Tribute from John Lee, Anna Verne Lee's son, August 10, 2024.
One of the earliest memories of my mother was her leading me in a prayer, at my bedside, for Jesus Christ to forgive my sins and make me ready for heaven. It was my privilege to be at her bedside as she transitioned to heaven, on August 3rd around noon, the same date of her Aunt Anna’s birthday, with whom she shared the same name.
When
I walked into her room last Friday afternoon, Esther and I found two teary eyed
LPNs or CNAs, likely paying their final respects before a weekend away from
work, holding her hands and showing her lots of love. It seemed they had just
washed her up and fixed her hair before our visit. They both expressed that she
was a sweet and favorite patient. Esther, or any other sibling who visited, had
devotions everyday with mother. Mother would request prayer to be a blessing to
those who cared for her.
My
mother was a caring person. She showed her care in unique ways, that
you’d have to experience for yourself. My niece, Laura, was enamored with a
bottle of perfume, shaped like a rose, with a lid that looked like a portion of
the rose’s stem that sat on her grandma’s dresser. After noticing that the
level of the contents in the bottle never changed, she questioned Anna Verne
about it. Mother said that our dad had bought it for her, and since it was so
special to her, she didn’t want to use it. It was evident, in conversation, how
she adored her siblings and parents. She was almost like a mother hen for her
brothers John and David, and for her sister, Sarah Margaret, though she was the
second oldest child in the family. When we were at boarding school, as kids,
she would go through lengths to pack just what we liked to snack on, in our
chow boxes/tins. Too bad that mine was gone in a few days😊. She had started a box of cards, sent
from my kids, before she began to decline significantly, and I remember her saving
all our birthday cards from many of our family and friends as keepsakes. Her
care showed in ways that were unique.
She
wasn’t just caring but she was consistent and committed- All of us kids
remember receiving her hand-written letters, each week at boarding school.
Those letters were fresh air to our souls, to receive words from home. You can
see that specific Scripture, from the book of Ruth in your bulletins inserts,
about her commitment to our dad, and service to the Lord that says, “where you
go, I will go, and wherever you make a home, those people will be my people,
and your God will be my God”. Her consistency and commitment showed when I
would get up in the morning and see her Bible open with a pen in it, alongside
her crossword puzzle book. Dad and her also prayed through prayer calendars
religiously.
So,
she was caring, consistent, committed, and she was courteous and cultured-
we were raised with a mom whose lifestyle, from being raised under British
influence was evident. We knew what fork to use during a higher-class meal. Or
how to set a table. Every time people blessed us with a gift, we were to
respond with a hand-written thank you note. When I say cultured, it wasn’t like
she became saturated with culture in the United States, once we moved back
here. In fact, we could tell she rejected segments of our culture, but she was
very aware of what was classy and proper and expected us to act appropriately.
She wasn’t given to fashion- she started taking more of Esther’s advice in her
later years, but she certainly had this aura about her, “if I have to change
for you to accept me, it just won’t happen…”😊 One missionary wrote me and said she
was invaluable with orienting new missionaries to the way of life in Kenya,
because she knew missionary and Kenyan cultures. She was aware of those around
her and wanted to act appropriately.
She
was concise- I often had mother look over anything that I wrote and
publicized. She was skilled at picking out grammatical errors. I’m sure that
she helped many write better articles for The Call to Prayer at WGM or support
letters that conveyed a focused message. She was known for helping missionaries
learn tribal languages and customs in the country of Kenya. I remember
missionaries staying at our home or checking in for language study. Her concise
knowledge of the English language helped to instruct regarding first, second,
third person, singular and plural, verb tense, etc… When she did something, she
would do it well, and I was aware she was VERY able, even if she didn’t believe
she was. Maybe some of her resistance to being more forthright about her gifts
was because she expected perfection out of herself. And we felt that as kids
too, wink, wink😊😊.
Anna
Verne was a confidant. She was trusted with information that wasn’t to
be shared with others. She and my dad didn’t dig up dirt at family discussions.
It almost softened our world, since we didn’t hear about people’s interpersonal
struggles or what people who confided in her (or with dad as a couple) were
processing. I know I talked plenty with my mom on the phone. She listened. Dad
attempted to give answers, she allowed me to process.
So,
we have caring, consistent, committed, cultured, courteous, and confidant. I
needed a strong word, so I’m going to use Becky’s, and that is courageous.
She was strong. Children of pioneer missionary parents who begin their
ministries out of tents in remote areas learn to survive. They must work
through emotional adjustments of much separation from their families and
friends, especially coming to terms with that as adults. It takes strength and
fortitude. I’ve seen my mother deal with driving home on Kenya roads at night
and saying “thank you Jesus” for evading contact with a truck parked in the
middle of the road with no reflectors. I’ve seen her say goodbye to her parents
for long periods of time, or her kids, or my own dad for short stints of remote
ministry. I’ve seen her in traction for her back, for months in a bedroom as a
missionary. I’ve seen her paralyzed on one side of her body from a car wreck
and her fulfilling a goal to walk in my wedding, which happened because of her
strength. From 2003- 2022, Esther has a record of eight procedures/surgeries,
and some weren’t simple. She dealt with
cancer until her dying day, and dementia from her late 80s into her 90s, but
she kept upbeat. Esther says, “All the way to her dying day she held a positive
outlook. She did pout a bit when I told her I needed to go from our afternoon
visit. She perked up and said, "The bathroom is right over there."”
Christine
Stanfield, former missionary to Kenya and Uganda, shared that she appreciated
these qualities about mother: “her always sweet smile and gentle demeanor, her
ready laugh, the wise words of encouragement she so freely shared, and her
willingness and readiness to tell stories of life in Kenya.”
In
conclusion, for a missionary kid, there is one question that stirs the
soul rather deeply. That question: Where is ‘home’ for you? All of us are
dealing with the fallenness of this life, so that we long for something better.
Psalm 90: 1 speaks of God being our home. For right now, we find our dwelling
place- or our home, in God, who has been our dwelling place throughout all
generations. It’s our place of deepest contentment on this earth, in who He is
and in His will for us. Yet, we continue to long for complete satisfaction,
unaffected by any negative circumstance. I’m grateful that Anna Verne isn’t on
her back doing dot-to- dot drawings or maneuvering to get her crossword puzzle
book at just the right angle, to see the next word clue, wondering when Esther
will arrive with the tea and chocolate.
Her journey here is done. She’s truly home, and for that we can be
grateful.
