Good afternoon. Thank you for coming, thanks especially to those who travelled a ways to be with us. I am Marcel VandenTop, the son of Marianne VandenTop.
It may surprise some of you that I can’t ever remember a time where my dad called my mom by her name ‘Marianne”. No, dad’s name for mom was MIMI. Mimi was my dad’s affectionate name for my mom. The family legend as to the source of that name goes something like this. Supposedly my cousin Jeff Asma couldn’t pronounce the words “Aunt Marianne” and he came up with Aunt Mimi. Whatever the reason, my dad thought it was appropriate and it stuck.
My mom on the other hand, never called my dad just Bert. And never Bertus. It was always Bertie or Bertje. Bertje means “little Bert” in Dutch. (I don’t think I’d like Hope calling me little Marcel all the time)
My parents were the perfect example of two people— becoming one. There was no separating them. They were one unit, one person, completely unified.
My mom grew up in a family of 10 in tiny little Andijk, in the northern part of The Netherlands- where the red headed Dutch people are from -where the stubborn red headed Dutch people are from. The Asma’s didn’t have much in material possessions but they were a family rich in love of each other and love of Jesus.
My mom emigrated in 1948, and she became an American citizen in 1955. She was proud to be an American, and like all the Asma kids, she learned English quickly and went to work. She was trained as a physical therapy assistant, and she worked at hospitals in Grand Rapids and Kalamazoo.
Back in the 1950s and 60s, there wasn’t such a thing as online dating. The closest you’d get to it was a personal ad in the Banner, the magazine of the Christian Reformed Church. Her dad always told her to pick someone from the “kudde”..the “kudde” is Dutch for “sheep pen”, …in other words, someone with similar values, similar faith. So she found her Bertie in the back of the Banner. They dated long distance, my dad at the time was living in western Canada…then they quickly were married in 1965. They were married 54 years.
My mom, in many public situations, could be defined as a shy person. But if you got to know my mom really well, she would let her guard down and you would see the side that her family knew. She loved to joke around, and she never took herself too seriously. My dad was a perfect match for her–he doesn’t take himself too seriously either. My mom never really taught me Dutch..the only Dutch words which I learned were slang words…or words I wouldn’t translate here. After she broke her leg she told me in the hospital she was a “dumme ezel”. I’ll let you guess what that means.
My mom was caring, loving, and empathetic. On more than one occasion in a waiting room at a doctor appointment for my dad or waiting during my dad’s surgeries I’d lose track of her just to find her chatting up some “arme stakker”…(which means poor guy/poor bloke in Dutch)…someone who was hard up, someone who had it harder than she had it. She would feel very comfortable talking with a total stranger and she wouldn’t come across as shy at all.
My mom was a hard worker. After Michelle and I were born, she stayed home but she figured out a way to make some spare money by cleaning people’s houses while we were at school. She quickly developed some really deep friendships with her clients some of those relationships lasted many years after she stopped cleaning for those clients.
My mom liked to refer to herself as a “sterke vrouw”–that means a strong woman in Dutch. She definitely had strong opinions and she was a woman who ruled the roost at home…but she didn’t want to come across to others…as someone who ruled the roost or was bossy…if that makes sense. But behind closed doors she definitely…ruled the roost.. But mom and dad were partners in the truest sense. There was no way my dad would make a decision without his Mimi 100% on board.
Besides laughing, and joking, and not taking herself too seriously, my mom had some other loves, too. She loved music. She loved artists like Abba, Neil Diamond, John Denver, even some Elton John songs. But she really fell in love with the Irish crooner Danny O’Donnell. She saw him in concerts a few times in Branson. On one of those trips my in laws joined them and they all went together to Branson on a bus trip. I’ll never forget my father in law telling me he saw her excited like a schoolgirl when he went to a concert with her. Danny O’Donnell kissed my mom’s cheek and she swore she’d never wash her face again.
My mom loved her grandkids. When they were little she would get right down on the floor with them and play with their Barbies, or color with them. She was thrilled to go to grandparents days at their schools and go to concerts or other school events. She loved animals too. She loved her Toby back in the 80s and 90s and she loved every pet I ever had. My dogs loved her too!
I have a ton of fond memories of my mom who I loved so dearly. I will leave you with two memories that I will always treasure.
Memory number one goes like this. My parents came home from a parent teacher conference at Kelloggsville Christian School. I was probably in sixth or seventh grade. My mom said, “Marcel, you have ok grades but you always have to remember, you can do anything you put your mind to.” She told me that many times and I truly came to believe it. I still do. Elyssa, Gavin: If you remember anything from today, remember me telling you that I too, truly believe you can do anything you put your mind to. Oma believed it too.
Favorite memory number two goes like this. When my mom was at Freedom Village after her broken leg, and with my dad at her bedside, I decided to read a Bible passage and read question and answer one from the Heidelberg catechism. She had dementia, and there were lots of things she couldn’t remember anymore, so I thought, as a little experiment, I’d see if she remembered Q&A 1.
I said mom, do you remember what is your only comfort in life…and in death?
Silence.
I started to read the answer…. That I am not my own…
Silence.
And there came the voice we loved so much.
And she said…. That I am not my own but belong…. to Jesus Christ.
Thank you for coming.
A Journey Worth Remembering 