Obituary of Jean Crossley

CROSSLEY - Jean Marilyn Crossley passed away at the Lloydminster Hospital, Lloydminster, Saskatchewan on Sunday, January 31, 2010 at the age of 72. Jean was born Sept. 10, 1937 in Lloydminster to Bob and Joy McKerihan of Kitscoty, Alberta. After high school and Bible School at Prairie Bible Institute, Jean entered nurses training at the Royal Alex Hospital in Edmonton where she renewed her friendship with Stan Crossley of Red Deer whom she married in 1962. Two and a half years later, they joined Wycliffe Bible translators and began circling the world serving in Mexico, Papua New Guinea, Cameroon and the Philippines. Jean and Stan raised their three children in the highlands of New Guinea and in 1984 joined the medical community in Lloydminster. Throughout her life Jean remained close to her brothers and countless cousins and friends around the world. She will be remembered as a warm, patient, humble, compassionate and gracious woman who always had time to help others in need. Jean is sadly missed by her husband Dr. Stan Crossley of Kitscoty; daughter Lois of Yaounde, Cameroon; Phil and Janet Crossley of Gunnison, CO; Kenneth and Tara Crossley of Phnom Penh; grandchildren Kenneth, Jonathan, Andrew, William; brothers Robert and Ruth McKerihan of Kitscoty; Philip and Lavonne McKerihan of Vermilion; cousins Pat Davis (Dallas); Jim and Beth McKerihan (Seattle); Esther and Dave Scovill (Columbia, SC); Linda and Dave McCaw; Marilyn and Robert Adams (Grand Rapids, MI) and many other relatives and friends. Pallbearers were Doug Baynton, Tim Carter, Reg Kent, Patrick Kent, Kim Erion, Lisa Kayfish, David McLennan, and Brad McKerihan. Interment was held at the Irwinville, AB cemetery. Donations in memory of Jean may be made to: 1. Wycliffe Bible Translators @ 4316 - 10 Street NE, Calgary, Alberta T2E 6K3 designated for Rain Forest International School Equipment Fund IPC 5523 in Cameroon, or in USA: to WBT @ P.O. Box 628200, Orlando, FI 32862-8200 designated for RFIS Building Fund, IPC 4766 2. The Gideons International In Canada, P.O. Box 3619, Guelph, Ontario N1H 7A2 OR 3. To the charity of the donors choice. Eulogy of Jean Crossley read by Steve Simpson, friend & co-worker, at her funeral, Feb 6, 2010. Jean Marilyn McKerihan was born Sept. 10, 1937 in Lloydminster Hospital to Bob and Joy McKerihan who were farming in Kitscoty district at the present farm site. After High School and Bible School at Prairie Bible Institute, Jean entered Nurses training at the Royal Alex Hospital in Edmonton where she renewed her friendship with Stan Crossley whom she’d met at summer camp 6 years earlier. After Jean graduated and while Stan was interning, they were married in Lloydminster Baptist church with the reception on the lawn at the family farm. Two and a half years later, they joined Wycliffe Bible translators and began circling the world serving in Mexico, Papua New Guinea, Cameroon and the Philippines. Jean and Stan raised their three children in the Highlands of New Guinea and in 1984 joined the medical community in Lloydminster. Their children are similarly scattered abroad with Philip in Colorado, Lois in Cameroon, and Kenneth in Cambodia. What follow are reflections from Jean’s husband and children. Stanley Am I supposed to outline the highlights of my life with Jean in a few minutes? Improbable—too many and my memory fails me! Firstly I want to quote a somewhat jocular life summary sent us by her cousin, Pat, which outlines it all: “Who could have imagined that an immigrant's daughter from the humblest of farm beginnings would rise to take top honors at the Royal Alex, marry a physician, travel around the world, serve the cause of Bible Translation for nearly 20 years in Papua New Guinea and the Philippines, perform with local barbershop singers, organize hymn-sings at senior citizens' homes, and rear children who are distinguishing themselves in academia, the United Nations, and Cameroon. We are so privileged to be part of your connection. Thank you for your example of finishing well.” But no, as eloquent and concise as that is, it doesn’t say it all by any means. So what will I remember most about Jean? Well, she was a wonderful hostess, a meticulous housekeeper, an excellent cook, a devoted gardener and a hard worker, and I’ll miss all those qualities. But that still is not what I’ll miss most. The primary quality of Jean’s life lies in relationships; her total commitment to God, her unfailing loyalty to me and the family, the warmth of her love and acceptance not only to us but to all around her including anyone in need. Probably what I will miss most with Jean will be the shared fellowship while driving across the country seeing the sights and visiting friends or the bright eyed, lively telling of what she has just done with others - visiting or in a Bible Study or a kids’ Sunday School class. I will miss her deeply but I also know that she is now with Him whom she loved above all else and showed it by her love for others. Lois I remember Mom as a creator of beauty. This was obvious in her gorgeous flower gardens full of lilies, gladeoli, poppies, sweet peas and other gems of beauty, in her quilting projects and tole painting, in which even the mushrooms growing