The Last Music My Mother Heard

Before she died.

My Mother's Family

The Frank and Jane White Family, Australia, 1920




My mother Lucinda is holding the flower.

From left to right: Francis, Hilary, Halley, Ruth, Lucinda, Joyce, Dick, Frank

Happy Mothers Day, Mom

This will be the first year where I cannot say that to my mother, who died five months ago.

The Detritus of Love

A note to me from my mother. October, 2003.

Mom's Birthday Card to Dad

Tribute to My Mother

(On Christmas day, I flew out once again to Lancaster for a memorial service for my mother at Calvary Fellowship Homes. I wrote this out in a journal that my mom had bought for me five years earlier. This is slightly longer than what I said on Saturday, because of time limitations.)

Silent night, holy night.
All is calm, all is bright.

On Christmas eve two days ago, in the courtyard of our church, along with hundreds of others, I held a burning candle. In this twinkling sea of light, my thoughts went back three decades as we sang "Silent Night." My sister and I were visiting my parents on school break in Malaysia where my mom and dad were missionaries. In our Christmas in July, we had no evergreens. But we had gifts and food and love and laughter.

And I recall that we sang "Silent Night." That song reminds me that just as one baby can change a world, one person can make a difference.

"O death, where is thy sting?" My mother's long, meaningful life gives answer to that question00 that her life has touched so many people.

In April, mom suffered a stroke. She spoke only with great effort. To prompt conversation, Anne asked mom "Were you ever a tree climber?"

"Of course," mom replied. "The higher the better." And high aspirations have indeed marked mom's life-- vocationally, socially, and spiritually. In the early years as a missionary, she wrote the following Life Goals.

"1. To get to know my God more and more.

2. Then to allow God to live His life through me to others for His glory."

One of her goals was to accept "the discipline of sepration from the children." Tears of homesickness would scald my cheeks as I watched my parents leave me at the boarding school and home. It was only years later that I realized that my mother had the same tears. And so she dedicated the last quarter century of her life largely to her children with her loving counsel, her wise encouragement, and in her involvement in our lives and the lives of her grandchildren.

Among the last words mom spoke to me were these. "Ever since you were a baby, I have loved you. Good by, dear Philip."

Mom lived for Jesus without condition, but she was my mother as well and that is how I shall always remember her.

Aglow with His spirit, my mother brough sparkle and joy to the lives of countless people in the nine decades of her life. It is perhaps appropriate that mom should leave us at this time when hope springs afresh, love flows from heart to heart, and joy leaps at every song.

Mom once said to me that three things he liked: cats, hard work, and music. And the music she liked the most was Christmas music. For many years, mom performed in the church's cantata and, in the last year of her life, she looked forward to seeing the Christmas pageant at Sight and Sound. Among the songs she sang was "Silent Night". For it puts into a few words the love of her life and the goal of her life.

Silent night, holy night
Song of God, loves pure light
Radient beams from Thy holy face
With the dawn of redeeming grace
Jesus, Lord at thy birth
Jesus, Lord at thy birth

So, while I do miss mom, I know she would not want me to be sad. And, if she were here, my mother would tell me and each of us that "all is calm, all is bright"

Grief is a Lonely Road

My mother died earlier this month. I'm suspicious of advice other people give on how to deal with grief, as well-meaning and as well-informed as that advice may be. Just as death is unique for each person, the response each of us gives to the death of those we love is also just as unique. It is a road that we must largely walk alone-- a dark road with no sign posts and destination.

We must discover for ourselves what works and what doesn't work for us.

Some will find solace in prayer and the scriptures while yet others in toil and service and yet others in the company of others and in memories from the past. Lately, I've watched videos I took of mom up to fifteen years ago when our kids where young and thoughts of death were far from our minds. It was a pleasure to hear once again my mother's lilting laughter or her voice raised in song or see her carefree clap of her hands.

For me, dealing with grief is not so much an emotion as a choice. I choose not to let my grief effect my professional work. I choose not to let it effect my family, especially at this time of the year. I choose not to let the platitudes of people who in my mother's life had no love for her effect me as well. I choose not to be a slave to my sadness. And it is these choices that gives focus and direction as I proceed on my life's journey. The prayer of St. Francis of Assisi said it well: "O Divine Master. Grant that we may not so much seek to be consled as to console, to be understood as to understand, to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive, it is in pardoning that we are pardoned, and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life."

