Rest Beautiful Snow Angel

The day, Thursday, March 15, 2018, Phyllis Marie Big Medicine was buried her freshly dug grave was the only burial site visible at the Crow Agency Cemetery in South Central Montana.

Scattered tombstones, many graves marked only by small tin plates with names of the deceased embossed, lay under a deep blanket of snow ranging from four-feet up to six-feet drifts which covered the entire cemetery.

On this day one could not distinguish this piece of land situated along the backyards of a row of houses along Takes Gun Drive, and recently bordered by a new housing development to the west in the principal town of the Crow Indian Reservation in South Central Montana as a graveyard.

Some refuse to believe life originated from Intelligent Design, yet Mother Nature concocted a unique tapestry as if baking a cake meshed with layers of frozen ice cream. Alternating layers of crusted snow created by surface melt and soft snow piled on top of each other had to be plowed away just to get the hearse inside the cemetery.

Another challenging logistical issue manifested locating the proper site to dig the grave in the fifth largest amount of annual snowfall on record. According to the National Weather Service, Billings, Mont., the largest city in the state, 60 miles away received 84.2 inches of snow and counting as of March 18. The amounts are recorded from July 1 through June 30, Mother Nature’s version of a fiscal year. The average annual snowfall for nearby Hardin, county seat of Big Horn County, is 48 inches.

The ground saturated with moisture was so muddy that dry dirt had to be hauled in to cover the grave.

On the day of her burial, the weather cooperated. No snow and a balmy 45 degrees. The earth opened itself to receive this elegant mother, recalling the formation of her physical form concealed within mystery of its depths some 72 years ago.

The evening of Sunday, March 11, one moment she was talking to her family at home. In an instant she drew her last breath and went home as her sweet and gentle spirit, epitomizing a role-model wife and mother, separated itself from a worn-out body.

In some ways maybe it was a miracle she lived this long, having endured the ultimate heartache of burying her first-born son when he was 22 in 1987 and her baby boy at the tender age of 24 alongside his wife in 1995. When the couple both died in an accident, Phyllis and her husband raised the infant as their own. These things take a toll on the heart.

Yet, she and her husband persevered. Many marriages don’t survive the death of a child, let alone two such devastating emotional IEDs in a lifetime. Hers did. She kept her vows, faithful and devoted to one man for 49 years. They had been together at least 54 years.

Oh, she had her critics and they were vicious. In the last five years in a fit of jealous rage Facebook posts openly questioned her integrity. At stake was a piece of

property. A filthy social media dialogue was pushed front and center for whoever was interested to hear and read with spiteful words intentionally crafted to pierce a mother’s heart.

She absorbed these wounds, not from an age-old enemy; but from the very people she once went to the house of worship with and sang alongside. And through it all, we watched and learned from her ways.

She never allowed herself to become bitter over the deaths of two sons. There was no earthly explanation, and she never acted like she was entitled to one.

In the midst of godless accusations she stood uncondemned. Imperfect, yet unflawed; and totally forgiven regardless — washed pure in the blood of Jesus.

Her sons never came back from the dead. Yet, there was one warrior she learned of who did. She chose to put her trust in the blood he shed for her redemption believing in his resurrection and ascension to the right hand of the Father — ever living to make intercession on behalf of her and her family.

She never gave into temptation to seek revenge.

She never lost her faith. She never stopped praying.

At her funeral, the preacher spoke of her character as a Proverbs 31 woman; and a cultural spokesman did the eulogy emphasizing the virtue she was renowned for among the most beautiful inwardly and outwardly ladies of the Crow Nation.

I’ve enjoyed the privilege of being her adopted son — for 32 years, which seems strange because two of her sons, both my best friends when they died, didn’t live nearly that long.

Darin (1965-1987) led the Hardin Bulldogs in rebounding in the 1983-1984 season; and Jonathan, led the Bulldogs in rebounding in the 1984-1985 season. Franklin (1971-1995) played football, once inspired a waterboy from a conference opponent to improvise a Bon Jovi tune with, “Big Bad Medicine,” by stuffing consecutive running plays for no gain. When Franklin passed, Phyllis’ daughter Merlene never played basketball again; but she was good at it before that, consistent with a turnaround post-up jumper.

Phyllis Big Medicine gave the most precious of gifts. She and her husband, Walter Big Medicine, created space within their hearts for me and my brother.

She made a beautiful snow angel creating a lasting imprint in our memories. It’s painful for us as her spirit stepped out of the snow angel, yet we rejoice for the grace visited upon our lives.

MARK HUMPHREY IS A WRITER FOR THE ENTERPRISE-LEADER. THE OPINIONS ARE HIS OWN.