out of the bull rushes looked good. But it was also evident in less obvious ways. Mom created beautiful relationships. She not only developed relationships with her daughters in law but went beyond to build beautiful ties with their entire families. She not only remained close to her brothers but to countless cousins and friends around the world and in doing so enabled them to stay in touch with each other. She was the glue that held us together and kept us all informed about each other’s lives. Beautiful memories were created when Mom spent time with us kids teaching us to bake, avidly watching sports, helping edit numerous essays and projects, writing letters and chatting on the phone. Even when she had to be away from us, she helped create a sense of family and belonging, such as making placemats out of family pictures for the grandkids and sending photo records of family events across the world. Who can forget the beautiful laughter arising from Mom’s antics? Dressing as a babushka for her own birthday, writing new words to old songs in tribute to friends, painting her face to add spirit to a Grey Cup party months after the game with Cameroonians who didn’t even know what football was, surprising Aunt Linda by inviting the distant family to the surprise birthday party Linda was organizing —these are just a few of the ways she made us smile. Mom’s openness and generosity also created beautiful welcomes. There aren’t many teens that could come home with 20 people in tow knowing that it would be OK with mom for people to come in and hang out, as I did. Our friends always knew they were welcome at our house and many called her “Mom,” in addition to knowing what things they could help themselves to in the fridge. That same spirit of hospitality has ministered to travelers, visitors, and so many others. When you’re in a quandary where do you go? I went to my mother. She had such gentle wisdom — her ability to share her thoughts, and also to know when to be silent and let us make mistakes, her insights, and her honest frankness lead to beautiful advice. I remember Grandpa McKerihan as a man of faith, earnestly seeking to know God better. Mom shared that beautiful faith. When cousin Dave died and many years later, cousin Kathy, it was my talks with my mother that helped me to put things into perspective, to grieve without doubting that God was still in control no matter how unlikely that looked. I rely on those lessons now as I try to make sense of this most difficult loss of all. In her instructions for the funeral in her will, Mom wrote, “I haven’t done anything notable” such beautiful humility characterized her life. When I was younger and people told me how much I looked like my mother, she would turn to me and say, “There are just some crosses in life you have to bear.” She was wrong this time. It’s not a cross: it’s an honour to resemble her in any way. If I can follow her training, if I can be like her, I’ll be delighted, because hers was a beautiful example. Not many of us enjoy packing the house for a move. Nor did Mom — in fact, she used to have nightmares about it. And yet, she willingly packed other people’s houses when they were unable to do so for one reason or another, because she had a beautiful servant spirit. She gave her life to make others happy, to meet their needs, to help them grow because she loved people. Yes, my mom was a creator of beauty and I love the things she created, but more than that, I loved her because she was my Mom; she was a beautiful Mother and I’m not sure how we’ll manage without her. Kenn I know the vital statistics. Birth, farm, one room school, intermingling at summer camp, bible school, nursing, marriage, jungle camp, jungle, mission fields, kids, grandkids, and now survived by brothers and cousins and husband and children and a staggering array of extended family and dear friends. Listed so quickly and briefly, the vital statistics don’t seem too vital — just a litany of place holders pulled together in a moment of grief to process and tailor an inexpressible tribute. From these cue cards we fill in stories, populate memories, evoke reminders of a full life well and richly lived. Perhaps “great” people need that kind of eulogizing. Without a carefully structured, artfully edited, public comment on their passing, the world might notice that “great” people living “extraordinary lives” are just simply human — fallen, forgettable, frantically searching to varnish over the holes in their lives with assertions of greatness. But I’m not quite there, not yet. I’m still struggling to imagine why I need to eulogize Mum. No one who knew her really needs lovely prose or poignant stories to be persuaded that normal, wonderful, unglamorous Mom had mastered life with courage, an openly hurting and loving heart, a persistent and tenacious and quiet grace. “Grace” is code for saying “she cried a lot” — especially when she said goodbye. I blame Zane Grey for that. She loved reading and poetry and boasted a library of Western classics, the exhilarating adventures of Beau Geste, and a hundred or so similar epics where the hero always ends up heroic and good always triumphs over evil. To my mind, her tastes in literature point to her deeper views on