ValerieDykstra.com

tribute to debbie

(Debbie in her cute, subtle way promoting breast cancer awareness. 2010)  

I never thought I'd see the day when I wouldn't be at the funeral of someone so special to me. But as I type this, Debbie's funeral is in progress. Gordon and I debated what to do and concluded we would take the amount it would cost to fly there and put it toward my walk next year in the Weekend To End Breast Cancer. You will all be called upon to sponsor me for this 40 mile walk. My goal is $3000. I'll be walking for Debbie and my cousin Cindy who both lost their lives to breast cancer.

This is my tribute to Debbie. It was read at her funeral by her daughter Katie.

Remembering my dear friend Debbie

Debbie and I became friends in 1984 through our husbands. Steve and Kent were best friends, so after Kent and I married, she and I were forced into friendship. She was forceful, blunt and assertive -- in many ways, my polar opposite. I was aloof and snotty, she was jovial and gregarious.  Being assertive like she was, she forced her way into my life and I fought her every step of the way.  Debbie always forgave me, always accepted me for who I was, only occasionally calling me a snot. 

As we grew closer, I didn’t think I could love and appreciate her more. But when my first baby was born Debbie became an even bigger part of my life. She loved my Stephanie, loving to take her out, babysit her, and buy her special things.  There’s no better way to worm your way into a mother’s heart than to love and dote on her baby. Debbie was that person in my life. She loved my baby and I loved her more for it.

We eventually ended up living on the same block, just a few houses from each other. Over the years we realized we had "community" before it became a popular term. Back then neither of us knew how good we had it. How many people can walk to their best friend's house in two minutes? How many people can feel comfortable chatting in the living room while the other irons? How convenient is it when you can phone and say, "We're ordering Sonic. Ya’ll want anything?" I'd give nearly anything to have that kind of "community" now.

Debbie was hilarious, laughed easily, and never took herself too seriously. She was also quirky. I've never been big into the ironing scene, but Debbie use to iron everything. How could someone so detailed in ironing totally miss obvious details in other areas? One evening Debbie cooked supper for us. On this particular night there were four jugs of curdled milk sitting on her table; there had only been three a few nights earlier. When Kent and I walked home, he said, "There was another jug of sour milk on the table tonight."  He sighed, "I've been thinking, maybe we shouldn't eat her cooking anymore." Twenty years later, Debbie and I still laughed about that.

She was my co-conspirator and we spent hours in each other’s living room, car and kitchen scheming. Once we decided we could make some serious money by having a booth at a craft sale. Over a few months, we sanded, stained, and painted a bazillion geese, cutting boards, and bright wooden tulips. The night before the craft sale as we knelt on the floor wrapping our hand-crafted valuables, Debbie said, "I figured it up. If I sell everything I've made, I'll make $435." Our craft sale weekend delivered a heaping dose of humiliation. We sold one cutting board and it was, no doubt, a sympathy purchase.

Debbie and I were always trying to make money. On our last garage sale I wore a new, grossly uncomfortable, under-wire bra. I went inside to take it off for some much needed relief. I had no more gotten in off when Debbie bolted through the back-door screaming indiscernible craziness. "GET OUT THERE! Oh Dear Jesus, help me! GET OUT THERE! GET OUT THERE! Bob, Bertha and Bessie are out there. GO, GET OUT THERE!"

I didn’t have the first idea what was wrong with her or why she couldn't face these older folks from church, but I wasn’t about to go outside without a bra on. She screamed again, "GET OUT THERE!" and I screamed back, "I DON'T HAVE A BRA ON. I CAN'T GO OUT THERE." We screamed like crazy women and I'm sure our patrons heard us. Debbie calmed down enough to forgo yelling to beg, "Please, you've got to go out there. All the wedding gifts they gave us are out there."

We both ended up out on the patio. Bob, Bertha and Bessie bought all the gifts they'd given Steve and Debbie as wedding presents, going to Debbie to pay for them.  That day, I thought we just might die laughing.

Once during Debbie’s treatments she went to the doctor for a checkup. The doctor did his touchy-feely thing with Debbie’s breasts. Anxious to confirm there were no new lumps, Debbie asked, “Do they feel good?” She was able to laugh at herself immediately.

