A Tribute to Nancy Hobson
Lovingly Offered by Kristin Rehder, Longtime Friend
Sunday, July 1, 2018
The Crossing, Chesterfield, Missouri
Sunday, July 1, 2018
The Crossing, Chesterfield, Missouri
Hello everyone. I am Kristin Rehder, Nancy’s friend. I came here today from a small island in the Salish Sea, north of Seattle, to be with you and to honor her.
This is Psalm 3, verses 3 through 6:
BUT YOU ARE A SHIELD AROUND ME, OH LORD;
YOU BESTOW GLORY ON ME AND LIFT UP MY HEAD.
TO THE LORD I CRY ALOUD,
AND HE ANSWERS ME FROM HIS HOLY HILL.
I LIE DOWN AND SLEEP;
I WAKE AGAIN, BECAUSE THE LORD SUSTAINS ME.
I WILL NOT FEAR THE THOUSANDS
DRAWN UP AGAINST ME ON EVERY SIDE.
Nancy Bygrave, soon to become Nancy Hobson, was FIRST my teacher. In 1968 when I was just 15 and a rising junior in high school, I was assigned to her English class for the year. Imagine that first day! There I was. Unmolded clay. There she was, bright and bright-eyed, just coming from her master’s in English lit at UVA. Ready to shape us—to convert us really—into lovers of English literature and of faultless composition. She was all energy, all enthusiasm, all elegant intelligence. And she was really fun.
But no pushover. No, no, no. I soon discovered one of her favorite phrases: “Write it again.” Or “Try harder.” Or just, “THINK, Kristin, THINK!” She taught me so well that I went on to become a writer and editor for 40 years. Nancy was simply a phenomenal, life-changing teacher. She treated us with love and respect, and showed us that we each had value all our own. She set the bar high but was always our greatest champion. These traits were natural in her even in her twenties, and they only got better over time.
Now I can’t tell you why, but for some reason, and I am certain God was in the equation, Nancy chose me from that year on to be her friend. That was 50 years ago. And when you were Nancy’s friend, that was just simply a forever thing. A deep, abiding, caring, happy love was about to unfold in my life. Don’t worry. I’m not going to take you through the details of those 50 years. I’ll just say that Nancy and I created a fantastic friendship. I was in Nancy and Bill’s wedding, and I would visit them in the early days. Or Nancy would come see me in the Berkshires when her father had a reunion at Williams. Or we’d meet up for a few days in Florida and go kayaking.
At first I was very deferential, because, after all, she had been my teacher, my mentor. But after a while, Nancy said, “Enough of that. Let’s move on. I want to be your friend, Kristin. Equals. Side by side.” And that’s something she taught me early on about relating to God. To walk side by side with God in love and trust and devotion. She showed me how to bring God from up there, to here (motion from heaven to my heart).
I have to confess, however, that I never gave up the habit or the privilege of asking her to help me think through an idea. If I was working on a project, I’d ask her to talk to me about it. And there she’d be. All cleverness. All curiosity. All collaboration. Helping me navigate. I can’t tell you how many pieces of paper I have stuck in my books, or converted to my computer, or floating on my desk that have my scribbles of her WORD PEARLS—ideas, thoughts, specific vocabulary that she’d string together on the phone usually—often much too quickly for my pen—to help me and encourage me take an idea to a new certainty, a new clarity.
What seems like two decades ago, my experience of and with Nancy changed measurably. I’m sure that was about the time that she became magnificently engaged in The Crossing. I experienced a quantum leap in her. An unbounded joy. An intensified way of praying. An engagement in creation like nothing I had ever witnessed. She would pray for me, and she would send me the prayers she had written down. They were such loving petitions to God. I want here to give you a tender example.
In 2010 I wrote to Nancy and said:
Please pray for something odd: my darling (loud) Carolina wren lost its mate. It now is building a nest and singing its heart out every day to attract a companion...they are rare here, and whenever I hear it sing, I long for it to have an other...I have to have faith that a bit more of Carolina will find its way to New York...
Nancy soon replied with the following prayer:
Father, Creator God, how valuable each singing, shining creature is to you...Please turn your eye on this little sparrow-sized wren, who, by some cold act of contrary nature, has lost its mate. Please make its song so tantalizing and far-reaching that another lonely wren will come soon and forever...please hear and comfort Kristin's heart with assurance of your love for her wren and most especially for her, who adores you in this precious, feathery friend. Amen.
