IN MEMORIAM
A Tribute to Elizabeth G. Atticks
Rev. James D. Brown
October 27, 2007
Scripture
Psalm 46, Romans 8:35-39 and Ephesians 3:14-19
“So that you may be filled with the fullness of God.” This was the culmination of Paul’s prayer for all the saints in Ephesus. That’s it, I thought to myself as I read these words among Elizabeth’s selections of her favorite passages of Scripture she wanted included in her memorial service. That’s it. She was filled with the fullness of God. One of the last things she said to me was, “I’ve had a wonderful life.” And that she did. She knew about the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, and she spent her life passing it on to us.
All of us have been thinking about where we first met Elizabeth, how our relationship with her took on special meaning. When I arrived at Market Square she was going strong in that irresistible way she impacted us all. One of her many roles was that of typing up sermon manuscripts for the pastors. Early in the week she would come in and transcribe our sermons from tapes made by Newman Stare, give them to Joy Kaufmann and me to edit, and then she would run them off.
Elizabeth put commas where I had never seen them before. When I commented on a few of them, she recited the rules she was taught about comma placement more than half century before. And when I deleted some of them she gave me a look that said, “Oh well, what does he know.” That ‘look’ always had a smile connected with it, but I have to confess that for the most part I began to leave her commas where she put them.
I cherish those first memories of Elizabeth. I knew in my heart that I had chanced into the presence of a very special lady. And this was reinforced in my early days here by the discovery in the files of an article she had written for a now defunct denominational publication called Monday Morning—which was published weekly for pastors and lay leaders in the church.
One of the things about the article that caught my eye was the date on it—July 28, 1941. I was 44 days old, Elizabeth was a tad over 30. All the way back then she was working on her manifesto, her credo, her theme song. The article was about the place of young adults in the church.
Where are they, she asked? She noted that some like her had “found avenues of service teaching Sunday school classes, singing in the church choir, acting in an advisory capacity to younger groups.” Then she told what motivated her, and what she envisioned being so important for her contemporaries:
“We are seeking a purpose in life, and it is only the Church that can
give us the Christian principles upon which we can build our lives.
We are choosing friends and life partners and need the fellowship
and friendship to be found within the Church….As we look out on
the world in which we are to take our place as citizens and leaders,
we see chaos and sin on every side. [Remember the year—1941]
We need a program of Christian education to balance our thinking
and anchor us to the fundamental values in life.”
Elizabeth would go on to teach Sunday school and work with young people and young adults for 54 years. She spent six years in our primary department, forty-three with Jr. Highs, and finally another five with grades 4-6. What a wonderful life indeed. It’s no wonder I have heard from so many of you about the impact Elizabeth had on your life at Market Square. Susan Jin Davis emailed me as soon as she learned of Elizabeth’s death:
Elizabeth was among the many people at Market Square who lifted me up
and helped me along as I grew up in the church. Her influence and loving
support contributed to my youth and young adulthood in ways I cannot even
describe. She was always there to give me enthusiastic encouragement. I
will really miss her.
Phyllis Smith wrote in a similar vein:
Elizabeth was always so supportive of me from the time I came to Market
Square and joined the choir at seventeen. She, Leah May, and Nedra Schilling were all like Mother Hens.
Jen Briggs describes a Mother Hen who liked a good time:
I bought a convertible when Elizabeth was 92 and she asked me to take her
for a ride. We had a blast and were both giggling the whole time. Often times
we would get back to the Woods after bed check and we would then need to
call for the door to be opened. As the night clerk would open the door Elizabeth
would remark something like, “I’m not going to bed at 7:30. I’m living my life.”
I hope you can see the picture I’m painting. I know you can. It squares with your own. It squares with the dozens and dozens of comments I’ve received over my years here at Market Square from ministers and church leaders from all across the Synod. Elizabeth’s title during her 49 years working with the Synod of the Trinity was Administrative Assistant, but from what I can tell, she functioned like a bishop and mother confessor and friend for several generations of pastors.
Bill Aber, who was the Presbytery Executive in Redstone Presbytery in Elizabeth’s day (and who later was my Presbytery Exec when I was in Santa Fe Presbytery) sent an absolutely marvelous tribute about Elizabeth’s time with the Synod of the Trinity:
I first met Elizabeth fifty years ago when she was the secretary for Synod
Executive Claude Conley. Or perhaps it was as office manager, or maybe
administrative assistant. Over the years I came to realize that the only
title she needed was “Elizabeth.” Like “Elvis” or “Evita,” that one name
brought instant recognition. And its synonym was “Synod.”
Elizabeth WAS the Synod to literally hundreds of men and women. She was
the first face they saw going to the Synod office. She was the voice on the
phone. She signed per diem checks for Synod meetings. But more than that,
she was our friend. She called me by name the second time she saw me—as
she did with everyone else she met. Not because she had a technique for remembering names, but because she genuinely cared about people.
Elizabeth followed up her half century with the Synod with a decade as Stated Clerk of Carlisle Presbytery, where she made the same lasting impression as someone who cared about us. I can’t tell you how many pastors have said to me: “You’re Elizabeth Atticks’ pastor? Lucky you.” Lucky me is right. Lucky us for all the ties that bind us to Elizabeth.
Let’s look back over Elizabeth’s life as I read from Paul’s prayer for the Ephesians:
I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints,
what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the
love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with
the fullness of God.
I believe that Elizabeth saw herself as being filled with the fullness of God all her days.
One of the things that inspired Elizabeth the most during the last several years was having a new baptismal font created for our sanctuary. It had been a dream of hers, and now she offered to supply the funding to commission a local artist to create a font that would be dedicated to the glory of God and in memory of her dear friend Nedra Schilling.
In good Presbyterian fashion this took a bit of time for the appropriated committees to accomplish. At one point she told me that she was afraid she’d be dead long before the font project was completed. Not to be deterred, she delivered this letter to the church:
To whom it may concern;
A committee of Market Square Presbyterian Church is in the
process of securing a Baptismal Font to be presented by me
to the Church in memory of Nedra Schilling. If I should die
or become incompetent before this memorial is completed,
I declare that the funds for payment of such memorial shall
be made from my estate so there is no question about this
project being completed. [signed] Elizabeth G. Atticks
It was a blessing that the beautiful font gracing our sanctuary was finished in time for Elizabeth to take part in the service of dedication. It stands as a testimony to someone who knew how to say “I declare” in order to make good things happen.
Toward the end things got rough. Her illness exacted a very heavy toll on Elizabeth. And her pain and anguish exacted a heavy toll on those of us who loved her so. But something happened the day she left the hospital for the last time that helped me comprehend her fullness even in her hour of trial.
When it came time for Elizabeth to leave for Country Meadows Retirement Home, the team of EMT’s that was to transport her hooked up her oxygen and wheeled her out to the elevators by the nurses’ station. All of a sudden five or six of the staff dropped what they were doing and flocked around Elizabeth’s wheel chair to hug her and wish her well.
It was like a party coming to a happy ending, not a wake but a celebration of having shared life together with Elizabeth. The nurses had fallen for Elizabeth, just as we did. Even when she was not at her best, her fullness overflowed into the lives of those around her and brought them joy.
This is how I feel about Elizabeth. I know you do too. Leah May has just the right expression with which I’ll close. Leah May, who lived under the same roof with her sister for 92 years, and was with her until the end, said quite simply, “Elizabeth was a good Christian girl.” I think Elizabeth would like that. Thanks be to God for her life among us as a faithful friend and mentor and companion along life’s way.