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Dorothy Elizabeth Routly
1915 - 2005

Memorial Service
February 7th, 2005

Message by son Philip Andrew

Well, Mom doesn’t have to imagine any more.

In 1914, a year before Mom was born, Archduke Ferdinand was assassinated in Sarajevo, touching off the events that led to the Great War. January, 1915 brought Zepplin raids over England, and on May 7, a German U-Boat sank the Lusitania, killing nearly 1200 civilians. Frank Robinson responded to the call of his country. On June 6th that year, his firstborn, Dorothy Elizabeth Robinson was born right here in Peterborough. It would be over 3 years until Armistice Day. Many of the earliest photos were taken to send to her Dad. It would be over 3 years until Mom would have the opportunity to get to know her father. Mom understood sacrifice from a very young age.

A sister, Evelyn arrived, and then baby brother Donald. The Robinson family was very musical, and very committed to Christ, as they served here at Peterborough Temple in The Salvation Army. In her teen years, Mom met a young man by the name of Ronald Routly, but it wasn’t until October 23, 1935, that they were married. Dad had begun an apprenticeship in the tool room at CGE when he was 17. When he got married, he was earning $17 a week. His boss told him he was crazy to get married on that kind of salary, so he gave him a $5 a week raise. As was typical in those days, Mom stayed at home.

Mom and Dad bought the bungalow on Douglas Avenue, with their best friends, Art and Myrtt Smith next door, and Dad’s brother, Gerry, and his wife Gladys living just down the street.

In August 1939, Marion was born.

It was interesting to read Dad’s diary of those days – one of those 5-year diaries, where you could just write 4 or 5 lines each day, and you had the events of 5 consecutive January 1sts on one page. Dot had a baby girl today. No name was mentioned. Dinner at Mothers. Band practice tonight. Brown Eyes went to Training College today. The Germans have invaded Russia. Looks like war is in the wind, and that would mean extra responsibility for the men both overseas and on the home front, with considerable overtime – enough, in fact, that it paid for the Douglas Avenue bungalow. In the 40s, my Mom nursed her mother through the final stages of cancer. Her Dad married Lillian, and later, Mom had a new sister – Susan.

Throughout the years, Mom and Dad’s love of the Lord, of the Salvation Army, and of music was the focal point of their lives. They began to have an impact on hundreds, perhaps thousands, of young people.

The stories concerning my arrival on the scene have proven to be quite interesting. Mom wanted to have another child; Dad wasn’t particularly interested. Marion is considerably older than I am. There is a story of Dad going to Dr. Ray, the chiropractor, in the spring of 1951, and the extra relaxation seemed to help. When Melodie asked Mom about it a couple of years ago, how had she convinced Dad to have another child, she got that twinkle in her eye, and said, “I beguiled him.”

When it was just about time for me to be born, Monday, Feb. 25th rolled around, and Mom went into labour. I’m sure something was going on at the Temple that night, so I’m not certain how much time Dad spent at the hospital with Mom. Tuesday rolled around, I still wasn’t born, and it was band practice night. Probably with dinner at Mothers. Mom was praying, Lord, don’t let the baby wait until Friday – that would be February 29th. Wednesday came and went, Thursday came – Songster Practice – and still no baby. Of course, Dad was at work each day. Finally, February 29th arrived, and so did I.

Four of us in that bungalow was too many – Marion says it wasn’t until I came along that she got a bigger house – and we moved to Homewood Avenue. We grew up, always knowing that Mom would be there when we got home from school, unless it was Tuesday, which was Home League, or Thursday, which was League of Mercy at Civic Hospital. Marion became the pianist Mom had always wanted to be, and then she went to the Corps Cadet Congress in London, England. Along the way, she met Gord, and our lives took a shift. They got married, Mom became a Gramma when Sharon was born, and I became Uncle Phil. A couple of years later, Bob arrived.

