Dexter Iowa Community Site

Consider this quote from Abe Lincoln

"America will never be destroyed from the outside. If we falter and lose our freedoms, it will be because we destroyed ourselves."

I had planned this week to bring you another edition of Weez’s guide to the Fair, but I’ll bring that to you next week as I’ve got something else on my mind. I’m always careful not to be too preachy in my columns, but lately God and I have been having a minor disagreement over a few things. Really it’s more like God’s talking and I’m doing my best not to listen.

This last week as I’ve struggled and pondered and plugged my ears like a two year old sitting on the floor singing loudly “I can’t hear you” wallowing in my own pit of grief and self loathing, He kept on talking to me. Finally I heard the voice…and you know what it said to me? “Hey you jackass…knock it off…there are so many people struggling more than you are right now.”

Now, I’m just going to guess that some of you might be a little offended by the fact that God called me a jackass, and to be quite honest I was too. But one of the really neat things about God is that sometimes he thinks outside the box to get our attention, and He’s always honest with me. So if from time to time he has to point out just what a dork I’m being, then I’m more than alright with that.

For those of you in the area that knew Marilyn Simons Hoy, you knew the struggle and fight she had against Cancer for the last thirteen years or so. Against all the odds, against what the doctors told her, against what we all thought would be a loosing battle, she never gave up. She fought, and she lived, and she loved, and when cancer would rear it’s ugly head again, she stood toe to toe with it, and overcame it. She defied the odds and rather than waiting for the end, she lived every single day as fully as she was able.

Her battle ended this past week. Even when we know that the end of a life is near, we still find ourselves shocked and disbelieving when it occurs. It’s a sad time and there is no denying that fact. I wanted to share just a little bit about this remarkable lady with you, my own way of healing and sharing with those who loved her.

Marilyn was my favorite babysitter. Mind you, we only had three real babysitters that I remember. Her older sister “Tessy” who watched us for a while when we were smaller and the oldest Clayton boy Mike would stay occasionally, but there was no one better at taking care of the three of us as Marilyn was.

She would roughhouse with the best of them, never once complaining when my brothers and I would attempt to prolong the bedtime by piling on her and trying to pin her to the ground so she couldn’t order us to bed. She was also caring. As the oldest, I had more than my share of that awkward time when my voice would squeak and my face resembled some sort of tic tac toe board, but Marilyn would talk to me, not like a boy, but as a young man looking to find his way. Because of that, she became like a big sister to me.

Looking back at my childhood, it seemed like we boys practically lived at the Simons house down at the “T” intersection of the road coming out of Dexter. We played with all of Gene and Mary Ellen’s kids. We got into trouble quite a bit, laughed a lot and always felt not as outsiders, but as members of a gigantic band of siblings.

I remember one August day at their house very well. My Grandfather had been rushed to the hospital that morning, and we boys were dropped there for Marilyn to watch us as Mom and Dad went to Des Moines. I remember it being just about lunch time when Mom came and sat us boys down and told us that Grandpa was gone. I remember that only because I remember the meal of hot dogs and homemade macaroni and cheese that was sitting on the table that we couldn’t wait to devour. And I remember after that news, not feeling so hungry anymore. It was Marilyn that came and said, “It’s ok if you don’t feel like eating right now…if you get hungry later I’ll make you something.”

It might not have seemed like a huge deal at the time, but what a profound impact and lesson that was for me. I think it was in that moment that I first learned what compassion was, and it was that compassion she carried on for the rest of her life. Never worried about how she was doing, but wanting to be sure everyone around her was alright.

I’ll remember her fondly, her smile, her laugh, that strange southern drawl she picked up in the military that she never could get rid of when she moved back to Iowa, and how ever time she would see my kids she would make sure they knew that I was a complete houligan as a child. I’ll remember her will, her determination and the lessons she gave all of us. Lessons in never giving up, never being defeated, and never ever wasting a day of your life.

As I posted last week on my facebook page, I’m sure that there is little I can do or say to comfort her family, husband, parents, children, siblings, friends…there are never words that can truly express how I feel, but I do know in my heart that when she arrived at the gates of heaven, her older brother was standing there next to Jesus, both of them wearing the biggest grins you ever saw, and I’m sure that when our time comes, she’ll be there to greet us as well.

Her life was well lived, it wasn’t perfect, but she lived every day perfectly, for in the end she didn’t loose the battle to cancer…she beat it…for the place she is now, cancer can never again rear it’s ugly head and challenge her to a battle; for she won the war….and she taught us all a very valuable lesson in the process.

See you next week…remember, we’re all in this together.