“The Smallest
Coin ~ The Biggest Heart”
Remembering My Mom,
Olive Jane Clark Niven
by Jean Niven
Lenk
October 28, 2012
On
behalf of Olive’s family, I want to thank all of you for being here today and
for all the love and support you have shown us over the past difficult weeks.
The
whole time I was growing up, my mother would give her height as 5’2” and ¾. Every quarter of an inch counts when you’re
that short! In her later years, she barely
hit the 5 foot mark as she “settled like a box of cornflakes,” to use her words.
But
in all the ways that count – her inner strength, her enduring faith, her
resilient spirit, and her capacity to love, mom was a giant.
If
there is one tangible image that I carry with me of her love, it is a
dime. A dime is the smallest coin. But to me it represents my mom’s
unconditional love and care. From the
time I was a little girl, long before there were cell phones, my mom would make
sure I had a dime in my pocket every time I left the house.
Having
that dime meant I could call home on a pay phone and get in touch with her no
matter what. Whether I was lost, or had
gotten in some sort of predicament, or simply needed a ride home, I knew I
could call my mom whenever, wherever and she would be there for me. The smallest coin represented the biggest
heart in the world.
And
throughout my life, my mom was always there for me, my children, and all of us;
generously and unhesitatingly, she always put her family first.
When
I was a teenager, after my parents divorced, she worked extra hard so that I
could stay in my hometown of Wellesley.
It was very important to her that my life and my schooling not be
disrupted by a move to a different town, because as a young girl growing up in
the Depression, she moved around a lot as her father followed available
jobs. Sometimes she was in a school for
only two weeks before moving on to another state, and she made sure that I had
the stability she herself had not experienced growing up.
Yes,
my mom was always there for me. I
remember after I was in my late 20s, all grown up and living on my own, I
struggled home from work one day feeling rotten. I called mom and could only croak out two
words, “Mommy, sick.” And on the other
end of the line was her soothing voice saying the only words necessary, “I’m on
my way.” It turned out I had a case of
Legionnaire’s pneumonia, and for two weeks, my mom stayed with me and nursed me
back to health.
And
it wasn’t just when I was sick that my mom was there; it was also in the most
heartbreaking times of my life that she offered her unconditional love and
support. When my husband Darcy was dying
of cancer and had only a few months to live, mom quit her job to come and stay
with us to take care of him. She set her
alarm to get up at 2 o’clock every morning and give him his pain medication, so
I could sleep through the night to have the energy to get up and go to work the
next morning.
Fifteen
years later, when my husband John died suddenly, mom immediately moved in with
me to take care of Lizzy, who was 8 years old at the time, and baby Ian, who
was 8 months old, so I could finish seminary.
My mom was their second mother, and they shared a very special
relationship.
We
all lived together – mom, my kids, and me – for eight years. And then when Lizzy was a sophomore at
Ipswich High School, and I reconnected with Peter and then got called to this
church, mom made a most generous and selfless offer: she would stay in Ipswich with
Lizzy so she could graduate with her class.
Once
Lizzy was out of high school, there was only one place my mom wanted to live:
in Foxboro, to be near us. And she was
able to live independently and very happily in her own condo for the last five
years of her life.
Mom
made have been small in stature and quiet in demeanor, but she was a strong,
not to mention brilliant, woman. When
she graduated from Attleboro High School in 1940, among seven superlatives she was
voted by her classmates were cutest, most ambitious, and most sophisticated
girl – and she was also the Salutatorian, graduating second in her class.
Mom
went off to Skidmore College in upstate New York, but World War II intervened,
and she left in her junior year to get married to my Dad, and for the next three
decades raised her three children. She
always said that her true calling in life was being a mom and later a
grandmother. That was her life’s work,
and the most important thing in the world to her.
But
it was always her goal to someday finish her degree, and when she was in her
fifties, after she had raised her family, she went back to Wheaton College in
Norton and at the age of 58, she got that degree, graduating magna cum laude
and being elected to the Phi Beta Kappa honor society. We were all so proud of her.
Mom
was a woman of great faith, and she instilled that in me. Every Sunday as I was growing up we went to
church and she ensured I received the foundation of a strong Christian
education, which was such a gift and helped me through the ups and downs of
life. And I have tried to pass the
Christian faith along to my own children.
Mom
had a special prayer that she said over me every night as I was growing
up. “May the Lord bless you and keep
you. May the Lord make his face to shine
upon you and be gracious unto you. May
you have sweet dreams, a pleasant night’s sleep, and wake refreshed in the
morning, dear little girl.” I know she
said that prayer every night over my children too, and I’m sure she said it
every night of her life for all of her children and grandchildren and great
grand children wherever they were.
Until
the end of her life, mom kept her mind sharp by reading books, doing New York
Times crosswords and the daily Jumble in the newspaper, and enthusiastically
watching tennis on TV, especially her very favorite player Roger Federer.
Mom
gave my brothers and me a great gift by being pragmatic, realistic, and
prepared about the end of her life. She
put her affairs in order years ago, and showed us exactly where everything was
so we would know where to go and what to do when the time came. And she wanted to go her way, on her
terms.
Last
summer, when the side effects of her heart medication made her feel miserable,
she took herself off of them and declared “I’m done. I’ve had a lovely time, and I’ve enjoyed
every minute.” She didn’t want any
invasive procedures or extraordinary measures.
“Let me go,” she said.
In
her last days, the few words she was able to say were full of gratitude and
love. “I’ve been so blessed. I’ve been so blessed. I love you all so much, darling people.”
And
last Sunday, that heart that loved so unconditionally and so generously and so
devotedly for almost 90 years finally gave out.
Mom,
I am so grateful to you, for it is because of you that I have become the woman
I am, the mother I am, the pastor I am, because you showed me how to be strong
and courageous and independent; you showed me how to love totally and
unconditionally, and you showed me how to put my faith in God.
Beloved
and beautiful mom, you will never be far from my thoughts or my heart, and you
will live on in the lives of your children and grandchildren and great
grandchildren, a wonderful legacy of the most wonderful mom in the world. Miss you and love you forever and ever.