Many of my memories of my mother revolve around a teen class in the Sunday School room downstairs. In fact, it was in what used to be called the “Boy’s Sunday School” that Mom asked me if I wanted to ask Jesus into my heart, to forgive my sins, and give me a new life. When I prayed that prayer, even though I was only 7, I felt like I had had a spiritual bath – I knew I was all-clean inside. It was beside that room, in that teen class, that I began to realize the love my mom had for others. I don’t know how many times she said to us in that class, “I will not love all that you do, but I will always love you.” I’m sure that the others who were in that class will never forget it either – in words, or in actions.

1967 came around, and I met Elsie, at Music Camp. We started traveling back and forth to Kingston, and Mom and Dad were always very supportive. By 1970, we were getting serious, but I was only 18! In leap years, that’s only 4 ½! And they never said wait. As I look back now, I can hardly believe it. Different days? Yes, but we knew they trusted us. A few years ago, I asked Mom why she hadn’t said anything about us getting married so young. She said that if she had said anything, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

In 1973, Dad retired from GE, after 43 years there. He was just 60, and wanted to be able to enjoy a good, long retirement. Our oldest, Dave, was born later that year. Suddenly, less than a year later, Dad was gone. And Mom was alone. Marion and Gord had moved to Brampton, and we were in Kingston. And Mom was alone. Well, not exactly. She had many of you, her friends, who supported her, and loved her, and brought her through such challenging days.

But, most importantly, she had the Lord.

There’s a great song by Howard Davies that I ‘m sure many of you know, that I often remember when I think of the life Mom has lived.

Many are the things I cannot understand,
All around me, mysteries I see.
But the greatest gift of love from God’s own hand
Surely is the gift of Grace to me.

Higher than the stars that reach eternity,
Broader than the boundaries of endless space,
Is the boundless love of God that pardoned me,
Oh, the wonders of His grace.

Mom not only understood that – she lived it.

Mom moved from her house on Homewood, to an apartment on Clonsilla. Chris was born, and then Melodie. We entered training college, Sharon was married, all the grandkids growing up. Mom took trips to Europe, England, Hawaii, and Florida. And then, she began to slow down. Surgery in the late 90’s. Knee replacement surgery in 1991, and the beginning signs of Parkinson’s. It was time, at age 76, to get a little assistance into her daily routine. Not much, but a little, that could be provided at St. John’s residence. And then a little more, and a little more. Her mind was still as sharp as ever, most of the time, but her body was beginning to erode. Sometimes, balancing medication became an important issue. Needing more care, Mom moved in to Royal Gardens. Being life-long friends of the owner’s family helped, and that support and friendship will never be forgotten. After a couple of years, Mom needed even more care, meaning a move to Centennial Place – the right place, available at the right time. Since then, there have been good days, but there were some pretty bad ones, too.

A year ago, I visited Mom for a couple of days, and said goodbye to her for the last time. One night, as Mom was about to go to sleep, we talked about praying for her family each night. She said that she always mentioned us each by name, so we went through the names. Marion and Gord. Sharon and her husband Bob. Their children, Alyson, and Ryan. Marion and Gord’s son Bob. Me, and Elsie. Dave, and his wife, Maia. Their sons, Bren, Jace, and Joel. I think it was when Mom said, “Bren,” that she lost track a little bit, and said, “and the other one.” That happens with twins. Since then, Bryce has been born, and I know he was added to Mom’s prayer list. Chris, and Melodie.

During that January visit, I will always remember saying, “Mom, I’ll be back in March, but I don’t expect you to still be here.” Her response? She said, “Hallelujah!” When I returned in March, this time with Elsie, Mom was still here, and we said goodbye for the last time, again. Three days later, Gord suddenly was gone. I was back to see her, under the most tragic of circumstances, and we talked about why Gord was in heaven, and she was still here. Marion and Gord had visited Mom that same day, and they had waved goodbye. Friday night, Melodie arrived, and we were sure Mom wouldn’t make it through the night. But God had other plans that we hadn’t seen. As Carole put it, it was time for Mom to re-enter the role of Mother, for a daughter who was grieving. I was back in August, and again we said goodbye for the last time. But that really was the last time I saw her.

