As [Jesus] went along, He saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked Him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” “Neither this man nor his parents sinned,” said Jesus, “but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life.” “Go, He told him, “wash in the Pool of Siloam”… So, the man went and washed and came home seeing. (John 9:1–3, 7, NIV 1984).
My Musings – This was my wife Eileen’s life text. She asked that it be the central Scripture used for her funeral. Eileen was not born blind. That occurred later in life, about four years into our marriage. There was no miraculous restoration of her sight so that she “came home seeing.” But these are not the reasons she chose these verses as her life text. Rather her fervent hope was that “this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in [her] life.” If so, she left this earth happy and with no regrets.
But blindness was not the only thing that happened in her life. She was diagnosed with Type I Diabetes when she was nine. The blindness, a result of her diabetes, came at age twenty-four. At age thirty her kidneys failed, also the result of her diabetes, and she underwent a kidney transplant. The kidney was donated by her sister Joyce. Painful arthritis resulted in two knee replacements, the left when she was thirty-five and the right when she was fifty-four. A pancreas transplant at age forty-seven gave her ten years of insulin independence before it failed. Coronary artery disease led to a quadruple bypass at age fifty-three.
A side effect of the immunosuppressant drugs that were required for her transplants was squamous cell skin cancer. Over the years she had scores of successful treatments, but at long last (at age 68) the skin cancer infiltrated a lymph node. A full-body CT scan post-surgery and radiation treatments suggested no cancer remained anywhere. But within a few short months, a persistent cough followed by testing revealed the cancer had metastasized to her lungs. The cancer was terminal. Three-months left without chemo, six-months with. She passed two years ago today, three months short of her sixty-ninth birthday, and fifteen months short of our fiftieth wedding anniversary.
These are just the major afflictions. There were numerous other surgeries and hospitalizations. Naturally she had her down moments, but through every new malady she clung to the hope that she could live a life of inspiration to others “so that the work of God might be displayed.”
My Son Joel’s Musings – Following is the text of the eulogy Joel gave at his mom’s funeral.
Good morning, everyone. My name is Joel Brewer, and I am Eileen’s youngest son. On behalf of our family, I want to say thank you. Thank you for all your thoughts, prayers, condolences, your love, and for keeping us well fed.
Speaking of food, I think the last time that I talked in front of this congregation, I was 14 years old, away from home for the first time on a mission trip to Northern Ireland. When I called into the service, I think it was pastor Steve that asked me if I missed my mom’s home cooking. I think my response was something along the lines of “no, not really.” Everyone laughed at the comment from a teenage boy, and I’m sure mom shrunk down in her seat.
You see, it wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate mom’s home cooking at the time, it’s that I was experiencing new foods, a new culture and new life experiences. I got to be a part of preparing those meals too, so I was excited by it all.
But now facing the reality that I will never again have a home cooked meal by my mom, I can say now that yes, I do miss mom’s cooking. And I’ll do my best to recreate those meals from the recipes she left behind. And I’ll cherish even more the meals that I made for her that she enjoyed. She taught me how to cook, how to bake delicious chocolate chip cookies, and how to host a meal for family and friends. That was mom, she was always teaching us something wasn’t she?
When I was five, she taught me how to read. Maybe not in the traditional sense, but she taught me how to use my imagination and be inspired to create the story in my mind. If you haven’t heard the one about Goldilocks’ mom falling into the talking sandbox, you’re missing out. Can you think of a time she inspired you? I’m sure there is a moment that sticks out in your mind.
When I was eight, and we lost my brother Josh, she taught me how to grieve, how to honor someone’s memory, and how to persevere through even the toughest of times. And now she is making up for lost time with Josh. I know she’s been there for many of you during your hard times. Whether it was a prayer, a shoulder to cry on, or a joke to help you remember the joy in life is never gone even in our darkest moments.
When I was 15, she taught me how to drive…well maybe it was just her nervous laughter from the backseat telling me to slow down around the corners as I drove through the cemetery for the first time. Those words still ring true today. We live in such a busy world, running from home to work, to appointments, and kids activities that life just passes us by. Let’s take mom’s advice, slow down and take time to appreciate all the people and blessings in our lives.
When I was 18, and leaving home to move to college, she taught me to have courage to go out on my own, and chart my own path. To overcome challenges and to have ambition for the things I wanted out of life. I think all of us can think of someone in our lives right now that could use those words of encouragement from a loved one. Let’s take mom’s advice and reach out to them.
When I was in my mid 20s, she taught me about love and commitment. I learned what it means to be a good partner, and how to put someone else’s needs above your own. I learned from watching her and dad through out the years. Hold the ones you love extra tight today, surprise them with flowers, or make a special meal.
When I was in my late 30s, she taught me how to be a good parent. How to listen to your intuition, to nurture, to care, to love, to support your child and how to make sure they feel loved. And she taught me what pure joy and admiration looks like by watching her spend time with her grandson Adrian.
And most importantly, throughout my whole life she taught me how to believe, and how to have faith. No matter what challenge life was throwing at her, I’d often tell her “I’m so sorry you’re going through this” and she’d tell me, “that’s just how it is”. She had every reason to be mad and bitter at the world, but that wasn’t mom. She took each new challenge in stride and put her trust and faith in God to see her through. And that faith was perhaps the greatest lesson of all.
Those are just some of the lessons that my mom taught me. I’m sure each of you here today have some things you’ve learned from her as well. Let’s do our best to keep learning from the things she taught us, not just because she said so (which she loved to tell me over and over as a kid), but because her life lessons bring glory to God.
Before I wrap up, one last story to share. As a family, we loved going to concerts, movies, plays, and musicals. So, I want to share some lyrics from a song called “For Good” from my very favorite musical. And I think this verse rings true for everyone who ever met Eileen Brewer. “Because I knew you. I have been changed for good.”
Eileen’s Musings – An interview given for a women’s retreat at our church a year or so before she passed.
My Advice – My advice to others is not necessarily to be inspired, but to be an inspiration to others. “I pleaded with the Lord to take [the affliction] away from me. But He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” (2 Corinthians 12:8–10, NIV 1984). It was “sufficient” for Eileen, and it can be for us too.
Thanks to my readers for indulging me this week as I reminisced about my wife. I hope I didn’t overdo it.
She had tiny feet, but she left me with big shoes to fill.
The Brew Is A Musing 