Remembering Mary Jo
Beloved wife, mother, grandmother, friend Mary Jo Tapp passed away last Monday. Here is a place we can share our thoughts and memories.This photo was taken during Vacation Bible School in 2005.
For the Seattle Times obituary and guest book, go here.
posted by njb at 2:38 PM
5 Comments:
It has been such a privilege to sit with the Tapp family this past week, along with relatives and friends, and share wonderful memories of Mary Jo. She played such a special role in our congregation. More than anyone else, she reached out to welcome the newcomer, and the one's who weren't connected yet. She invited them to events, checked in with them, made them feel they were wanted. Several of our newer members have called or emailed me this week to tell me what she meant to them. She practiced the hospitality of Jesus. As a congregation we need to pick up on that critical role of hospitality - welcoming the newcomer with open hearts and in doing so we will be honoring Mary Jo' memory.
September 15, 2006 10:28 AM
I am so sorry Mary Jo is no longer with us.
From the beginning of my attendance at SJU, it was clear to me that she and Roger were the engine that made Sunday school run. And soon after we began to attend we were invited over to the house and folded into her large, informal, and close family; Julie and I and the children felt privileged.
Most Sundays, I sat almost directly behind Mary Jo, a few pews back. I could see her bobbed head confiding quietly with Roger, and moments later I would find that she was shepherding the little ones to march up to sing to us all.
Confiding and including, those are the qualities I see as I remember her. I remember her smile and gestures that I imagine must not have changed since she conspired with her girlfriends in high school. She would lean toward me, cock her head like an inquisitive bird, and provide a perspective on events that said, "Isn't that rich? Isn't life grand?" and she would laugh a small laugh that was sometimes almost silent, sometimes musical, but always warm and including.
As much as I am grieved by her going, I am consoled that she is now at peace. And I am consoled by the solidarity and strength of the family and congregation to which she contributed so much.
She lives on in our hearts.
September 15, 2006 1:05 PM
Mary Jo and I go way back. Mary Jo told everyone at church that she and I went to Kindergarten together. That is true. We went to BF Day Grade School, Hamilton Junior High and Lincoln High School together. We were also in the same Brownie and Girl Scout troop together up to 5th grade. Once we were adults, we did not see each other for a while. Then when my daughter was 5 years old (31 years ago) a neighbor of mine, who was to teach vacation church school at St. Paul's but could not that year, asked me if I would teach for her. I wasn't even attending St. Paul's, but thought it would be good for my daughter, Kim, to attend. I went to Shirley Mannery's house for a VCS training and guess who was there --- Mary Jo!!! From then on it was like we had never stopped knowing each other. After Shirley Mannery asked me to come back to teach Sunday School, it was Mary Jo who encouraged me to go upstairs to church. It was Mary Jo who got me to sing in choir right away. She told me her husband, Roger, was the choir director and she was singing in the choir and they needed more singers. Just like she has done over the years for hundreds of other people, she got me involved. From then on we were close friends. We made banners together, we sang in the choir together, we taught Sunday School together. We talked to each other a lot. We confided in each other a lot. We sometimes talked on the phone for 2 hours. Mary Jo's is the only phone number of SJU members that I can always remember.
Of all the people I have known, I would say that Mary Jo was the most friendly, most generous, most hardworking, most caregiving person. She always welcomed new people. She cared totally about the children and families of the church. She was totally involved in the care of her mom and aunt as they aged. She was the person who was St. Paul's liaison with Pastor Roy when he was dying of cancer. Joe and I were always saying how much Mary Jo alone and Roger and Mary Jo together did for people...how kind they could be, how they helped a lot of people.
I love you and I miss you, Mary Jo. You were and are one of my oldest and truest friends. (I know from an experience I had after my father died, that people definately live on.) So, someday I will see you again.
September 18, 2006 8:48 AM
Dear friend, it seems unreal that you are gone, that we'll never "hug the peace" again over the pew, that you'll never call me at 8 am, that we'll never walk around the lake watching the seasons change, that we'll never stand talking in the Emmaus Lounge or the Fellowship Hall or the parking lot or your kitchen, sharing stories and hatching plans. That we'll never share a blanket at Zootunes.
Today I've been listening to Nick Cave's somber voice, singing. "I don't believe in an interventionist God" and "Just remember, that death is not the end."
I want to believe that your death is not the end.
Three years ago when we first visited St. John's, you were the smiling church lady with the lanyard, who learned our names, got to know our kids, and acquainted us with the customs and history of the church. Before long, you became my friend. We shared the particular joys and stresses of being stay-at-home moms, but you were anything but competitive (although we indulged in some one-upmanship over thrift store finds). Sometimes a "quick visit" turned into two or three hours while our charges napped or played, and I had to race across the Ballard Bridge to meet Sam's schoolbus, having lost an entire afternoon in conversation.
