In memory of my mother and best friend, Joan Lois Higgins-Jusiel-Olds - 3/25/1933 - 8/4/2002 - from her daughter, Margaret Rose:

When my brother, André, was very young, he went into the kitchen where my mother was cooking and asked her if she would die when he grew up. She said, “yes, that is what happens.” He replied, “Then I’m never going to grow up!”

Well, he did grow up, but she will always be with us. In Song of Solomon, with reference to motherhood, it says:

Set me as a seal on your heart, as a seal on your arm, for stern as death is love. Relentless as the nether world is devotion. It’s flames are a blazing fire. Deep waters cannot quench love, nor floods sweep it away. Were one to offer all he owns to purchase love, he would be roundly mocked.

My mother was devoted to her family and friends. Her love was more stubborn than death. We all love her, and she loves us. This will never change, and it will keep her alive in our hearts, always.

My mother was very honest. For example:

When we were both performing at a wedding (me on the flute, and her on the organ and singing), she thought it would be a great idea if we sang a duet together...until we rehearsed & she heard me sing. After that, she said it would be best if I stuck with the flute.

...Which reminds me, my mom was fun.

Most of you know my mother devoted many years of her life to the catholic church. More recently, she worked with an ex-police officer named Patty. They would often joke that Patty would arrest ‘em & my mom would convert ‘em. This always brought laughter...

In Proverbs, It says:

Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies. The heart of her husband does safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil. She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life. She seeks wool, and flax, and works willingly with her hands. She is like the merchants’ ships; she brings her food from afar. She also rises while it is yet night, and gives meat to her household, and a portion to her servants. She considers a field, and buys it; with the fruit of her hands she plants a vineyard. She girdles her loins with strength, and strengthens her arms. She perceives that her merchandise is good; her candle does not go out by night. She lays her hands to the spindle, and her hands hold the distaff. She stretches out her hand to the poor; she stretches forth her hands to the needy. She is not afraid of the snow for her household, for all her household are clothed with scarlet. She makes herself coverings of tapestry; her clothing is silk and purple. She makes fine linen, and sells it, and delivers girdles unto the merchant. Strength and honor are her clothing, and she shall rejoice in time to come. She opens her mouth with wisdom, and in her tongue is the law of kindness. She looks well to the ways of her household, and eats not the bread of idleness. Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her. Many daughters have done virtuously, but she excels them all. Favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but a woman that fears the Lord, she shall be praised. Give her of the fruit of her hands, and let her own works praise her in the gates.

My mother was truly virtuous; she was also dedicated to service.

She gave the first half of her young adult life to serving the church, for which she performed music and taught handicapped children. When she had children of her own, she was a “super-mom”, always giving love and cookies for any who were in need. In spite of her dedication to her children, and the friends of her children, she still made time to help her elderly friends who were lonely; it meant so much to them to be invited over for dinner, or for her to visit their home or even help them get some groceries. When I had minor surgery a year ago, she came to offer her support and help; when I had major surgery recently, she worried about me more than herself, and felt so very bad that she couldn’t be with me. I wish I could have been with her.

I would like to tell you a different story:

A mother and child were standing on the edge of a snow covered field. The mother told the child they would have a contest to see who could walk the straightest to the other side. The child walked very carefully, watching each and every footstep. When the child reached the other side and looked back, the path was very crooked. The mother then started across, and the child was amazed to see a perfectly straight path. When the child asked the mother how she did it, the mother said she never looked down, but kept her eyes fixed on that big oak tree, and headed straight for it.

My mother was my oak tree.

Many of you are familiar with this story from Matthew:

Anyone who hears my words, and puts them into practice, is like the wise man who built his house on the rock. When the rainy season set in, the torrents came and the winds blew and buffeted his house. It did not collapse. It had been solidly set on rock. Anyone who hears my words, but does not put them into practice, is like the foolish man who built his house on sandy ground. The rains fell; the torrents came; the winds blew and lashed against his house. It collapsed under all this and was completely ruined.

My mother was an emotional and spiritual foundation of rock. I was blessed to have been born to her. She was my rock and my foundation. It is because of this that I am not afraid. I feel deep loss and sadness, but I am not afraid. In first John, it says:

Love has no room for fear. Rather, perfect love casts out all fear...

First John also says:

Beloved, let us love one another. For love is of God, and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. He who loves not, knows not God for God is love. (Beloved, let us love one another.)

I appeal to all of you this day, when you leave this place, love your neighbor as yourself, as my mother did. Keep her alive in your hearts by loving your family and friends the way she loved her family and friends. Even love your enemies, and become a superior person, as she was.

I would like to conclude with one more quote from an Upanishad:

What is perishable is primary matter. What is imperishable is the...soul. Over both the perishable and the soul, the one God rules. By meditating upon him, by union with him, and by entering into his being, more and more, there is finally cessation from every illusion. [A person] disappears; their name and form are destroyed.... That one continues without parts, immortal..., like the spokes on the hub of a wheel...,so let death disturb you not.