Eulogy for Shirley Arlene (Peters) Parsley.

Delivered April 15, 2018, by eldest son, David Parsley.

Hello, Everyone. I am David Parsley, eldest son of Shirley Arlene (Peters) Parsley. My siblings and I, the greater family at large, are so grateful that all of you have come to celebrate my mother's life with us today. As we all heard from Pastor Smucker's reading earlier, my Mom will chiefly be remembered for her affectionate sentimentality and spirituality, her liveliness and fun-loving ways, her intense devotion to family and friends and ultimately to her God. She loved her Shetland Sheepdog, named Gallant Little Guy, for whom she grieved as for a child when his heart failed in 2012. She affirmed to the last that this loyal friend would be one of the first among her preceding loved ones to greet her when she passed on from this life to that awaiting her in Heaven. To her, their approaching greeting was a simple article of faith. Mom's faith was the bedrock and defining characteristic that informed all else. So that is where I would like to begin.

Mom was Pentecostal Apostolic from her youth up. Almost without exception, all the phases of her life were guided by that reality. Baptized in Jesus's name and receiving the Gift of the Holy Ghost in childhood, she fell in love with and married an aspiring minister at the age of 16. She brought an innate empathy and compassion with abilities in music to be an integral part of their joint mission to present the Gospel to those in need. Like all such missions, the greater part of her lifetime was occupied with it, assuring an unusual journey that included correspondence with foreign missionaries like Sister Nona Freeman, meetings in homes and storefronts, a 3.5 year home mission service in Salt Lake City, Utah, and more like endeavors.

A teenager at the time, I still recall the sense of possibility and God-given certainty as we took a bus containing all our earthly possessions from Ohio westward across the plains and Rocky Mountains, descending Parley's Canyon to emerge in the valley between the Wasatch and Oquirrh mountain ranges in Utah. We could see in the distance shimmer of the Great Salt Lake north of the Oquirrh Mountains jumbled at the western horizon, surrounding the smaller but still impressive heights of Antelope Island. The labors that would ensue placed us under the ministry of one of the seminal figures of 20th century Pentecost, the great Carl Ballestero and his endearing, charismatic wife, Connie Ballestero. Brother Ballestero would recall in his autobiography, How High My Mountain, "A good family from Ohio gave us their support. They were the Parsleys."

Some might say this represents but the smallest possible footnote in the history of Christianity. For the good folks of the First Apostolic Church of Salt Lake City, in assemblies across the United States, and those in the wonderful Church Triumphant in which we are assembled here, there remains a legacy of giving, trust, wisdom, and fully invested belief that many of us will cherish as inspiring and indelible.

That first exploration of the mission to Utah includes an anecdote that illuminates for me a unique aspect of Mom's walk with God. Many who know her (I deliberately speak in the present tense) have experienced her knack for finding a scripture apropos to a current difficulty or opportunity. Our arrival in Utah had represented a culmination but also our first note of uncertainty. Were we to take up the Lord's work in Salt Lake City or in Provo, further to the south? The first few days did not provide a clear answer. We had encountered existing start-up churches in both areas, felt the burden of need there. We all sought the face of God to clarify His intent. At one point while we all were discussing this, Mom placed the bible in her lap and bowed over it in fervent prayer, then opened to a random passage, her finger going with assurance down to Numbers 34:12, which reads, "And the border shall go down to Jordan, and the goings out of it shall be at the salt sea: this shall be your land with the coasts thereof round about." The name of the south-north flowing river emptying into the Great Salt Lake? The Jordan River. Salt Lake City it would be!

These and other stories that include miraculous healings, expulsion of unclean spirits, and more, will continue to inspire and sustain us. They and the stories like them will always be rewritten and experienced anew in ways we cannot foresee, and are the natural legacy of people of faith. But my Mom was someone who touched folks from all walks of life and I want to be sure to talk about those aspects of her character that everyone will remember with fondness and gratitude.

Let's be candid: Mom was always a hopeless sentimentalist, a romantic of the first order. She exhibited a lively sparkle that sprang out to greet anyone fortunate enough to come within range. Coming for a visit? Expect to be drawn in and made a part of her home, to laugh until it hurts, to be constrained to not depart too soon, to be granted help even to her own hurt. Time to leave, because you really must? Expect to see her leaning out from her porch and waving until she vanishes from sight in your car's rear-view mirror (that often included opportunities when your vehicle might pop back into view after rounding a curve or cresting a hill - she waved to the last.)

