Mary Lou Hovind

Mary Lou Hovind, 85, Lenexa, KS passed away Wednesday, June 29, 2016 at her home.

Mary Lou was born Aug. 9, 1930 in St. Louis, MO to Fredrick and Mozelle Phillips. She attended Holy Rosary School in St. Louis. On Oct. 28, 1967, Mary Lou married Harlan "Bud" Hovind. They moved to the Shawnee/Lenexa area in 1969. Bud worked for the National Child Safety Council for 46 years. Mary Lou became his number one volunteer after the children were grown. She traveled with Bud throughout Kansas and Missouri helping set up safety and drug education programs with law enforcement agencies. As a hobby and expression of love, Mary Lou provided all of her family and friends with handmade afghans.

Mary Lou is survived by her husband, Bud Hovind; eight children, Nancy Smith, Lenexa, KS, Dan (Laurie) Schwent, Atascadero, CA, Brad (Dianne) Schwent, Dyer, IN, Gary Hovind, Atlanta, GA, Debbie Nunn, New Orleans, LA, Manette (Steve) Rogers, Carmel Valley, CA, Jim (Laura) Hovind, Wamego, KS, and Dean (Dana) Hovind, Frisco, TX; 21 grandchildren; and 12 great grandchildren.

Memorial services will be 11:00 a.m. Saturday, Aug. 13, 2016 at the Amos Family Funeral Home and Crematory.

Memorial contributions may be made to a charity of choice.

How do you catch a flash of light?

She was such a small package to be filled with so much energy. Like an energizer bunny made before energizer made them. Of course, with all those kids, you would have to. I have three and I can't imagine. I mean, she wasn't just the spark that got it started, she was the spark that rubbed her own flint and steel together to make her spark and then kept on, well, sparkling. Now I know what you're going to tell me. "Dave, she did run out of energy. She got tired just like the rest of us." And I know that. You're right. She did get tired. Like three months ago. The American author, Hunter S. Thompson said, "Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather t skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming "Wow! What a ride!" Another pinnacle of American literary distinction, Daniel Lawrence Whitney, better known by his stage name Larry the Cable Guy, tells a story about how his grandmother died at 104 years old and the flower arranger asked how she died. "How'd she die?! She's a hundred and four! She wrecked her motorcycle up there at BikeWeek!" I saw Mary Lou on that motorcycle. Not in some picture when she was young and wild. It was a couple of years ago on the back of my brother's bike. And that spark, that energy, was infectious and could get you moving the same way. She could energize you, too. Until it wore you out. My mom would say, "I would try to do everything before she got here." Then Di would say, "Once she arrived, I would try to keep up with her while she was here. Eventually, I'd just let her go." Then she would leave you behind and continue on busily doing whatever it was she was doing, stopping to refuel, or rather, refill her wine glass. And that's what she's done again, the same as she always has. We all tried to keep up with her, alas her light was too much for us and she's gone on without us to do whatever it is that needs doing. And this brings me to the important question. Is there boxed wine in heaven? No, I mean, how do you catch a flash of light? And I've figured it out. So have you, even if you haven't realized it. Big breakfasts with scrambled eggs, and biscuits and gravy if Danny is there. Flat, brown and yellow carpet in a big kitchen. A house full of people and love. Crying that leads to laughter. Laughter that leads to crying, Great Danes. A stern look when you're trouble. A hand on each cheek when she wants you to feel what she's saying and not just hear it. Air hockey, pinball, trampolines and, of course, the pool table. And yes, a glass of wine, preferably in a box to make it easier for her to carry and fill up your glass, too. We've already captured her flash of light. With our eyes. And we hold it in our heart. A light did not go out today. I challenge you to look at all the people you talk to today or get a note from. From Kansas to California, Iowa to Indiana and everywhere else. That light is far and wide. And it will fill you if you let it. Let it shine. Love you grandma.

David Schwent, II