Five weeks later I was working in the garden and I heard a wren singing sweetly. Then, when I looked toward our feeders, there were actually two wrens, singing together. Prayers answered.
Nancy was so faithful. So joyous. And so open about her trust in her savior Jesus Christ. In 2014 when her cancer was discovered, she was not afraid. She gave it to God, and to her doctors, and she lived each day in love, devotion, and confidence. And, as she claimed her faith more and more, I began to claim out loud my own abiding love of God--embracing my Christianity with those around me, rather than being more private and quiet. And I told her all this in a poignant conversation. I knew it was one of the most important gifts I could give her.
About ten days ago, it became clear that Nancy was going to die sooner than we could have imagined. She and I began to write notes to each other back and forth every day. When she died, I was in tremendous pain. I couldn’t imagine not being able actually to hear her voice after five decades of friendship. And I reached out in distress to a dear friend who wrote me back:
Nancy’s voice is part of your heart now, and I’m sure she knew she was planting it there...
So I’d like to extend that loving message to all of you now. Bill, Haskins, Sarah, Laura, Monty, Lucy, Rob, grandchildren, spouses, cousins, friends and prayer warriors, everyone here—each of us has been touched by this incredible woman. She has planted in us her love and faith, her strength and trust in God and in her savior Christ, her intellect and determination, her commitment to serve others, and her celebration of family and of life. She knew she was cultivating these gifts in our hearts. We have her voice in our own. She was, after all, our teacher. Just as Jesus was her master teacher.
And though we are devastated to lose her. Though we ache for just one more minute, one more word, one more laugh with her, we can keep her spirit alive not just through our memories but by being in others what she was in us. We can be someone’s Nancy Hobson.
And when we roll up our sleeves and pitch in to help, as she would…
And see the dignity in every human being, as she would…
And feed the hungry, as she would…
And tend to the beauty of Earth’s garden, as she would…
And pray our most heartfelt prayers, as she would…
And love each other dearly…as she would…
We are carrying her forward. We are showing the love of God and the face of Jesus to the world, AS SHE WOULD. AS SHE DID. AND AS SHE STILL DOES. FOREVER. Amen.
Nancy Hayden Hobson (March 17, 1945 – June 21, 2018)
This is Psalm 3, verses 3 through 6:
BUT YOU ARE A SHIELD AROUND ME, OH LORD;
YOU BESTOW GLORY ON ME AND LIFT UP MY HEAD.
TO THE LORD I CRY ALOUD,
AND HE ANSWERS ME FROM HIS HOLY HILL.
I LIE DOWN AND SLEEP;
I WAKE AGAIN, BECAUSE THE LORD SUSTAINS ME.
I WILL NOT FEAR THE THOUSANDS
DRAWN UP AGAINST ME ON EVERY SIDE.
Nancy Bygrave, soon to become Nancy Hobson, was FIRST my teacher. In 1968 when I was just 15 and a rising junior in high school, I was assigned to her English class for the year. Imagine that first day! There I was. Unmolded clay. There she was, bright and bright-eyed, just coming from her master’s in English lit at UVA. Ready to shape us—to convert us really—into lovers of English literature and of faultless composition. She was all energy, all enthusiasm, all elegant intelligence. And she was really fun.
But no pushover. No, no, no. I soon discovered one of her favorite phrases: “Write it again.” Or “Try harder.” Or just, “THINK, Kristin, THINK!” She taught me so well that I went on to become a writer and editor for 40 years. Nancy was simply a phenomenal, life-changing teacher. She treated us with love and respect, and showed us that we each had value all our own. She set the bar high but was always our greatest champion. These traits were natural in her even in her twenties, and they only got better over time.
Now I can’t tell you why, but for some reason, and I am certain God was in the equation, Nancy chose me from that year on to be her friend. That was 50 years ago. And when you were Nancy’s friend, that was just simply a forever thing. A deep, abiding, caring, happy love was about to unfold in my life. Don’t worry. I’m not going to take you through the details of those 50 years. I’ll just say that Nancy and I created a fantastic friendship. I was in Nancy and Bill’s wedding, and I would visit them in the early days. Or Nancy would come see me in the Berkshires when her father had a reunion at Williams. Or we’d meet up for a few days in Florida and go kayaking.
