But the title today bears more than one significance. Yes, I have not added new thoughts to this blog in a whole year's worth of special days, but today I want to share about a special person whose long, full life impacted mine so profoundly -- my mother. But her life was long and full -- a whole 92 years of loving -- and I am thankful she has finished her course here and kept the faith in ways that will live on in those who come after her. I base that assertion on the promise in Exodus 20:6.
On November 8 my mother began a sudden downhill descent physically. Earlier that week she had again said she wished to go home, meaning back to live with my father in the small apartment they had shared for three years. My sister Arlene made sure they had times together at their little house several times a week, and on this Thursday she had had lunch and the afternoon with my father. My sister took her back to the rest home (five miles away) in time for the evening meal and bedtime, but before the evening was out, the family was called to please come, something was very wrong with my mother. Her blood pressure had dropped and she felt generally very weak and ill. By Sunday Clayton and I had made the decision to travel to the United States because Mama was not improving but rather losing ground. We traveled on November 13 and found out when we arrived that Mama had also been "flying" that day -- straight home to heaven. Today I want to share a couple photos and the eulogy I wrote and read at her funeral on November 18, 2012. It's sort of long, but even still, it seems so inadequate for all I would like to share about her. (Photos taken spring 2011)
Eulogy read at Salina Gnagey Eberly's funeral at United Bethel Mennonite Church, Plain City, Ohio:
I would love to stand here and look you in the eyes and talk about my mother today. But we would be here too long for me to finish, so I will stick to my written thoughts and share with you what this woman gave to me and to my family.
We knew her as mama. You knew her as Salina - one of God's ordinary people who accomplished extraordinary things with very ordinary resources but with an extraordinary love. My memories of her began on a one acre plot of land west of Pigeon, Michigan. I doubt that any other one acre segment of land on this planet produced more variety than the Eberly homestead: the apple trees my parents planted - seven varieties, no less, along with pears, two kinds of plums, peaches, apricots, three kinds of cherries, and the mulberries, strawberries, raspberries and elderberries. Did I forget anything? :) Oh, and ground cherries! How could I forget one of our family's favorite pies?! And then the vegetable garden and the unique things Mama found to plant along with all the regular stuff. Remember the huge Hubbard squash she had to chop open with an ax? Oh, our table saw many interesting and tasty offerings. I remember smelling the odor of another pressure canner load of green beans being processed as another summer day's work was winding down and Mama tucked us into bed. Every fall the colorful contents of jars of canned garden produce filled shelves in the basement.
Mama's hands were seldom still. In earlier years the tender care of an invalid infant daughter, along with the care of older siblings Linda and Nelson shaped the heart of a young mother. Compassion and sensitivity were definitive trademarks. Evelyn passed away at nine months of age. I was born next, and soon three more siblings filled the quiver and Mama's hands full. Aletha, the youngest, was an invalid with the same congenital disease as Evelyn had had, and she died at three years of age. Arlene, Willard and I grew up as little ones who learned to love and consider the littler, weaker one. Mama and Papa loved us all - and taught us to work. :)
Mama's roots of faith went deep into God's grace during these years. Perhaps many of us would have felt the day was too short to get everything done, nevertheless, daily family worship figured into our lives. Bible reading and prayer were a part of each day. Thank you, Papa and Mama, for not suspending this priority in our family.
Those were the days of wringer washing machines. Need I say more? My maternal grandparents lived in part of our house. They were a source of help and moral strength for our family, and later their needs figured into Mama's full agenda. Mama's hands and heart gave and gave. We never doubted that her hands first served her family. She had that priority straight. But Salina's hands found ways to serve others, and often those others were people with last names that didn't sound like the familiar local community names. Remember Minnie Eimers? The Kamlaperkers? Mr. Schuette? Mrs. Schwab, Mrs. Musselman? [My brother Nelson mentioned the Randoph family and Mr. Lobdale in the obituary]. Salina's heart grew as big as the number of people who needed a friend. Wherever we went, we could expect that Mama would strike up a conversation with whomever she had a minute to exchange a few words of greeting. Those who knew her those last eleven months at the nursing home, came to know her loving spirit, even though her now frequently garbled speech limited extended conversation. Her sunshine smile said so much.
Salina was not your "regular missionary," I guess, but Christ's imprint on her heart showed through in her genuine, loving interest in people. Our parents chose to be involved in mission outreach from the beginning of their life together. During the years they served at five mission locations or "mission stations" as they were called then, and by that, teaching us children their spiritual values by walking out their talk. Mission work was not theory at our house. It was something we did every Sunday. Whether Salina ever made the association, I cannot say, but she literally obeyed Titus 2:3, 4, fulfilling the role of an older woman teaching younger women the spiritual principles of godly mothering through a weekly Bible study that continued many years. Mama loved the Word of God and taught children's and women's Sunday School classes.
Memories flow and blend into other memories. Salina enjoyed color - she knew how to plan pleasing color combinations for the borders of the rugs Papa and we children wove on the looms [of our family rug-weaving business]. She thrilled to see returning birds in the spring - the usual robins, the excitement of spotting a rose-breasted grosbeak in the blossoming cherry tree, or the Baltimore Oriole weaving its unusual nest in the willow tree and later the cedar waxwing helping itself to the bright red cherries outside the living room window. Mama looked, enjoyed and called our attention to the beauties around us. And she made beauty - those doilles she crocheted as a young bride-to-be, her flower gardens, the hundreds of rugs she planned for us to weave, and her later-years-hobby of painting on cloth. She painted and quilted a quilt for each of her grandchildren and later still made soft, colorful cloth balls for the great grandchildren. Her fingers taught mine to knit, crochet, embroider and make tiny stitches and a million other mother tasks. She passed on a legacy of skillful womanhood to her daughters -- and today I love watching my daughters being mothers, and I see unmistakeable, familiar traits.
And Mama sang. Even when her speech skills were affected by the last stroke, she could still sing. And that's what she gave to each of us. A song to sing of thankfulness for a rich spiritual heritage, memories of a home where love and godly virtues surrounded us, a song with varied tunes and words that remind us of Jesus and great grace. And she gave us perhaps the most valuable treasure a mother could have given us: the example of her life lived in daily, common, ordinary ways for God. A life coming from a heart that had allowed itself to be carved into a channel for God's love. Thank you, Mama. The love flowing from your heart continues to flow on to others in more ways than you or we can know. I thank God for designing and creating you and planning for you to be our mother.
Thank you for allowing me to share about my mother. As I typed these words into the computer today, it felt so inadequate, so incomplete. There is so much more to say about her, but this will have to suffice. I am so thankful for all the memories that live on in my heart. She gave her life for her God, her family and so many others and I am so thankful that she was my mother.
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