Amy had a wonderful sense of humor that often got her into trouble. She loved to embarrass me, especially when we were in public. Once when she was in pre-op for outpatient surgery I was helping her change. We were separated from the nurses’ station a few feet away by a thin curtain. In a loud voice she said, “No Dale, I will not have sex with you on this hospital bed.” If that embarrasses you imagine how I felt hearing the nurses laughing as I opened the curtain. A favorite story is of her driving up behind Bob Alexander on his tractor out on the Parkway. She came close behind him and laid down on the horn. Bob glanced over his shoulder and she hit the horn again. Bob waved her around and instead of passing she once again hit the horn. He pulled over and she pulled alongside and rolled down the window. “Hello Bob,” she offered with a big smile. Though Bob laughed about it later, but in that moment Amy realized that she may have pushed him a little too far.
In contrast to this playful side, Amy had an intensity that could be intimidating. She could narrowly focus on a task and not let up until it was completed. She described it as being “like a dog on a bone.” That intensity carried over to her craft projects. Last fall she spent many nights in the basement making Christmas stockings to give away as gifts. As she gave them away, people began requesting special orders and designs and offered to pay her for them. But instead of accepting payment, she gave them the address of the pregnancy center and asked them to make a donation there. Then, this spring as Covid was intensifying, she did her part to stifle its spread by returning to the basement, making scores of beautiful masks which she gave to friends and family to help protect them from the virus. The mask I wear today is one she made special for me. There was a generous, giving side to Amy that few people ever saw.
Amy loved her family. She always said that whatever went wrong in the world she knew she could count on her family for support. She invested in those relationships and loved each one you deeply and unconditionally. You have been very kind to me and especially supportive in this difficult time. I appreciate it more than you can imagine.
Amy loved Brett and Taylor with a fierce devotion. She had high expectations for them and pushed them a bit hard at times. But she knew life can be tough and that truly loving them meant getting them ready for the challenges of this world. Brett and Taylor, your mom often talked of how proud she was of the man and woman you have become. She melted every time you called her Mommy.
Amy made me a better person. She encouraged me to stretch myself beyond my self-perceived limits. We were better together than we were as individuals. She kept me balanced and I hope I did the same for her. We often had long meaty conversations during which we challenged each other’s perspective. I loved those conversations. She loved me in spite of my many faults and I adored her.
I have been touched by the overwhelming outpouring of support from family and friends. Many have asked the question we always seem to ask during these circumstances - “Is there anything I can do for you?” I’ve struggled to answer that question but yesterday a couple of things became clearer to me.
I ask that you honor Amy by wearing a mask, practicing social distancing and stop complaining about a loss of individual freedoms. Amy knew her underlying conditions put her at a higher risk if she contracted the virus and was terrified at the thought of getting sick. There are many, many people who have similar conditions and I implore you, I beg you, to be socially conscious – to be good neighbors. If you begin to question whether all this is necessary, I hope you will remember one of the last things Amy said to me as she shivered with chills on the way to the hospital– In a very weak voice she whispered, “Am I going to die?” Please wear a mask.
Second, I hope you will honor Amy by living out your faith. She was frustrated that we as Christians have allowed our faith to become politicalized and have come to believe that the solution to spiritual issues is found in the ballot box. She was tired of the empty ramblings of the religious, the modern Pharisees, and longed to see the church boldly exhibiting the fruits of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. She would ask that you, my brothers and sisters of the faith community, support the Alleghany Pregnancy Care Center, the Solid Rock Food Closet, Grace Kitchen, Ebenezer’s Christian Children’s Home and a host of other ministries serving our community in the name of Jesus. She would plead that you, as individuals, be salt and light in a dark, dark world.
Finally you can honor Amy by living life fully. Amy encouraged me, and I will encourage you, to not just live the length of life but to allow yourself to experience the depth and breadth of all life has to offer. There were so many things we talked about doing some day, and now we will never get to experience those things together. This has been a difficult year for our family. Amy and I have talked many times about how the losses and challenges we have faced remind us that every day each interaction with someone has the potential to be a last time event. Amy’s death has reinforced that realization. She would want me to remind you that James tells us in scripture that “You do not know what your life will be like tomorrow. You are just a vapor that appears for a little while and then vanishes away.” Make the most of this vaporous life.
So if you were wondering, those are the things you can do for me and Amy. While her physical body may vanish, the impact of her life will live on through us. I am forever changed because of my relationship Amy. Thank you all for being here. I love each one of you.
