Celebrating the life of Millie Murphy
In Celebration of the Life of Millie Murphy March 30, 1926 To September 10, 2011 Service of Remembrance September 15, 2011 Opening Prayer God of our beginnings and endings, whose ways are not our ways and whose thoughts are not our thoughts, grant that your Holy Spirit may intercede for us with sighs too deep for human words. Heal our wounded hearts as we mourn the loss of our friend, Millie. In the silence between our heartbeats, assure us again and again that nothing can separate us from your love, that ear has not heard, nor eye seen, nor human imagination envisioned what you have prepared for those who love you, through Jesus Christ our Lord, Amen Scripture Exodus 3. 2-5 2There the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a flame of fire out of a bush; he looked, and the bush was blazing, yet it was not consumed. 3Then Moses said, ‘I must turn aside and look at this great sight, and see why the bush is not burned up.’ 4When the Lord saw that he had turned aside to see, God called to him out of the bush, ‘Moses, Moses!’ And he said, ‘Here I am.’ 5Then he said, ‘Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.’ Lev 19. 18 18You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against any of your people, but you shall love your neighbour as yourself: I am the Lord. John 15. 15-17 15I do not call you servants* any longer, because the servant* does not know what the master is doing; but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father. 16You did not choose me but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last, so that the Father will give you whatever you ask him in my name. 17I am giving you these commands so that you may love one another. Reflection Remove the sandals on your feet for the place on which you are standing is holy ground. This is indeed, holy ground…for the work of Millie’s hands is the work of Millie’s heart, and at the heart of Millie is the purest love for every single one of us who is gathered here and is here with us in spirit. Years ago, when I was a student minister, the pastor of the church took me aside as we planned a funeral service and said, “I’m going to give you some advice about giving a eulogy, make sure that it is not about you, but about the person who has died.” It was good advice and has served me well, that is, until now….and that is because he didn’t know Millie! The truth is, that for this reflection to be about Millie would surely have her coming back to haunt all of us…Why? Because it would give endless pleasure for Millie to know that a celebration of her life was about all of us who are here in this moment...Here in this place amongst family and friends. So I invite each of you to take a brief moment and consider a conversation, a general feeling, a moment, or a story you have heard about or shared with Millie…Does it pass the Millie test? Wasn’t this encounter all about you and how she made you feel in her presence? Didn’t she always want to hear every detail of whatever story you needed to tell? She rarely wanted to tell her own story but always and in all ways wanted to listen and be a part of yours. (jump rope) Someone once said it is better to beg forgiveness than to ask permission so Millie, I’m going to ask your forgiveness now for what I am about to say. You may be the greatest theologian of our time. In my own search for meaning, I found myself spending thousands of hours and thousands of dollars studying God. I have found myself wondering, since I first met Millie’s family including Stephen and Carolyn, Michael and Cathy, Ken, Linda and Allie and others two years ago at Allie’s graduation party. How different would my own journey have been if Millie had been in my life. What I have come to discover through all of the stories that have been shared and having met Millie and been in her home several months ago, is that she so humbly embodied what so many theologians have struggled to describe as the loving God who lives in and around and through us. Two nights ago, Michael said, “Millie was the exemplar of the Golden Rule.” Rabbi Hillel, the great Hebrew Bible theologian said of the Leviticus reading, “What is hateful to you, do not do to anyone else. That is the whole Torah. The rest is commentary. Go and learn.” If we have known Millie or know people that Millie has loved, then surely we have learned. Millie’s frugality, her distaste for wastefulness and her passion for economy in all things, teaches all of us that anything but love and hospitality is not useful. Another of my favorite theologians describes God as the weaver who braids foot bridges between the traditional and the innovative, who creates a community in which no one of us stands alone. Whatever affects the heart of one affects the hearts of us all. I cannot help but think of the soles, s-o-u-l-s’s of my feet upon this rug as that bridge. It’s all about love. For Millie, the master braider of rugs, the master weaver, creating something from nothing, from the scraps of our lives, is the very commentary on the Golden Rule that Rabbi Hillel described. That commentary will live in us and be passed down from us to the generations that follow. In our third Scripture