And With A Sigh, She Went Home…

I was alone with my mother when she died. Tenacious woman that she was, the “any moment now” stage of her dying process lasted for a day and a half. Following the advice of the hospice nurse who came by at midnight to help me for a while, I laid down with an alarm set for a couple hours later. For no earthly reason, I woke up at 1:57 AM and walked over to check on her. As I placed my hand on her forehead, she relaxed, took a few final breaths and with a sigh louder than should have been possible with the little breath left in her body, she went home.

I can’t help thinking she planned that moment. She woke me up so we could share that perfect ending. She was there as I breathed my first breath, and I was there as she breathed her last. The circle in our earthly relationship was complete. A poetic moment orchestrated by my poet mother.

I’ve lived 46 years of people telling me there is so much of my mother in me. I’ve heard it again a couple dozen times in the past 72 hours. She would tell me there was so much of her mother in me, which I am sure is something that caused her both comfort and a tinge of pain as she lost her own mother, Lillian, when she was only 19 years old. While these comparisons used to cause me to feel some combination of embarrassment and frustration, in recent years I have come to hope that it’s true that I am carrying forward pieces of this woman whose legacy makes me feel enormous pride and also so very small when I consider what she achieved with what poet Mary Oliver called her “one wild and precious life.”

Although a week ago, I felt confident that I would be able to speak at her Memorial Service, I presently find myself in throes of grief so deep that I am surprising myself at my inability to talk about her at all without crying. As such, these are just a few of the things that stand out to me today as pieces of her that I will treasure dearly.

Early Lessons…

Mom survived a near drowning at Lake Junaluska in North Carolina, where, as a 3 year-old, she confidently got in line with all the older children who had lined up on the pier. She then boldly jumped off the end, following the lead of every child in front of her. She was rescued by one of the young lifeguards, but still remembered “seeing red” as she sank like a rock to the bottom of the lake. Mom always said this experience taught her a very early lesson about having reasonable limits on one’s own confidence, and how God will usually send angels to save us when we do something stupid.

Mom endured a sometimes comically torturous upbringing with two older brothers who would continually play tricks on her. As the significantly younger baby sister, they taught her to fish, and would take her hiking with their beagles in the Green Hills of Nashville. She wore a lot of their hand-me-downs and it was not always easy to get her in a dress when she was young. Doug and Brooks delighted in picking on her, even as an adult, but were also proud and protective of their sister, and nurtured her sense for adventure. She loved her brothers very much, and attributed some of her ability to feel at home in the “man’s world” of ministry to her determination to fit in with her brothers as a kid.

On Sisterhood…

I’ve known few in my life who understand the power of female friendships like my mom. She was in a sorority in her high school, and joined Alpha Gamma Delta as soon as she could at Florida Southern College. She loved “Alpha Gam!” She would sing the songs to me as a baby and our secret password if a stranger ever said they were sent to get me by my mom was a line from the Alpha Gam song, “Chums.”

In 1964, while she was president of her chapter, her mother, my Grandmother Lillian, died suddenly of a heart attack. One of mom’s favorite stories to tell is how the Grand President of Alpha Gamma Delta drove to the burial site in Dayton, Ohio, and held my mother’s hand as they lowered the coffin into the ground. Mom stayed in touch with sisters over the years and befriended new sisters in the various cities she called home over the years. Even in her final weeks, she received a number of cards from sorority sisters. She said that one of her happiest days was when she learned that I had joined Gamma Phi Beta (even though I chose them over AGD).

The other special sisterhood that my mother treasured dearly were her many female, clergy colleagues. One of the tightest bonds we shared as mother and daughter was knowing what is truly special about the friendships female clergy share with one another. In fact, as I write this, my world is being held together by the words, prayers and actions of some of my clergy sisters.

Mom had a few women who were truly her lifelong friends, and many other women who were close friends for a special season in her life. She showed me that having girlfriends who will laugh with you, cry with you, drink and curse with you, and show up on your doorstep when the bottom falls out are one of the ways God makes life livable, not just survivable.

