Eulogy:

          My unhealthy coping skill is to “catastrophize”. In high levels of stress, I will generally daydream or walk-through worst-case scenarios. I will imagine getting the bad news or imagine the crisis moment and then will walk through step by step what I would do next. How would I handle it, who would I call, where would I live… all the things. If Rob is late from work even ten minutes, my brain starts down a very dramatic path. I 10/10 do not recommend living in this anxious state, but I have used it effectively to create a false illusion of “readiness” to protect myself from feeling big emotions or being blindsided by life.

         This window into my little brain adds context on why hearing the news of my mom’s diagnosis was so hard on me. Never ever in my “playing out scenarios” was my mom not there. The catastrophe was never her getting sick or her being harmed. Instead, in every scenario she the first one I would call. She was the one who hopped on a plane to be with me in the time of crisis. She was the one I would even move in with. It was always mom holding me steady, helping me through everything, and being my rock. Her steadfastness, her calm presence, her gift of wisdom, and her elite problem-solving skills were always the solutions readily available to feel like I could withstand any storm. Now, cue the phone call when they told us she had pancreatic cancer… devastated. Other than the obvious and very real sadness, there was this layer of just utter shock and dismay because it was outside the realm of anything I had ever conjured up. All my mental gymnastics of preparing for the worst failed me and I was left feeling alllllll the feelings I so desperately try to avoid.

          It would be easy to say these past sixteen months have been the longest and worst months of my life. But in reality, it’s more complicated and nuanced. These last sixteen months while engulfed in grief and loss, were also enriched by meaningful conversations and a ticking clock pushing us to savor each and every minute we had left together as a family. Losing my mom is hard on a thousand layers. I seem to find a new layer of hard every day in an unexpecting way, but I’ve realized this is so challenging because she was apart of everything. She was who I would send pictures of Emmie dancing to the hot dog song. She was who I called on my way home from work to chat and debate who should have gone home on Dancing with the Stars. She was who fielded all my questions or who I came to for advice. She is also in the smallest of things, how I cut my strawberries, or fold my towels. She is interwoven into everything I am.

          My mama was magic. As an adult and a mother of two myself, I am in absolute disbelief and awe of how she did it. How did she have so much energy? How did she say yes to all the adventures and have the grace and patience to do it again the next day? I think an outing to the zoo with two children should award me a medal. My mom in contrast was packing us up, camping with friends on the lake, cooking, teaching everyone how to ski, and doing it with a smile on her face EVERY WEEKEND as a solo parent while my dad was overseas. It’s unreal! Her dear friend Nann will recall a 40 week pregnant Dianne begging to go to Galveston where Nann was taking Ryan and her son, CW, to see The Lexington. Nann refused for the obvious reasons and it’s a good thing too, because I was born later that day. Do you know what I was doing at 40 weeks pregnant. NOT begging to be on a boat, in the heat, or anywhere near other humans.

         
          The farther I travel down this parenting journey, I realize the effort and energy my mom put into all my core memories. I have always just labeled and considered my mom “fun.” But it wasn’t until having children of my own did I realize the intentionality and conscious decisions she made in order to be that for us. She was always up for playing sharks and minnows in the pool or dot-to-dot on our airplane journeys. She got up early and stayed up late to take care of dishes because she wouldn’t dare miss one competitive round of dominoes. She regarded bed times as more guidelines than hard and fast rules because the fun was never quite over. She didn’t lay out or read a book at the beach… she was on her hands and knees masterminding an elaborate sandcastle. She didn’t supervise, she participated. Promoting a culture of fun in all things, even in the most mundane of tasks.

            For example, car rides with my mom were not just transportation to get from point A to point B. She used them with intention to play or talk with us. One game my brother and her would play, was “who could make an M&M last longer.” They would each get one tiny original M&M and spend the next five minutes savoring and slowly, painstakingly, dissolving one solitary M&M. The competition was fierce. Her ability to reach into the depths of boredom and find an ounce of fun somewhere tucked away under a seat cushion was an extraordinary talent. But you know who won that game every single time? Me. While those two were focused on their measly one M&M, I had already eaten half the bag.

