Lamonica, Kathreen Lane

Kathreen Lane (Tink) Lamonica—Age fifty-two. Passed away August 3, 2002. Daughter of the late Buford Bernard and Wertie Horner. She was a devoted wife, mother, and teacher. Survived by her husband, Al LaMonica; children, Matthew Lane, Ryan Lane, and Steven Lee LaMonica; sister, Sue (John) Catchings; brother Jack (Sue Ellen) Horner of Dallas; nieces and nephews, John Adrian Catchings, Anne Carter Catchings, Tara Sue Horner and Cayce Carter Catchings. Memorial service to be conducted 11 a.m., Friday, August 9, 2002, at Otter Creek Church of Christ. Visitation 9:30 till 11:00 a.m. Friday at the Church. Memorials may be made to the Wayne Reed Christian Child Care Center. Woodlawn Funeral Home, 660 Thompson Lane, 383-4754

Maddux, Carolyn Forrister

(widow of Vardaman Forrister and Frank Maddux)…8/9/2008

“I am not living on the way to dying. I am dying on the way to living.” (Note in one of Carolyn’s well-marked Bibles)

The combined Forrister and Maddux families

Maddux, February 28, 1926-August 9, 2008

Preceded in death by husbands Vardaman Forrister and Frank Maddux. Survived by children Kimble Forrister and wife Calli Patterson (Montgomery, AL), Brad Forrister and wife Cathy (Nolensville, TN), Dirk Forrister and wife Mimi Turnipseed (Boulder, CO), Sky Forrister and wife Louise (Llano, TX), and Vali Forrister (Nashville); stepsons Rob Maddux (Nashville), Tim Maddux and wife Holly (Resistencia, Argentina), and Vin Maddux and wife Ellen (Franklin, TN); grandchildren Andy, Timothy, and Dawn Maddux, their mother Beverly Byram, and Treble, Tenor, Timbre, and Tetro Cierpke; Ned and Sarah Alice Coleman, Clare Forrister; Hayden and Haviland Forrister; Mark, Austin, Kathryn, and Michael Maddux, and Nathan and Elizabeth Barrett; Trent, Jen, and Erin Forrister; Stuart, Erik, Heide, David, and Shelley Forrister; two great-grandchildren; and sister Babs Brooks and husband Deems (Warrensburg, MO).

Born on Elkins Avenue in West Nashville to Verner C. and Clara King.

Lifelong enthusiasm for learning, missions, and scripture. Teacher to multiple generations, from Lipscomb High School to Otter Creek kindergarten to English Language Learners at Hillsboro High School, from ladies Bible classes at Berryville, Lebanon Road, Smith Springs, and Otter C reek churches of Christ to creating Bible programs in Belize, Guatemala and at Camp Shiloh in New Jersey. Passionate about her relationships with church, the Lipscomb community, and especially her family. Her hunger for learning and for scripture was contagious to the many women she mentored.

Special thanks to the family at Otter Creek church, who sustained her body and spirit and especially to Carolyn’s Angels—Beverly Byram and Kathy Huffard Cox, Jan and Richard Craig, Shirley Green, Becky Collins, Betsy Piper, Jan Bennett, Chris Portell, the Nan and Doug Smith Life Group, the host of people who took her to chemo treatments and doctor appointments, all the Otter Creekers known and unknown who brought food all these years.

In lieu of flowers, the family asks that donations be made to a cause about which you have Carolyn’s level of passion. You may also give to the Frank and Carolyn Maddux Fund for Youth Missions at Otter Creek Church or the Carolyn Forrister Maddux scholarship fund at Actors Bridge’s “Act Like a Grrrl.”

(Note: the service was divided into the following parts: Matriarch by Kim Forrister, Mentor by Sandra Collins, Scholar by Brad Forrister, Pioneer by Sky Forrister, Champion by Vali Forrister, Storyteller by Brad Forrister, Early Years by Babs Brooks, “These Are the Women We Come From” by Babs Brooks, Vali Forrister, Haviland Forrister,’ a Tribute to Carolyn by Sky Forrister, “The Giver” by Amy Stroup, and A Life Well Lived by Dirk Forrister.)

Following the service, people were invited to a short graveside ceremony at Woodlawn Memorial Park, led by Rev. Becca Stevens.

