Living in the moment

This is my eulogy, as delivered at mom’s Memorial Service. You can listen to me deliver it through the youtube link.

After Mom passed away, our family had a meeting at the church with Pastor Thomas. When we arrived, he guided us to a large table in a meeting room down the hall.

He had a pencil and paper in his hand, and he made notes as he asked a few basic questions in preparation for the memorial service. What day and time did we have in mind? How many family members would be there? That kind of stuff. It was all easy. Then he asked an innocent-sounding question.

“What can you tell me about Jan?”

We didn’t have an answer. We sat dumbstruck, staring at each other in silence. Nobody could answer his simple question. Moment after moment passed at a table filled with people who always have something to say, but no answer came, just uncomfortable quiet.

Eventually, we stumbled through enough random facts to fill his page, but I left wondering why that was such a hard question to answer. Why couldn’t I describe my own mother?

It is easy to describe other people in my family. They are hard-charging people with long lists of accomplishments that can be used to describe them. Mom was quiet and never seemed very interested in conquering the world, or even in competing with others for a prize.

Mom did not leave trophies that filled her shelves or certificates that lined her walls. To my knowledge, there are no plaques memorializing her achievements. If you google her name, there aren’t many search results that tell you about her life. As the world measures success, she may not have accomplished very much. But that wasn’t how she measured success.

That night, I sat alone in an empty room trying to think about why she was special to me.

There are boxes upon boxes of old photographs at mom and dad’s house. I picked up one of the boxes and flipped through the stacks of pictures inside it, looking for inspiration. Mom loved to travel and there are hundreds of pictures taken in Ireland, Germany, Scotland, Australia, Newfoundland, and other places.

I never heard Mom talk about the history of those places, or how the culture is different from ours. She didn’t go there to gather information or even to make memories, she went simply to enjoy the trip. The best pictures of her don’t show her standing against a famous backdrop; they show her with her head thrown back laughing.  There are a lot of those pictures.

Mom didn’t take many of the pictures, partly because she was a terrible photographer. She didn’t worry about how to capture moments, she focused on how to live in them. She did that better than anybody.

Other stacks of pictures show her Louisiana family. Mom was a diehard cajun who loved food. Some of her favorite memories were meeting at her brother, Jimmy’s house for a crawfish boil. The smell of seasonings cooking in the giant stew pot was intoxicating and she would swoon when he poured out the giant pot full of bright red crawfish, potatoes, and corn on the cob. Everyone would sit around the table peeling, eating and swapping stories. It could go for hours.

Dad was an early-to-bed, early-to-rise guy, and he would routinely remind her that it was past time for bed, but she didn’t care.  She would say “I don’t want to miss the party.” She wanted to savor every moment.

There were other endless piles of pictures of Mom with her grandchildren. She loved each one of them dearly and would sit with them for hours. She would read them stories, or talk jibberish words with the toddlers. When their eyes got droopy, she would rock them to sleep and hold them as long as possible. Even as babies, they knew she was 100% focused on them. Everything else disappeared while she lived in that moment.

There aren’t any pictures of her as she spent hours on the phone with me. We lived in different cities most of the time and I usually called her several times a week. She loved to hear the little details of what I had going on. I loved talking to her because she never judged me or tried to push me in any direction. She was able to guide my life by listening and believing that God had great plans that stretched in front of me.

When I talked to her, she never seemed rushed or distracted. It was like she put everything she had into that moment, and I loved her for it.

Mom was brilliant in her ability to live in the moment. There are no trophies or certificates for that kind of thing, but she changed her corner of the world. Living in the moment is the very nature of love, and I still see her in the people she shared her life with.

Dad is a whirlwind of activity, who trained us to never sit still. But he sat with mom for hours every day for the past year and more. He fed her, helped her to get dressed, and watched over her when she could not take care of herself. He set aside his whole life to serve someone in their moment of need. That’s mom and you can see her in him.

Preston is a giant of a man who exudes macho. But this week at a crowded table during lunchtime, he quietly held his granddaughter and responded to every facial gesture she made to him. Emery knows that he is always paying attention to her. That’s mom and you can see her in him.

Kelly and I text each other at night. Not the little two words and a smiley face messages, but screens full of the things going on in our lives. I know she will answer when I am overwhelmed with life. I’m over 50 years old now, but still leap into things without thinking and when I don’t know what to do, she tells me not to worry, because she can see through eyes of faith that God has even bigger plans for me. That’s mom and you can see it in her.

Kim, for years, was uncomfortable hosting people at the house. All of the details of planning, preparing, navigating and being judged by guests was frustrating to her. I have seen her change, though. She doesn’t worry about the details anymore, she enjoys her guests. Little details may go unattended while she focuses on enjoying their company. That’s mom and you can see it in her.

I am impatient and get frustrated with people. When I lash out in criticism about someone in our lives, James and Erin gently remind me why we care about that person. They are kind. That’s mom and you can see her in them.

Mom’s legacy fills this room. Each of us is forever changed because of the time we spent with her because she lived her life by a different code.

Her code is captured best in 1 Corinthians, chapter 13.

• Love is patient, love is kind. Love does not envy, is not boastful, is not arrogant, is not rude, is not self-seeking, is not irritable, and does not keep a record of wrongs.

• Love never ends.

I have so many questions about why such a hard ending came to such a beautiful spirit. I have been angry, depressed, confused, and more. I miss her badly but I am comforted because I can still see her in each of you.

Thank you to everyone who came here today. You are a living mosaic of her life. As you go and love the people in your life, I know that mom will never be forgotten, because love never ends.