Driving with Joanie

The Birthday Card Sender

Joanie was in church the Sunday before she died. She was 79. Every child in our church (and usually adults too) over the 40 some years where she was a member, received her faithful birthday cards. Sent through our church’s mailboxes. [Goodness she couldn’t have afforded all those thousands of stamps if she had sent them through the mail! And sometimes she made her own with recycled cards.]

My heart was gladdened to learn that some of my grandsons immediately remembered Joanie’s joyous singing on a recent Easter Sunday morning when they were visiting us. When their mother told them Joanie had died, they talked about remembering her singing. Joanie had even asked others whether the “Every morning is Easter morning” song was listed in the bulletin—she was so anxious to sing it on Easter. Her actual words and communication were sometimes hard to understand or get—but she always sung with robust zip, but slightly behind most of us singing. Our grandsons, ages 11 and 9, had noticed her joy, and remembered her. (I thought that was kind of unusual for boys their age.)

Born with cerebral palsy (Joanie’s birth mother either couldn’t or wouldn’t care for her), but Joanie grew up to be a beloved friend, jokester, and lover of singing—her voice ringing out in the front row of our smallish congregation. On the day of her memorial service, her dozens of friends also sang with all the vigor they could muster. Some rocked continuously back and forth in their wheelchairs or chairs. Some moaned with joy or sadness, waiting for their own resurrections eventually.

Then remembrance stories began. She had become a bonafide member of our church, present in the front row almost every Sunday. She went through the typical training and teaching for membership before becoming a member. When she was finally asked to share her faith statement, hers was “Jesus loves me.” Who needs more than that?

And I’m sitting here weeping the morning after her service, knowing that Joanie knew things we didn’t know. She had proclaimed that there would be no wheelchairs in heaven, of that she was sure! That made me cry because that was the same thing my Dad had often said in his final years leading up to his passing. Not regarding wheelchairs, which he had to use for awhile, but then he graduated to just a cane. But eventually he was longing for the day when he would no longer even have to use his cane, the one that I now keep in our bathroom. I grabbed for my tissues again.

Some of us were quite happy to hear the history of one family, Harvey Yoder, who many of us knew from his long life as a pastor, counselor, and dear man. He reaches out to prisoners, to the lonely and hurting, to those needing help, to those who need to be prodded to join in caring for others. When Joanie was just 18 months old, Harvey’s parents (who were Amish), cared for Joanie (her given name was Janet Marie but for some reason she loved her name as “Joanie”). So she grew up to live a very long and decent life, volunteering for many helping jobs, despite her difficulties. She was a frequent guest in Harvey and Alma’s home at holidays, her birthday, and other events. Our church also cared for Joanie, helping her relish post-service snacks and pureed foods along with her coffee every Sunday she could be there.

One pastor who spoke at the memorial noted that Joanie taught us and didn’t leave barriers get in her way. For example, she was not able to get aboard the hay wagon for her group one Fall and asked to ride in the pastor’s golf cart. While they drove around the hayfield, she finally begged the pastor to let HER drive—and he let her, heading off one wacky and wild way and then another, and enjoying every minute. He shared her abundant zest for life, and she reminded others to not take life too seriously. This retired pastor recalled that frequently if he saw her somewhere she would put her arms and hands up like she was driving on a golf course. Even if they were both just waving hi.

It was Joanie’s resurrection day, the past was over and gone. “I belong to the Easter People! Life’s exciting to me” went the lyrics and indeed, she helped all of us be more compassionate for those with hurdles to jump.

Joanie, enjoy your new life in the heavens. God bless, and Jesus loves us all!

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I’d love to hear your thoughts, your memories, your stories.

There is always a lot to learn at these times.

Here’s her official obituary.