Bill and Helen Newkirk
Working with ICA in India
Helen Elizabeth Newkirk
December 23, 1929 – February 9, 2013
Bill’s Eulogy
When Linda arrived during Dad’s last week, she said that when she was pregnant with her first child people would say “How are you Linda?”, and she wanted to shout, “I’m pregnant!” And now, when people asked her how she was she wanted to shout, “My Dad is dying!” Somehow, perhaps in the shouting, we can express the fullness that we feel.
Dad was much to each of us but I think I must begin by saying that he belonged to God. We were looking through the boxes of memories in the closet and Mom told me that only days after their wedding, they went to the park at the base of the Wilson observatory in California and dedicated their marriage to God. Then she showed me an anniversary card from Dad. It was a beautiful statement about how lucky he was to have found her. He signed it “Your Bill” and then in parenthesis he added (and God’s).
We knew, even as children, how Dad was driven by what he called the “Hound of Heaven.” He had been called by God and spent his entire life answering that call. He had been blessed by God and he had a life-long passion to manifest the love of God. What did it mean to be a man of God? His constant question…what was God demanding that he do? It was not an academic question and he answered it in many ways.
He answered it as a father. Dad related to children as short human beings. He believed that even though they might be lacking in experience, children did not lack in intelligence or depth. Jim recalls when he was 13 and he asked for the first time when Dad wanted him to be home. “You decide.” Dad answered. Jim is sure that he was home before he would have been had Dad set the curfew. You wanted to live up to what he saw in you.
My clearest early memory of Dad was when I was three or four. Dad would put Linda and I to bed and we always began the routine with the three of us brushing our teeth. Linda would stand on the stool and I on the toilet, eye to eye with Dad. One day he took his toothbrush out of his mouth and asked “What do you think God is like?”…………. And then he listened carefully to our answers. Searching for clues to God within his children, and setting me firmly on my own journey.
He took each of our journey’s seriously. Lisa recalls that when she was trying to decide what to do and had been considering becoming a physical therapist, he began to study the possibilities and suggested to her that she consider respiratory therapy. It was a fairly new and fascinating field, more difficult in that she would require more schooling but something she might consider. Today she is a respiratory therapist.
Dad had a highly developed sense of play, something we all appreciated as children and throughout our lives. He took play seriously and life a bit irreverently. I know Utopia will remember fondly his role as Polly Dardon and the Streaker in what he liked to call the Senile Citizen’s Reviews. He would take us hiking, and camping and skiing and sailing…anything that would take us out into this beautiful world that he loved so. He loved practical jokes, perhaps you were the recipient of one of them.
For Christmas last year our son Jason gave him a dollar snatcher you know what they are? You attach a dollar to the end of a long thin wire and lay it on the floor. When someone comes by and discovers the dollar, just before he or she can pick it up, you press this button and snatch the dollar back. He was figuring out how to use this trick on J. Paul one Sunday.
He delighted in children, his and anybody else’s. He would grab a small child’s thumb and then demand that they let go of his! We watched child after child go back to see if he would play the game again and again. He loved the softness and feel of their little bodies and would invent wonderful tickling games like rag-a-duga-du. He also was particularly fond of left ear. If he got right ear by mistake he would spit it out in disgust. How many times did we delight in our children’s shy offering to “Let Grandpa have a bite of their left ear.“ Mom, when telling a story of the family before one of us had been born would point to us and say “You were only a twinkle in your Daddy’s eye then.” We knew that twinkle. When my brother David arrived that last week we could see the echo of Dad’s sense of play. When the moments seemed too heavy David would horse around or tease us. He reflected to us once more time the lightness of Dad’s being.
Dad was a philosopher. He once had us all, while snuggled up around a campfire, pondering how many hours of stored sunlight were released in a single flame. He once asked Linda on a quiet nighttime walk, “Lindy, can you count the stars?” He delighted in looking for the depth in other people. It wasn’t just a parenting technique, although we didn’t know that at the time. He had a deep respect for every other human being and developed a gift for drawing others out. He used to say that everyone had their flat sides – no one was a completely rounded personality. He used those flat sides as windows, windows to the uniqueness and depth of each one he met. He delighted in characters especially Mom. And he peaked into those characters for clues to the mystery of God. Each one of us who encountered him would say “He was so easy to talk with. It seemed he always wanted to know more about us.”
