David C. Greenhalgh
Eastern College

Written originally for the memorial service of the author's mother, Grace Blanche Greenhalgh, this eulogy has been expanded to include the author's reflection of her cultural influence on his life.  As the author explores his mother's life of courage, resilience, and piety, he finds in himself an appreciation of the cultural heritage that now has a legacy in his own life.

The following verbatim address is followed by some personal reflections.

"We have come to celebrate a life; the life of our sister, our mother, our mother-in-law,our Auntie, our Nana, our friend.  It is a brim-full life that instructs us how to live well and to value what is important.  We memorialize by reflecting not only on the chronology of her years but the character of her person and the images we have implanted in our hearts.  So let's reminisce and take a peaceful walk together to learn, to gain courage, and to give honor.

Mother was born August 5, 1911 in Calgary, Alberta, to Mr. And Mrs. Victor and Jenny Bennett.  Victor and Jenny were turn-of-the-century immigrants from England and Ireland who met and were married in Rhode Island and trekked west to Calgary in 1910.   Pioneers without cars, without TV, without hot showers, and without telephones, computers, or the Internet, they built wonderful homes and communities.  Listen to Mother’s voice as she describes some of her childhood in a short autobiography she wrote a few years ago.

Our childhood was carefree and happy.  No worries like the youth of today.   It was safe on the streets at night, the air was pure, as were the beautiful streams, lakes, and rivers.  We had faith in our governments that they were honourable and upright.  God’s word was revered.

People waited till they were married to live together, divorces were very, very rare.  If you had a difference with your husband -– too bad, you just had to get over it and get on with living.  Too much to do to argue very long.

There was no TV 'till long after we were married.  Children read lots of good books and remained children for a reasonable time.  They dressed tidily.   Little girls wore pretty clothes and boys were in smart slacks, shirts, sweaters, and ties.  Nothing sloppy or dirty, and holes were mended.  The boys looked like boys, and the girls, girls.  Ladies were ladies, and most men were gentlemen. Good manners were the norm for everybody.

Growing up was good, although we went through a terrible depression and had to be careful of every penny.  Hungry men would come to our door and Mother always gave them food.  We walked a mile or two to church to save gas, and six times on a Sunday:   morning service, Sunday school in the afternoon, and the evening service.   After nearly every Sunday night service there was a "hymn sing" at somebody’s home.  How we sang our hearts out at those sings!

Our clothes were very nice, but we probably did not have so many as some children have today.  We skated every evening in the winter except Sunday. (I still have my speed skates).  In the summer there were many, many young people’s picnics and swimming parties.  Our bathing suits covered us!...We had good friends from the young people at the assembly and they are still good friends.

During the Depression ladies used to purchase their flour in hundred-pound sacks.  Those sacks were used to make clothing for the children as well as sheets and pillow slips.  They were bleached, and decorated with lace and embroidery and buttons, and worn for years.  They cost ten cents each and were a very valued item.

I attended Stanley Jones and Balmoral Grade Schools, then Crescent Heights and Commercial High School.  Then I was employed as a stenographer for five years.   My highest wage was $60.00 per month and I thought I was in clover!  We always walked to and from high school and usually to business.  Work hours were from nine in the morning 'till six in the evening.

Mother insisted we take piano lessons and learn to swim, for which I am very thankful.

When I was fourteen I accepted the Lord Jesus as my personal Saviour. Romans 10:9 made it very clear, ". . . if you confess with your lips that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved." 

The Lord Jesus has been my closest friend all my life.  He has answered my prayers, helped me in difficult situations, taught me many lessons, taken care of me all these many years, for which I am eternally grateful.  I praise and thank Him for bringing me into the family of God.

What a wholesome, vibrant, solid, rich childhood.  This is the foundation of her story, and the rest is working out the implications.  The character and the lessons are all imbedded therein so permit me now to reverse the structure by highlighting the character with illustrations from her history.  I’m going to build an acrostic with the word legacy to help us keep things together.  L stands for loyalty; how many of you have been blessed by the loyalty or the faithfulness of Grace Greenhalgh?

Mother met George Eric Greenhalgh in 1934 and was married to him in 1938; and she writes:

I left a nice comfortable city home with all the amenities of life to live at Clover Bar, east of Edmonton, in a cute little farm house with four small rooms with no light, no water, no gas, no telephone, and no sewer.  We carried every drop of water in and every drop of water out.  There was outdoor plumbing which was jolly cold in the winter.  Coal oil lamps were used and if we needed to use a telephone we had to walk half a mile to the nearest neighbor.  Coal was used in our furnace and wood and coal in our large kitchen range for cooking, baking, canning, and heating.  It was all very new to me as I could only make a salad when I was married.  Poor Eric thought he would turn into a bunny before I mastered the art of decent farm meals.   Farmers are very hungry people!

