At the risk of incurring the wrath of those who may have already seen a post on Facebook or a copy of it here in which a friend of mine, Roger Cunningham, shared a small bit about Pat Summit his neighbor and friend. I want to share it with those who may not have seen it as it gives an awesome view of aspects of Pat Summit the person beyond what most of us might otherwise ever know about. I smiled when I read it because I know in my heart now that Heaven is Pat Summit's new home.
Roger's post follows below. I attempted to attach the 3 photos that Roger had shared but I have no idea if I loaded them correctly. The neatest one is of Roger baptizing Pat Summit in a private gathering in her pool.
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It’s not her piercing eyes, but the shadow of her smile that looms the largest in my memories of Pat Summitt.
It’s not her larger than life legend, but rather her bigger than life heart for others that I admired most.
My first recollection of the Pat Summitt that I came to know and love as friend and neighbor began when her cooling shadow blocked the hot sun one Saturday morning while I was pulling weeds from the entry columns to driveway of our new home. “Good morning neighbor,” in a familiar but shocking voice had me rising to attention. My brilliant reply, “you’re Pat Summitt” quickly established the role she would play in both my bride and my lives as Pat Summitt’s neighbors as she replied, “ya think?” She was walking her sidekick “Sally”, and had a cup of coffee in her hands. Our lives changed forever that day. Somehow Misty and I had stumbled into the life of the most amazing person we have ever met.
At Pat’s summoning, Misty and I became much more than neighbors. Pat began inviting and including us into almost every detail of her life, and it made absolutely no sense to me. I am a student of life, always studying the movement and actions of “God’s children” in our interactions with each other, and now I had a front row seat in the life of a legend that attracted and affected the most diverse sampling of people I had ever experienced; black and white; straight and gay; rich and poor; influential and unnoticed; young and old; none of them went unnoticed by Pat. None! In fact, she had an affinity for the “least noticed”. She picked them out of the room and made sure to make them feel like they were the most important person in the room.
Pat had the capacity and propensity to put anybody and everybody on her shoulders and carry them through their difficulties long enough to get them on their feet. Then she would mentor them to a point that they could walk on their own, run on their own, compete with the best, and demand more from themselves than they knew they had in them, and then lead by example on how to put others ahead of themselves. It was uncanny. She was the lifter upper; the encourager; the demander of more; the example of better; the rejecter of excuses; the genuine and authentic friend.
Misty and I were invited to venues and events ranging from extravagant ESPY and Presidential awards to simple and quiet get-aways much more humble and intimate. We’ve eaten more meals with Pat than I believe we have with our own children, speaking of which, Pat intermingled with as though they were her own. We’ve been summoned to Pat’s house at all hours to “meet somebody” she wanted to introduce us to, even though we were already in bed. “Come down now!” Dare we resist? Pat was calculating and undaunted in whatever she went after, and yet she was so vulnerable and available and gentle and kind.
We laughed together; cried together; argued and debated; gotten serious and delirious. At most meals together she would ask me to pray. One night, after a phone call confirming her diagnosis of early onset dementia, she asked if she could pray. With Misty, Tyler, and myself in the room, she thanked God for her illness and what would be learned through it. Selfless as always. I will never forget that night. Her prayers were always childlike and simple; the kind Jesus loves.
Pat shared everything she had with anyone who needed it. She shared her friends freely with Misty and I, which lead to some of our prize friendships today. She shared her most valuable treasure with us, her son Tyler. Above all, she desired to be a great Mother to Tyler. My eyes are overflowing with tears as I write this. All that she was and had, she invested back into Tyler. And no, not in a spoiling way. She demanded more of Tyler than she did anybody else but herself. In fact, in my opinion, she demanded too much of both Tyler and herself, and yet, in her eyes not enough from either. That was both her gift and her demon. That is another story for another time.
I remember Pat and Misty riding in the back seat of a vintage stretch Jaguar on loan to me by Tom Harper. I felt like I was driving Miss Daisy as the two of them laughed together in the back seat and Pat dare complain about my aggressive driving. I told her she had the nerve and to leave the driving to me and enjoy the ride. When we pulled back up to her driveway to let Pat out after a wonderful evening, I looked into the rearview mirror and told Pat to look into my brown eyes with her beautiful blue eyes. She did and we looked into each other’s souls and I said, “Pat, when this disease takes your memory away from you I want you to still remember this: these brown eyes will always love those blue eyes and Misty and I will NEVER not be by your side. She said, “I know that.” Another Pat moment I will never forget.
There were many many more and I am not a writer, else I would share them with everyone. But I must not end this without sharing with you the most important of Pat moments. At the request of her son Tyler, Misty and I shared Tyler’s desire to make sure that Pat had the assurance of her relationship with Jesus. One evening, after our meal, in her living room, we shared Tyler’s concern and the gospel of Jesus, and Pat, with the humility and excitement of a little child stood up and with joy in her face said, “let’s do it!”. She prayed to receive Jesus as her Lord and Savior; this woman who already had told so many about Him and lived the closest example to Him that I had ever seen, now invited Him in total joy and humility. “Unless you become like a little child, you will in no wise enter Heaven.” And then I was invited to baptize Pat in a dual and private ceremony in Pat’s pool where Tyler’s pastor would baptize him. Once again, that amazing “little girl” that I call "Trisha Head" showed up with not the piercing blue eyes of Coach Summitt, but the eyes of an expectant and joyful child of God receiving a much needed and deserved hug and kiss from her Father as she came up out of those baptismal waters; new and fresh and complete.
One of my favorite Bible versus is Colossians 3:23 "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters,”. Pat Summitt exemplified that. Pat Summitt’s gift was an amazing awareness of others. She was aware. She cared. And she shared everything within her to bring out everything within them. I am one of those fortunate souls. Trisha Head was my friend. Pat Summitt was my coach. Her son Tyler is her heart. Let’s pray for him and stand behind him as he settles for nothing less than God’s best. Let’s honor Pat by praying for and standing behind her son and praising and thanking her Father.
