A Eulogy for Mother

I stand here this morning representing thirty-two direct descendants and the sister and husband of Doris Potter, my Mother. I am the eldest of her six children.

A mother's influence on her children is taken for granted. Many of the things she teaches have such an early origin in her children's lives that they don't realize, or give her credit for the fabric she has woven into their lives.

I thought I'd start by listing just a few of the things that our mother taught us.

Mother started us out by getting us to Sunday School.

She taught us:

• To Love ... and to use the word "Love."

She taught us:

• To be sensitive to other people's feelings.
• Not to tease or make fun of people.
• To listen without passing judgment
• That if you don't have anything good to say about someone you shouldn't say anything at all.

She taught us never to cry "Wolf!" unless there really is a wolf.

I remember a time in Oregon when Allen and I were very little. We had listened to Roy Rogers and other westerns on the radio and heard people in trouble cry 'Help! Haylp!' Of course the hero always came to the rescue and everything ended well.

Once while we were on a picnic at Lake of the Woods, Al and I were wading in very shallow water. Mom and Dad were up the bank a little ways at a picnic table in the trees. We must have just moved a bit out of their view at about the same time we decided to reenact some episode of Roy Rogers rescuing someone who had fallen into the water.

Whichever of us was playing the victim hollered. "Help! Help!"

I can only imagine how terrified they must have been, because they were instantly on the shore, fearing the worst.

I remember learning that day that you just don't do that ... unless you really need help.

I also remember her reading the story of "The Boy Who Cried Wolf" ; to us a few times after that.
The book she read that from was an old book of poetry discarded from a public library. From it we also learned about the Spider and the Fly, and Little Orphan Annie ("And the Goblins 'l git you if you don't watch out!") That book was a treasure to her and became one to us as well.

She would also recite poetry to us.

Some of our favorites:

The little bear sleeps in his little bear skin,
All snug from his head to his toes.
Last night I slept in my little bare skin
And Dog-gonnit! I pret' near froze!

Once a trap was baited with a piece of cheese.
It tickled so the little mouse, it almost made him sneeze.
"Be careful!" said an old mouse, "There's danger where you go."
"Nonsense!" said the little mouse. I don't think you know."

Then he stepped in boldly, no one in sight.
First he took a nibble. Then he took a bite.

Snap! The trap was closed there.
Closed as quick as wink,
catching mousey fast there, 'Cause he didn't think.

With so many children, it's little wonder she recited this one:

Say, I got a baby brother,
Never teased to have him nuther, but he's here.
They just went ahead and bought 'im,
And last week the doctor brought 'im.
Weren't that queer?!

He's so small it's just amazin'
And you'd think he was a blazin', he's so red!
He's as bald as Uncle Jerry on the head.

He isn't worth a dollar.
All he does is cry and holler more and more.
I don't see why they don't change 'im at the store.

Why they'd buy a baby brother,
When they know I'd good deal ruther have a dog!

She obviously had a sense of humor.

Doug and I saw that again as recently as five days before she passed away. She was down to expressing herself only with her eyes and a very weak cry. Doug coughed and her whole body flinched! It tickled her and she was able get out a faint, single breath chuckle.

Mom was a caring, sensitive, loving and empathetic person. She felt others hurts with them and did what she could to make things better for them. She would give, even when she had little to give.

One of the most painful things for her the Christmas after her stroke was that she was no longer able to give gifts to her children and grandchildren. She cried because she couldn't give.

Mom Loved Animals.
Whether it was a dog, a cat, or a bird, she enjoyed them.

Living near Disneyland, Jim and Mom often had parrots perch on the lines around their house. In fact their house and yard seemed to attract them sometimes. She would often call to tell about them or some other unusual bird that had been there. One time she called about a big green spider Jim had found in the plants by their patio. She wanted me to try to identify it.

She especially loved horses. She grew up loving them and had several of her own as a young person. She and Jim planned to move to Oregon to raise miniature horses. She was never able to realize that dream.

Several years ago I mentioned to someone that Dad's death was relatively easy for me, but that I probably wouldn't handle Mom's death well at all. You see? I knew Dad's relationship with Christ, but I didn't know of Mother's.

When she had the stroke, that worry intensified. I tried to get up the nerve night after night to share Christ with her as I had intended so many times in the years before. We did get in the habit of praying with her just before visiting hours ended and she tried to go to sleep.

When it became time for her to leave the skilled nursing facility in Westminster, she insisted on saying goodbye to all her new friends.

She told one she would pray for her. She went out of her way (being pushed in a wheel chair) to make sure she didn't miss anybody, whether staff, volunteer or patient.

One woman came to her and gave her a big hug and asked:

"Who's in your heart?"
She said, "Jesus."
I began to fall apart (like I am now), and ran after the woman, who was now headed down the hall.
I asked if she had led her to Christ.
She told me that Mom had responded in a church service a few days before. I can't begin to tell you the relief that was and the tears of joy I shed as I began to follow her and Jim home.

Mother regained some strength for a month or so after the hospital stay and then began the steady decline that ended Sunday night. She suffered in a way that tested all of our faith.

I don't understand why Mother had to suffer, or why God allowed that suffering to last so long. But I'm sure she understands now.

When we join her in Heaven, I think our first words will be, "Of course! It couldn't have been any other way!" -- But I sure don't understand it now!

A brief message to any who think more could have been done:

Please don't hold bitterness toward any of us who were charged with her care over the last 17 months. Some may believe that there was more that could have been done to help her recover. I do not believe there was. But if you really think there was: Please, for your sake and ours, forgive us for not finding it. We really tried.

Mom, as much as any of us, accumulated things in her life that made her feel unforgivable. She had trouble accepting the fact that she could be forgiven, -- that God really could love HER. She never held a high opinion of herself. She felt little self worth.

I stand here representing many proclaiming that she was and is of great value and worth!

Mom,
We lift you up!

Aunt Muggsie wrote this Monday morning:

For Doris

Grief is not easy.
It is hard on the heart and the mind and the soul
To lose one you've loved your life long.
Even when you knew it would come;
Yes, even prayed it would come...
And release you from this bondage you've known.

We know it is best
Your life's journey is done.
Our faith has you safely at home
In the arms of our God,
Who is holding you now
In His loving and comforting way.

We'll miss you so much.
The One that you were
Before this illness happened to you.
You were good ...you were kind...
You were loving and caring.
A good wife, mother, sister and friend.

Now the time's really here;
The good-byes must be said.
That we've known for so long we must say.
Still, grief isn't easy...
It is hard on our hearts
And our minds and our souls!