You loved to talk! While I am not the most attentive listener, you didn't seem to mind having to backtrack and repeat things when I drifted off. You had a vast store of anecdotes you drew upon to illustrate an observation, buttress a moral, or back up some advice. You had funny stories (e.g, your boys having pizza delivered to the basement window) and sad stories (your childhood holidays) and cautionary stories (the neighbors who lived beyond their means).
You especially loved to talk about your kids and grandkids. You respected your children as smart, independent people who often taught you about life. I marveled at the closeness you enjoyed, that your six grown kids regularly joined you for Sunday dinner, and that your daughters were among your best friends. It was clear that you loved your calling.
When you discovered we had no family in the area, you invited us over for holidays, to hang out, feast, chat, play games, hold babies, sing songs. You taught me that the traditions worth keeping are the ones that bring joy. That planning ahead is necessary, and so is rolling with the flow. That there is always enough food (of some kind), and enjoying each other is infinitely more important than a clean house.
You did not expect perfection from yourself or others, and if something didn't work out, you would laugh and chalk it up to experience. I'll never forget our "multicultural krumkake" last Christmas, or the spritz cookies that went splat. Or your "potato lathe" cranking out 30 pounds of Easter spirals. Your kitchen was a happy place. Your HOME was a happy place. You and Roger modeled the kind of family life and simple living we aspire to.
You had a gift for organization and you used it generously, for the church and your family and friends. Your hosted potlucks and Open Houses and egg hunts and meetings. You organized the group church camp every summer. In addition to caring for your grandkids, you babysat at the drop of a hat, for choir rehearsals, church meetings, and friends.
For our Monday morning walks around Greenlake, it was you who called and confirmed, who was punctual and prepared, with Kleenex, wipes, snacks, water, Tylenol, blankets, diapers, baby toys. (What didn't you have in your van or bag or basement or memory bank? You were a roving concierge. If you didn't have something, you knew where to get it.)
I'll never forget the morning I complained of being cold and you conjured an extra jacket from your van. A thick gray fleece pullover. When I put it on, there were clean tissues in one pocket and cough drops in the other. I felt thoroughly cossetted.
You gave me advice about so many things, from books for Sam and Maia (Where Did I Come From? by Peter Mayle) to family communication (cell phones must be answered), from saving money (bakery outlet) to camping with a crowd (crockpots), from maintaining pipes (baking soda) to grating cheese (Cuisinart), from dressing toddlers (prebagged outfits), to raising teens (get to know their friends). But the most important thing you gave me was your example. You walked the gospel.
I love you and I miss you, Mary Jo. I will never understand what snatched you away. If there is something I could have done -- any of us could have done -- please forgive us. May your memory inspire us to reach out to others.
It is the community you created -- with your womb, your welcoming heart, your giving hands -- that comforts us now.
Death is not the end.
September 21, 2006 7:11 AM
I’d like to start by sharing a poem by Henry van Dyke:
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“A Parable of Immortality”
I am standing on the shore as a great ship gently glides from the harbor and sails toward the horizon. She is beautiful, sails billowing; and shining bright as sunlight sparkling on distant waters. She grows smaller and smaller until at last, her white sails shine as ribbons out where the sky and water mingle as one.
As I watch, a voice behind me says, “Well, she’s gone.” She’s gone. Gone? “No,” I tell myself. No, she is not really. Not really. She is gone only in the sense that I can no longer see her.
In reality, she is the same as ever; just as beautiful; just as shining. And deep in my heart I know, that on another shore someone is crying out, “Look! Look everyone! Here she comes!”
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While at present it is difficult to look beyond the sadness, I would like to focus on some of the joyful things about Mary Jo that I will forever cherish:
- Her love and dedication to the children
- The way she tackled any job that needed to be done without complaining and without seeking recognition
- Her warmth and empathy
- Her sometimes creative, always practical tips on home organization, happy kids, and life
- Her twinkling eyes and infectious giggle
- Her sense of humor and ability to laugh at herself
Some of the many things that I learned from Mary Jo:
- Any room looks cleaner if you turn down the lights and light candles.
- Large trash bags make good changing rooms for busy kids and keep your van mud free during soccer season.
- Napping and Bible study are two good things to do while waiting in the car for the kids
- Freezing dinners ahead is good, but make sure to leave enough time for defrosting and heating.
- There is always time for family and friends; everything else is secondary
Mary Jo, an original, a true friend, my day was always brighter after seeing her, my life is better for knowing her.
September 21, 2006 10:55 PM
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