Comments by Sandra Collins

When I came to a baby shower here this past Sunday, Jerry Atnip and Dawn Whitelaw were setting up the Sacred Spaces exhibit in the foyer. Had I had a camera with me on Saturday evening at nine when Jerry and I walked into the Maddux living room and had it been appropriate, I would have photographed my own vision of a sacred space.

Good friends and family were in the room. Vali was sitting close to Carolyn’s bed, leaning in, smiling, and speaking softly to her mother about all sorts of things. “Here is sweet Sandy Collins,” she said. She urged Jerry and me to come to the bedside, but I honestly felt I was intruding into sacred space. I told her she had helped me raise my children and stay married to my husband, that she had been my mentor, and I loved her.

Carolyn Maddux was a woman for whom I have had deep appreciation for over thirty years. She and Frank were on the original task force for the Wayne Reed Center. I have told stories about her love of Scripture, her faith, and her gift for rearing children in churches in Nashville and in various other cities and states. Ruth Rucker was my example of wisdom and patience; Carolyn was my example of wisdom and joy. As I would talk about these women, I would always say, “I want that same wisdom, patience, and joy these women have, but I don’t want to raise eight or nine children to get it.”

The stories I remember are a little fuzzy now, but when I first heard her tell about Vardaman’s death, which left her with four boys and a very young little girl, I think she said she closed all the blinds and pored over the Bible, reading for every bit of strength and comfort she could get.

Another story involved one of her teenage boys who had stayed out quite late one night with a group of friends. All of the friends were bemoaning what their parents would say or do when they came in so late. Carolyn’s son said, “I will walk in and mother will be lying across the bed reading her Bible. When she sees me, she’ll say, ‘Come in here. You won’t believe what I just found.’” And it happened exactly as he had thought it would.

Whenever Solomon was mentioned, she would always shake her head and say, “Imagine what it was like to have seven hundred mothers-in-law.” Teachers unsure of biblical facts or persons would often say, “Carolyn, who was that king?” or “Who was it that …?” Carolyn knew her Bible.

Jerry and I have often said that when Carolyn died, the church should put her Bible on display under glass because of all the notes written in the margins. I told her that recently and learned she had several such Bibles.

Several times I invited her to talk about children to a class at Lipscomb, along with some others that I called the Super Mothers. Students asked if the mothers had had family devotionals. One had been faithful about calling everyone together for evening devotionals. If I am not mistaken, Carolyn said, “Oh, we never could get that together.” I asked each woman what she would do differently if she could do it all over again. Carolyn’s answer was “I’d fly more kites.” I wished I had as well.

The joy I always saw in her was evident to her family. She told me a story about one grandchild who, upon seeing the brown spots on her arms, asked, “Grancie, what are these spots?” Carolyn answered, “Liver spots.” He looked at them closely and sighed, “No. They are snurples. I don’t have snurples on my hands. Andy doesn’t have snurples on his hands.” He sighed a deep sigh and said, “Only happy people have snurples!” I told her that with the right pictures that would make a great children’s book for grandmothers to read. She told me many wonderful stories about her childhood, about Nashville, about Otter Creek, about her children. At Ruth Rucker’s funeral she told the story about Ruth’s breaking the pants barrier. What she said later was that because the jackets on pants suits were so long, Ruth had suggested that if the men complained about the pants, they could just take them off and wear only the jackets.

The best part of taking food to her house over these past few years was getting the handwritten thank-you note that was never generic, always particularly worded for the giver.

She loved reading, learning, going to plays (especially those written by or acted in by her children), and going on mission trips. The picture on the left shows a group she inspired to go to Belize (one of several groups). She never was as a loss for an interesting story about something the boys were doing with or for their children and loved celebrating significant birthdays, retiring the Christmas stockings of older children, and bestowing a blessing upon them. Rituals grew more precious every year.

Her children asked if I would write a poem. Those of you who have known me for many years know that I write doggerel rhymes in an attempt to make fun of all of us. I do not write serious poetry. But I have a copy of a poem that certainly characterizes Carolyn:

Not merely in the words you say; Not only in your deeds confessed— But in the most unconscious way, The Christ expressed.

presence When you laughed just now.

To me it was not the truth you taught, To you so clear, to me so dim, But when you came you brought A sense of Him.

Is it a beatific smile, A holy light upon your brow? Oh, no, I felt His

And from your eyes He beckons me. And from your heart His love is shed Till I lose sight of you and

see The Christ instead.

(Beatrice Clelland, quoted in a book by John Stott)