He would read articles and books and then ask us “What do you think about this?” Then he would seem to soak up your answer. My husband David says Dad could always find something interesting about anyone. And that it would often surprise him when it was someone David had already written off as uninteresting.
As Mom and Dad journeyed to South America and India this constant search for the mystery in others brought home to Dad the universality of faith. He was delighted to be of service to God’s people in the villages of the world, but he would often say that he had received much more than he had given.
Dad was a man of integrity. You do what you say. He was a man of tremendous physical energy and the expression of his integrity with that physical energy was much more than a simple work ethic. It was the outward expression of his interior struggle with what it meant to be a man of God. What does a man of God do? In the 1960’s when he and Mom joined the Ecumenical Institute, it was because the Institute would provide for them a way to live out the Christian belief of love in action. To be given an opportunity to “love your neighbor” in concert with a host of others who could, together, perhaps even change the world. Who could demonstrate with clarity what it meant to be the Church.
Even after leaving the Institute he continued to seek out opportunities to be the Church – to demonstrate the practical care and love of the Christian faith. He did this thorough his work with Mom as chair of the mission committee here at Utopia Methodist Church and the Church’s work with Mabel Clair’s mission, by helping to rebuild burned churches, and he did it through his relationship with each individual he encountered. Dad was a complex man. Driven by God and uncertain about what God wanted of him and yet certain about God and certain of God’s love for him.
I’d like to end with a favorite poem of his by D.H. Lawrence, entitled “Song of a Man Who Has Come Through”:
Not I, not I, but the wind that blows through me!
A fine wind is blowing the new direction of Time.
If only I let it bear me, carry me, if only it carry me.
If only I am sensitive, subtle, oh, delicate, a winged gift!
If only, most lovely of all, I yield myself and am borrowed
By a fine, fine wind that takes its course
through the chaos of the world.
Like a fine, an exquisite chisel, a wedge-blade inserted;
If only I am keen and hard like the sheer tip of a wedge
Driven by invisible blows,
The rock will split, we shall come at the wonder,
we shall find the Hesperides.
Oh, for the wonder that bubbles into my soul,
I would be a good fountain, a good well-head,
Would blur no whisper, spoil no expression.
What is the knocking?
What is the knocking at the door in the night?
It is somebody wants to do us harm.
No, no, it is the three strange angels.
Admit them, admit them.
~~. Patricia Newkirk Coffman
*****
Oh, my, the amazing memories we carry of Helen and Bill. Jack and I were a couple of young naive interns who showed up at the Decalceolate Carmelite Monastery at 4th and Rhode Island Ave. DC on January 1, 1971. How could we have been prepared for the likes of Helen Newkirk? She and Bill (and Linda who was attending U of MD) were priors and there was a youth component, including Larry Philbrook. Needless to say, it was a very lively place.
Helen was the most irrepressible person I’d ever met. That is putting it mildly. Her question was always: Is it MISSIONAL? Will it get the MISSION accomplished? It was always about the mission. Her very favorite saying was “That’s no problem”. No matter how large or small the issue, to Helen it was simply “No problem.” I remember her telling the story that she and Bill never cancelled an event just because of the weather. You could always figure out a way to have a picnic! Do you remember the hours we spent in the Collegium Room (the large end of the basement) covering those damp and crumbling walls with burlap? Bill apparently had a contact through the Forest Sevice to get us burlap that is usually wrapped around the ball of trees. Days and days were spent stapling the walls with burlap and it worked well enough to keep the moisture out and the walls together. Many Odysseys and area events as well as daily life went on in that room.
I think no one realized what hit them when they first encountered this truly spirit-filled woman. She seemed unflappable. We are always grateful that Bill and Helen were selected to stand for the order at our Chris’ baptism after he was born that year in DC.
Helen has always continued to be the one with the big smile, the sparkle in her eye, the one full of optimism. Our love and prayers go to the family: Linda, Jim, Patricia, Lisa and David and all the family members.
~~ Louise and Jack Ballard
An amazing woman of service, strength and determination, a dear colleague, and your wonderful loving mother and grandmother.
We were assigned to the Washington, DC house about 1972. Bill and Helen and Lisa were continuing on another year there and greeted us with much fanfare and celebration. I can hear Helen and Bill’s great cheery chuckles as they showed us around assuring us that we were in a great place. The Religious House at that time was in the old Carmelite Monastery on Rhode Island Avenue. The damp cracked plaster in the basement was covered with burlap, creating a warm collegium space along with the colorful felt symbolic banners. We were in the middle of the Local Church Experiment then, and had lots of visitors who were always welcomed warmly and graciously.
