Mom was a woman of many talents. An organizer extraordinaire. A fabulous cook. A deep thinker. A hospitality queen. A servant and lover of people. An encourager. A follower of Christ. An empathetic ear. A noticer of details. A lover of color and design. And a memory maker.

One life contains so many layers, doesn’t it? So many talents. All wrapped up in this beautiful woman whom we have called Mom from the beginning.

She was this lovely package of gifts, and they each contributed to what I call her ministry of place. I have never heard of a ministry of place, but as I was pondering her life these last few months, the word place came up over and over in my mind. As I reflected, it became clear that each of her gifts gave her the ability to create spaces that welcomed people. Not just physical spaces, but spiritual ones as well. Emotionally safe places of rest. The more I thought about it the more I recognized she was a minister of place.

Every person on the planet wants to feel like they belong. Belonging is one of our greatest desires. It directs our lives and decisions from the time we are young. Mom had the ability to gift others with a sense of belonging. A sense of being a part of a group who loved one another be it family or friends. Her invitations to go deeper as people, were handed out to us all. As she sought God and grew, she wanted us to as well, but if we didn’t…she was okay with that, too. Meeting people where they were was her specialty. Doling out wisdom was as natural as breathing for her.

She cooked for multitudes and welcomed everyone into her home. She held bridge clubs, retreats, book clubs, and family gatherings with gusto. She never backed away from a challenge when it came to serving people. She had the heart of a shepherdess. She collected sheep, both literally and figuratively. She hosted the 99 or catered to the 1. It didn’t matter to her which, because she valued every one of them.

Her physical spaces were important to her. They brought a sense of beauty, order, and calm. More importantly, those spaces, drew people in and set them at ease immediately. Her empathy for others adorned her walls. Her compassion created a feast at her tables. Her hugs could make us weep without a word. Her understanding and ability to read between the lines was legendary. She got people. Even if she couldn’t fully relate, she communicated worth, with words or without.

The thing about having a ministry of place is that it doesn’t just happen at your home, it follows you wherever you go. She could bring this feeling of belonging into other spaces as well. Sitting for a conversation at a tea room, was one such place. How many of us here have had that time with her at some adorable little café and left feeling refreshed and renewed?  Her ministry in the church prepared places for worshipers to commune with God. Another place she ministered was in hospital waiting rooms. During our months in the hospital with my husband Bill’s brain injury, she was there every day. In the lobby, holding space for me to come to when I needed it. On overwhelming days, I knew I could go there and just be. I could cry or not. I could just sit and sigh. She didn’t have to say anything, just being there was enough.

On the day I was diagnosed with cancer she called. She had an intuitive way of knowing when she was needed. I don’t know if all moms can do that, but she was the queen of timing. She said, “How are you?” I said, “I have cancer.” She said, “Can I come?” I said, “Yes please.” Short and sweet. Within an hour she had driven across the mountain and opened a place…in her arms to me, where we wept together in her embrace for 30 minutes.

Then a week later, after my surgery, she bought two Shalom hearts, one to set on my bedside table and one for hers. When I saw it through my sedated fog, she told me it was there for me to remember she was praying for me. She created a place of peace…in a hospital room. And I carried it with me to the chemo lab as well. Now, I look at that heart every day and think of her.

Not all the places she created were for hard moments, some were for fun. The New Years’ Olympics for the grandkids were one of those. She invited them all to Cloudwood, where they played games all night, until midnight…so they thought. Unbeknownst to them, she set the clocks ahead two hours. It was years before they knew her secret. There was a torch race and a medal ceremony with the Olympic theme playing. It is not lost on us that today is the first day of the Olympics in Paris. That wasn’t planned, we didn’t recognize it until all the details were arranged. Mom is winking at us all.

Then there were the candy cane hunts at Christmas, and making birdseed covered pinecones for the trees. And as the grandkids grew, if she wasn’t at their dorm or apartment actually doing the set-up, she was sending furniture or pottery to make a new place homey. Always underneath her actions was an invitation to a place of belonging. And whatever place she touched, she created memories and moments.