I know her “fun-ness” impacted many other people’s lives and if I were to poll the audience, I am very confident a large percentage of you were either taught how to ski by my mom or at least experienced the Dianne Keaton level of boat fun. Her presence on the boat was electrifying. It’s even hard to put into words because I’m pretty convinced it was actually an art. She was your biggest cheerleader while also being your most ruthless bully. My mom could make you feel like a million bucks while you were flopping around and epically failing while simultaneously holding you hostage out of the boat until you got up. In the same breath she would say, “WOOOO, way to go, that was it, YOU WERE SO CLOSE (by the way- you were not), okay, this time keep your arms straight. You are doing amazing!” And this would go on, until you would inevitably get up on your 876th try because she believed you could and tricked you into believing you didn’t have any other option. She was magic.

         
           But if I stopped there, I would only be telling half of the story. The first half is my mom, cheering and encouraging and saying the all too familiar, “just one more time” but the other half is my dad. The boat driver. Calm. Patient. Very limited word count. As the boat was coming back around in the midst of her hollers you would hear a firm, matter of fact: “Bend your knees.” No more, no less, but very effective. They were the perfect complement of each other. The perfect team on and off the boat.

            This was my model growing up. I didn’t appreciate it at the time but I now realize how blessed I was to be able to witness such companionship, partnership and love. Ryan and I have talked a lot recently and we both come back to what a joy it was for us to have parents who not only loved each other but actually liked each other. For my entire life I have witnessed a marriage that was playful and respectful. It was tender and caring. It was not snarky or sharp but extended grace and kindness. Sure, there were tense times, like when my dad left the country three days after I was born and Ryan had the chicken pox. Or when mom had to tell my dad she wanted to change the window layout at the bay house AFTER they had already been framed in (Dad would like for me to mention, not only were the windows framed in… but they had already been bought and installed). Oh yeah, they were changed by the way. You don’t make it 47 years and 11 months of marriage without stories or tension. But their response to each other make the stories worth sharing and repeating. They believed the best in each other and worked together through every struggle. Their marriage tells a story of a couple who enjoyed spending time together and invested in growing with each other. Whatever new hobby one person would take up; the other person was joyfully there beside them learning. Dance lessons, golf lessons, fishing trips, skiing, and pickle ball all are examples of time spent together pursuing fun in each other’s company.

          Her intentionality didn’t end with fun. Friendships and relationships were something she invested in and cherished. To be honest, from an outside perspective, it looked effortless. But I know the time, vulnerability, and energy she extended in effort to maintain and establish such rich and deep friendships. This was no trivial trait she possessed and, in my opinion, this was her most inspiring quality. Whether your friendship spanned 51 years or you met her two weeks ago, she gave you her most authentic self and she genuinely cared about you. Your life, your interests, your job and if it that particular job fulfilled your soul. She had zero interest in small talk. If you started talking about the weather, somehow, she would be able to maneuver that conversation into what God was doing in your life and maybe lead you into an existential crisis. She was loyal and consistent. You knew you could depend on my mom to always lend a hand or find a way to help in a tangible way. You would bring a problem to her and in a matter of minutes she would offer every resource at her disposal and had likely given you the keys to her house. She truly used all of her gifts and talents to serve and love on others.

           In a world before social media or easy access communication my mom was able to maintain and foster lifelong friendships spanning multiple decades, many of you are in this room. True story, I tried to mention and reflect on each of them here, but I quickly realized we would be here until next week. I can honestly say my parent’s friends had one of THE most influential impacts on my life. My life would look drastically different without each of their encouraging words, mama bear hugs, and countless countertop talks. These families invested in my life with active interest in who I was and prayed consistently for who I was going to be. What a gift it was to be raised and cared for by my incredible parents and their village of safe, caring, and loyal friends.