I remember the wonderful homey meals that Helen oversaw for us. She was a marvelous cook whose cranberry meatloaf is a trade mark of her specialties of making even our simple fare look inviting and taste delicious. The Religious House was right next door to a big cemetery and in a rather run down part of town. One afternoon Lisa went up to their upstairs apartment to find a young man there going through things. My memory is that Lisa gave him a swift kick and grabbed her flute as he jumped out the window onto the porch. Many folks would have packed up and left after that kind of incident, but Helen and Bill took it right in stride as one of the kinds of things that could happen when one decided to live among the downtrodden. Lisa demonstrated her strength and courage there also.
The Religious House was packed with families and children which Helen with her great Motherhood experience, cheerfully and graciously understood. We spread out and opened the Richmond House and the Baltimore House with our gifted staff of persons who were great recruiters, cooks, enablers and teachers of RS-I and children’s RS-I. Helen and Bill’s gracious presence and standing in WDC always opened doors for the ICA in higher places, which was a great help as we began looking for a bigger and more suitable location for our Religious House in the nation’s capital. What a team they were. We are so grateful for the time we spent with them. They were truly the people of the Yes to the Way Life Is. With care and gratitude for our families’ journeys together.
~~ Lynda Cock and John Cock
“Oh Honey” – A Eulogy for Helen
Introduction: We want to talk to you about our mother. But how in the name of heaven does one talk about an entire life, the life of an 83-year old spirit of unbelievable energy and love and passion and compassion and presence? That question has been one focus of the lives of Helen’s five children since she died – Mum asked that the five of us do this together. So we’ve taken our individual thoughts and brought them together into this. Dave prepared and read the prayer – now we will all share all of our thoughts about Mom. Mom, was a born adventurer, a faithful follower of Christ, and one exceptional mom (probably in that order). We want to talk about her through six words: love, fun, energy, fearlessness, travel, flowers.
Love: Love was at the center of Mom’s soul. Patricia once asked her advice on raising children. She said “love them unconditionally”.She simply could not live without looking out for ways to assist others. She had a “heart of gold”, and was always looking “out there” for where she could give her love, her care. It gave her meaning and it gave her pleasure, to assist others. To put a smile on their face put one on hers. Mom gave things away, gave money away and gave herself. Money and things were only important in how they could help – in what she could use them for. (“Don’t worry, Honey, it’s only money.”) Mom spent the vast majority of her time volunteering, or telephoning, visiting and helping the people she cared about or was caring for. She volunteered for so many things (and loved the feeling she got from the experience). Jim’s nephew in Australia remembers her arriving for a visit and going the very first day to the grandsons’ school to ask how she could help out by volunteering.
We can’t talk about Mom without mentioning “stuff”. Patricia labeled her a “purveyor of stuff”. She moved stuff around. If she thought you didn’t need some bit of stuff she would carry it off to where she thought it could be better used. But stuff was never something she got too attached to. After a flood turned most of her stuff into sodden trash, when we were exclaiming over something else that had to go into the massive trash pile she kept saying, “O Honey, don’t worry about it. It is only stuff.”
This love, this care, was how Mom lived out her faith. She was a deeply religious woman, committed throughout her life to her God, and deeply committed to acting out her faith – and for her this was critical – her faith was action. Her kindred spirit and honorary family member Electa wrote us: “I always admired her way of seeing a need and taking care of it; even as her health was declining she took care of Peggy, her dying friend.”
Soon after Dad died, Mom found a new place to focus her love and energy – our cousin and his wife had triplets born at 25 weeks. There were no extended family members able to help out, so to their great delight and joy, she moved in with them in Denver for over a year, settling into their mother-in-law apartment as if it were meant to be. To quote the triplet’s mother, “She walked into our house and stood in the middle of three babies with oxygen, feeding tubes, 62 medicines, a one-year old running full speed, and a 7 year old asking for help with homework! Amazingly…she didn’t run or roll her eyes…she laughed with delight and jumped right in to straighten us out!!! She brought giggles, amazing stories, strange foods, and lovely snuggles each and every time!”
