Francis A. Scott January 11, 1942-April 11, 2000
Six years ago today my Mom died of a massive stroke. In her honor I would like to share the eulogy I wrote for her funeral. I miss her more every year.
My Mom was not a famous woman. She actually had very few friends outside of her family, and her congregation. Because she kept to herself, I wanted you to know some of the very personal struggles and joys she experienced. As I have reflected on her life this week, above all else there are three qualities that stand out.
First, Mom was intensely loyal to her family. To her brother, to her sisters, and especially to her parents, Mom was fiercely faithful. I don’t think anything made Mom more happy than those holiday occasions when the entire family could be together. That loyalty extended far beyond her own siblings. Mom also deeply cared about her in-laws, about her many nieces and nephews, and distant cousins whom she rarely saw. All that mattered was that they were family, and that was all it took to earn her allegiance.
There were times when this commitment was challenging. As I expressed my frustration about the mistakes of some in the family, Mom never hesitated to rush to their defense, and to remind me the love that families share must be gracious and patient.
Because of her loyalty, Mom was very sentimental about those in the family who passed. I have seen her stricken with grief as those for whom she cared so much slipped away. I remember times when Mom would burst into tears as she thought about Uncle Kerm, Uncle Butler, about kissing Pop’s bald head, and about others who may have lived far away but who were never far from her heart. Mom especially thought about the child my Granny lost, Bessie Yvonne, and told me that if I had been a girl I would have been named for her. Mom wanted me to name my daughter after her, and I hope someday to make that wish come true.
I hope everyone in the family here today realizes just what a loyal friend you have lost.
A second quality that stands out to me is how deeply Mom loved helping other people. Mom was not an extrovert by nature, and through the years I think it is fair to say that Mom found it hard to trust people. I understand why. But at the same time, Mom would almost be giddy when we would talk and she told me of someone she had been able to help. It may have been a plate of food she cooked, or a card she wrote, or a gift she gave, but it flooded Mom’s heart with warmth to feel like she was helping others.
When Mom completed high school, she moved up to Northwest Indiana to work at an orphanage. She served as the cook in a children’s home in Valparaiso, Indiana, skills which I am glad she acquired to put to good use for me! I don’t know of too many kids today who right out of high school want to do that kind of work, but Mom always had fond memories of it. Eight years ago I moved to Northwest Indiana to preach, just a few miles from the home where she worked. My time up there served as a constant reminder of how Mom started her life on her own, serving others.
Mom loved to work, and she poured her heart into her work, sometimes at her own peril. Ever since I was born she worked at our local hospital, rising through the ranks until she became the Executive Secretary. My favorite picture of Mom is her sitting at her old desk at the hospital, because that is when she was the happiest.
But Mom worked even harder as a member of the family. Through the years, Mom and I lived with Granny and Pop, and early on it was probably more for our benefit than theirs. But that changed with time, and Mom had to work as hard at home as she did at her office. But she loved doing what she did, because it was serving her family. As Pop slowly slipped from this life, Mom bore a tremendous burden in helping to take care of him. If not for the help of the rest of the family, I don’t know how she would have made it. And after her first stroke in the fall of 1998, she faced the burden of not finding work outside the home, and not feeling like doing much in the home. And yet she did her best to keep the house clean, work with the flowers, feed and bathe Obbie, look after Granny, and spearhead every holiday decoration effort. Mom especially loved Christmas, and many of the pictures in her collection are of the house as it sparkled with her handiwork.
But most of all, Mom was my mother. Being a single mom is hard. There is the uncertainty of being alone, the shame of society, the stress of trying to be a mother and father at the same time. I don’t think that Mom always did the right thing as she raised me, but Mom always, always, poured her heart and soul into doing what she thought was best for me. As a son, you cannot possibly ask any more than that.
Mom worked hard to provide for me, often working two jobs at a time. She had the support of Granny and Pop, who did everything they could to help, and it would have been easy for Mom to take advantage of that. But she had too much of a sense of responsibility to me to do that.
Mom always wanted the very best for me. Sometimes what she thought was best and what I though was best came into conflict, and since I inherited a fair share of her temper, the sparks sure flew sometimes! I remember once when I was a little boy, Mom told me to put away my toy soldiers. I started crying, and she said I was acting like a baby. Enraged, I jumped to my feet and charged at her. The next thing I knew I was staring at the ceiling! She laid me out, as well she should have.
We disagreed about what I wanted to do for a living. There were two things Mom absolutely did not want me to do for a living: preach, and teach! The reason was that she wanted a good life for me, and she felt like I could do other things to have a better living, which I understood considering the poverty Mom was raised in. Once she saw that I was committed to this work, however, her opposition gave way to loyalty, and love, and pride.
