies that show similarities about death – mainly that there are cycles of grief and loss that we can identify: Shock, Anger, Relief, Depression, Denial, Acceptance, etc. AND it’s not like it goes through “steps”, rather each phase can jump from one to another and then back again and then on to another.

Because grief is a process we need to be patient, kind, caring and compassionate providing comfort, a listening ear, even if memories or details are repeated. The same can be said of ourselves going through the grief: be kind, caring, compassionate and patient with ourself.

So as I grieve, I am doing one thing, giving myself permission to grieve and not “have it all together”.

I do grieve as one who has hope… my hope is in the Lord! He is the One, who truly understands ALL things, sees things so entirely clear, and can give comfort, healing and catch every tear in a bottle of remembrance. I look forward to that day, where there will be no more sorrow, death is destroyed, and every tear will be wiped away.