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The family of Adele Gudger Smith uploaded a photo
Friday, June 1, 2018
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Nancy K Raiha posted a condolence
Saturday, May 12, 2018
Here are some of Sue Biggs thoughts written at the time of the Memorial Service:
Mama gave us music.
From Spike Jones to Beethoven, we danced and sang and breathed it in. We had a music room with French doors and beautiful rose-covered curtains. An heirloom upright lived there. We all took lessons; I was 5 years old when mama started me out on those cool, ivory keys. She said she wasn’t much of a musician, but when I played my first violin solo in 7th grade, she bravely was my accompanist.
Don’t forget singing! We sang everywhere: in the car, on the trail, around the campfire, at church, in the choir…and the harmonies! My mom sang harmonies on hymns til they fit on my deepest soul like an old, comfortable slipper. Harmonies have always been my favorite; Boogie Woogie was her favorite…of course that would lead to her talk of dancing the Jitterbug…she’d get that twinkly grin! She was a Jitterbug fool!
Mama gave us art.
Occasionally there was the torture of sitting statue-still for what seemed like hours as she tried to sketch our impish grins, but the pungent smell of oils and medium wafting through the house were a signal there was art in the air; mama would have her painting apron on and pallet knife poised.
Do you know how many different things one can make with salt clay, macaroni, and dried stalks of prickly weeds? Mama helped us whip out one homemade Christmas gift after another for our unsuspecting grandparents…often finishing them with the midis touch: a generous dousing of gold spray paint!
Mama gave us freedom to create.
We could experiment and wonder, search and build. We designed blanket and sawhorse tents, couch trains, and bed-linen bird nests. There was painting and gluing…Legos and tinker toys…
She taught us to sew and cook and bake…even splattered cake mix on the ceiling!
On Saturday morning after cartoons, she lined us out with chore assignments like a drill sargeant; the house would become polished and organized for one brief moment …then it all started again.
Mama showed us faith.
She brought us up in an environment of love and the knowledge of a higher being. We were taken to Sunday School, church, and went to Vacation Bible School…we even would live for a week at Copalis beach with our cousins and attend summer Bible school there!. Somewhere, through crafts and singing and storytelling, we learned about a God who loved us, and somehow His son became my best friend. After Dad died, I spent many lonely, sad times kneeling and crying in the empty sanctuary of the Hoquiam Methodist Church with the giant cross painted on the ceiling. Here I felt healing; here I didn’t feel alone. Here I could find a way to walk out the door and move on with the next step of living. And when Mom became old, she held fast to her love of Jesus, and we would spend many lovely hours talking about our God-love and our faith and about how we had to trust Him because we didn’t know what tomorrow might bring. That faith serves me now, now that Mom is gone, now that I am back taking one step at a time through life, standing in the hope and surrounded by a love that I may not understand, but I know internally…partly because of that sweet smile Mama gave me when she talked about loving her Lord.
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Nancy K Raiha posted a condolence
Saturday, May 12, 2018
In celebration of Mother’s Day – Here are some words I shared at the Memorial Service.
I can simply share some of the snapshots that keep going through my head.
The first is that little dark-haired girl with the big eyes. The defining moment in our mom’s early life was her parent’s divorce when she was about 9. It was the Great Depression, her father drank too much, and he left. Her mother, Grandma Dorothy took a high-responsibility, low paying job. Dorothy didn’t have a car, so she was gone 12 hours a day, 6 days a week, and then cooked and cleaned when she was home. Mom’s older sister Anne was off with her friends. Little Adele was lonely and bewildered, living with gentile poverty and what was, at that time, the stigma of divorce.
It wasn’t all bad. She made friends, and loved being with her cousins. At a babysitter’s she got introduced to the outdoors. When she got her first job at 15, she delighted in surprising her mother with small luxuries they had never seen, a bouquet of flowers, a little party for mom’s bridge friends.
Skip forward in time to that young family. My snapshot is mom, dad and 4 little kids heading up the trail into the wilderness for a backpacking trip. What a gift! I was the oldest and could carry my sleeping bag and extra clothes. The others carried much less. My parents shouldered huge packs that had taken days to organize. Who does that? My parents built us an amazing community with the Olympians and the church, and supported us through an endless array of activities and organizations. I see how busy and involved my brother, sister, and I are now, and sometimes regret that family gets fitted in with all the other pieces. But I also realize that that busy, active, and connected is what she raised.
The next snapshot is really a collage of many faces. Like I said, the Gudger kids were always off somewhere for a conference, a camp or a contest. And often, when I would come home, there would be an extra face at the dinner table. Mom, dad, and later Lennard were just as accepting and welcoming of others as they were of us kids. So they opened their home to many people over the years. I think of my friend Georgeanne, cousin Patty, Chris Painter, David Rings, Amanda Stone who became another daughter, and, of course, Lennard’s two dear daughters, Narda and Allena. Probably so many more. Some of you may want to share with us during sharing time in the Coffee Room.
The final snapshot is in many hospital rooms. As the local daughter, I had the privilege – truly it was – of being with mom in innumerable emergency rooms, procedure rooms, pre-op wards, and recovery rooms. I’ve got to tell you that this is the place where I saw mom’s sweetness shine through the most strongly. It was always the same. Never a shadow of fear or complaint. After the most harrowing accident, illness or procedure, she would have this beatific smile, calm, grace, and thankfulness. Even after the last stroke took away almost all responsiveness, the last thing to go was her smile.
Two verses go through my head as I think of mom moving on:
First, a verse from Blest Be the Tie that Binds. The hymns of our youth are so comforting:
When we asunder part,
It gives us inward pain;
But we shall still be joined in heart,
And hope to meet again
And John 14:2. Jesus says:
In my Father’s house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. John 14:2
Mom’s house always had warmth and room for one more. That’s what I believe she has found.
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David Rings posted a condolence
Wednesday, March 14, 2018
When I was struggling to find my way many years ago, Adele and Len took me in for a year on the Smith Ranch. I learned a great deal from both. I believe they saved my life, and I will always be so grateful.
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Susan Biggs posted a condolence
Wednesday, March 14, 2018
Sweet lady, we will miss you so much. You are an inspiration and a joy.
Love you,
Sue
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