Her ability to laugh at herself is one of the things I admired most about her. She was my mentor in moving beyond humiliations and foibles. Whereas I could be embarrassed for hours on up to 25 years, Debbie was able to immediately see the humor in her own mis-steps and mis-speaks.

(Easter 2010)

Debbie was an awesome friend and an amazing person, one of the most amazing I’ve ever known. Through her illness, she didn’t complain, never sought sympathy, continued to laugh, to see beyond herself and her problems. Debbie had more selfless devotion in her pinky finger than I will ever have this side of heaven. Debbie loved her family and would share sweet and funny snippets from their lives with anyone who would listen. She loved to talk about her kids. Katie, I remember when she called to tell me  you thought all babies came from the airport (all Debbie's babies did come from the airport). She was the proudest mom in the world when she finally got you, the gift she’d waited for so long. Caleb, she loved the man you are becoming. She loved your strength of character, your dependability in helping out, your love and affection. Carli, you were such a gift to your mom. She told me about your sweetness, tenderness and wit.

This world lost a treasure last week. Thankfully we have memories of who Debbie was; strong, wise, faithful and true, and ceaselessly pointing to Jesus in the way she lived.

I wish I could be at this celebration today. Debbie’s been promoted and I wish I could be at her promotion ceremony. I have no doubt she heard “Well done my good and faithful servant” last Saturday evening.

memaw's passing

(Memaw, left and Uncle Kelsey, 1917)

Elsie Eason Piearcy age 94 of Mena died Friday, September 17, 2010 at her home. She was born on Tuesday, June 13, 1916 to James Lonnie and Llewlyn Moore Ross Keen in Binjin, Arkansas.

Elsie was a loving wife, mother and grandmother. She was married to her first husband, Red for 50 years and raised seven children. After Red’s passing she married Bill Eason and was married 6 years to him before his passing. Family was very important to Elsie and they were her most treasured possession. She was a faithful member for over 50 years at the Pleasant Hill Baptist Church in Wickes and after moving to Mena she joined the Calvary Baptist Church in Mena. Serving and doing the Lord’s work was something Elsie took very seriously and hardly ever let a day go by without sharing her faith to someone, either by doing a good deed or just by the way she lived her life. For 15 years she worked at the Bogg Springs Missionary Baptist Camp and enjoyed seeing everyone year after year.

(Ma, Pa, Kelsey, Memaw, Inez early 1920's )

She is preceded in death by her parents James and Llewlyn Keen; her first husband Phillip “Red” Piearcy; her second husband Bill Eason; one son David Piearcy; one daughter Cleta Rose; one brother Kelsey Keen; one sister Inez Beasley; three granddaughters Deborah Jean Callahan, Cindy Gramer and Melody Smith.

Survivors include three sons and daughter in laws, Phillip and Beth Piearcy of Mena, Bob and Denise Piearcy of Mena and Jackie and Carla Piearcy of Perry, Arkansas; two daughters GeralDean Funderburk and her husband Bob of Mena and Vernie Jean Smith of Mena; one daughter in law Virginia Piearcy of Justin, Texas; one sister Betty Alexander of Little Rock; seventeen grandchildren; forty-nine great grandchildren; twenty four great-great grandchildren; several nieces and nephews and a host of other relatives and friends.

Funeral services will be Monday, September 20, 2010 at 2:00 P.M. at the Hall Funeral Service Chapel in Mena with Brother Donnie Jewel and Brother Doyne Cantrell officiating. Interment will follow in the Daniel Cemetery in Wickes. Visitation will be Sunday, September 19, 2010 from 4-6 P.M. at the Hall Funeral Service Chapel.

Pallbearers will be Michael Callahan; Greg Smith, Paul Piearcy, Todd Piearcy, Fred Rose and Derek Smith.

Honorary Pallbearers will be David Piearcy, Josh Austin, Philip Piearcy, C.J. Callahan, Jacob Gramer, Jeff Shreve, Jonathon Alexander and Hunter Piearcy.

(1936, Memaw, Jill, Mama, Inez) 

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I thought the obituary in the paper was lovely. At the funeral my sister read her tribute to Memaw. It was even lovelier. I know Memaw would have been very pleased. Here is Diane's tribute:

(2010, at her 94th birthday party)

I am Memmaw’s oldest living grandchild.  I had occasion to live with Memmaw and Padad the first couple of years of my life.  Though I do not remember it, I have always felt that that circumstance created a special bond between me and them.  Actually, I thought that I was their favorite.  As the years have worn on, however, I realized that other cousins thought they were the favorite.  And in time, I had to concede that Iwas not the special one, but it was Memmaw.  She had the ability to convey to her abundant crew of descendants that each and every one of them held a special place in her heart.  I hope I can master that art like she did with my own grandchildren.

