On a cold 4th of December 1926, Helen Marie Smerdon was born. Her grandmother – Irma Helene, and her great-grandmother, Marie provided the inspiration for her name.
When mom was born, there was a young neighbor named Harold that had chicken pox and wondered to his mom whether he would ever meet the new baby next door. He need not worry. When they reconnected after World War II, he and my mom spent nearly 68 years as husband and wife.
Growing up, mom remembered that concerned boy next door, who did eventually get to meet her, as the one who taught her to swing standing up and as the one could make the swing go high.
In what her siblings might consider an understatement, my mom, the only granddaughter, said that she was “perhaps” a bit spoiled by her grandmother. Her grandmother sought to temper the tomboy in mom by providing her with the very popular Shirley Temple dresses. However, she would treasure even more those dresses made by her mom who was an outstanding seamstress.
The sense of adventure my dad inspired in my Mom on the swings was on display at her grandparent’s silo one afternoon. The silo was conveniently located out of sight from the farmhouse. Her brother, Johnny, convinced her and Ernest to go around the top of the silo. So one by one in age order with Johnny leading the way, they began the circular journey of 3-inch scoots. It wasn’t too long before she began to think this was a bad idea with the ground so far away, but how do you turn around – Well, you don’t! With the encouragement of Johnny, she made it.
While traveling home from Sunday dinner where they celebrated mom’s 15th birthday, her family stopped at some friends on the way home and there heard the news of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor.
As a student, Mom loved math and actually considered being a math teacher, but felt the pull of the times that math was a subject that was a man’s domain. Throughout her life, she could work numbers in her head as well as anyone I knew.
After the war, while she was attending Joplin Community College, she received a call from that concerned boy next door from her early days in Ritchey. My dad’s family had moved away from Ritchey when they were both young. Mom and her roommates anxiously waited for him to arrive for their first date wondering if she would recognize him after all those years. She did!
On May 17th, 1947, the boy with whom she had developed her sense of adventure on the swing set began a nearly 68-year adventure.
After a few discouraging years, mom became pregnant with my brother, Dale, just in time for the hottest July on record in Joplin. Without AC, Mom endured until Dale was born in August of 1954. While still in Joplin, Mom and Dad brought Dena home in 1956 and Janet in 1957. In 1959, Dad’s company moved from Joplin to Kansas City. Six years later, I came along. I decided not to follow my brother’s example by graciously arriving in early July of 1965 before the summer heat set in.As a young mother, mom had provided her contribution to the mother of the year club. Dale and Dena were in elementary school, Janet was not yet in school. After sending Dale and Dena to the bus stop, mom was surprised to have both Dale and Dena arrive back home; Dale claiming he was sick. They only had one car so mom began walking all three to school. On the way, Dale slipped back home. When mom realized he was gone, she asked the girls to keep walking as she would return quickly with Dale. However, Dale was nowhere to be found, so she ran to catch up with girls, but could not find them. She ran nearly all the way to the school expecting to find them, but they were not there. A neighbor found the girls and began to walk them to school. The principal gave mom a ride home. Dale realized the gravity of the situation when he saw his principal in the driveway and hid in the closet of the girls’ room. It must have had a lasting impact because mom stated that he never gave her any reason to worry after that.
Many of you have experienced mom’s love for telling stories. She was also known for the many rabbit trails that her stories could bring. Mom’s mastery of storytelling was emphasized in a condolence card received just yesterday from a member of this church family who said, “I will miss her wonderful stories with all their delightful mazes of remembering details – little bunny trails that always got back to the original story.”
Mom’s legacy will live long with us, but Mom’s greatest impact on my memory occurred in the last two years of her life. I knew my Mom loved my dad, but the depths of that love were revealed in her relentless devotion to him in his final days. For weeks, whether at home or in the hospital, Mom spent most of her time sitting next to him, often on his bed near his head. She would comfort him when confused thoughts would trouble him by softly quoting Scripture to him. That memory is sealed in my mind.The other legacy began just a few short weeks ago when mom was diagnosed with cancer and knew her time was short. She lived the verse from II Timothy 1:12, “I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day.” She told anyone who visited her that she was not only ready to go home but was looked forward to that day. Her last words to me face to face were, “I will see you in heaven.” Yes, you will, Mom. I love you!