reading from the Christian Testament, Jesus says, “I do not call you servants any longer…but I have called you friends…I have appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last…so that you may love one another.” I loved reading Millie’s obituary and the economy of it is a testament to Millie as well, for I am sure that if it were possible, everyone of us would be named as “friend.” It also reads, “Her friends and family will forever treasure the love, kindness and generosity she has given to them throughout her life.” Thank you, Millie, for bearing such fruit, fruit that will last. I conclude with the Irish Blessing, found in Millie’s wallet, that is printed on the back of the program. An Irish Blessing… Those who bring sunshine to the lives of others, can not keep it from themselves In other words, Love your neighbor as yourself. Millie embraced the sunshine of the gift of this life, she could not keep it from herself, she could not keep it to herself. She relished in sharing it with all of us that she served with the greatest gifts of all, love and friendship. Remembrances Colin Nana was many things to me. She was smart. She was generous. She was loving. She loved everything. It was a part of who she was. She loved her family, her friends, her neighbors. She loved words – whether it was Wheel of Fortune or large print crossword puzzles. She always had piles – neatly stacked piles – of books near her chair. This was certainly one of the influences that set me on a path of lifelong reading. My books are just stacked less neatly. Nana also loved giving. She lived for giving to others. As grandchildren, Devon and I were lucky enough to be the recipients of many phenomenal gifts: t-shirts, capes for all occasions, Legos, and of course, our #1 Dad boxers. Nana was always finished her Christmas shopping before I had even started, and I always knew how much she loved me because I never once had to buy socks. To this day, new sock day is still one of my favorite days. It reminds me of Nana. It’s like a hug for my feet. But most of all, Nana loved her gardens and being outside. This has been one of the foundations of my life. Most of my memories of Nana are from her garden. How she carefully tended each flower and would take me around to them and tell me their names. How she had rocks placed by her flowers – in just the right place – to lend a bit of year-round beauty to her gardens. I used to bring back Nana rocks -- from my various adventures -- for her gardens, starting with a rock from my favorite camp spot in Montana – which she placed with pride into her garden. This rock giving became a tradition for me. On every long hike I’ve done in the last decade, I have found a rock as a keepsake. In fact, I found a rock on the AT that I carried for its entire length. I remember Nana mowing the lawn, getting it to come out as a perfectly manicured piece of art. As I’ve gotten older – and contrary to what my parents remember from high school – I have discovered a joy in doing simple things well. Mowing the lawn has become a thing of relaxation. Getting each line to match up neatly, making sure no tufts of renegade grass sticks up. This care and precision of Nana’s is something that has served me well in life. But I will always remember, as a child, sneaking into Nana’s backyard and popping open the seed pods on her impatiens. They were fun to squish, making a satisfying little noise. This delighted me as a child. Only recently did I learn that by popping the seed the flowers would bloom better and come back stronger. I’m sure Nana knew that all along. Michael Mom, Millie, Mil, Nana, DSM (Dear Sweet Mother), Auntie Millie, Murph, Tweetie, Those were her many names, but if there is one word which represents her life and her living, it is Strength. Strength in Body, Mind, and Spirit. Here are just some of the ways she lived her life. We all know of her physical work habits- in the yard, in her gardens, in the upkeep of her home. But a real example is in how she decided at a spry age of 62 or 63 to prune a dead limb from the huge 3-part maple tree, which used to be in the back yard. First -- get the 22-foot aluminum extension ladder out of the garage, carry it around the back yard, set it in place to reach a dead branch 19 feet above the ground. Second -- get out your little hand saw to saw the 4-inch thick limb off. That way her morning view from the kitchen window would no longer be spoiled. Climb up to about 17 feet above ground. Third -- saw and saw and saw…until perhaps you reach a bit too far. And then, a big fall, on her side, inflicting severe hip, arm, and head injuries. Fourth, crawl across the lawn, drag yourself up the old concrete steps to the back door, crawl into the kitchen, reach for the phone somehow, and call her favorite, Jim McCleary, and ask: “Hi, it’s Millie, is David home? Are you two doing anything? Could you come over here and help me move something?” Of course they came over, found Mil on the floor, and got her to the hospital. Some tough gal, huh? Here’s another example of her physical strength -- she mowed her own lawn and did all the outside work (no ladders , ever though) until last summer when it started to take her 3 days versus 2 