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| Betty A. Thomas 1929-2020 |
Mom wasn’t too anything! Like Baby Bear’s porridge, chair, and bed
that Goldilocks borrowed, Mom was “just right.”
Not too tall, not too short, not too talkative, not too quiet, not too
messy, not too neat, not too plump, not too thin (until the end!), not too
rich, not too poor. She was truly
unique. One of a kind. Yet at the same time, she was almost iconic,
your basic genteel Texas mom of the 1950s, ‘60s, and ‘70s.
Mom was never one to stand out in a crowd or in any way to
draw attention to herself. The worst
part about having a visible cancer was the dread of having people notice her,
look, or stare. She was attractive and
always appropriately attired, but her clothing style was classic, never
trendy. After settling on a hair-do and
color that suited her, she unapologetically embraced that signature look until
the day she died. Even when cancer had begun to ravage her facial features, she
was lovely. Still the same. Timeless.
Classic.
Mom was polite and mild-mannered. No one could ever accuse her of having a
short fuse, but nor did she hold things in and suddenly explode with pent-up
anger. She dealt with frustrations in a
healthy way, even with an imperfect husband by her side for over fifty years,
and with four children who took after their dad in more ways than she might
have preferred. Mom would never dwell on
an offense, and with time, she literally forgot each and every one. At least that’s what she would have us
believe.
She emphasized and modeled the Christian value of not saying
anything if you couldn’t say something nice. (After watching the TV news about
the president, she simply said, “Well, one thing I will say, and that is that
my stocks sure have done well since Trump took office.” That was, of course, pre-Corona virus days.) She had opinions, but was never opinionated
or argumentative. She was never a
busy-body or a gossip, even though she may have known a few. She also knew a
few bad words, but I only ever heard her borrow one half a century ago when a glass
jar of honey broke on the kitchen floor.
Mom was caring and concerned with her adult children and
their hang-ups and problems, but she never interfered. She stood faithfully by our side when we made
a mess of things, but didn’t blame us or beat herself up for not stepping in
and trying to prevent it. None of her
sons- and daughter-in-law had a complaint with Mom. That in itself is extraordinary.
What else can I add? While
Mom wasn’t overly comical or funny, she did enjoy a spontaneous laugh on
occasion. I distinctly remember laughing
with her over a goof-up we made while playing duets at the piano, when both of
us laughed until we cried. Mom was
musically talented, but humble and unassuming.
She didn’t have to pretend to be happy; she was truly content
with her lot in life. She was genuinely
sad at times, but never morose. She was
loving and kind, but not gushy or overly affectionate. Mom was comfortable in a crowd, but
equally content by herself.
Mom was never particularly adventurous, but she wasn’t
cowardly either. Mom enjoyed travel, but
was just as happy with the Dallas Arboretum as she was with Butchart
Gardens. She enjoyed playing Bridge and
other games, but she was not overly competitive.
Toward the end of her life as she began losing some of her
independence and experiencing pain for the first time ever, some family members
may have started tossing around descriptive words we had previously only used
to describe our grandmother, like stubborn.
But even then, I would have to search for a more positive word suitable
for a woman who always gave others the benefit of the doubt. We will remember her as determined and strong
and capable.
Mom
was predictable yet thoroughly surprising.
Daily I was intrigued with her strength, her dignity, her Pollyanna
“look at the bright side” approach to life, her obvious pride in her family,
her love for God, and the gentle fruit her life produced. “The fruit of the
Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness,
faithfulness, and self-control.” She
exhibited all of these in a quiet unassuming way, behind the scenes. Having tasted and enjoyed that fruit, I’d say
that is the most extraordinary quality of Mom’s – the hidden fruit.
Few people in the world can boast of a sixty-year
relationship with a mom they still consider their super hero. I am grateful to God for this precious
gift.
“The (woman) who tries to be good, loving, and kind finds
life, righteousness, and honor.”
Proverbs 21:21
Mom passed away this morning, April 15, 2020, after a year-long battle with cancer. She approved of this message before she died.
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