I think the very happiest memories I have with my Mom are the times she drove me around to little churches here in central Kentucky when I first started preaching. I fooled around and waited until much later to get my driver’s license, but I am so glad now that I did. As we drove to Paris, to Stamping Ground, to Frankfort, to Mount Sterling, and other towns, we had the chance to talk, to sing, to laugh. I will never forget those moments, and how much she enjoyed hearing me preach. If I was in a meeting anywhere within driving distance, Mom would be there. I am so happy that Mom was able to visit every congregation where I preached for any extended period of time.
When I graduated from FC and moved to Oak Hill in Mt. Sterling, the preacher here in Winchester, John Smith, and I would often trade sermons. His folks worshipped at Oak Hill, and it never failed that when I preached one his lessons, his family would tell me it was one of the best sermons they had ever heard, and when he preached one of mine, Mom would do the same thing. Parents just have a way of knowing, I guess.
Mom often told me how proud she was of my work, especially when I began teaching at Florida College. I know it hurt her for us to be so far away, but she was so proud to have a son who was a college professor. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.
And I just hope Mom knew how proud of her I was. My Mom had a hard life, and there were times when she faced desperate moments of depression. And yet she battled. She fought hard to raise a son. She fought hard to return to the Lord after years of unfaithfulness. She fought hard to deal with the discouragement of illness and unemployment the last 18 months. Her determination was awesome. Last summer I preached in a lectureship in Lexington, and in my final address, as I made a few personal remarks, the last thing I said was that I was very proud of my Mom. She was there, and I am so glad I made sure she knew, in the presence of all who were there, just how I felt.
Like all sons, I have many regrets. I wish I had called more. I wish I had found a way to visit more often. I wish I could have presented Mom with a wife and grandchildren, which she eagerly wanted to see (and constantly reminded me of!). More than all that, I will just miss her. I will miss her big hugs, her frequent phone calls just to say hello, her laugh and her touch. We had often talked about her moving to Florida some day, where I looked forward to our relationship growing as she eased into her sunset years. But instead of me waiting for her to move, it is my hope that now she is at home, waiting for me.
Mom once told me that when I was a little child, she would ask me how much I loved her, and my answer was always the same: “I love you bigger than the sky.” Ever since then, when I sent her a card or flowers, I always included that line. And today, more than ever, that sentiment fills my heart. I loved my Mom bigger than the sky, but I find great solace in knowing that her love for me far exceeded my love for her. I told her once, as I now tell you, that my hero will always be Francis Ann Scott.
My Mom was not a famous woman. She actually had very few friends outside of her family, and her congregation. Because she kept to herself, I wanted you to know some of the very personal struggles and joys she experienced. As I have reflected on her life this week, above all else there are three qualities that stand out.
First, Mom was intensely loyal to her family. To her brother, to her sisters, and especially to her parents, Mom was fiercely faithful. I don’t think anything made Mom more happy than those holiday occasions when the entire family could be together. That loyalty extended far beyond her own siblings. Mom also deeply cared about her in-laws, about her many nieces and nephews, and distant cousins whom she rarely saw. All that mattered was that they were family, and that was all it took to earn her allegiance.
There were times when this commitment was challenging. As I expressed my frustration about the mistakes of some in the family, Mom never hesitated to rush to their defense, and to remind me the love that families share must be gracious and patient.
Because of her loyalty, Mom was very sentimental about those in the family who passed. I have seen her stricken with grief as those for whom she cared so much slipped away. I remember times when Mom would burst into tears as she thought about Uncle Kerm, Uncle Butler, about kissing Pop’s bald head, and about others who may have lived far away but who were never far from her heart. Mom especially thought about the child my Granny lost, Bessie Yvonne, and told me that if I had been a girl I would have been named for her. Mom wanted me to name my daughter after her, and I hope someday to make that wish come true.
I hope everyone in the family here today realizes just what a loyal friend you have lost.
A second quality that stands out to me is how deeply Mom loved helping other people. Mom was not an extrovert by nature, and through the years I think it is fair to say that Mom found it hard to trust people. I understand why. But at the same time, Mom would almost be giddy when we would talk and she told me of someone she had been able to help. It may have been a plate of food she cooked, or a card she wrote, or a gift she gave, but it flooded Mom’s heart with warmth to feel like she was helping others.
When Mom completed high school, she moved up to Northwest Indiana to work at an orphanage. She served as the cook in a children’s home in Valparaiso, Indiana, skills which I am glad she acquired to put to good use for me! I don’t know of too many kids today who right out of high school want to do that kind of work, but Mom always had fond memories of it. Eight years ago I moved to Northwest Indiana to preach, just a few miles from the home where she worked. My time up there served as a constant reminder of how Mom started her life on her own, serving others.
Mom loved to work, and she poured her heart into her work, sometimes at her own peril. Ever since I was born she worked at our local hospital, rising through the ranks until she became the Executive Secretary. My favorite picture of Mom is her sitting at her old desk at the hospital, because that is when she was the happiest.
