for MeeMaw

(a re-written obituary which I read at the funeral on Saturday)

MeeMaw Kerr Wilcox, 92 years old, of Pratt, Kansas, died August 13, 2007. She was born a long time ago (what is 2007 minus 92 again?), but to her grandchildren, she was young at heart. Remembered for her stories of tomboyish childhood adventures (including tree climbing and horseback riding), she was nevertheless a fan of feminine pink, Avon perfume, and beaded costume necklaces. An avid reader and word puzzler, she loved raisin cream pie, spaghetti, Pizza Hut pizza, and hot dogs. While other grandmothers are known for being a bit out of touch, MeeMaw will be remembered for the way she leaned forward with a twinkle in her eyes to inquire after a granddaughter’s newest boyfriend, or latest trip abroad, or most recent career change. A good listener and her grandaughters’ greatest cheerleader, she encouraged them with phrases such as “my little sunshine” and “God’s been so good to us, hasn’t He?”

Receiving her education in the School of Hard Knocks, MeeMaw passed on to her granddaughters an iron will. A single mom for a part of her life, she imparted to her girls the values of hard work, financial independence, and a trust—actually, a desperate need—for Jesus. And she taught them, too, to never, ever give up on earthly love, proving that deep friendship, spiritual partnerships, and romance were possible until one’s dying day.

Lacking academic degrees, she encouraged her granddaughters to appreciate and seize opportunities she never had, including college, missions trips, musical education, and leadership opportunities. And she modeled a truer meaning of success, storing up for herself honors in heaven, including a belief in the goodness of God and a spiritual gift of service. She was an intercessor, spending hours in prayer as a guardian angel to each of her granddaughters. A lover of Jesus, she hoped for heaven, talking often of her joyful anticipation of her homecoming. “As a girl,” she told her granddaughter, “I used to get in trouble with my dad a lot for running outside and climbing trees when I was supposed to be helping my mother and sisters with the chores. ‘Get back in here,’ he would say, ‘you can play when your work is finished.’ That is what heaven will be. The Father will tell me, ‘Pearl, your work is finished. Your chores are done. Now come on outside, climb a tree, and play.”

And so MeeMaw leaves survivors, among them four granddaughters who miss her terribly today, and can’t see missing her any less on any other. But they comfort themselves with this hope—someday, they will hear MeeMaw’s Heavenly Father say, “Come outside and play,” and they will look up and see a big leafy tree in heaven, with MeeMaw perched way up near the top, grinning and winking mischievously down at them. “Girls,” she’ll say, “it’s real nice to see you. We’re not in Kansas anymore.”