            When my dad retired and my parents packed everything up and moved to Austin it was pretty inspiring to watch them pour into their new community and establish a new church home here at Life Church. Between leading life group, serving on mission teams and being a mentor mom with mom2mom, my parents demonstrated how to show up and live intentionally in all stages of life. Retirement didn’t give them the green light to just fade away and stick to what they knew and were comfortable with. Instead, they used their wisdom and talents to mentor, lead, and serve alongside people to bless and encourage others. They didn’t stick with a population their age or life experience but they sought out younger families and friends to be a steady source of comfort and calm in the midst of what they knew to be chaotic and overwhelming time.

            There is no question my mom lived a life building lasting and meaningful relationships. This room is a testament of her love for others, so let me remind you one more time. She cared for you, she loved you, and whether it was a weekly text or a catch up after a ten-year hiatus, your friendship meant the world to her.

           Friendships and relationships were my mom’s strengths but I would say her biggest ministry and greatest challenge was raising my brother and me. Mom always joked she thought she was a pretty good parent until I came around. Every technique, trick, or manipulation she did with Ryan didn’t faze me. She had to figure out a whole new parenting philosophy and at times I’m not sure that philosophy wasn’t just throwing her hands up in the air. At the end of the day, through the ups and downs of teenage angst and the “know it all 20s,” I ended up with a best friend in adulthood. Mom never shied away from a tough conversation and Ryan and I knew no topic was off limits with her, she was there for us in every season and was always a trusted confidant in any situation. One area I believe she exceled in was being an amazing mother-in-law. My mom would be the very first person to tell you Ryan and I both married out of our leagues and she absolutely loved and adored Laura and Rob. From the moment they stepped into our family, mom wrapped her arms around them and their families as well. My mom could teach a master class on how to bring families together and she selflessly opened up her home and gave up her time for all sides to be together. There was always a seat at the table and she would always make room for just one more person. I know I have said it before, but there was no stranger in the presence of Dianne Keaton.

             Now, I’ve said a lot of very true and kind things about my mom, but in order to take the holistic approach we have to mention some of her quirks. First off- 72,000 unread emails. As in, when she opened up her phone or computer every day, there was a little bubble that said 72,000. Or the fact that apple products were allergic to my mom. I mean it, she was actually very technologically savvy. But I can promise apple genius employees said to her, “ma’am, I have never seen this happen before” more times to her than any other customer. Or that she despised water. Yes, the element that is necessary for survival. She had about 1,000 flavored packets in her purse and would order an “extra plate of lemons” to turn her tea or water into lemonade. Dinners were at 9:00 at night, she would microwave food that just came out of the oven to make it even hotter, and she was the only person keeping tic tacs in business.

            Her most precious quirk? My mom couldn’t pick up a grandchild without saying, “ugga bugga boo.” Without fail, every time, as she was lifting them off the floor she would enthusiastically say, “Ugga bugga boo.” Why? No clue, but the kids definitely caught on and it even became a verse in the wheels on the bus. The nana on the bus says, “ugga bugga boo, ugga bugga boo, ugga bugga boo.” There was nothing in the world that gave my mom more joy than being around her grandchildren and it’s no surprise she was THE most fun nana. Watching her thrive as a grandma was the toughest part of her diagnosis. It’s still the hardest thing for me to process and accept, I’m so sad she will not be here to watch them grow up and I’m heartbroken they are deprived of a relationship with her. But I will strive to be the mom I know she wanted and believed I could be. I have huge shoes to fill and it seems like an impossible task, but I know she is with me. She taught me how to be intentional, she modeled for me how to be fun, and she instilled her wisdom in me with every conversation.

            The loss of such an incredible mom, nana and friend is real but my gratitude for the legacy and memories she left behind is greater. She left behind a legacy of fun, service, unwavering faith, a loyal marriage, and a family who adores her. Our hope is cemented in knowing she was welcomed into the arms of her Father, cancer free, restored in spirit and body and was greeted with a resounding “Well done my good and faithful servant.” What a joy and hope we have in knowing we will see her again and what a life we strive to live carrying forward her love and grace.