Mom

The following is the eulogy that I gave at Mother's funeral yesterday. I thought that I'd share it with you so that you could get a sense of who she was.

Thank you for coming today to celebrate the life of Lemine Louise Massingill Stephens. She was born in Comanche County, Texas on November 29, 1924 to Johnie Marie Tally Massingill and William Lemma “Lemmie” Massingill both of whom are deceased.

On December 21, 1940, she married J. Wayland Stephens in Comanche, Texas. She passed away on Friday, March 28, 2008 at the age of 83.

She was preceded in death by her parents, her husband, and two grandsons, Joni Lynn Stephens and Shannon Chad Stephens.

Lemine had four children, all of whom survive her: Gayland Jay Stephens and his wife, Ella Faye of Hamilton; Rickie Don Stephens, and his wife, Gloria, of Comanche; Brenda Gail Stephens Andrews, and her husband, Kenneth of Hamilton; and Karen Kay Stephens Price and Rick Price of Gatesville.

Her grandchildren are Jana O’Neal and husband, Randy, of Weatherford; Dana Chancellor and husband, Tommy, of College Station; Dr. Tonya Stephens and fiancée, Dave Cyplik, of Ocala, Florida; Brett Stephens and fiancée, Elizabeth Sanderson, of Early; Dr. Rena Dunahoo and husband, Nick, of Lake Belton; Britney Aaron and husband, J. P., of Cranfills Gap; Chad Andrews of Texas A & M; Whitney Posey, Lexi Price and Nick Price, all of Gatesville, Tyler Price of Corpus Christi, Coltyn Price of Graham, and Tierra Campbell of Waco.

In addition, she has seven great-grandchildren: Riley O’Neal, Jaret O’Neal, Layton Chancellor, Aaron Chancellor, Addison Dunahoo, John Simon Waller and Cooper Waller.

She lived almost her entire life in Comanche and Hamilton Counties within a twenty mile stretch. However, there was a period of time during World War II, when she lived in Kilgore, Texas while Dad was stationed at Camp Fannin.

During her lifetime, she worked as a telephone operator, as a clerk at Garner-Alvis Department Store, a seamstress, a cook, and as a sitter for those with Alzheimer’s, including my mother-in-law.

She was named after her father, Lemmie, but she never particularly liked her name. . . Lemine Louise. She said it was too unusual. People couldn’t remember it. So, her old friends, obligingly called her “Meenie”.

As with most people, she passed through stages. Whenever we were little, she made us feel safe and secure. She was the person we ran to for comfort and solace. She was our rock. Mom’s life was one of curves and challenges that she could not anticipate. Yet, she somehow managed to cope with them and become an inspiration to us all.

Mother was a cowgirl at heart. As a child, she developed a love for horses. She rode her little horse, Old Short, the three or so miles to and from Lamkin to school from her home place north of Lamkin. She told us stories about how she would cut a green switch to work him over if he needed it. She instilled in us her love for horses. She taught us how to ride and reminded us that a horse was part of our legacy. Mom said that our grandfathers and great grandfathers were as good a horsemen as there ever were and that we should respect their legacy enough to learn the skills of horsemanship. It thrilled her when she learned that Brett was breaking and training horses.

Mom loved rodeos, too, especially bull riding. When she got to where she couldn’t go to them in person, she’d watch them on TV.

Another of Mom’s great loves was fiddle music. Her daddy, Papa Lemmie, was a fiddler. On Saturday nights, he’d join with other local musicians for home-made dances. The ladies would prepare their best dishes and the adults would dance while the kids played outside.

Her love of fiddle music probably was the reason she loved to dance. She and Dad would take us to dances when we were teens. She’d say “You’re here to dance. When you quit dancin’, we’ll go home.” All our friends loved being around her. As she got older, she continued to dance by going to the Senior Citizen dances where she was an equal opportunity dancer – she’d dance with men . . . or women, just so long as she got to dance.

Mother made do with what she had. She raised chickens and maintained a garden. Her meals were made from what she grew. She was creative, too. She’d make vinegar pies when she didn’t have fruit. We’d eat wienies and gravy at the end of the month.

On her washing days, she’d saddle up Papoose, our horse, and put me on him. After swatting him on the rear, she’d watch to see which way he went. If he took off to the left, she knew he’d take me to Harrison Ellenburg’s barn where he’d eat oats. If he took off to the right, we’d be headed to the tall green grass over Euel Eddleman’s septic tank. She’d simply call them and tell them to send me back home when she had finished her washing.

