Tribute from John Lee, Anna Verne Lee's son, August 10, 2024.

Anna Verne Lee (February 25, 1933- August 3, 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 3^rd 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.