Erl Purnell Sermon

Daisy Mae Ecker Scott Memorial Service ~ December 9, 2006 ~ A sermon preached by The Rev’d Erl G. Purnell at Old St. Andrew’s Church, Bloomfield, CT

Song of Solomon 2.10-13; Revelation 7.9-17; Luke 12.22-34

On November 14, our dear Daisy joined hands and voice once more with her beloved Bill. For her, “morning has broken, like the first morning; blackbird has spoken like the first bird.” And today, we celebrate Daisy’s Easter Day, a day to remember a life lived fully.

Daisy Mae—did you know her name was Daisy Mae?—lived on the earth and “in the earth” just up Tariffville Road. With a name like Daisy Mae, wouldn’t you be bare foot in a garden, caring for beautiful flowers every chance you got? Wouldn’t you run with your young girl legs through hay fields, hair flowing in slow motion like in the Prell shampoo ads, and dance in the stream? And wouldn’t you love your Abner—your Bill Scott—more than chocolate or even life itself?

“For the beauty of the earth, for the beauty of the skies, for the love which from our birth, over and around us lies.” Daisy had so much to live for. In her time, she gave generously to this parish church—the altar guild, choir, ECW, the Strawberry Festival. She was a serious bowler in her day, and raised a flag whenever she scored over 200! You go Daisy.

Ten years ago, when I met Daisy and Bill, they were still pretty healthy and vibrant, although Daisy’s legs were weakening. Sunday mornings were just right when they took their seats, just back there. And later, at coffee or perhaps during a mid-week chat, or even when she was living at McLean, Daisy would smile that smile with her eyes, followed by her signature laugh. I always saw it as a little girl smile, a twinkling smile that must have started back in Middletown in the 1920s and carried her through 85+ years. Isn’t it nice when we have something that works so well we keep doing it our whole lives? That’s kind of how I think of Daisy’s smile and laugh.

But, as we all remember, Daisy didn’t always smile and laugh. What about the times when she would be cranky about something or not get her way? Daisy could be brooding and tough, too. I remember a few times during a McLean visit when Daisy would recite a litany of complaints about one thing or another. She’d usually end, though, letting it slide away. You see, neither Daisy, nor you or I, is perfect by a long shot. We’re created with the opportunity to do our very best. I think Daisy chose to do the very best she could—with her husband, in her church and community, and definitely as a bowler.

In the coming aeon, Bill and Daisy Scott will rest together in soil close to the ground they lived on and in for so many, many years. It seems fitting that Old St. Andrew’s was their parish home and now our cemetery is their eternal place of rest. It’s such a good thing.

While we were putting Daisy’s ashes in the ground last hour, I believe I could hear the melodious singing of two voices in harmony:

“Arise, my love, my fair one,

and come away;

for now the winter is past,

the rain is over and gone.

The flowers appear on the earth;

the time of singing has come,

and the voice of the turtledove

is heard in our land.

The fig tree puts forth its figs,

and the vines are in blossom;

they give forth fragrance.

Arise, my love, my fair one,

and come away.”

Blessings and Peace Daisy Mae Scott, and Godspeed.

Amen.