But Mom worked even harder as a member of the family. Through the years, Mom and I lived with Granny and Pop, and early on it was probably more for our benefit than theirs. But that changed with time, and Mom had to work as hard at home as she did at her office. But she loved doing what she did, because it was serving her family. As Pop slowly slipped from this life, Mom bore a tremendous burden in helping to take care of him. If not for the help of the rest of the family, I don’t know how she would have made it. And after her first stroke in the fall of 1998, she faced the burden of not finding work outside the home, and not feeling like doing much in the home. And yet she did her best to keep the house clean, work with the flowers, feed and bathe Obbie, look after Granny, and spearhead every holiday decoration effort. Mom especially loved Christmas, and many of the pictures in her collection are of the house as it sparkled with her handiwork.
But most of all, Mom was my mother. Being a single mom is hard. There is the uncertainty of being alone, the shame of society, the stress of trying to be a mother and father at the same time. I don’t think that Mom always did the right thing as she raised me, but Mom always, always, poured her heart and soul into doing what she thought was best for me. As a son, you cannot possibly ask any more than that.
Mom worked hard to provide for me, often working two jobs at a time. She had the support of Granny and Pop, who did everything they could to help, and it would have been easy for Mom to take advantage of that. But she had too much of a sense of responsibility to me to do that.
Mom always wanted the very best for me. Sometimes what she thought was best and what I though was best came into conflict, and since I inherited a fair share of her temper, the sparks sure flew sometimes! I remember once when I was a little boy, Mom told me to put away my toy soldiers. I started crying, and she said I was acting like a baby. Enraged, I jumped to my feet and charged at her. The next thing I knew I was staring at the ceiling! She laid me out, as well she should have.
We disagreed about what I wanted to do for a living. There were two things Mom absolutely did not want me to do for a living: preach, and teach! The reason was that she wanted a good life for me, and she felt like I could do other things to have a better living, which I understood considering the poverty Mom was raised in. Once she saw that I was committed to this work, however, her opposition gave way to loyalty, and love, and pride.
I think the very happiest memories I have with my Mom are the times she drove me around to little churches here in central Kentucky when I first started preaching. I fooled around and waited until much later to get my driver’s license, but I am so glad now that I did. As we drove to Paris, to Stamping Ground, to Frankfort, to Mount Sterling, and other towns, we had the chance to talk, to sing, to laugh. I will never forget those moments, and how much she enjoyed hearing me preach. If I was in a meeting anywhere within driving distance, Mom would be there. I am so happy that Mom was able to visit every congregation where I preached for any extended period of time.
When I graduated from FC and moved to Oak Hill in Mt. Sterling, the preacher here in Winchester, John Smith, and I would often trade sermons. His folks worshipped at Oak Hill, and it never failed that when I preached one his lessons, his family would tell me it was one of the best sermons they had ever heard, and when he preached one of mine, Mom would do the same thing. Parents just have a way of knowing, I guess.
Mom often told me how proud she was of my work, especially when I began teaching at Florida College. I know it hurt her for us to be so far away, but she was so proud to have a son who was a college professor. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.
And I just hope Mom knew how proud of her I was. My Mom had a hard life, and there were times when she faced desperate moments of depression. And yet she battled. She fought hard to raise a son. She fought hard to return to the Lord after years of unfaithfulness. She fought hard to deal with the discouragement of illness and unemployment the last 18 months. Her determination was awesome. Last summer I preached in a lectureship in Lexington, and in my final address, as I made a few personal remarks, the last thing I said was that I was very proud of my Mom. She was there, and I am so glad I made sure she knew, in the presence of all who were there, just how I felt.
Like all sons, I have many regrets. I wish I had called more. I wish I had found a way to visit more often. I wish I could have presented Mom with a wife and grandchildren, which she eagerly wanted to see (and constantly reminded me of!). More than all that, I will just miss her. I will miss her big hugs, her frequent phone calls just to say hello, her laugh and her touch. We had often talked about her moving to Florida some day, where I looked forward to our relationship growing as she eased into her sunset years. But instead of me waiting for her to move, it is my hope that now she is at home, waiting for me.
Mom once told me that when I was a little child, she would ask me how much I loved her, and my answer was always the same: “I love you bigger than the sky.” Ever since then, when I sent her a card or flowers, I always included that line. And today, more than ever, that sentiment fills my heart. I loved my Mom bigger than the sky, but I find great solace in knowing that her love for me far exceeded my love for her. I told her once, as I now tell you, that my hero will always be Francis Ann Scott.
posted by Shane at 9:35 AM
4 Comments:
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That was beautiful Shane, and I wish I had met her! She sounds like she was quite a woman.
Your Friend and Brother,
John Maddocks
Teared up here brother. I loved your Mom. She reminded me so much of mine. Thanks for the good reminder - I think I'll call mine right now.
Mark
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