She was known as Wanda, Mom, friend and I was lucky enough to call her Mama.

And while we are sad that she is gone, today we want to celebrate her life. Because what a life it was.

 As I was thinking about today and what I wanted to share, my mind kept returning to Ecclesiastes, chapter 3.

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.

A time to be born, and a time to die;

A time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;

A time to kill, and a time to heal;

A time to break down, and a time to build up;

A time to weep, and a time to laugh;

A time to mourn, and a time to dance;

A time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;

A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

A time to seek, and a time to lose;

A time to keep, and a time to throw away;

A time to tear, and a time to sew;

A time to keep silent, and a time to speak;

A time to love, and a time to hate;

A time for war, and a time for peace.

My mind kept coming back to these verses because I think Mama understood something important about life. There is a time for sorrow and a time for joy, and often times those seasons overlap.

Mama experienced incredible heartache throughout her life, but she never stopped making room for genuine happiness.

When my mom died, I cannot begin to imagine the grief Mama experienced. Yet even in her own sorrow, she continued bringing joy to the residents she cared for at Mission Arch.

When she lost the love of her life, my Papa, she had to discover a new way of living. And she did. She traveled the world, or perhaps I should say she cruised the world, with my sister.

And she never lost her ability to find joy in the unexpected.

I’ll never forget the day of my wedding rehearsal when she decided she needed to stop on the side of the road so she could pet a goat. Because apparently, when you see a goat, you stop and pet it!

I’ll never forget watching her hold her great-grandson for the first time. And as Keaton got older, watching her take him to the grocery store and buy him just about anything he wanted.

Those are the memories I will carry with me. Not just the big moments, but the ordinary ones that became extraordinary simply because Mama was part of them.

And perhaps that is what Ecclesiastes reminds us. A full life isn’t a life without sorrow. It’s a life where we continue to love, laugh, explore, and find joy, even after experiencing loss.

Mama showed us what that looked like.

Today is our time to mourn, but it is also our time to laugh, to remember, and to celebrate.

Mama lived 92 years, and what a life she lived. She outlived so many of the people who were part of her journey, but each of us here carries a piece of her story.

I’ve shared a few of my favorite memories, but I’d love to hear yours. Does anyone have a story or memory they’d like to share? It can be funny, meaningful, or just a little moment that has stayed with you.

 As we leave here today, I want to share one final thought from the poet Mary Oliver. She asks, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

Mama had 92 years to answer that question.

And she answered it by loving deeply, caring for others, finding adventure, and continuing to make room for joy, even after tremendous loss.

I hope that as we remember Mama, we don’t just think about how much we will miss her. I hope we also think about what she taught us about living.

May we keep making memories. May we find reasons to laugh, even during difficult seasons. May we never be too busy to stop and pet a goat.

And may we remember that a life well lived isn’t one without sorrow. It’s one where we continue to find reasons to love and experience joy.

Thank you, Mama, for showing us how.

What a life it was.