days to finish the lawn. In mid-summer this year, one of Mom’s neighbors stopped me to ask how she was; we talked a while, and he said, “She must be mad as hell that somebody else is mowing her lawn, and not doing as good a job as she would do. ” Barbara Corcoran Sherman said to me this week about mom” we all thought she would live forever.” Her strength of mind was easy for all to see: After leaving high school to work to help support her family after her father’s death, and while working at the bakery where she met my dad, Dad insisted she go back and get her high school degree. Perhaps some of her most prized possessions were the 4 tassels over an old picture of me and Stephen -- 2 from high school, and 2 from college. We had to finish no matter what. Often reading 4 or 5 books in a week from the library in Stoneham, she had a tremendous vocabulary, could spell every word correctly, could figure out any new word from what she had read in books, in crosswords which she devoured, in word puzzle books, in each day’s Boston Globe . No one would win against her in Wheel of Fortune, Jeopardy, Crosswords, number puzzles, and scrabble. Sometimes while she was working in another room, with only one or 2 letters showing, she remembered the pattern and solved the Wheel of Fortune while the rest of us just sat there. Devon and Colin wanted her to go on Jeopardy for years -- Nana would win big money, they said. Her strength of spirit will be surprising, perhaps, for some of you to realize. Raised as a Protestant and married to an Irish Catholic from a very staunch, close family, Mom (Nana) celebrated Lent by giving up something very important to her -- Chocolate. So many people assumed she was Catholic- but that would have been too limiting for Mom. Mom prayed daily for those who needed it in her very extended family -- those of any or no faith, but linked to her in her sense of caring and love. There were no barriers as to who or what they were- they needed her prayers. Mom believed in the healing power of cards, sent by the US mail, some of encouragement and many a bit “Bad “ as she would say. Devon and Colin’s best moments have come when they started to get the “Bad” cards. There was not a drop of insincerity when she went to church, any church, with any of her extended family- she was there for them and theirs. Stephen On behalf of Mike, Cathy, Colin, Devon, Carolyn and I, we would like to thank all the family, friends and neighbors, “family” by Mom’s definition, for the outpouring of love, support, prayers, visits, phone calls and cards over the last nine months. Of special note, Mike and I want to thank Carolyn and Cathy for not only providing unbelievable care to Mom, being the daughters she never had, but also for keeping Mike and I on track, not an easy task. Then there are those people who got Mom to do things no one could…. Amy her live-in caregiver for the unbelievable love and care. Amy is not here today as she returned to Togo to take care of her mother. Mom was her American mother and she lovingly called her “mother”, which made Mom smile. Donna Broderick, her long time best friend, who was with Mom at least three times each week and could always get her to laugh and smile or get one of Mom’s classic eye rolls based on a comment she had made, a current event on TV or based on someone they had been discussing, likely Michael or me. Donna has been a tremendous support to us all. Good things come in small packages! Finally, the Wood family, John, Lisa, Jonathan, Anthony and Thomas who could get “Tweety” to soar to unbelievable heights with every visit. As Colin pointed out, Mom loved to work outdoors on projects or gardening. While there are many stories that make me think of Mom, my favorite has to do with The Rock! When she was in her late seventies we were talking and she asked that I pack some work clothes as she had a “project” she needed my help on. The fact that she asked for help was very unusual for independent Mom, so I asked what she needed help with. Evidently, there was a rock she was worried she would hit with the lawn mower and she was tired of working around it and wanted it out. Simple enough I thought and the date was set. The day of our project was very hot. Sun and temperature never bothered Mom when she was working. I arrived to see Mom in the back yard standing next to a pile of dirt the size of a household appliance, say a washing machine, the dirt was neatly piled on a piece of plastic to protect the grass. As I walked across the lawn, I could not believe what I saw. The hole was dug completely around the rock to a depth of about two feet. The rock itself was washed completely clean, not a speck of dirt on it, as Mom did not want anything to interfere with our grip. I burst out laughing as the rock was huge and had to weigh in excess of 300 pounds. I told Mom there was no way we could move it (we tried to no avail) so she suggested I call Michael for help. After some more laughter, I told her we could enlist half the neighborhood but that rock was not coming out of that hole unless we found a landscaper with heavy equipment, which I was perfectly willing to organize. In her never give up mode, Mom suggested we dig out on one side