Frances Helen Stinchcomb

Some may find it ironic that our mother, Frances Helen Stinchcomb, recently succumbed to heart failure – because her strong and generous heart never failed anyone else. Along with her unshakable faith in God, it was perhaps her most defining trait.

Unfortunately, even the strongest of hearts must come to rest. For Mom, that time came Friday, Sept. 9th. She died quietly at her home, surrounded by family, hearing the voices of her loved ones even as she passed.

Mom was born Feb. 15, 1930, in Pasadena California, the daughter of Leo Joseph Still Sr. and Nathalie Ricker Still.

She was of that greatest generation that endured the Great Depression, World War II and the Cold War. She grew up in San Diego and attended Cathedral Girls High School and at age 21 married a dedicated (and dapper) Navy Corpsman named Rex C. Stinchcomb Jr.

At the time of her passing, she was 86 years old and had lived in Lemon Grove, California for nearly 60 years – in the same post-war track home they purchased in 1957.

In that house they raised nine children – five boys and four girls. There, they hosted countless family dinners and barbeques, launched dozens of vacations and staged several nationwide road trips, armed only with an aging Chevy truck, a modest trailer and a black Lhasa Apso.

For Mom and Dad, those post-retirement adventures were pure gold.

What made them even more precious was the love affair they had for nearly their entire lives. They married in their early 20s and adored each other. In their retirement, each road trip served as precious time together. What we call “make-up time” for all the years they spent working – at home and in the workplace – on behalf of the rest of us.

Mom loved to golf and was probably happiest at the beach, sand between her toes or walking in the shallows of the Pacific. Much to Dad’s dismay, she loved camping at San Elijo and Carlsbad State Beaches more than almost anything else. (Even in February, when the rain and winds would howl, shaking their tiny trailer.)

They were alike in that they both struggled with a love of golf and a sweet tooth that would be the bane of any dentist or dietitian. And while Dad’s addiction was to Julian apple pie – Mom’s drug of choice was the root beer float.

In her last years, eldest son Steve would make one for her each night before bedtime.

For Mom and Dad, the little pleasures were the best pleasures. They were never rich in money, but they were always sharing their true wealth with us: Love, laughter, the touch of a hand, soft kisses goodnight and warm hugs in the morning.

Mom loved working in education. She was a teacher’s aide at Golden Avenue Elementary School and later served as media aide at Lemon Grove Junior High, a career that spanned 20 years. For years, she spent every Saturday morning teaching or running the CCD program at St. John of the Cross, helping hundreds of Catholic children experience the Sacraments of the Eucharist, Penance and Confirmation. The friends she made through her service to RCIA and children’s religious education, both students and teachers, were life-long relationships that she cherished.

It’s not difficult to describe just how much Mom was loved by those who knew her. Her final months saw a pilgrimage of family and friends who wanted to see her smile, or touch her hand, if only one more time.

It’s even easier to describe why Mom was so loved. She was a selfless woman, and made it her life-long mission to be so.

Shortly after Mom passed, her granddaughter Justine found a curious scrawl in the margins of Mom’s bible. It was next to a quote from the Apostle Paul, a simple note that read, “Goal #1” next to this underlined passage:

“Therefore I, the prisoner of the Lord, implore you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling with which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, showing tolerance for one another in love, being diligent to preserve the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.”

Those 43 words sum up Mom’s life perfectly.

She had the sort of grace only God can give and the wisdom one can only acquire through years of hard work and an open mind.

Her faith was important and she never stopped exploring it and learning about it. If you kneel next to her bookshelf you will see books from the likes of Elizabeth Johnson, Teilhard de Chardin, Brian Swimme, Joseph Campbell, Hans Kung, Richard Rohr, and Merlin Stone, just to name a few.

In the last weeks of her life you would still see an open copy of The Sacred Fire by Ronald Rolheiser lying on the couch, even though her eyesight was diminishing. In the sunshine on our back patio, she and Paul Russo talked at length about it, and other spiritual matters, just days before she died.

By far, one of her best qualities was her ability to show respect – and for us that made every conversation with her a learning experience. She would teach by asking questions, as if she didn't know the answer. (Mostly she did.) But that stubbornness that kept her alive so long – she knew we had inherited it. And while she loved teaching, she wanted her children and grandchildren to push hard to find our own answers.

Between Mom and Dad, our ancestors are from pretty much every country in Europe. The only single culture we have is the one she gave us – a strong Catholic faith. In doing so gave us a culture and identity we share together and will always have.

Make no mistake; she was a free thinker and often challenged the idea of God being being solely male. Which is why more than a few guests were surprised when she referred to the almighty as She in prayer.

She was never the judgmental type. She made you proud to call yourself a follower of the teachings of Jesus Christ: love one another and be kind to your neighbor. Any member of our family will tell you that our lives are rooted in those two statements. Even now, that fact pleases her to no end.

On the morning when she died, Mom was surrounded by her children and grandchildren. Not everyone of them was of her blood but everyone was of her family. That was possibly her most precious gift to us -- she always had room for one more soul in that strong and generous heart. Perhaps it didn’t fail her after all.

In all, Mom and Dad left behind nine children – Steven, David, Terri, Ann, Catherine, Michael, Susan, Dennis and Jeff. They also were blessed with 21 grandchildren – Jennifer, Jessica, Justine, Jillian, Jason, Erica, Kristyn, Sarah, Laura, Janeen, Paul, Erin, Alyse, Kera, Katie, Dana, Alexandra, Zac, Casey, Emma and Lillian; and with 12 great-grandchildren – Declan, Rory, Jacob, Isaac, Nathanial, Christian, Matthew, McKenzie, Rex, Teddy, Finn and Reagan, who was born 8 days prior to Mom’s passing.