Ora Magdalene Kremer Bender, 1921-2014

Mom died on January 20, 2014, at 10:30 in the morning.  This is the piece I wrote for her homegoing service.

Good morning and thank you for coming.  My pastor, Leamon Sowell, used to say, “We are not here to mourn or cry; we are not here to be sad or shed tears.  We are here to celebrate a  homegoing."  Indeed!  Mom’s homegoing.

I am the firstborn of Ora and Daniel and was asked by my brothers, The Boys, to share a few memories and stories.  I have often been accused of embellishment and exaggeration when I get to telling stories.  It’s my nature.  The ones I’m telling this morning are true, the way I remember them.

One thing I don’t like about funerals is that folks know only one or two people in the family.  So, I’d like to take a moment and introduce us.  I lived in Chicago all my adult life, worked as a legal secretary, married a Chicago police officer and retired to Cape Coral, FL ten years ago.  Judy was born 13 months later.  She is married to Byard Yoder, a medical doctor in Manheim, PA.  They have two sons, Jeremy and Jonathan; Jonathan is married to Jonilyn.  Most of you probably know The Boys, Evan and Eric, who have farmed with Dad for many years here in Rockingham County.  Evan has a wonderful, brilliant, loving, long-haired dog named Sheila and more friends than Carter has pills.  Eric is still the baby of the family, an answer to many prayers after our family lost a little girl, Holly Ann.  He is married to LuAnn, who teaches at EMHS. They have four children:  Joseph, Malinda, Mary and Michael.

Mom graduated from high school at 16 and was teaching one-room country school soon thereafter.  She worked for 10 years before meeting and marrying Dad, as a custom dressmaker for Singer Sewing and as a cashier at a cafeteria frequented by military men stationed in Lincoln, Nebraska during World War II.  Lots of interesting stories.

But what sticks in my mind about that part of Mom’s life is the model she was of independence and self respect.  She was my first feminist example, a woman who thought for herself, but respected Dad, a woman who had her own opinions, some of which may have surprised you, a woman who was aware of the world outside of her Mennonite community.  She wasn’t your typical 1950’s mom.  She was amazing.

And Mom believed a woman needed her own little stash of cash.  Many of you probably know that the folks sold milk for many years to customers who picked it up at the farm.  What you probably don’t know is that Dad bought the cows, Dad fed the cows, Dad milked the cows and Dad usually strained the milk into gallon jars.  Mom kept the cash.  And she ruled it with an iron fist, stored in a glass jar in the cupboard next to the kitchen sink.  That was her stash of cash, hers to spend on special projects such as new living room drapes or a dress for Byard’s med school graduation.  If you borrowed any of the stash, you knew to put a note in the jar detailing what you had borrowed, after Mom approved your loan application!   And you’d better pay it back!  Mom’s stash of cash!

Mom and Dad weren’t the mushy, gushy type, but they loved and trusted each other without reservation.  Many years ago, when I convinced Dad to see a lawyer about doing some estate planning, one of the questions he was asked concerned the amount of his estate that was attributable to Mom’s efforts and contributions.  “Fifty-fifty” declared Dad.  The attorney asked if Mom had worked or inherited money – how did he come to the fifty-fifty figure.  “Well,” Dad said, “she kept the house clean, she cooked meals, she ran errands for me, she raised four children, she took messages, she brought food to the field, she gave me good advice.  Fifty-fifty is how it has to be.”  The attorney stammered that the IRS probably wouldn’t agree with that assessment.  Fifty-fifty said Dad.

Several months later, Mom told me that she had gone to the lawyer’s office to sign some papers.  The lawyer gave her the estate documents, asked her to read them and told her he would answer any questions once she was finished.  “Oh, no,” said Mom.  “I don’t have to read them.  Daniel said to come and sign them, so just show me where to sign.”  Fifty-fifty.  Just show me where to sign.  Doesn’t get much better than that.

Now to Mom and the stories.  I know a mom that most of you probably don’t.  She was sassy, funny, quick with a  joke, a trick, a laugh, advice.  I am eternally grateful for her words, which still ring in my head when I’m walking out the door.  “Look in the mirror.  Is that what you want people to see?”  Those words served me well for many years.  And Mom lived them – always dressed neatly in a dress, with her hair combed in a roll.  Ask someone over 60 about that hairdo!  One of my earliest memories is watching her get dressed to go out one evening.  I was about five and she was pregnant with Evan.  She had a beautiful teal blue maternity dress; the top had pleats and sparkly buttons.  She had already combed her hair and the lines of her seamed stockings went straight up the back of her legs.  I remember looking at her and thinking, “I have the most beautiful mommy in the world.”  And indeed I did.  A few months ago, her cousin Barbara sent me some old pictures she had found.  Mom was breathtakingly, incredibly, achingly beautiful.

Birthdays were big deals in our house.  The birthday person got to pick the menu for the day and our wishes were Mom’s command.  At supper there was a big cake of the honoree’s choice – I remember a lot of angel food.  The year I was five – that year sticks in my mind for some reason – probably the impending arrival of Evan.  All my friends were having birthday parties and I asked Mom if I could have one.  I begged and pleaded and nagged and begged some more and finally she said, “Well, okay, we’ll have a party on Saturday.”  As those of you who know me will appreciate, just give me the nod and I’ll get the job done.  I immediately started making rounds of the neighborhood, inviting all my little friends to my birthday party.  Mom found out when Stevie Eicher’s mother stopped by to ask what time the party was going to be.  I had a great time on Saturday!

Mom waited 11 years to get her revenge.  The year I turned 16, we lived in Iowa and since I was the oldest and it was summer, I was out in the field with Dad, all day, every day.  The day of my birthday, I remember growling when Mom asked what I wanted to eat, what kind of cake to bake.  Supper time came and my favorite foods were on the table.  I was bone tired, so after supper, I took a shower and put on my pajamas. “Oh, no,” said Mom.  “You’ve got to get dressed.  You can’t be sitting around here in your pajamas.”  I refused to get dressed.  Mom kept fussing, “Get dressed,” and I soon found out why.  A car drove in the lane and inside were my five best girlfriends from IMS, a true surprise because we lived too far apart to see each other during the summer.  I couldn’t believe it!  What fun!  Ardith and Joyce and Ruthie and Linda and Diane.  I got dressed.

About 30 minutes later, another car drove in the lane and out jumped the six boys that my friends and I thought were “special.”  Ardith’s mouth dropped open and I remember Mom starting to snicker.  Ardith said, “Why are they here?  How did they know about the party?  Who told them?” Mom’s snicker turned into a roar as she laughed, “Well you thought you’d surprise Debra, so I decided to surprise you!”  Mom, who had the uncanny ability to know about these things knew which boys we liked, called one of them, explained the surprise party plans and asked him to bring the other five boys.  I was dumbfounded; I was incredibly happy and excited; I had more fun than a barrel of monkeys that night.  I remember playing games and opening presents and a nice long game of Walk a Mile down dark country roads, topped off with birthday cake and ice cream!  And when I think about the two birthdays, I wonder if Mom thought, “I’ll surprise her like she surprised me!”  My 16^th birthday still remains my all time favorite.  It was amazing.

So, my sassy, wonderful, loving, all-knowing Mom.  We love you, we miss you, but we know you’ve gone home, to a place that made even Steve Jobs gasp with wonder, a place where you’re happy and healthy again, a place where you’ll always be the most beautiful mommy in the world!