When I review my memories of Memmaw, I am glad that I can well remember beyond the last few years when she has been confined to a wheelchair and a little detached because she could not hear all that was being said around her.  I remember her as busy, somewhat robust, a hard worker, loving, and proactive before the term was popular.  I always smile when I think of Memmaw getting the urge to remodel her home.  Not of the modern school of thought that requires one to draw up the plans and get three bids, Memmaw—in her late sixties or early seventies—took a hammer to her walls and started demolishing them.  And all this in a dress!

(5 generations, 2009)

And speaking of dresses, I only saw Memmaw in pants once in my entire life.  Her church was having a Sunday afternoon baseball game.  Memmaw donned a pair of slacks and faithfully participated.  My mom said, “Mother will do anything for the church!”

I remember hearing one of my uncles bemoaning the fact that most of his friends’ “elderly” mothers were irritating because they drove too slow.  Not his mother!  She got speeding tickets.

And no tribute to Memmaw would be complete without mentioning the legacy of laughter she has passed down to us.  I used to think that all families were like ours—that when they get together, they laugh.  It has only been this year that I have learned through a couple of observant outsiders that that is not the case.  My earliest childhood memories are of Sunday afternoons at Memmaw’s house with all her kids and each of their little broods assembled for Sunday lunch and a full afternoon of laughter.  Memmaw had the ability to see humor in life—even at her own expense.  She would laugh at herself as quickly as she would laugh at anyone or anything else.

(Memaw visiting her parents' graves in Hugo, Oklahoma)

The greatest legacy Memmaw leaves us is a spiritual one.  From earliest childhood, I heard the term, “being saved.”  I knew that this was of the utmost importance, because on this subject, Memmaw did not laugh.  We were taught by word and by example that everything else in life was a far second to the knowledge that you were “right with God.”  This emphasis caused me to record and to always acknowledge the date of my salvation—June 30, 1969—because I intuitively knew that that date was actually more important than my “natural birthday.”

Memmaw, though minimally educated, was a student of the Word of God.  Her Bible did not collect dust.  She read it—even in the last weeks of her life, she read with the help of a magnifying glass.  She loved discussing it, not for the sake of debate, but because she truly believed that in the word of God are the secrets of abundant life.

(2010, our last picture of Memaw. Although she looks pretty, I was amazed how she looked nothing like herself, at least not to me. This is the first time I've ever seen her not smiling.)

Of all Memmaw’s gifts to us, the rarest one is her longevity.  And I am not speaking of her 94 years of life on this earth.  I am speaking of her devotion to Christ.  There are lots of good starters when it comes to following Christ, but very few who finish like Memmaw did.  She never looked back; she never considered a different path; she never threw in the towel when the going got tough.  She finished her course.

Her gentle transition from mortality to immortality has served as a reminder to me—to all of us—that this life is only the beginning; it is not the end.  I am happy for Memmaw; I know all is well with her.  I can only imagine the joy that she is experiencing now.  I think the reason we all weep is because we feel as if a part of us has died, a part of our roots, our history.

 

Those of us who are walking with God can, no doubt, trace their spiritual heritage back to Memmaw’s influence and her prayers for us.  And it’s not over yet.  She has joined that great cloud of witnesses and now together with them she continues to cheer us on in our race here on earth.  Let us—those she loved the most—resolve to honor her memory in the most noble fashion: let’s follow her footsteps and finish well!

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Many of Memaw's descendants were with her when she died and were wowed by the awesomeness of the experience. When her heart rate was down to four or five beats a minute, the nurse told them she was in the process of passing. They put in a cd made by her son David (who passed away in 1987, I think). As he finished singing Beulah Land, she breathed her last breath. Truly a peaceful and very beautiful exit from this world. 

Memaw was very loved and I know she would have been (or was) very proud of her family right to the very end. Like Diane, I'm thankful for the Christian heritage she left for us. I want to follow in her footsteps and finish my race in life well.