life. She lived fully in this world, arm in arm with those of us facing or causing suffering and despair, heartache and injustice. But she didn’t grow jaded or cynical or seek refuge behind today’s all too common veneer of irony. Whether facing or causing hurt or pain, we could count on her to cry a lot; to direct her pain or frustration or indignation thoughtfully and with sensitivity; to quietly, persistently nurture love and acceptance without compromising her own integrity. She cried a lot because she loved a lot. But she cried and she loved with the confidence that good has in fact triumphed over evil, that life is lived in forgiveness and grace, while in death there is no sting. So for me, I can’t quite eulogize yet. I can’t fill out the stories, paint by the numbers, connect the dots. I don’t need a hundred or a thousand or a billion beautiful words. Today it all boils down real simple. Six words — “I really, really miss my Mum.” Phil Mom’s life was lived in service to God and everyone around her. Not because she thought she ought to live that way, though she did, but mostly I think because it never occurred to her there was any other way. She was compassionate and kind, and as one of her colleagues from New Guinea just wrote, “was always ready to help where God put her.” She was tireless in her work on behalf of her family and friends — even when she was tired or sad herself — and made sending numerous cards of condolence, congratulations, or encouragement a priority. Though trained as a nurse — and her nursing training experiences and classmates played a tremendous role in her life — she mostly did other types of work. I think she was most fulfilled in, and proud of, her work as a proof reader of New Testament translations in a number of New Guinean languages. The fruits of her efforts are reflected in your presence here today and in the messages of condolence coming in from former co-workers, friends, friends of her children, and acquaintances all over the world. She was proud and content in her heritage as a farm girl and member of this farming community. She loved this place, as well as the Kent and McKerihan families that imbue this entire region with meaning, and was delighted to finally have land of her own here. She did enjoy travelling — but mostly because of the opportunities it presented to see friends and family along the way or at her destinations. While she could express reticence at times, she also consistently revealed an adventurous spirit: in her late teens going to work in Banff; and driving with Dad in the mid-1960s all the way to southeastern Mexico to begin “jungle training camp.” While there, she conquered fears and assumptions and proved that she could learn to swim in cold rivers, hike all day, and cut up and process a beef carcass — while pregnant and with a young child and a year later, on staff with two little ones. In 1967, she chose to go to Papua New Guinea, in spite of knowing the tremendous cost that separation from her beloved family would entail; and in 2006, knowing that she still had much to give in service, she went to live in the Philippines for a year, in spite of knowing that she disliked hot places— to list just a few examples of her adventurousness. This spirit clearly contributed to the global dispersal of her children, which caused her both great joy and sadness. It pleases me that she was having more and more fun as she aged. She loved returning with Dad to Jasper and Banff (where they had honeymooned) and taking friends from other countries to her favorite spots. Trips to Edmonton to attend musical productions were highlights of recent years, as were her practices and performances with several singing ensembles. Last month, her eyes gleamed as she watched her grandsons ski, and she desperately wished her knees would allow her to take up downhill skiing right then. Visiting her children and grandchildren, loving their spouses and friends gave her great joy. Mom had an important role in maintaining the extended Kent, McKerihan, Crossley and Muir families. She was noted for her prodigious recall of who was related to whom, and how. But it wasn’t just her memory, or the archive she kept. By remembering all those disparate and extended connections, and by keeping them current by commemorating birthdays, anniversaries, passing on of news, remembering names of and professions of all and sundry, and reminding us of them — she, in a very significant way, crucially contributed to the continued communication between our families. Without her memory, and her efforts, we would have mostly lost track of each other, and become less connected families than we are today. We will all have to work harder without her. Mom also represented for me an important link to earlier language traditions in our family. Her insistence on pronouncing Uncle Harry’s name properly (“Hah-ry, not Hair-ry”), her seemingly never-ending stream of exclamations from another era — “Fiddlesticks”, “Oh, my lucky stars”, “Heavens to Betsy”, “Oh, for the love of Mike!”, “Doesn’t that just frost your Grandmother’s preserves”—kept my sons laughing each time we were together and reminded me of where we came from. For all of this, and so much more, we are missing her deeply.