At first I was very deferential, because, after all, she had been my teacher, my mentor. But after a while, Nancy said, “Enough of that. Let’s move on. I want to be your friend, Kristin. Equals. Side by side.” And that’s something she taught me early on about relating to God. To walk side by side with God in love and trust and devotion. She showed me how to bring God from up there, to here (motion from heaven to my heart).
I have to confess, however, that I never gave up the habit or the privilege of asking her to help me think through an idea. If I was working on a project, I’d ask her to talk to me about it. And there she’d be. All cleverness. All curiosity. All collaboration. Helping me navigate. I can’t tell you how many pieces of paper I have stuck in my books, or converted to my computer, or floating on my desk that have my scribbles of her WORD PEARLS—ideas, thoughts, specific vocabulary that she’d string together on the phone usually—often much too quickly for my pen—to help me and encourage me take an idea to a new certainty, a new clarity.
What seems like two decades ago, my experience of and with Nancy changed measurably. I’m sure that was about the time that she became magnificently engaged in The Crossing. I experienced a quantum leap in her. An unbounded joy. An intensified way of praying. An engagement in creation like nothing I had ever witnessed. She would pray for me, and she would send me the prayers she had written down. They were such loving petitions to God. I want here to give you a tender example.
In 2010 I wrote to Nancy and said:
Please pray for something odd: my darling (loud) Carolina wren lost its mate. It now is building a nest and singing its heart out every day to attract a companion...they are rare here, and whenever I hear it sing, I long for it to have an other...I have to have faith that a bit more of Carolina will find its way to New York...
Nancy soon replied with the following prayer:
Father, Creator God, how valuable each singing, shining creature is to you...Please turn your eye on this little sparrow-sized wren, who, by some cold act of contrary nature, has lost its mate. Please make its song so tantalizing and far-reaching that another lonely wren will come soon and forever...please hear and comfort Kristin's heart with assurance of your love for her wren and most especially for her, who adores you in this precious, feathery friend. Amen.
Five weeks later I was working in the garden and I heard a wren singing sweetly. Then, when I looked toward our feeders, there were actually two wrens, singing together. Prayers answered.
Nancy was so faithful. So joyous. And so open about her trust in her savior Jesus Christ. In 2014 when her cancer was discovered, she was not afraid. She gave it to God, and to her doctors, and she lived each day in love, devotion, and confidence. And, as she claimed her faith more and more, I began to claim out loud my own abiding love of God--embracing my Christianity with those around me, rather than being more private and quiet. And I told her all this in a poignant conversation. I knew it was one of the most important gifts I could give her.
About ten days ago, it became clear that Nancy was going to die sooner than we could have imagined. She and I began to write notes to each other back and forth every day. When she died, I was in tremendous pain. I couldn’t imagine not being able actually to hear her voice after five decades of friendship. And I reached out in distress to a dear friend who wrote me back:
Nancy’s voice is part of your heart now, and I’m sure she knew she was planting it there...
So I’d like to extend that loving message to all of you now. Bill, Haskins, Sarah, Laura, Monty, Lucy, Rob, grandchildren, spouses, cousins, friends and prayer warriors, everyone here—each of us has been touched by this incredible woman. She has planted in us her love and faith, her strength and trust in God and in her savior Christ, her intellect and determination, her commitment to serve others, and her celebration of family and of life. She knew she was cultivating these gifts in our hearts. We have her voice in our own. She was, after all, our teacher. Just as Jesus was her master teacher.
And though we are devastated to lose her. Though we ache for just one more minute, one more word, one more laugh with her, we can keep her spirit alive not just through our memories but by being in others what she was in us. We can be someone’s Nancy Hobson.
And when we roll up our sleeves and pitch in to help, as she would…
And see the dignity in every human being, as she would…
And feed the hungry, as she would…
And tend to the beauty of Earth’s garden, as she would…
And pray our most heartfelt prayers, as she would…
And love each other dearly…as she would…
We are carrying her forward. We are showing the love of God and the face of Jesus to the world, AS SHE WOULD. AS SHE DID. AND AS SHE STILL DOES. FOREVER. Amen.
Nancy Hayden Hobson (March 17, 1945 – June 21, 2018)