Fran Sapper

Today is the funeral of Frances Sapper.  Not too many people ever met Frannie. 

Years ago our church decided to participate in something called "Renew."  It was a way for people to get to know people, and for people to share their faith with one another.  I decided to join.

The sessions were held at the home of a former neighbor on a weeknight each week.  As we began to organize these meetings, someone told me that a neighbor of mine wanted to come but didn't like to drive in the dark and needed a ride.  It was Ann Sapper and I said, sure, I'd pick her up and bring her to the meetings.  I'd never met Ann before.

Ann lived in a split level home just on the other side of Akron Avenue with her two daughters, Joan and Frances.  Ann's life was a labor of love, as she was now a widow raising two grown girls who were severely developmentally disabled.  As we drove along the two-lane road to the meetings, Ann slowly shared with me the details of her life and she talked matter-of-factly, never asking for pity.  She explained that she had stopped going to church when one of the girls threw a prayer book one Sunday and raised a ruckus.  From that point on, she started tuning into the Mass for shut-ins each Sunday. 

Clearly enjoying the company of other adults, Ann relished her short time away from home but became concerned if the meetings went on a little too long.  She needed to get home to the girls, to be sure that they were all right.  Joan had the mental age of about three or so.  Apparently, Frances was born with severe cataracts and back in 1930 they didn't know what to do for her.  She was legally blind her whole life.  Joan suffered from autism and was developmentally delayed.  At the funeral this morning, Fr. Kevin said that after Ann's husband died in 1965, she had to go back to work and she put Joan in charge of Frances, a job she did well even though she couldn't see well at all. 

Fr. said that Frances was a bit of a fashion plate and told people that if she'd been able to see, she would have liked to design dresses.  She also loved trivial pursuit and played the game with staffers at Gas Light.

Everyone worried about what was going to happen to the girls when Ann's health failed, but she had that all figured out.  All three of them moved to Gas Light Villa on Highmill Road at the same time, leaving their cozy home.  Ann reasoned that the girls would know the familiarity of the place and although they would surely miss her, they would be surrounded by people whom they'd seen nearly every day.  They would also be able to attend services there and receive Communion.

Ann was indeed the first to go.  And then some years later Joan at age 75.  And now the baby, Frances.

A friend of mine told me that Frances was awakened for the fourth of July, like she was every morning, and she was dressed in her red, white and blue.  And then mysteriously without any warning, she died wearing the colors of her country. 

I can't imagine anyone who didn't think what I did -- that the three of them are all together now with Jesus.  It's so comforting and wonderful to know that the girls who grew up at a time when children like them weren't well received have been received with overwhelming joy in heaven by a God who doesn't measure us by IQ tests and milestones, but envelopes us with His amazing outpouring of love.

Ann asked me into the house on one occasion, and Frances and Joan were curious and friendly.  They were engaging and clearly well cared for.  Their mother was proud of them and did what she could to help them, sending them to Whippledale School.  She knew every nuance of their personalities, their individual likes and dislikes, their capabilities and their limitations.

The funeral today is going to be one of celebration, because like the prodigal son come home, the last of the trio has arrived and Ann is rejoicing in heaven with both of her girls.

God bless the staff of Gas Light Villa for all of the kindness and care they gave to Ann, Joan and Frances for their work was also a labor of love.