of the rock and then we could roll it on its side and that would give enough room to cover it with plenty of topsoil so grass would grow. So we started digging, which is never easy in Stoneham, the town was correctly named, but found this rock had roots and what we were looking at was the tip of the proverbial rock iceberg. At this point I figured heavy equipment was the next step when Mom went off to the garage and came back with a full sized sledge hammer and a bucket which contained some stone chisels and a 3 pound hand sledgehammer. Not the typical tools for a 78 or 79 year old grandmother. I had worked for a mason so Mom suggested I jumped in the hole, score the stone all the way around the tip and then see if we could sheer off the top with the sledgehammer. Did I mention it was a really hot and humid day? I climbed out of the hole, grabbed the sledge and to my complete amazement after several sharp blows the lid of that rock completed sheared off. The smile on Mom’s face I will never forget. Mildred Murphy 1, Rock 0, she pitched a complete game shut-out due to her never give up attitude and problem solving ability! There was no question I wanted to come up here before all of you and provide a remembrance of Mom. She was such a unique and remarkable woman, the problem was figuring out how to sum this all up. Last Sunday morning I was standing in our living room, looking out the bay window drinking my coffee when I looked down and it hit me. I was standing on the large braided rug Mom made Carolyn and me for a wedding present. It is magnificent and is the centerpiece of the room and we have decorated making sure the maroons and deep forest greens are accentuated by other items in the room. I looked around and behind me there was a small rug just inside our front door, one in the dining room and another in front of our stove. At this point it occurred to me her braided rugs symbolized many of the wonderful traits about Mom and the rugs were a metaphor for her as a person and how she lived her life. Mom loved to work with her hands. When she was young she worked in factories assembling components for the war, piece work it was called, as you were paid by the number assembled and Mom ended up being the most productive by a wide margin. When we lived in Maine for extra family income, she used to weave the nets that went inside lobster traps which were weird in shape and required a difficult material and process to weave, which Mom easily mastered and completed in the evening while watching TV. Braiding rugs was no different. Mom loved to learn new things. After they were married and moved to Cape Elizabeth Maine, Mom admired rugs in a neighbor’s home and arranged to be taught how to braid. Mom learned quickly and mastered the ability to braid and sew together the rows to create a rug. Whether it was braiding, or home improvement, growing a garden and canning, the city girl quickly learned what needed to be done to maintain a home. As a matter of fact she did all the painting and home maintenance! Dad held the ladder and Millie was the one painting the trim up on the top of their big garrison style home. Mom was frugal. The idea of going to a woolen mill and buying rug remnants for ten or twelve cents a pound and converting the scrap into a usable rug really appealed to her. Once the mills were gone, Mom knew all the staff at the area fabric stores who advised her when the seasonal sales would occur. Armed with coupons, she bought bolts of the color and weight wool she needed to braid her rugs. Mom was unique, like each of her rugs, no two ever the same size, shape, color or pattern. Also, like her rugs, she was vibrant, classic in a style that was timeless, always happy, because in her world the glass was always full, and she always looked for the best in people or the situation. Mom was unselfish. She would give you the sweatshirt (gray or blue) off her back! She readily gave to help those in need such as the Jimmy Fund or Globe Santa or acted a sounding board for many. Last year, Mom was discussing with Carolyn the upcoming fund raiser at Ironstone Farm where Carolyn works and was worried the poor economy would affect the charitable giving and would impact the adults and children with disabilities who benefit from the therapeutic riding, so she donated a rug to their annual funding raising auction. Mom loved family; a rug was often given as a wedding gift or after the birth of a new child or grandchild, as her expression of love and to welcome the new addition to her family. She also gave them as house warming gifts for first homes. When she was a newlywed, braiding rugs was a way to cover and pad a cold floor, provide color to the house and her to add her decorating style. Style, form and function, most of her gift rugs were meant to be used as you entered a home. Many of the people in this room display a Millie Murphy rug despite different style homes from historic to contemporary. The rug fits in, just like Mom did with people of all ages. She had friends from 2 to 95. Many, half her age, who treated her like a contemporary and used her as a sounding board for what was going on in their lives. Mom was practical. She wanted her rugs used. Nothing