Family members and close friends experienced extra dimensions of that love. An intensity of affection was poured into every action, whether in the delivery of a massage, a meal, or help with homework. Mom's pumpkin and pecan pies were famous throughout our family and no Thanksgiving or Christmas was complete without them. She always gave a joyful little squeak or squeal whenever she hugged her children and grandchildren (for that matter, our father), as if she couldn't fully express her exuberant adoration with mere words or even the act of embracing.

That adequacy-of-expression thing was a recurring theme with Mom. In addition to the squeals of delight there should be added quizzical raising of one or both eyebrows, variations on the pursed lips that could be classified as a form of dialect, conspiratorial shrugs and dipping of the head, etc. Verbal emendations of the King's English include such confections as "zoop" for anything that involved ice-coated surfaces or banana peels, "choom" and "choing" which proved essential when explicating actions that involved narrow escapes, a nifty catch, or anything else for which she deemed it suitable at that moment. A particularly colorful sunset or resplendent landscape was described as "beauty-full" (as opposed to the more prosaic "beautiful"), often accented with a slight wistful shaking of the head. The same applied to a piece of music or poetry. Sometimes the most apt response involved chills and tears.

Mom was always a defender of the weak, fallen, and downtrodden. If she even supposed you really wanted something she would sacrifice whatever she had to be able to make it happen. The only time she would ever get angry was when she thought one of her loved ones had been hurt, including if inadvertently by herself. If she thought that she might have hurt someone's feelings she would worry about it until she had a chance to make sure that all was well with that person.

Mom thought that her children were the best and always saw the good in them. She loved her grandchildren and derived much joy spending time with them. One of her chief delights was to be in on fun secrets, innocent plots and mischief. Mom loved playing games and making puzzles. She would cheat against herself to allow the grandchildren to win. She was often spontaneous, doing things on the spur of the moment, such as unexpected trips, going out to eat, and taking long drives. Enjoyed alike were the tales of Poe and O. Henry. She always wept over Romeo and Juliet.

In gatherings like this, we hope to honor what is best and most memorable about the one who has parted from us. We are comforted to know that, "Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints." (Psalms 116:15) We have a firm hope that extends beyond earthly bounds of the grave. And I count it a privilege to share in that hope. I have no clear vision of our Heavenly existence, the new bodies that we will possess. Though she is unlikely to participate again in a race at a church picnic (like the ones she won in her youth), yet I cherish the thought of her running through the fields and orchards of Heaven in her robe of pure white bedecked perhaps with daisies and her beloved daffodils, finding with breathless joy the presence of her Savior whom she will gratefully embrace with an intense squeal of delight.

She will be there waiting for each of us when we follow, along with her beloved husband, Bill, her sister Eleanor, her Gallant Little Guy, and all the rest, the family circle unbroken. Till then we will miss her, but strive to not mourn, rather to rest in gratitude and satisfaction for the gift of experiencing one of the most unique persons we have ever known or ever will. I love you, Mom. We all do.

I did not know my dear Aunt Shirley growing up.  I met her after I was grown with children and grandchildren.  She told me that she had always loved me and played Happy Birthday on the piano and sang to me every year on my birthday.  She made me feel SO loved.  Wish I could have spent more time with her.  Heart-felt sympathy for her loved ones left behind and encouragement that loving memories will keep her alive in your hearts.  We WILL be with her again, in the name of Jesus!  Much love and many prayers - Kathleen

There is no one memory but a wonderful lifetime of love and fun!  :heart::heart::heart:

Divine Peace Bouquet was purchased for the family of Shirley Arlene Parsley.

Much love, Lee and Diana Lawson purchased the Guiding Light Bouquet for the family of Shirley Arlene Parsley.

I pray each of you are comforted as only God can.

Your IGS IT Family purchased the Sapphire Skies Bouquet for the family of Shirley Arlene Parsley.

OBITUARY

Shirley Arlene Parsley

July 19, 1941 – April 11, 2018

Schoedinger Midtown

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