While grief is a lonely road, it is up to us whether or not we are alone. I am reminded of the great promise from the Bible "Casting all you cares on Him for He cares for you." And I'm also reminded of the lyrics from one of my favorite musical Carousel, reminding me that I need never be alone no matter the circumstances.

When you walk through a storm
Keep your chin up high
And don't be afraid of the dark.
At he end of the storm
Is a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of a lark.

Walk on through the wind,
Walk on through the rain,
Tho' your dreams be tossed and blown.
Walk on, walk on
With hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone,
You'll never walk alone.

Moving On

They entombed my mother yesterday at Whitemarsh Memorial Park in Ambler, Pennslyvania. I wasn't able to attend the funeral. But I've been to the well-landscape, 160 acre park twice before. A tree-lined drive leads up to the 174 foot Tower of Chimes and mausoleum where my mother now rest. The beauty of it is such that you will sometimes see weddings, proms, and picnickers on the grounds. I remember the rhododendrons, roses, and sculptures and seeing a bushy-tailed red fox scamper across our path when I visited the park one autumn day.

Mom was buried in a oak casket on the seventh and highest tier. It's a metaphor of my parents' life that they will be forever untouchable and unreachable-- closest to heaven and furthest from us in death as well as life.

The memorial service was held at my parent's church of a half century, Berarchah in Cheltenham. Sister-in-law Joyce Wik wrote the following bulletin for the service.

Lucinda Elizabeth Wik
October 12, 1918 - December 1, 2008

Much Beloved Wife
Treasured Mother
Precious Grandmother
Cherished Great-Grandmother

Lucinda Elizabeth Wik, 90, died Monday, December 1, 2008 at Calvary Fellowship Homes in Lancaster, PA. Born in Redland Bay, Queensland, Australia on October 12, 1918, she was the daughter of Frances and Jane Eliza (Fielding) White. Lucinda began her professional career as a nurse, rising to a position of authority at the Brisbane Women’s Hospital. She met her husband of 56 years, Harold T. Wik, on the mission field. Lucinda was a devoted Christian who served the Lord as a missionary with China Inland Mission, later called Overseas Missionary Fellowship, in China and West Malaysia from 1948 – 1982. During that time she was involved with pioneer Sunday school work, Bible correspondence, visitation, and Christian education. She demonstrated a deep love for the Chinese people among whom she ministered. She raised four precious children: Paul Raymond, Philip Granville, Anne Marie, and Timothy Alan. She became a naturalized American citizen on March 5, 1975. In 1982 she retired, living in Roslyn, PA until May 2008. She was an active member of Berachah Church, Cheltenham, leading women’s Bible studies, visiting shut-ins, and assisting in Vacation Bible School.

In addition to her husband, she will be greatly missed by her children Paul (Joyce) of Downingtown, PA, Philip (Nancy) of Scottsdale, AZ, Anne (Wayne) Birch of Hatboro, PA and Timothy of Elkins Park, PA. A sister, Ruth White of Redland Bay, Queensland, Australia, survives her, as do many loving nieces and nephews. Seven grandchildren: Timothy (Holly), Peter, Rebekah (Jacob) Sauer, David Birch, Zachary, Jennifer Birch, and Benjamin; and four great-grandchildren: Gregor, Lucinda, Valentine, and Karina will also miss her tender affection.

Lucinda was much more than a sum of her parts. Everyone who met her was captivated by her warm personality, her insightful wit, her compassionate character, her godly demeanor, and her servant’s heart. Until shortly before her entry into glory, she was working on making Christmas gifts for her grandchildren. She was a faithful prayer warrior who could be depended upon to call with words of encouragement as she prayed. She loved to laugh and bring joy to others. At CFH the staff called her “lovey-dovey.” We can say with confidence that she was greeted with the words “Well done, good and faithful servant. Enter into the joy of your Lord” as she entered heaven.

The family requests that contributions in Lucinda’s name be made to the Pocket Testament League, P.O. Box 800, Lititz, PA 17543. Online condolences may be made through the website: www.youngfuneralhome.com.

