Marsha's Memories

We honor a woman today that has been an every day example of faith, courage, generosity and creativity.

Mom was always sewing. That was her thing. It started when she learned sew as a young girl on a trundle sewing machine through the 4H program. She won an award for the first dress she made. She, in fact, got her college degree in home economics.

She loved to pick out patterns and make us clothes. We can remember hours of waiting for her in a fabric store. Many holidays we went to church in her latest creations, all coordinating, of course. I always thought of her clothes were better than store-bought.

She was great at alterations too. I remember smiling on my way to grade school in my newly altered jeans. She had added on fabric to my favorite, but outgrown, high-water pants, and so I had 3 inches of a flowery print on the bottom and I could wear them again. I thought I looked very groovy, thanks to her.

I’ll never forget my favorite Christmas present from her. It was the year every one was getting the Holly Hobbie dolls. Under the tree was a similar looking doll, but one she made herself. It even had bloomers, an apron and shoes!

And when I went to camp in the summer for a week one year, I came home to find she had painted my bedroom all purple – my favorite color – and made me a new bedspread and curtains – 3 tiers, no less.

She touched many lives with her creative talents. She’s made her granddaughters doll clothes, her grandsons costumes, and for many years she made little dolls that were sent overseas in shoe boxes for children at Christmas.

She felt the call to serve her community and beyond. And looking back, she made a great deal of difference by what she did.

Back in the 60’s she wanted to do something for the civil rights movement. Dad had marched with Martin Luther King and Mom wanted to do her part somehow. So she answered an ad in the paper asking for someone to teach sewing in the inner city of Alton, IL, the city close to us. It was for a job training center. Mom loved to tell the story of how she first went around town to recruit people in that neighborhood for the class. She went with Mabel Musgrave, a dynamic black woman, who ended up being a friend for life. Mom knew they’d be pounding the pavement so she showed up in her yellow house dress and practical Hush Puppy Shoes. Mabel showed up, dressed to kill, decked out in a stylish dress and spike heels. Mom brought other women from her church to help teach sewing and they all ended up making long lasting friendships, all because mom wanted to cross racial lines and live out her faith.

She taught others too. She taught sewing at a community college and at the Milwaukee County jail. The prisoners there were really proud of making their own dress to wear to court. Her work there was even featured in the Milwaukee State Journal. In fact, Debbie’s nursing instructors asked her, “Did you know your Mom was in the newspaper?” We were all very proud of her.

Mom always loved being a mom. Not that it was easy. On the table by the pictures is a diary she kept of one day when we were all young. A woman makes a lot happen for a family in one day. She was extremely patient and kind.

She was also a very good sport.
Most of our vacations were budget-friendly, which meant visiting relatives or camping. Still, we went to the ocean and to the mountains. I can still vividly see her jumping in the water, waving us to come in and ride the waves and hiking up a trail with a stick in one hand and the tail of her red bandana flopping on the back of her head.

She helped the teenagers at church with skits, she rounded up funny props, and did a lot of behind the scenes work for them. They called her, “Killer.”

She was serious about teaching us about faith, though too. I remember her telling me I had to forgive Mark Lisser and be his friend. I was in grade school and Mark was in love with me. But he picked his nose, and wore high water plaid pants with smelly plaid shirts, and nobody else liked him. Under conviction from Mom, I forced myself to be decent to him, so he wrote me love notes, which were often grabbed and read out loud. But I still had to be nice to him – that’s what loving your neighbor is all about.

So I just wanted you to know what it was like to have Betty Lacy for a mother, from my perspective anyway. And maybe you will be inspired by her as I will always be.