In May of 1980,my high school choir was scheduled to participate in a choral exchange with Nazareth Academy Girls School. The idea behind this was to have our school visit Nazareth during the school day and be hosted for dinner before a combined concert with the girls and then we would do the same at Cherokee High School. The only fly in the ointment was that Cherokee did not want to host the girls for a dinner because the cafeteria and kitchen of the 3 1/2 year old school was “sacred ground.” The result of this decision meant that the girls would have to go home with a student from Cherokee and have dinner in many separate homes. I told my mother of this decision and she was “not happy!”
It may be that because she was a member of the Little Flower Orchestra where she developed lifelong friendships that she felt compelled to act. I expect that it was as the stories from those days continued to appear at family gatherings and dinners. Her face would light up when she spoke of those friends and events. Of course no one in her current family was there, but in some ways we felt like we were.
I don’t remember too much of my mother’s time as a stay at home mom but this is how she began her family career. Once we were all in school, her weekly bowling outing was not enough and she went to work for the Evesham Township Board of Education where she worked for the Business Administrator and then moved to the Marlton Middle School to finish her career. All the while, she was a carpool mom, a dinner preparer, a wife to her husband, chief laundry officer, Cub Scout Den Mother, and pet mom to animals that ranged from dogs to chickens.
She loved her staff at the Middle School and always paid attention to the student who was relocated to the office for a variety of reasons. It is here where she really showed her skill at multitasking as she allowed the student to interact with her as she worked. She learned a lot about them and knew just what they needed and mostly is was the ear of a caring adult.
In 1986, I got married and although it was not easy, after two pregnancies that ended tragically, she became a grandmom with the birth of my twins, Ryan and Kelsi. Having her around was a blessing as my wife and I navigated the strange world of autoimmune diseases and needed to have grandmom babysit. She and my dad were always there no matter how late we came home. Both of my parents were critical to the development of my children as they graduated and became adults themselves.
When my parents finally retired together, they spent most of their time together. They would travel, watch TV, host their children at their home and eventually become each other’s caregiver. The love story that played out here was one of selfless devotion. My youngest siblings remained close in both proximity and importance in my parents final years. They made sure that my mom was never alone after losing my dad and even though she confided in me that they didn’t need to do this, I am sure that she was comforted that they were always there.
My mom was always connected to the church and even after she stopped being able to attend every Sunday, she continued to contribute financially to the best of her ability. My mom is a creation of God as is everybody and although she invoked God’s name with emotional enthusiasm dare I say thousands of times…I dispute the fact that she took his name in vain. You see, for the last several years, I have seen a movement toward the Name of Jesus instead of the Character of Christ. I have found very few persons institutionally who would agree with me on this point…so I haven’t been attending as often. Still, I do open that Bible and read.
We have become a society obsessed with Greatness. Greatness of country, greatness in sports and greatness in greatness so much so that we seek the Greatest of All Time. Jesus said, “the greatest among you must be your servant.” My mother would never be recognized as the Goat of anything because she never sought the spotlight so never had the opportunity to drop in the Name of the Lord in a way to gain…well, anything for herself. Joan McCausland was not the GOAT.
Getting back to Nazareth Academy and the situation with Cherokee. Unbeknownst to me, in the background my mother was fighting with the administration, organizing parents, getting a meal plan and telling our Choral Director, Miss Speth to relax. She was on the job. Miss Speth announced to the Choir in less than a week’s time, that we were in fact going to host Nazareth Academy during the school day, have dinner in the cafeteria, use the athletic fields for softball games and soccer, and then finish up with a concert. It was one of the greatest memories of my high school years.
At the concert, when Miss Speth was thanking the people who helped with the program, she paused and said, “Mrs. McCausland has been just priceless to me for organizing the dinner, rallying the parents and seeing to it that the event was fully staffed by caring responsible adults.” Priceless. That’s a good word.
No, my mother is not the goat. Still, it reminds me of another story involving goats. Jesus said, when the time comes he will separate the goats from the sheep and tell those goats that he never knew them. While they were using his name, they never loved him. They never gave to him. They never cared about him. He will tell the goats to be gone from his sight since whatever you did for the least of these or to the least of these you did to me.
Then he will turn to my mother and say, “Well done, good and faithful servant. Come and spend eternity with me in paradise.”