Service of Memories

Welcome to family and friends Roy Eichner
Opening Prayer Roy Eichner
Hymn: Great is Thy Faithfulness
Prayer of Comfort Pastor Brian Wood
New Testament Scripture Reading: I Thessalonians 4:13-18
Hymn: Redeemed, How I Love to Proclaim It!
Tributes from Friends Pastor Ron Vallette
Obituary Pastor Ron Vallette
Tributes from Family Members
o Jenny’s Poem
o Tim’s Poem
o Philip’s Epilogue
o Joyce’s Tribute
o Trio: Paul, Joyce, & Rebekah - It Is Well with My Soul
o In Lucinda’s own words – Three Poems
o Words from Harold

Hymn: All Hail the Power of Jesus’ Name!
Old Testament Scripture Reading: Isaiah 55:1-13
Message Pastor Brian Wood

Guests are invited to share some light refreshments with the family in the Fellowship Hall immediately after the service. You may greet Harold and the family at that time.

The family would like to thank Pastors Brian Wood and Ron Vallette and the Berachah church family for their friendship over the years, their support during Lucinda’s infirmity, and their comfort offered at this time of her passing. Special thanks to those who have helped today: Roy Eichner for leading the singing, Peter Hilliard for providing the music, Nancy Matczak for organizing refreshments, and Bill Barry for set up.

The loss of a parent is no small thing. It's easy to feel that's an experience that has happened to no one before. But Mom wanted us to live in the now and the future while not forgetting the past. Several years ago, my Persian cat that I had for 16 years died. I grieved for Rex, as he had wrapped himself around my heart for such a long time and during a time when I was single. But after one year mom correctly rebuked me in my wallowing of grief. There is a time for tears and sadness, and each person will need to go through this process at their own pace. But, if Mom's life has any meaning at all, it is to celebrate life and family and not be bogged into a morass of looking backwards like Lot's wife. There will be a time to move on. For me, that time is not quite yet. However, perhaps the best thing I can do for myself and something that my mother would want for me to do is for me to embrace everything that has enriched my life-- the very things that I've tried to reflect on this blog-- my love for family, ideas, and nature. So that's what I will do, out of the deepest respect for my beloved mother.

Mom had strong literary skills and she always encouraged me in my writing. She kept diaries and journals for much of her life, corresponded weekly to friends and family from around the world, and loved and wrote poetry. The following poem that she wrote was read at the service on Saturday.

" Men must endure, their going hence even as their coming hither," writes Shakespeare, and my mother did so with stalwart grace. Perhaps the best epitaph that I can think of for my mother is another line from Shakespeare, from Prospero, in The Tempest, in praising his daughter Miranda: "Thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise and make it halt behind her."

Lucinda Wik: 1918-2008

On December 1st, 2008, at 5:40 pm, while I held my mother's hand and as she was gazing at her husband of 56 years, her spirit took flight.

Read More.

A biography of my mother.

Lucinda Elizabeth Wik, 90, a retired Missionary for Overseas Missionary Fellowship, where she worked for 34 years, died Monday, December 1, 2008 at Calvary Fellowship Homes in Lancaster, PA. Mrs. Wik lived in Lancaster, but was previously a resident of Roslyn, PA. She was born in Redland Bay, Queensland, Australia and was the daughter of the late Francis and Jane Eliza (Fielding) White. She was a devoted Christian doing missionary work with her husband in China and West Malaysia retiring from the OMF family in 1982. Lucinda was also a nurse and a member of Berachah Church in Cheltenham, PA.

She is survived, in addition, to her husband Harold, by 3 sons; Paul R. (Joyce) of Downingtown, Philip G. (Nancy) of Scottsdale, AZ, Timothy A. Wik of Elkins Park, and a daughter, Anne M. (Wayne) Birch of Horsham. A sister, Ruth White of Redlands Bay, Queensland, Australia; 7 grandchildren and 4 great grandchildren also survive her.

A Memorial Service will be held on Sat., Dec. 6, 2008, 3 P.M. at Berachah Church, 400 Ashbourn Rd, Cheltenham. Private Entombment will be in the Whitemarsh Mem'l Park in Ambler. A Memorial Service will be held in Lancaster at a later date. The family requests that in lieu of flowers contributions in Lucinda's name be made to Pocket Testament League, 11 Toll Gate Rd, Lititz, PA 17543.

Here is a guestbook in my mother's memory.

My Mom is Dying

Time, like an ever rolling stream
Soon bears us all away
We fly forgotten, as a dream
Dies at the opening day.

