Anne Lenzi Memorial Fund

“Not so long ago, in this very galaxy, lived a vibrant soul who was known as Anne.”

Anne did so much for so many… not everyone knew that she did everything under an mystery deadline… A heart defect most of us knew nothing about, and which she never let slow her down, finally gave out in the early morning hours of Feb 1st.

She fought valiantly, but there was nothing to be done, not by the surgeons earlier in her life, and not by her husband Ron, in those last moments, though he fought right along-side her.

Now, it is our turn to help this family, who helped so many of us. This family, who gave so much, were always generous regardless of what they had for themselves. With Anne, it didn’t matter - whatever they had, there was always room for one more. She always said it was only because she had Ron’s wholehearted support and belief in her, that she was able to do what she did. They were two halves of a beautiful whole.

And now Anne’s husband Ron, and their sons Maxwell and Zachary, need our support. The heart of their home and family has been torn in half.  

We do not yet know the extent of the medical costs - they did everything they could, so the amount for the hospital’s efforts may be quite high.

So many people are sharing their stories of how Anne changed their lives. Here is one story, that encompasses so much… that illustrates beautifully what we have lost:

“Not so long ago, in this very galaxy, lived a vibrant soul who was known as Anne. She found deep and abiding renewal in the great outdoors. She could be found spotting newts or herons on a nature walk with her boys. Or perhaps at the zoo—even on a snowy day when most of the exhibits were closed. Perhaps the most poignant encounter with nature was when she introduced her firstborn to the mighty Redwoods that had shaped her previously.

Anne could just as easily be seen smiling up at her husband in his Stormtrooper gear—ready to brighten a life. The two of them had a palpable synergy—which was the best when they were laughing together. When they learned it was my anniversary, they scooped up my sweet kids and took them for an outing to facilitate a date for us.

She could be found exploring at Sauvie Island or OMSI or the library or catching Pokémon or tending the garden at the elementary school. She could also be found at parent meetings or adoption days or at community events. She could also be discovered snuggling with her pups with a book nearby—sometimes a book by Brené Brown, sometimes an Amish romance, sometimes materials for her Master’s coursework.

Anne was good at rigging up large and small celebrations for her remarkable children. She had a sense of adventure and a love of her heritage. Anne loved and admired her mother. She also told me how much it meant to see her gran in California even though it meant losing out on a portion of a day that could’ve been spent at an amusement park.

Anne once laughed about a rice mishap and said she tried not to take life too seriously. She said that the fellas in her life seemed to enjoy taking pictures of the disasters. But Anne had a way with pie making that would bring a twinkle to her eldest’s eyes. She made a mean cookie and sometimes sent her kids to share them with us, too. And she was a true supporter of our local farmer’s markets—for the produce and the artisan’s wares. Anne herself was a crafter who loved making things and appreciated things crafted by others. She could be found with yarn, beads, or fabric. I recently encountered her when she was up to her elbows in Perler beads AND neighborhood kids enjoying making their masterpieces.

Above all, Anne placed great value on each human soul. She was a safe haven for the downtrodden. She was a mother figure to many and friend to more. She was an excellent listener and a willing sharer. She was loyal and forgiving. She was fierce and maintained forward momentum. She nurtured growth: in herself, in her family, in her community.

She came to my house twice on Tuesday, so it just seems impossible that she cannot come today. She drove our middle schoolers to their campus even though we typically have them walk. And she picked up her youngest hero from a play date. Her mother’s eyes quickly found his coat when the rest of us were unsure where it might be. I will always treasure our last conversation about our humorous children. She poured an abundance of love into all three of mine. And I care so deeply for hers.

I am confident that I am not the only one with a face that is raw and red after a day of churning through so many feelings. But I am also certain that all whose lives were touched by my dear friend Anne will most certainly live more happily ever after for having known her.

Thank you, incomparable Anne, for everything.
You are still shining for us and ever will be…”