Mom deeply loved and was completely committed to her Bill, our Dad. This was her great adventure, having met Dad on a blind date while on a trip to California with her mother and sisters. They had almost 50 years together, sharing everything. Sure they had some rough moments, but they were one, in their hearts and in their deeds, and she took Dad with her from his death until hers – indeed, when Dad died, all that love just poured out to others.
Fun: Mom was a delight – she had a great big smile at the center of her soul – just next to the love. She was a serious woman, who saw her responsibilities clearly, but she never let them get in the way of her enjoyment of life,. She loved to share her enjoyment with others, and she liked making fun, which she coupled with that quick wit – so you always needed to be on your toes.
Just 10 days ago there was a whole crowd of people at Linda’s to see her, trying of course to be careful about her, as she was bedridden, sleeping mostly and struggling. Her response to all of that? ‘Hey, where is everybody, tell them the party is in here!’ Only three weeks ago, she stuck her tongue out at Jim when he said something about how ‘good’ she looked. Sticking her tongue out was a statement of great endearment – in Mom’s inimitable style.
We loved Mom’s capacity for irreverence, and it must be said that Linda, Patricia and Lisa seriously considered wearing pink flip flops to this service, in honor of Mom’s sense of sartorial splendor, and in honor of her sense of fun. She probably would have worn them, if she had attended in person today. And it is not a coincidence that most of us here are wearing pink or purple. There must be over 100 photos of Dad wearing a pink t-shirt. Only real men can wear pink t-shirts.
Mom loved games. All of us spent hours playing games with her. You probably did too. Bridge, rummy cube, sequence. And she played to win. But it didn’t matter if she won, she just played that way. We used to ask her who had won at bridge that day. She said she didn’t remember. “We just play for fun,” she would say. But ask us if we ever thought she wasn’t playing to win.
Mom got Jason to take her for a ride on his motorcycle a couple of years ago – while in her 80s!! Not some puny motorbike either! Maybe we should talk about this later, when we talk about her fearlessness. Mom was as hardy as the land and the people of Texas where she was born, and no stranger to adventure. Sneaking a ride in Papaws new Buick, playing chicken with her friends as they rode by the movie theater, they promptly drove it into the front of the theater. And pranking at school one night, she and her mates took all of the books out of the library and stood them on end around the school block.
Energy: Mom had an incredible energy level – it was hard to keep up. She had way more energy than most of those who knew her. She channeled this energy into doing. Oh, there are so many stories about her ‘doing’, and her demands on others for their doing. While she could be described as ‘bossy’ (in fact, she was described with words similar to that quite a lot), she never really demanded more of one’s time and energy than she gave of herself. Of course, this meant she expected you to live up to her standards. We loved the ‘Honey Do’ lists, and as children had to develop schemes to constrain her impact on our free time on the weekend.
Linda tells about her coming to live with her and Lester. “I had taken care of my mother-in-law during the last year of her life, and I thought ‘I want MY mom to live with us so I can take care of her!’ Within a few months, I was worn out! Every morning as I would be making coffee to drink quietly with Lester, she would come fast-walking (she had this rapid pace) out of her suite toward the kitchen. And every morning after “Hi honey,” she would say “I know just what we need to do with your garden…” or “I read all these articles (handing them to me) I want you to read and tell me what you think – let’s go on this diet!” or some other grand project to embark on. Or I would come home and she would have reorganized my entire kitchen, refrigerator and freezer included. And errands…I have NEVER known anyone who could run so many errands, nearly EVERY day! There were ALWAYS 5 or 6 errands to run – you couldn’t get into the car without having to make 5 or 6 stops.”
After her radiation treatment in July of 2011, it took about 4 months for her to bounce back to a relatively ‘normal’ energy level. Within 1 month, she had returned to her weekly bridge club here at the church and had joined a second one, started back to her bible study class, started volunteering weekly at the second-hand store for Fairfax Hospital (while waiting to hear if she could rock newborns at the hospital), volunteered at the local Rec Center 3 times a week (so she could swim twice a week for free), and signed up with ACCA to drive elders to various appointments…these last of course go back to “love.”
Mom was a YES woman, and NO rarely entered the vocabulary unless a human right was violated (or it involved passing up Nutty Coconut at Baskin Robbins). For years her common response to most questions was “All things are possible”, or “The future is open.” An adventure or the possibility of one was never lost on Mom.
