Remarks at Leah C. McCollough’s Memorial Service
By LeAnne Moss
I was asked to speak today as someone who has known Leah through her professional involvement and volunteerism. I am honored and humbled to try to capture the essence of Leah in this area. I know that this circle is vast and I so I asked others who have worked with her to share with me their memories. I also want to ask those of you who knew Leah through her paid or volunteer work to stand. Clearly, she made a huge mark on this community.
When this tragedy happens to someone so young, so vibrant, so needed in the community, it shakes us to the core and makes us deeply aware of our own mortality. At least it has for me. I have felt disbelief, disorientation, and despair.
I was with Leah the night she died. I sat right next to her at the Women’s Funding Alliance board meeting. She was a little quieter than usual, but just as warm and engaging. She was the first one to hop up when I presented the board with a silly song they had to sing. The board member standing next to her later remarked how they laughed how off key they were. And still another board member said she wrote to Leah on Friday, not knowing what had happened, to remark on what a fantastic meeting it was, thanks to Leah’s usual brilliant leadership.
I first met Leah 6 or 7 years ago when I was on an NDOA panel she moderated. It didn’t take me long to see what a gem and firecracker she was. I immediately started courting her to be on our board. Being the thoughtful, strategic person she was, she said she was interested but needed to first finish up other commitments because she didn’t want to sign on for anything for which she couldn’t deliver.
“Deliver” is an understatement to describe what Leah did for WFA. Our organization went through many changes in her four years of board membership and two years of being the president. As our leader, Leah encouraged the board to take risks and she exuded a sense of confidence about what we could do together. One of our board members put it this way: “Leah was inspiring but grounded; generous but good at setting proper boundaries; super fun but so diligent and hardworking. She was starry-eyed about what should happen, but clear-eyed about what could happen. She never lost sight of the horizon while we waded around in the weeds.”
The writer Annie Dillard once wrote, ““How we spend our days is how we spend our lives.”
In reading the thoughts others shared with me and on reflecting on my own experience, it’s clear that Leah spent her days as an encourager, strategic thinker and learner, all with a spirit of joy and of course with her own unique, colorful style.
As an encourager, Leah believed in the goodness and possibilities of people, including herself. She woke up each morning and told herself, “This is going to be a great day!”
One person wrote that, “She had a rare and precious ability to help other people believe in themselves.” Another person remarked that she showed her how to celebrate herself and others around her. And still another said that Leah taught her to smile like a child again.
One of my co-workers remarked that she recently had talked to Leah about how impressed she was that Leah had done the Danskin triathlon twice. Leah gave her that look and said, “Well, now that you’ve told me this, you know you are going to have to do it, right?”
As my board president, Leah challenged, supported and encouraged me in her gracious way. She had a sense of curiosity and ability to listen that got at the root of issues. I remember on more than one occasion when I was feeling overwhelmed and stressed, she would know just the right question to ask to get me to relax and open up: “What are you needing right now, LeAnne?” she would ask; or “Don’t feel bad about all the changes going on. Changes are always, always going to be happening. You’re doing a good job!”
She was filled with grace. I never saw her stressed. I never saw her angry. I never heard her say a negative thing about another person.
As a strategic thinker Leah was visionary and practical at the same time. Let’s face it – Leah probably had one of the best brains around. As president of our board , Leah had this way – most of you here have experienced it yourselves – of taking something we talked about six months ago, and weaving the path or relevance to the current discussion, making connections and parallels that would leave the rest of us wide-eyed and only able to nod and say, “yes, that makes sense to us.” Some of us at WFA would call those profound remarks, “Leah-isms”. And it’s not like the room was filled with unintelligent people! But she could do this because she combined her smarts and wisdom with such kindness and deep empathy.
Others wrote to me remarking about Leah’s “unique insight and finely honed emotional intelligence to guide us. “ Another comment was “…she could synthesize vast and diverse facts, opinions, and research with great speed and acumen and derive the most important trends to watch, questions to ask or priorities to focus on with great clarity and confidence.”
At the NW Development Officers Association, they coined the phrase the “McCollough Model” – a model that reminds them to not take on more than they can handle, especially in their volunteer roles.
As a continual learner, Leah was always looking to stretch herself for the purpose of giving back to the world. One person wrote and said that at one point she and Leah had been talking about the interminable number of meetings they had to attend. Leah mentioned that she makes it through by setting a goal for herself of taking at least five new things back from each meeting she goes to. She said that she learned that life is too short to waste, and there is too much to learn from every place she is in to walk away empty-handed. That was Leah. She was always stretching herself because she longed to find ways to make the world better.
Finally, Leah spent her days in a spirit of joy with her own unique, colorful style. And let’s talk about her style, shall we? Particularly those clothes – those colorful, vibrant clothes and that ever changing hair.
One of our board members remarked that when she would compliment her, Leah would give her that glorious smile, tip her head to one side and say, “Hey, thanks!” Unlike so many of us, she never diminished or deflected the compliment by saying, “Oh this old thing?!” or “I got this in Filene’s Basement for next to nothing!”. She just gave that look – you know the one – full of sweetness but also just a little tartness and said, “Hey thanks!” That was Leah’s style.
So here we all are – honoring this amazing woman and still a bit in shock, maybe still feeing disoriented and of course knowing that we’ll miss her forever.
So what do we think Leah would tell us in this moment?
Here’s what I think. I think she would look us squarely in the eye with that warm, gracious and engaging presence, squeeze our hand and say….
“You can do this. You have a beautiful life to live. Okay, grieve – it will come and go. But get off your couch! Smile at someone you don’t know; see the goodness in your neighbor; really listen to people.
Think about how you can make the world a better place today. Just for today. Don’t try to take on the whole thing at once. And you know what – I’ll be your best cheerleader. I will support you. I’ll encourage you. I will be proud of you.
Sure I might be gone in physical form but not in my spirit. Use what you’ve learned from me to move ahead, and then once in a while take a deep breath, close your eyes and be still. I might be trying to get through to you. Listen. I am still here. I am still here!”
This might seem impossible to do. I know it does to me at this moment. But as Leah wrote after her first Triathlon: “The journey to make the impossible possible starts with the first step.”
So let’s all take that first step together in Leah’s honor.
