The day you are reading this is the day we are celebrating the life of Lillian Burns in her hometown of Manchester, Iowa. Lillian was born in Iowa, lived in Iowa, and died in Iowa.
She was born in 1921, making her 104 years old- she would have turned 105 in September.
Wow.
What a life to have led. She was born before automobiles were commonplace. Her home still had knob and tube wiring whens he moved out. She saw pictures, both moving and still, something that was a family affair with a trip into town on dusty roads to something that was in her pocket within her lifetime.
Lillian was exactly who many would think of when they think of Iowa, especially rural Iowa, especially rural Iowa farmers, on the surface.
She took care of the home and raised the kids all while helping her husband, Marwan, out on the farm.She had a bunch of kids too. Six to be exact. It wasn’t a 1 person operation, it was a team effort and she did her part in more ways than our culture often gives credit for. When she wasn’t helping outside on the farm taking care of the animals, she was taking care of the kids and the house on the inside.
She never was one to sit back and do nothing. Maybe there is something to getting to 104 after all, eh?
Lillian was special though. Between her and Marwan, they raised a lot of good kids that went off to do some great things. Namely one that would give birth to my lovely wife. This wasn’t an easy thing for her and wasn’t what is expected of the rural Iowan farming family, as neither myself nor my wife are what you’d call typical rural Iowans.
Neither of us are white. Neither of our children are, either.
And she loved all of us and shared her home just the same. It would have been easy to join so many other folks even in her own community and turn away those that were different or seemingly “outsiders”.
But Lillian didn’t do that.
She fussed over the new fashions, shook her head at the Iowa Hawkeyes playing like “sausages”, and didn’t like hearing about this Trump guy who was ruining everything she worked for. No matter the season whether it be the cold ones outdoors or those rougher ones in her life, there was Lillian with her fashionable sweaters (dickey included if the current sweater didn’t have a turtleneck!), beautiful jewelery, and her lovely bird themed decor.
Usually a margarita close by too.
Even when she had to move from the farm and into the senior living center caled The Meadows in town, she still kept her family close at heart. She missed her farm though. She missed being able to ride her bike and play basketball. She missed her husband Marwan, who had passed almost 12 years ago to the day, and her son Brian who went missing in late 2013, and Doreen who didn’t make it beyond the first few years of life.
Life was a lot tougher back then.
Yet, Lillian still had love and kindness and care for all of those around her. She even welcomed me, a stranger, into her home and made room for me to care for and love her granddaughter and later he great grandchildren. If she didn’t understand me and the things that were different about my life and where I was from, she understood that I loved my family. I loved her family.
And for her that was enough. It was enough to accept someone for who they are and what they do, not what we are unsure of or afraid of. To see the value in others through a lense of empathy and togetherness.
So this week we’re going to think about and honor
Lillian and what it means to have family that loves you. What it means to perservere. What it means to create a legacy that lasts beyond what others tell us we are supposed to be.
Godspeed Lillian. And Thank you.