I go to Lancaster tomorrow to visit my mother who is but days from death. On Monday, her feeding tube was removed as she can no longer swallow.

Mom is Back In the Hospital

Mom collapsed again in the bathroom while at an overnight at my brother's house.

Mom is resting comfortably at Lancaster General. Her doctor is Dr. Garrido, a neurosurgeon.

Visting hours exclude 7-8:30 am and pm when there is a change in shifts.

Mom has bleeding on the brain, possibly due to a stroke and a concussion, and perhaps other internal bleeding manifested by a significant decrease in her hemogloblin level. She will have another CAT scan today and will be kept under observation at least for another day and then moved to another floor.

The doctor brought up Mom's living will and asked me if her refusal to use heroic measures accorded with my understanding of Mom's beliefs. I sadly said yes, remembering that Mom has always made a distinction between life and living. I however agreed they should use an IVC filter today, something that I don't think falls under the heroic measures category.

Happy Birthday

to my mother who celebrated her 90th birthday.

A Letter From Australia

My sister passed on this sad but insightful letter from an Australian cousin.

Dear Anne,

Thank you for including us in your conversation regarding your Mum and Dad's situation. I am so glad that you have your own family where you can revert to 'some nornality of life' and the accomplishments and joy of your own children and support from Wayne etc.

You know, because Aunty Cinda has come to visit us from time to time she has chatted with us and there are a couple of things I'd like to mention. I hope they bring some comfort as the resulting pain of the past will always be present for you all.

When our parents become so frail we are confronted by their humanness, we are confronted by their actions which have shaped our lives and we are confronted with ourselves and how we have coped or not coped with the paths our lives have taken, shaped by our parents. a simple example. (It was my mother who chose for me to be a kindergarten teacher and now that she is gone I no longer feel I can carry on with that job even though I have done it very successfully for years.)

I do trust your mother was able to tell each of you, Paul, Phillip, yourself and Tim that she held a very deep grief for sending you off to Boarding school at such young ages. It broke her heart I do believe.

You may ask why then did it happen - I would think possibly because it seemed right at the time within the context of how they chose to serve God.

Down through the years I have felt that you all must have felt so abandoned and always felt so sad for you. Once Aunty Cinda and Uncle Harold moved back to America, Aunty Cinda did all she could in her own way to reclaim that relationship but early childhood relationships can never be reclaimed to that same bond, and so she was very grieved in her soul. If she never told you how deeply she felt, I trust my telling you will help a little. Also our parents came from a generation where various issues were never talked about which has brought it's own grief as well.

Unfortunately the dictates of the interpretation of the religious framework which our parents chose to live by, meant that family was put aside in 'service for God.' Each of you will bear burdens from those early days - and it's easy to put "God" in that same box because in effect he didn't rescue you and change what was happening.

There's a wider view of God though -one of a God/ Christ who walks with us through our pain -My favourite story is Jesus walking on the road to Emaeus -He was not recognized until he was gone. Sometimes we don't see God in these things till we look back and realize in little ways how he was with us. The other thing was that your mother loved each one of you with the depth of love a real mother would love her children and it was because she loved you each one so dearly that it was a terrible burden for her to carry all those years for having sent you away.

I remember her saying about how awful it was to wave you off. Maybe she talked to you about these things -maybe she did not- If she didn't and even if she did. I hope it brings you comfort to know or to be reminded of your mothers great love for each of you.

What a sad a difficult path 'serving God' created for you. Thankfully each of you have your health and in sending you to America rather than Australia you are possibly better set up educationally and financially than if you'd come here to Australia. These are small compensations though for loss and grief.

Anne, I'd better not say more now. I hope this email doesn't make you too sad but rather reminds you that your Mum really loved you despite how it looked when sent off to school so young. You were her only daughter and I remember her saying how absolutely awful it was for her to say goodbye to you as well as to the boys of course.

Feel free to send this to your brothers if you feel it would help but don't if you feel it wouldn't be helpful. It is a time when the past and particularly the past of childhood will emerge in full force.Just remember that Jesus is there to walk beside you each one and carry you along through this sad and challenging time.

Ask Not For Whom the Bell Tolls

The vultures are circulating and last week one descended as my brother decided to take my parent's grandfather clock. Last summer, my mother said "I would like you to have the clock," a large grandfather clock that stood in the living room making these chimes.