The first year was very very difficult, and if it had not been for a kind neighbor giving us many of their cracked eggs we may have been very short of food.   However, Mother and Walter lived in Edmonton by now and they often brought us a nice bag of groceries.

Through financial struggles, adjustments to the farm, life in the city of Edmonton, caring for her elderly mother, raising of five children, ministry at Bethel Gospel Chapel and Kelowna Bible Chapel, retirement years and caring for father at the Cottonwoods Nursing Home, Mother was a devoted wife for 55 years who, with God’s grace, fulfilled her wedding vows "'till death do us part" with authentic steadfastness that shines for all of us to emulate.

But loyalty and love in relationships with her husband, children, grandchildren, and friends were expressed in another very important way, and symbolized by this typewriter.  [Hold up the typewriter for all to see.]  How many here have received a letter or a card from Grace?  She was a letter writer and one who faithfully remembered birthdays and anniversaries with cards.  Christmas cards were addressed in August and numbered around four hundred each year, with each card having a friendly note.  Letter writing was a two-hour morning discipline.  Letters, in her characteristic all-caps style and crooked lines because the typewriter was so old, went around the world to missionaries, relatives, and friends.  Thousands and thousands of letters have touched us through the years.  What a treasure!   What a legacy!  What a lost art!  Whether it was canning peaches or news about a recent adventure, it didn’t matter; it was Mother who had taken the time to write, to communicate and keep you informed.  We will deeply miss those newsy letters.  Proverbs 17:17 says, "A friend loves at all times;" and Mother’s loyal, faithful friendship leaves a large hole for us.  Who will fill that gap?

Loyalty was mixed with practical wisdom or prudence.  So the "e" in legacy comes from the word prudence.  Most of her wisdom grew out of necessity and was taught by example. Eat right; exercise; take your vitamins; fulfill your obligations; be courteous; if it's worth doing, then its worth doing well; clean your fingernails; sit up straight; don’t dilly dally; if there is a mess, clean it up; don’t do it half-hearted; begin and end the day with prayer; be thankful; take in the view; smell the fresh air; don’t wait for the other guy to do it, you do it; have a good laugh.   Of course all this came at you with a high energy impact and a just-do-it-attitude.   So the "g" in legacy is imbedded in the word diligence.   Prudence and diligence make a powerful combination.  And we often were amazed at her energy level and accomplishments.  At times it was overwhelming and sometimes misunderstood. Consequently the label "the colonel" or "sarge" was used more than once.  Listen again to her own words,

Eric bought a nice farm of 160 acres just four miles east of Edmonton, at Clover Bar.  He worked very hard outside and I worked very hard inside and outside.   One of my jobs was to gather the eggs, then wash, dry, candle, weigh, stamp, and box them in ten-dozen crates.  We used to sell most of them to stores, and they brought the great sum of twenty cents a dozen. This was the housekeeping money.  The garden was also the ladies’ job on the farm…

After five years the electricity was installed, and every time I switched on a light, I said a little prayer, "Thank you Lord, Thank you."

The first son, Arthur Victor, arrived June 13, 1940.  He could only wait six months so was a little 3 lb. 11 oz perfect baby boy complete with eyebrows and finger nails.  He spent the first six weeks in the incubator and then kept us busy day and night feeding him every three hours.  He gave us a few frights with a convulsion, meningitis, and when three being kicked by a calf in the neck and having to have stitches.   He survived and is now looking after his own children.

Eric Maurice Walter appeared early one Sunday morning, Jan 7, 1944.  He was a going concern and kept us running from morning till night!  He was like lightening.

David Cecil arrived four years later, May 2, 1948.  He was a nice little slow-poke who didn’t walk 'till he was fourteen months.  He was quite content to sit and play by the hour.  [I was storing up energy.]

When David was three months old we sold our nice farm and moved to Edmonton after buying a feed mill.  It was a great change to be able to push a baby pram on a sidewalk, and go for a walk on even ground with the children. But we later regretted selling the farm.  As we look back we think we should have kept it a few more years so all the children could have enjoyed it.

David was eight when we chose Richard and Linda to join us and now there were seven members in our family.  They were six and seven.  All the children took music lessons.  Richard and Linda being particularly musical had singing lessons, too.

As the boys reached fourteen they helped in the mill for pocket money.   Linda found a little job in a dress shop.