Mom was so ready to be with Jesus. For several years, through the pain and inability to live as she always had, Mom had prayed that Jesus would take her home that night, that she would wake up in Heaven. Last Monday, when the call came from April Coulter that Mom’s oxygen levels had dropped, I had a feeling that this would be her last day. I was able to speak with her over the phone, but Mom wasn’t really able to respond. Peggy had been there the day before, and Myrtt visited Monday afternoon. At 4:30, April called to say that Mom’s oxygen was even lower. I prayed, “Lord, unless you have a job that only Mom can do, and you’re going to give her the strength to do it, please take her to be with you.” Within minutes, she was there, with her Lord.

I can only imagine…

Mom entering heaven last Monday afternoon, being wowed by the sight, bowing before her Lord, embracing my Dad, her mom and dad, Uncle Don, Aunt Evie, Auntie Mae, Uncle Gerry, Aunt Gladys, Gord. And so many others. And I can see her sitting at a heavenly piano, playing as she had always wished she could here on earth. Honestly, she expected to get there, tell the Lord she wanted to play, and having him say, “Well, have you practiced?” And I can see her asking him, “Why? Why did it take so long for you to call me home?”

Many people must be wondering, “How can you be so sure she’s in heaven?”

A couple of years ago, Mom told me about a conversation she had with a neighbour at Royal Gardens. Mom had asked, “Do you know if you’re going to heaven?” the neighbour replied, “I hope so.” Mom asked her, “Wouldn’t you like to know for sure?” and the neighbour said, “I didn’t know that was possible.”

When I talked to Mom about this memorial service, I asked her what she wanted me to talk about. She said to tell people about Jesus, and the Gospel. Mom was amazed that even people who have attended church all their lives often don’t know Jesus as their Saviour.

What many people don’t know, like this neighbour, is that when Jesus said, “For God so loved the world that He gave His only son that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but shall have everlasting life,” He meant it.

When Jesus came to this world as a baby, He came as God’s Son, born to bring salvation to a world that needed saving. The Bible says, “All have sinned and come short of the glory of God.” It says, “Only those who are truly holy can come into the presence of a Holy God.” That excludes everyone. It says that the only way to be with God for all of eternity is to accept the gift of salvation that is provided in the person of Jesus Christ. It says that only those who have a relationship with Jesus in this world can have an everlasting one with Him in heaven. It says that the way to begin this relationship now is to call out to Him, and He will hear you, and forgive your sins, and welcome you into His family.

If there is one thing I believe Mom would say to each of us today – those who have loved her so much for so long – it’s this. “Be there.” She’s waiting, with Dad, Gord, and so many others, for the day when we leave this world, and enter the next. She’s waiting for us to be there with her, listening while she plays the piano, rejoicing with her in the presence of the Lord.

A few weeks ago at church, the speaker mentioned being at a time-management seminar. At the conclusion of the seminar, he took a glass jar, and filled it with large rocks. He then asked, “Is this jar full?” and the audience responded, “Yes.” Then he took pebbles, and poured them in, filling in the space between the rocks. Again, he asked, “Is this jar full now?” Many in the audience responded yes again, but a little more tenuously, because they were beginning to feel that they were being set up. The speaker then poured in sand, and of course, it filled in more of the space. “Is this jar full now?” No one wanted to look stupid, so few spoke out. Finally he, took water, and poured it in until the jar was full to the brim.

He asked the audience, “What point am I making?” Since this was a time-management seminar, one brave soul shouted out, “There’s always time to do more.”

“No,” said the speaker. “That’s not the point at all. The point is, if you don’t put the big rocks in first, you’ll never get them in.”

If Mom were here today, what would she say are the big rocks in your life? We know what hers were.