On Justice…

When mom was a seminary student at Boston University, she was deeply affected by the assassination of fellow BU alum, Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in Memphis, ironically the city where she also died this week. The School of Theology at BU was a hub for civil rights and anti-war activism during the years she was a student, and mom was among those students who rallied in response to his death. She and her classmates traveled down to Washington DC to march together later that year, and she was engaged across Boston in the Civil Rights Movement, the Poor People’s Campaign and the anti-war movements there until her graduation in 1971.

Mom raised me to look out for other people and to see the value, dignity and the mark of God on every person - the poor, the marginalized, the outcasts, and the ones who are different. As we are living in a cultural moment where many are afraid that children should not be exposed to the concepts of race or sexual orientation, I knew from my earliest days that race and culture are beautiful differences, and that love can look a lot of different ways. I can’t remember a time when mom had to tell me about same-sex relationships, but I do remember having same-sex couples at our dinner table in my earliest memories. From the very beginning, she raised me to believe that people are all different from one another, yet no different in their value. It makes me smile to know that as she looked out from her hospice bed onto our front lawn in her final days, she saw our Pride Month ally flag waving from the tree directly in front of her window.

My childhood was also filled with people who loved me who came from nations all over the world, spoke different languages, and were not Christian. One of mom’s most exciting discoveries was learning in her 50s that her grandmother, who had been adopted, was an Ashkenazi Jew, and she delighted in exploring how those Jewish roots might have helped shape her life and her faith. I am grateful for how my my mother, from as far back as I can remember, filled my life with people who represented the diversity of God’s design for humanity. It has made me who I am, and given my life an openness that has made the experience of living more full.

On Marriage…

A couple of days before she died, I was going through a large bin of her old photos, and I found a letter that she had written to her dad in fall of 1973. In it, she described the joy of meeting my father, and how she really believed that he was the person with whom she was supposed to partner with for life. Her excitement leapt off the page!

Mom and dad would have celebrated their 52nd wedding anniversary less than a month after she died. It wasn’t a perfectly easy journey. There were times so hard it almost broke their union. However, they loved one another enough to realize that of all the choices they could make, any choice that led them apart would ultimately lead to a life that was less happy. They were true partners - a team. They supported one another’s interests and ambitions and traveled the world together. In my parents, I have a wonderful example of what it looks like to choose happiness together.

On Womanhood…

She, like me, was a preacher’s kid, which meant she spent a great deal of her childhood trying hard to be impossibly quiet through many a worship service, and knowing the distinct difference between a parent’s regular voice and preaching voice. She loved her dad deeply and admired him. He was so proud of her intelligence and gifts, and yet, he worried about her decision as a woman to follow in his professional path in ministry. We had a great laugh 20 years ago when we found a letter he had written to her in her seminary years expressing his pride but adding a cautionary line that read, “Remember, boys don’t like them too smart.” It was simultaneously funny and not, false, but not altogether untrue. As we laughed, we also shared a knowing glance that we felt the same prick of pain hearing that line.   

My mom taught me that being a woman who follows her calling and puts her heart and mind into her work can bring just as much heartache as joy. Just as much loneliness as relationships. And yet, she showed me that although there are easier paths to choose, denying to live fully in line with who we believe God made us to be is to live a life that is muted. She was also among the early ones who dared to believe that a woman can have both an aspirational career and a family. It wasn’t easy. At times it felt downright impossible, and she, my dad and I made a lot of sacrifices along the way. But mom showed me over the years that her ability to look back and know she had a life well-lived meant taking risks, enduring hardships and constantly grappling with the search for balance. I understand the challenges of her seeking a life both inside and outside of the home so much at this point in my life, and I am grateful for her example.

This morning, as I was reading through some of her poems in her published collection, God is Forever Beginning, my eyes fell on one that spoke to me in her voice:

Memories
By Rev. Dr. Sarah Laymon Hallstrand

Today I am home
I know because I feel it
keenly in my heart

I see memories
happy moments shine brightly
sadness sheds its pale

They all surround me
the happy and sadness
life is all of it

I take joy in it
I have lived “large” in my time
loving and angry

So why must it end?
this is a silly question
my heart will go on

I will always love
I will always shun evil
I am always home

I do believe she is home. And I do believe she is here. How lucky I am to have Sarah as my mom. I will miss talking with her, and yet know that it is now easier to talk to her than ever before, and I can still hear her wisdom speaking back to me through all of my days. I love you, mom.