The children had a good home life, I hope.  They enjoyed sports of all kinds and took part in every kind of game there was all through school with their Dad cheering on the sidelines whenever possible.  They had good holidays at the lake every summer and some camping trips.  They were taken to church services and Sunday school.  It was the normal procedure.

We are very thankful for all the children...We pray for them and our fourteen beautiful grandchildren and our now five adorable great grandchildren.  We pray that they will accept the Lord Jesus and seek to serve Him.

Such normal life-cycle stages were made distinct by her feisty energy and habituation of practical wisdom.  But the same traits applied not just to family but to her other great love:  the work of the local church.

This leads us to the letter "a" in faith, the fourth letter in legacy.   The Bible says, "without faith it is impossible to please God."   From her fourteen-year-old conversion to her last days at Kelowna General Hospital, Mother cultivated her relationship with the Lord and sought to serve Him with all her heart.  Her basic motivation was responsive love and gratitude for the gift of salvation; not a motivation based on religious guilt, fear, or obligation.  Though on the surface we might be tempted to perceive an acculturated faith or routinized religious practice, this is not the case.  Mother practiced the discipline of private reading, prayer, and meditation.  Such habit grounded her life for frequent expressions of thankfulness, wonder, confidence, hope, and expectation.  Remembering the Lord in corporate worship was the central practice of the week.  Good singing accompanied by skillful organ and piano made her spirit soar.  Penetrating preaching and enlightened teaching of the Scriptures brought conviction, reflection, and evaluation.  Frequent hearing of the essential Gospel story prompted fresh appreciation for the grace of God and compassion for the lost.  All of this inward work translated to a vigor for the work and support for the assembly.  Who can begin to measure the impact?  Sunday school, Wednesday night prayer meetings, ladies' Bible Studies, tract distribution, missionary work sessions, entertaining the preacher, hosting hymn sings, buying for Sunday school picnics, Gideon rallies and Bible distribution, Bible memory, Friday night hobby classes, Calgary and Edmonton Bible conferences, Meadowlodge and Morning Star camps, and numerous church suppers.  To these activities add the integration of life’s markers to kingdom work and we can link:  births, baptisms, showers, weddings, critical illnesses, and funerals.  In all of this Mother recognized opportunity to serve the Lord.  And she did.  Above her typewriter hangs this poem.

I shall pass through this world but once
If therefore there be any kindness I can show
Or any good thing I can do
Let me do it now
For I shall not pass this way again

In her eighty-seventh year she knitted scarves for the poor in Albania; distributed Bibles to all the post office clerks, bank tellers, and toll booth operators she encountered; tutored a Chinese student, Raymond Oh, in English; listened to memory verses of the children in Awana; sent birthday and anniversary cards to every member of the Kelowna Bible Chapel; wrote countless letters of encouragement; traveled the length of Canada by train visiting friends and family; attended five camps; and loved every minute of it.

There is an image in my heart I shall not forget.  This past May, I had the privilege of spending nine days just with Mother, bed and breakfasting the Maritimes: holding hands watching the Bay of Fundy rise, stunned by the beauty of the Cabot trail, enchanted by the singing of the Rankin Family, charmed by the affable Akadian French and Anne of Green Gables.  But for me another memory lingers.  After attending a chamber concert at historic St James Anglican church in the old section of St. John, we settled in for our first night.  To save money, we requested twin beds in the same room.  I jumped into bed to do some reading.  Mother looked over and said, "David, (with that unmistakable tone of voice) your Father would have never gotten into bed without first kneeling and praying."  So for the next nine nights we prayed together beside the bed and prayed for the family, the church, and the missionaries, always giving thanks for God’s love and mercy in our lives.  Most earnestly she prayed for Doreen, Richard, Art, and Jeanette, which leads me to the next quality, compassion, the fifth letter from our word legacy.

How many of you have been entertained by Gracie by a cup of tea and a little something, a meal, a sing, or a party?  The reputation is renowned.  By being hospitable and taking the initiative to care for the traveler and the stranger she fulfilled her God-given gift.  One of my enduring memories was the Sunday table always being set for ten, though we were a family of seven. The expectation of caring for the preacher or the visitor was as natural as brushing your teeth.

However, I believe Mother grew in her capacity for compassion.  Besides her own tender personality, the repetitive exhortation of the Bible to be merciful, the example of her parents feeding hungry men during the Depression, and the frequent entertaining of the guest preachers, she records in her biography:

My father was drowned at the age of 46, March 1, 1934.  He was on one of his construction jobs in Canal Flats, BC.  Standing on a bridge, he blew the whistle for the men to conclude working for the day, when the bridge collapsed.  He was swept down stream and under a large flow of ice.  They could not retrieve his body then, but managed to the next morning.  That was a very sad time.  Only the Sunday previously he had spoken on that verse in Psalm 17:15, "I shall be satisfied, when I awake, with thy likeness."