She met adversity head on. When she was thirty-nine, she thought she had a cancerous tumor. So she braced herself for the news from the doctor. It was Karen.

Mom enjoyed watching Rick and Gayland, “the boys” as she called them, play football. She never missed a single high school game. In fact, she had Karen on a Sunday and went to Gayland’s football game in Comanche that next Friday.

Mom attended our school plays. Her favorite was the Rick’s fifth grade play when he was “Hoss Cartwright”. She made costumes, helped with classroom parties and school festivities, taught Bible school, and took us to church.

Mom valued education and encouraged each of us to go to college or gain some sort of self-sustaining skill. She was so proud of her children and grandchildren and their accomplishments.

Mom was not a high maintenance woman. She liked things simple. She didn’t wear much jewelry; she didn’t much like ruffly clothes; she didn’t wear colognes.

However, Mom was a woman of strong opinions about some things. . . she did not like blue (she always told us that if we buried her in blue, she’d come back to get us). . . she hated collars. . . she didn’t like chicken no matter how it was prepared. That was as a result of eating so much of it during the “chicken raising” years.

She wasn’t complicated either. If she liked you, she liked you. If she didn’t, she didn’t. There was little doubt to which category you fit.

She found an unusual strength within following her second surgery. In the recovery room, she quipped that “now I’m the same height as Kenneth Dale.”

She said that once she “got back on her feet” (so to speak) that she could pursue a new vocation: base-board painting.

Once becoming a patient, she appointed herself the assistant nursing home administrator and assistant director of nurses at Hamilton Healthcare Center. She felt it was her duty to help the personnel with the “old” people who resided there. Many of the nurses and aides bonded with her and would spar verbally with her which was something that made her days more tolerable.

She was a high-tech grandmother. After losing her legs, the television and the cell phone were her links to the outside. She talked to her special friends, Darlene and Frankie Nell, daily and just “listened” to Karen. She could discuss with us what was going on in the world at any time because she watched the news. She was an avid sports fan, too. She followed the Dallas Cowboys and the Mavericks.

We’d go for rides together. On our outings, we’d sometimes go out to Lamkin and Gentrys Mill and Carlton to see how things had changed where she grew up. Within the past few years, Mom required that we check on the Circle T Arena’s building progress. It became her project. She thought it was a great asset to our community. Whenever the arena manager allowed us to drive inside so that she could see it, she was in awe. That’s all she talked about for weeks.

Although I’d offer her alternatives, she always wanted to go by Chicken Express to get a 5-piece catfish meal with two sides – cole slaw and corn nuggets. We’d go to a park somewhere and she’d eat every bite. While we were out, we’d pick up some Dollar store pickles, tomatoes, and Doritos to take back to the nursing home.

A while back, someone mentioned that my mother was the most optimistic person she’d ever known. She continued by relating a story that her daughter had told her. Her daughter had taken communion to Mother at the nursing home and had observed that mother was upbeat and light-hearted and required the same from those around her.

She said that if anyone in the home had any reason to be down or angry, that it would be Mother given her condition. Yet, time and again, she held a positive outlook. She handled life from then on with a lot of humor. Her demeanor served as inspiration to us all.

She was well-known by the hospital employees and doctors who marveled at how she would recover from her hospitalizations. They often referred to her “nine lives”.

Both the nursing home and the hospital were exceptionally good to her and spoiled her rotten and the family and Mom appreciate their work.

When preparing her eulogy, I asked for adjectives that described mother. Some of those adjectives included: positive outlook, big-hearted, bossy, determined, feisty, independent, jokester, jovial, a kidder, opinionated, a pill, set in her ways, spunky, strong-willed and sassy, tough and witty. Each one of these words could adequately be used.

When you think about it, the adjectives used to describe mother’s personality also describe her children. We have come to realize that the apples don’t fall far from the tree.

As we grew older, she knew that we must become self-sufficient. Mom was an only child and Dad was an only child. That meant that the four of us had no aunts, uncles, nor first cousins. Because of that, they knew that they must give us both roots and wings because we would only have each other to rely on once they were gone

To her grandchildren, she was Nonnie, and she loved them very much. They could do a lot worse than using her life’s example as an inspiration.

Last night, there was a lot of laughter at visitation. In our family, there’s always a story. We heard many more last night that we can pass along. Thank you for sharing in Mom’s special day with us. She’d be so pleased.

"A friend loveth at all times." Proverbs 17:17