She was a strong woman, though I don’t think she always felt so. She believed women needed to be independent and able to stand on their own two feet in a place of their own. A feminist of sorts, even in her era when those sorts of thoughts were frowned upon. She wrestled with the roles assigned to her as a woman, and wanted more. She loved her role as wife and mother, it was her joy, but she was clear that those roles were not all she was. She raised strong headed (or maybe hard-headed, depending on your viewpoint) daughters and granddaughters without even knowing it. It was her example more than her words, that taught us to always reach for what we wanted because we, as women, were valuable. She insisted we have a place to be strong.

Melinda can attest to this desire of Mom’s for her girls to be strong. Mom knew education lead to careers which would give us a place of independence. She coached us both through understanding our gifts. Using this wisdom, Melinda found her place as a nurse practitioner from a Bachelor’s degree all the way to a Doctorate. She decided to break with traditional roles of the time and continue working, while also being a mother. She had the opportunity to become an Assistant Professor of Nursing, which she discussed with Mom.

Melinda said that Mom was just plain excited about it and that her eyes sparkled with the possibilities for her daughter. However, Melinda’s friends were not as supportive. After a girls’ weekend away, she came home doubting her choices. Lunch with Mom at one of those little cafes was scheduled. When she told Mom, she was considering not taking the faculty position, Mom’s response was, “Why not?”  After some explanation of her girls’ weekend, Mom looked her in the eyes and said, “Melinda, God can call you to more than one life purpose.” It was a place moment for Melinda where she learned that God often calls us to 2 places simultaneously.  

Mom had chosen the role of a homemaker. She did a fabulous job in her role, but she helped Melinda understand that women could push those boundaries and that the sky was the limit for a well-educated female. She prepared a place in Melinda’s mind where she could passionately follow both callings and succeed at both, which she has done.

The foundation of all the place-making she has done over her lifetime was her love for Dad. The great love she found at age 13 with him, built the original place for her. Out of the security of their love, she was able to create spaces for the rest of us. She and Dad were rarely parted for long. Married for 65 years, but together for many before that, they spent their entire lives together. They grew up together and it was like they were made as one person. For over 6 decades they lived life together through the good and the bad. Mom trusted dad with her life. And in her illness, he has fiercely loved her and taken care of her, right up to the end. Even in the pain of losing her slowly, love has won.

In her dementia, when she could do nothing for herself or even communicate, the Lord’s peace… beyond mom’s understanding, surrounded her. She was ministering that peace to visitors who came to encourage her, but left her room themselves encouraged and uplifted. It happened to us, too. On her deathbed, we gathered around her for last rites. Just the 5 Ms…Mike, Martha, Michael, Michelle and Melinda, together for the last time. She was barely conscious, but even then, she had some mumbles and a few smiles. Her spirit was open and we knew she understood what was happening somehow. She knew who was there and why. She soaked in every word with a peaceful angelic look on her face that I will always remember. Even at the very end, she held a space for us to communicate our last thoughts with her. We felt healing flowing in the presence of God. A place-maker was a holy calling which she fulfilled to her very last breath.

I have always found it hard to sum up a life in just a few minutes. Even choosing words carefully to pack in the most meaningful ones, still falls woefully short. It is harder still when the life I am describing is my mom’s. Her time here was rich and full. A few examples don’t do it justice. My hope is that these few words make us each remember how she loved us, so we can love others the same way…by creating safe places to be together.

Today, I think she would echo these words, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God, believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And If I go to prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you with me that you also may be where I am. You know the way to the place where I am going.”  John 14:1-3

She is helping get things ready for us. Cleaning the rooms, planning the menu, creating the conversation starters…preparing a place…even now.

If you have a story of how Mom created a place for you, please share it in the comments here. Make sure to put your at least your first name so it won’t come up as anonymous. 🙂