Fearlessness: Mom was fearless. Patricia tells a story about riding in a van with her, Dad, and several other friends on the way to a square dance when one of the friends in the car started making racist comments. Everyone in the car went silent for a few moments, until Mom spoke up, calling the friend on the comments and making it clear that she didn’t want to hear any more.
Years ago Mom was responsible on a number of occasions for ‘in-kind’ contributions for different programs she was involved in. She would make endless calls and visits asking companies to give goods – never thought twice about it; it was important to her, so she shared that importance with others, and anticipated – expected their participation.
At age 77 while camping at the Algodones Dunes in Southern California with David, Sue and the kids (all avid off-roaders), Mom and David had the opportunity to take a ride in a friend’s four-wheeler. With Mom driving and David navigating, David directed her to a popular sand dune hill climb that is about 20 stories high! With David’s instruction, and without pause, Mom dropped the transmission into 2WD high and headed straight up the hill.…with hundreds of people watching. Half way up they lost traction. So, Mom backed her down, dropped it into 2WD low and gave it another run. No luck. The third time David told her to put it in 4WD low and giver ‘er the gun! Off they went, and approaching the top, bouncing and bucking, a crowd of observers could be heard cheering her on, yelling “Go Granny Go!” And she did, right over the top of that hill. Her fearlessness could be seen too in how she approached travel – with a welcoming, an openness that said, “this will be great!”
Travel: Mom was adventurous, she reveled in the world around her – and wanted to see and experience as much of it as possible. She once told Patricia that if she could get on a rocketship to another planet she would jump on.
She had the chance to travel, and she took that chance whenever she could. She travelled while working and she travelled to visit family and friends. She was in wonder of the world. Jim’s favorite memory was a week of traveling he did with her and a friend across the far northwest of Australia. Mom made them stop regularly, all the time, so she could take photos. “Oh Honey, oh Honey! Stop, stop, stop, I have to get a photo!” Food, American and foreign, brought the same wonder, the same delight. “Oh Honey, this is just soooooo good!” Or, “Oh Honey, this is the best cheesecake I have ever had!” Sights, sounds, tastes, language, culture – she just reveled in experiencing more.
Flowers/gardens: Mom loved color. Her wish for a more beautiful world and her high energy levels are apparent in her feelings about flowers, gardens and gardening. If Mom spent most of her time caring for others, much of the rest she spent planting and watering flowers (or getting US to plant and water flowers)! It can really be said that Mom’s overriding focus in life was caring for others. And flowers.
Lisa remembers it like this: “I often looked forward to Mom’s trips to my home in the late spring, early summer because I knew that we were going shopping at the Garden Stores. Before Mom arrived I had a plan of what I wanted, the colors of flowers, and where I wanted to put them. I would get a cart and off we would go. Mom had her own ideas of what she thought should be in my gardens and what my gardens should look like, and as we went up and down the aisles I would put my choices in the basket and Mom would put what she wanted in. I would see what she put in and I would take it out. We would go back and forth with this for awhile and then I would say, ‘Mom I don’t want those’, or ‘I don’t like that color’. She would always respond with something like ‘Oh Honey, how do you know if you don’t ever get them?’ Or, ‘You need more color!’ Or, ‘They are my favorite!’ Well, after years of experiencing this I finally gave up and let her pick out whatever she liked. Many times we would fill up two large carts. It would take a couple of days to plant all those plants in the yard, in hanging pots and in container pots on the deck. I would be feeling relieved that we were done with that, but Mom would say ‘Honey I think we need more of these, or we need to get such-and-such’. Sooooo, off Mom would go to pick out some more plants, returning with a full van – we would spend her entire visit gardening.”
Final Words: Her grandson Anwar said this on Facebook: “Thank you Gramma for being so loving and fun loving. You made everyone’s lives around you better and more entertaining every single day. I’m so happy that all around the world we get to celebrate you today. You’ve brought up an amazing family and you will be remembered with smiles and laughter for years and years to come.”
Those are some of our thoughts about what made Mom special. And she was special – she was no ordinary woman. Mom gave us many things, particularly through how she related to others and how she lived. She was always so present – Mom had a great gift for living in the moment. She didn’t live in the past, or in the future – just in the here and now. We sure will miss her making us an “egg on an island”, and those delicious chocolate crinkles and snicker doodles. But most of all, we’ll miss the example she lived of her willingness to love those around her, wherever she could meet their needs.
What a great gift.
What a pleasure to have known her.
What a privilege to call her Mom.