Mother experienced the suffering of the loss of loved ones and so she could empathize with others.  Most deeply was the loss of her beloved five years ago.  The pain of loneliness and the sense of loss were never too far from the surface, and endured until her passing.  She drank deeply in the loss of David Bennett, her nephew’s son; little Paul, her grandson; and Maurice, her son.  She shared the tears of grief particularly with Doreen, Art, and Jeanette.  She knew their pain better than any other family member and so her prayers and support were a continual conscious exercise.  In her final days Psalm 91 ministered to her.

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High,
who abides in the shadow of the Almighty,
will say to the Lord, 'My refuge and my fortress;
my God, in whom I trust. . . '
Because you have made the Lord your refuge,
the Most High your habitation,
no evil shall befall you,
no scourge come near your tent.
For he will give his angels charge of you
to guard you in all your ways.
(Psalm 91:1-2; 9-11)

Who will advocate for us quite so compassionately now?

The image of Mother reunited in Heaven with our dad, her father, her mother, Maurice, and little Paul brings me tears of joy because her suffering is over and the joy of reunion is beyond words. 

This leads to the last letter, "y" in legacy, which also is the last letter in the word dignity.  Mother brought dignity to our lives on lots of levels.  The stylish hat, the special outfit, the flower arrangement, the china tea cup, the silver spoon, the proper greeting, the shoulders back, the noble walk, the touch of class -- all this gave grace and dignity to her person.  They created an expectation for us as well and thereby lifted and dignified our own experience.   Though some of these behaviors may be dubbed "old school" or "cultural heritage," they are more than that.  They communicate significance, importance, and dignity.  They say, "You are made in His image, you have eternal worth" and "so you are important to me, too."   Whether poor and disadvantaged, middle class, or from the House of Windsor, it didn’t matter; you got the same royal treatment:  a cordial welcome, a comfortable chair, a tasty spread, a genuine interest, a hearty laugh, and God’s speed.  She lifted us up and she wants us to do the same for one another.

Mother, you leave a vacuum in our life that only time with goodness will fill.   Thank you for your witness to our spirit, thank you for the legacy."

Strength and dignity are her clothing,
and she laughs at the time to come.
She opens her mouth with wisdom,
and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue.
She looks well to the ways of her household,
and does not eat the bread of idleness.
Her children rise up and call her blessed;
her husband also, and he praises her:
'Many women have done excellently,
but you surpass them all.' 
Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain,
but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.
Give her of the fruit of her hands,
and let her works praise her in the gates.
(Proverbs 31:25-31)

Writing the eulogy for my mother was both a difficult assignment and a privilege -- difficult because the emotions are released at such a time and it is hard to focus on carefully crafting a history; yet a privilege because I had the opportunity to withdraw in order to write and reflect.  These quiet moments generated opportunity for private grieving but with a positive task in mind.

A eulogy is a strange time for self-discovery because one is so focused in the effort to authentically describe and illustrate the other’s life.  Nevertheless, in the process I saw traits within my own character stemming from the heritage of my family.  The list of possible links would be too numerous because it includes deep connections to spiritual values, personal work ethic, and attitudes toward family and community.

To illustrate just one dimension, I realize what an impact Mother’s gift of hospitality had on me.  I do not believe I am nearly as overt in my invitations as she was in hers.  For her, spontaneously inviting strangers and friends for meals and lodging was a natural way of life, and I grew up with an unconstrained expectation that others would be at our table and we needed to share whatever we had.  This behavior was deeply rooted in the belief that all things belonged to God and we were simply stewards and needed to look out for the needs of others.  I believe I am much more of a person who enjoys his privacy and moments alone.  However, if that is one of my dominant traits it has been tempered with my mother’s legacy so that inviting and entertaining guests and looking for opportunities to be hospitable is a joy of my life as well.

David Greenhalgh, Associate Professor at Eastern, has been in education for almost 30 years as a classroom teacher, special educator, principal, consultant and professor.  His research interest lies in character education.

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Recommended Citation in the APA style:

Greenhalgh, D. (1999). Eulogy provides opportunity for reflection and understanding. Electronic Magazine of Multicultural Education <http://www.eastern.edu/publications/emme/1999spring/greenha.html> (your access year, month date).