Home, Hands, and Heart: Memories of Mom

A tribute to my mother, Eleanor Mae Kingma. 5/6/1937 - 3/31/2021

Read at her funeral on 4/5/2021

The past nine months have been so hard, and so good, all at once. Since Dad passed away, we’ve all spent more time with Mom. I probably spent as much time in her home over the past nine months, as I have in the last 9 years combined. And that was a blessing. We all love Mom’s home.

Mom’s home

Before any of us came along, Mom’s home was just a stone’s throw from this church. Born in 1937, the oldest child of Mel and Evelyn, early pictures show us she was “all girl.” With pretty dresses and her hair tied back with a ribbon and curled, she was always put together. As their family grew, Eleanor Mae (who most called Ellie) often helped to care for her five younger siblings...sisters Margaret and Karen, and brothers Junior, Jim, and Bob. I wasn’t there, but knowing my grandparents, aunts, and uncles, theirs was a home filled with laughter and love. 

In 1956, just before her 19th birthday, Ellie married Harold. Their first home was a duplex next to her parents’ house. A year later, they became a family of three as baby Phyllis joined them, and shortly after moved three miles southwest to the farm; the place that Mom called home for the next 62 years. First in the big house, up the hill. Then in the small house, down the hill. 

Being a farmer’s wife was not a glamorous job–Mom put up with Dad’s clothes smelling like pigs and chicken manure, and cleaned field dirt, corn dust, and pine needles that fell into every corner of her home. And after adding four more little ones–Barbara, Linda, Jon, and Beth–to the mix, the house was not always up to the standards Mom would have liked. Despite the dirt and chaos, mom created the comfy, cozy place we all called home.

Our home was not exactly peaceful. There were arguments and yelling and plenty of “sister-fights.” We often called on Mom to settle our disagreements or to sweet-talk Dad into letting us have our way. Mom was our peacemaker, helping to smooth out the rough edges and bringing harmony to our home. And when her grandkids came along, she continued to be the one to bring us all together.

From birthday parties to pool parties, there was always fun to be had at Grandma’s house. Christmas at home was the best. From Grandma’s meticulously matched gifts to her strong alto voice belting out the Hallelujah Chorus in our annual family singing tradition, memories of her home will always be filled with merriment and music. 

Over the years, Mom and Dad came to love traveling. I’m guessing they made it to nearly all of the United States, and several destinations abroad as well. But regardless of how far they traveled, Mom’s heart was always close to home. In her old travel journals, we found postcards and letters they had sent home and notes that said, “Called Beth from St. Bart’s to wish her a happy birthday.”  

No matter where we ended up, the home Mom created was a magnet that kept pulling us back. We brought our kids for weekend visits and summer tree trimming, and grandma’s house became synonymous with lots of cousins and good times.

I’ll always remember the time spent with her in her home, especially in her final months. As Mom’s mind and body weakened, there were times when she was too tired to talk. During those moments, we’d pull a folding chair up to her bedside and hold her hand. As I caressed her beautiful fingers, I often thought about Mom’s hands, and how they had toiled for us over the years. I pictured Mom’s hands caring for us when we were young. Holding us. Feeding and bathing us. Preparing food and washing dishes. Those hands worked so hard.

Mom’s hands

With her hands, she sewed beautiful clothes for us, especially for holidays like Christmas and Easter. In fact, she always made sure her five children were well-dressed, as Mom loved the latest fashions. Some of my fondest memories are the trips we four girls would take with Mom to the River Oaks Shopping Center. With little Beth’s hand in hers, Mom browsed the clothing racks, getting us ready for summer or going back to school. With arms full of culottes and fashion boots, we’d head to the checkout. Mom’s hands would reach into her wallet and she’d pull out the cash that she and Dad had earned through their hard work on the farm. 

With the start of the tree farm, came Christmas wreaths. Mom started out as a wreath-maker but was soon promoted to chief bow-maker. Over the years, she made thousands of beautiful red velvet bows to adorn the wreaths sold in the barn and Holly Shop. Eventually, we had machines that made bows too. But for the special, one-of-a-kind wreaths, only a hand-made-by-Eleanor bow would do. No one could make them as perfectly as she did. 

Mom’s hands also made her famous “Sugar and Spice Pecans”, to sell at the Holly Shop but also for her family to enjoy throughout the holidays. The grandkids were all treated to Grandma’s handmade caramel apples at Halloween. We kids loved her German chocolate cake for our birthday celebrations. 

And who could forget Mom’s homemade pecan rolls? I loved watching her spread butter over the flattened dough, sprinkle on the cinnamon and sugar, and then roll and cut them into perfect spirals. She made dozens at a time, wrapping a few to take with us on our summer vacations, and freezing the rest for Sunday morning breakfasts when we got home. Mom loved her sweets. 

Along with those sweets, came daily tea time. Whether cups were filled around a table for many loud and laughing family members, or just for a quiet “tea for two,” it’s a tradition we all hold dear. My sisters and I will never forget our tea-time outing once in Alexandria, Minnesota. In a lovely little tea house, we gathered for an exquisite afternoon.  

I’m not sure who started it, but we began to act all prim and proper, sticking our pinkies out as we lifted our dainty teacups to our lips. But we farm girls couldn’t act prim and proper for long. Soon we were all laughing (and I’m sure annoying the customers around us). Mom tried to hold it together with a sense of decorum but eventually giggled along with the rest of us, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

From tea-time to baking, from sewing to bow-making, Mom’s hands were always busy.

Yes, Mom’s home was a special place. And her hands cared for us in countless ways. But what transformed her ordinary home and calloused hands into something so precious, was her heart.

Mom’s heart

Mom’s love was selfless. Always giving. Rarely complaining. Never demanding. 

There was no shortage of joy when Mom was around. She found joy in her pastimes, spreading joy on the golf course, on the ski slopes, and at the bowling alley. She found joy in traveling with Dad and other friends and family, and in making scrapbooks to preserve those memories.

Mom found joy in her work. In her service to her church. In her roles as farmwife, Mom, Grandma, and Great-grandma. When we were kids, she supported us in whatever we set out to do. She cheered at our games, applauded our performances, and attended our graduations. Later, she went to more Grandparents’ Days than we can count and enjoyed even more programs, concerts, sporting events, plays, and musicals “starring” her grandchildren. They were always the star of the show to her. Mom’s family meant the world to her.

In her faith, Mom’s heart was always in tune with Jesus. Though not one to wear her faith-heart on her sleeve, she spent many quiet moments alone in prayer and scripture. In her final years, she colored hundreds of pages, many depicting Bible verses, bringing the Word to life in her own simple way. She modeled faith and faithfulness to her children and in the end, we supported her through her final days on earth by reading scripture and singing hymns at her bedside. 

Mom’s heart of love pulled us in. As her memory and skills faded, as grief over the loss of Dad enveloped her, and as her body failed her, she never focused on herself or her suffering. Instead, she brought us together. We came to care for her, to protect her, and to love on her, as she had always done for us. 

In fact, she taught us some of the best lessons in life over the past 9 months. 

Lessons like…

- family comes first

- don’t waste your breath complaining

- a sense of humor will get you through the toughest days

- always straighten the pillows on the couch

- never forget tea time 

- and always say “thank you”

So, Mom, if you can hear us, we just want to say “thank you.” 

For a home, filled with love and harmony. 

For your hands, that worked selflessly on our behalf. 

And for your heart, that treasured family and Jesus above all.