made her happier than to walk into a house and see her rug in the threshold. Her rugs are durable and last for many decades. She has several of the first rugs she made almost 60 years ago that are in her basement. While worn on the edges and in need of a having the rows stitched together in a few places, they still endure and function as originally designed. All these attributes were woven and braided into Mom’s rugs. Mom, Millie, Mil, DSM, Auntie Millie, Murph or Tweety, like her rugs epitomized: -timelessness -generosity -practicality -strength -her vibrant nature -and most of all love. The Lord’s Prayer Our Father, Who art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy Kingdom come. Thy will be done, On earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread And forgive us our trespasses, As we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, But deliver us from evil, For Thine is the Kingdom, And the power and the glory Forever. Amen Closing Prayer God of our journeys, we give you thanks that you have brought us here by your divine intention. We give you thanks for the gift of Millie in our lives. Grant, O God, that we may carry her light, her happiness, her joy, and her playful spirit on our hearts and in our minds that we may share her gifts of love with all those we meet. We pray this in the name of your son, Jesus Christ, our Lord and our Savior, who taught us to pray together saying, Our Father…Amen Benediction: May we bless as we have been so richly blessed by Millie, May we love as we have been so richly loved by Millie. May we go forth from this place Blessed by the delight of God in us, Strengthened by the love of Christ for us, And empowered by the Holy Spirit moving in and around and through us. Commital A Celtic Prayer Holy One, so strange to us this doorway labeled death, still closed to us to protect us from the brilliance of life after the life: a final obstacle to the fullness of your perfect presence. We stand together at the threshold, Millie and us who pray this prayer for your child. Give courage, O God, for this uncharted journey, peacefulness at parting from all that must be left behind and an inner vision of invitation for all that is better that awaits. And we must also release Millie from our own flawed embrace to your precious and perfect presence. Soon enough, we must follow placing our footsteps in those of Christ and those who have gone before. Creator of all, we thank you for the gift of life you gave to Millie. As we learn to live without her presence in our lives, help us to remember the joy she brought us. In any times of sadness in missing her happy smile and welcoming arms, guide us to the light of your unfailing love through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen God of our journeys, into your hands, into your tender keeping, we commend this your child, Millie whose life here on earth we shared. Unite us with her in your unending love, as we say again the prayer Jesus taught us and Millie so loved: Our Father….Amen Mildred "Millie" (Rice) Murphy The Boston Globe, September 13, 2011 MURPHY, Mildred (Rice) "Millie" Of Stoneham, 85, passed peacefully with her family at her side on September 10, 2011. She was the beloved wife of the late Stephen J. Murphy. Mrs. Murphy was born in Medford, Massachusetts, the daughter of Roger and Mildred Rice. For the past 37 years Mrs. Murphy lived in Stoneham. Dedicated to her family, she was an avid reader, enjoyed gardening, braiding wool rugs, sitting in the afternoon sun and interacting with the neighborhood children who called her "Murph" and "Tweety." Mrs. Murphy is survived by her son, Michael and his wife Cathy Eaton of Bedford, NH; son Stephen and his wife Carolyn Burt of Newburyport, MA; a sister Evelyn McCleary and her husband James of Medford; a brother, Walter Rice of Pawley's Island, SC; and two grandchildren, Colin Murphy of Chelsea, MA and Devon Murphy of Providence, RI. She was predeceased by her brother Roger and sister Barbara. Mrs. Murphy is also survived by many dear nieces and nephews and great nieces and nephews. She will be especially missed by her long time friends Donna Broderick of Reading, John Wood of Stoneham and Gary Noyce of Gorham, ME whom she loved and considered family. Her friends and family will forever treasure the love, kindness and generosity she has given to them throughout her life. Relatives and friends are invited to attend visiting hours from 4:00 -7:00 p.m. on Wednesday, September 14th at the Barile Family Funeral Home, 482 Main Street, STONEHAM, MA. A funeral service will be celebrated on Thursday, September 15th, at 11:00 a.m. at the Barile Family Funeral Home. Burial will follow at Lindenwood Cemetery. In lieu of flowers, the family respectfully requests that you honor Mrs. Murphy by making a donation to either Challenge Unlimited, Inc. at Ironstone Farm, 450 Lowell St., Andover, MA 01810 or the Kaplan Family Hospice House, 78 Liberty Street, Danvers, MA 01923. For additional information, tributes and guest book, please visit www.barilefuneral.com. Barile Family Funeral Homes Stoneham - Reading 781.438.2280 Murphy, Mildred (Rice) "Millie," of Stoneham
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