Martha Joan Albers Lobmeyer
My grandma was someone who truly saw me—who I was and how I love. She would tell you that I have beautiful brown eyes, and that as her first grandchild, I set the standard. What she told me was that she could see how special my heart is, how well I am able to take care of others. That I was able to share in a person’s grief, especially my sister’s—and she dared to ask if anyone was taking care of me. She prayed that I would find someone who would pour into my life what I freely give to others, and I’m sure she is still praying for me. Her compliments are something that I will always treasure, even when they were sometimes difficult to hear or embarrassing, because my Grandma Joan never said a thing that she didn’t truly believe with her whole being, ten toes down.
I love that that was also the frustration with her—her mind was often unchangeable, and she would be aghast if you disagreed with her. She was reliably stubborn and genuine, and so smart.
The last year has been really difficult as she slowly lost some of the most gracious parts of her personality some days. We definitely had some arguments about gratitude, holding grudges, and guilt, but it was nothing that sitting outside with a hot cup of coffee, reading the Bible together, couldn’t settle in some shared silence.
She never made it too hard to recall who she was for most of her life. My Grandma Joan will be remembered for her prayers, her generosity, her sense of justice, her love for reading and for the Word of God, her love. I will remember the woman who loved to brag about her grandkids, despite our very real human-ness.
The woman who would sit on the kitchen floor with a bowl of water, smashing ants one by one—I’m sure that’s not a tribute anyone may expect, but it was just so her in her patient humility. The woman who made the best wassail with Red Hots candy and a special birthday cake for you with whatever color icing you wanted. My birthday frosting was always a lavender purple. The woman who opened the doors of a bookstore and gave away Bibles. The woman who asked if there was anything that you needed; even when she had nothing to give, she would find a way to give it to you. It was always “why don’t you take it, just take it.” She was the giving tree. She was so beloved. She loved college and education. She would have really loved you to attend Kansas State University, but she didn’t really care as long as you spent time in a library. Whatever you do, spend time in a library. I hope that my home is open to family the way that hers always was—the way that every room had as many beds as would fit, and there was a room called the Dorm. It was the best messy existence a kid could’ve ever wanted, jumping from bed to bed. Being yelled at for jumping from bed to bed, pretending to be kittens, painting rocks, making baking soda volcanoes with homemade Play-Doh, Boggle at the dining room table.
There is so much to Joan Lobmeyer that I never knew as her granddaughter, because she was just my grandma. I didn’t know the Joan Lobmeyer that was a journalism major and interviewed the first African American to win the Nobel Peace Prize, Ralph Bunche, or an NBA legend, Wilt Chamberlain. That Joan Lobmeyer was a little before my time—and, honestly, a little before her time in the early days of the Civil Rights Movement. When I read her obituary, along with the world, I am in awe of a woman who stood tall in her community and made sure her opinions were heard.
I hope that she inspires you, the way that she inspires me.
https://www.garnandfuneralhomes.com/obituaries/Joan-Lobmeyer?obId=48171501
