“Let us resolve to cherish those we love by spending meaningful time with them, doing things together, and cultivating treasured memories.” Dieter F. Uchtdorf 

I had the blessing of visiting my son, his wife, and his little 2-year-old boy this week.  They live over 900 miles from me, and I don’t get to see them nearly as often as I’d like, but that makes our time together more precious. Adding to my joy was the chance to travel with my youngest son and daughter. My girl has been my traveling buddy for many years, but my boy doesn’t love traveling too much, so it was a rare treat to have them both with me. I was thankful for the company, too, as traveling at this time was more stressful than usual, and wearing a mask magnified all the discomforts of flying for me. It was definitely worth it, though, to see my son and daughter-in-law, and experience my grandson’s happy responses to having us all there, from shy smiles to friendly giggles, and hugs around the legs. He loved having us sit on the floor with him, often backing up, trustingly, to make himself comfy in a lap, and was quick to welcome my daughter by reaching over, grabbing the French fries off the counter, and dumping the last of them over her head. He never gave up trying to sneak the phones, earbuds, snacks, and game pieces we had, or trying to escape the safety gate, which was open and shut a hundred times more often with us there. Toddlers are terrific.

I enjoyed watching my son’s family interact, and even grow and change, in the short time we were there. My grandson decided to climb out of his crib for the first time, so emergency baby-proofing took up one morning. We were on distraction duty, as my son did the not-so-easy work of wrestling with the crib, adding locks to all the drawers and the three doors in his room, and stabilizing the dresser. With all that in place at naptime, we watched the baby monitor, in amusement, as the unflappable little guy quietly tried all the doors, played with a few toys, then finally conked out in the corner, leaning against his soft mini-chair, later shifting to knees on the floor with his head on the seat of the chair for a pillow. At bedtime that night, he turned on the closet light, which shone through the door slats, then dragged that same soft chair into his open toddler bed and slept on it in there, finally ending up on his own tiny pillow, clutching his blankie, by about 5:00am. It was such a tender reminder of how fast children grow and change, and the sweet and funny way they have of finding their way in new circumstances. I learned a good lesson from that youngster about accepting change without a big fuss and patiently figuring out how it can work for me.

While there, we mostly stayed in, spending our time together talking, playing games, sharing meals together, and laughing at my grandson’s antics.  The weather was beautiful, so we took a few walks, as well, chasing the tiny, constantly churning, legs of a busy little boy. Watching him, I felt amazed at how much love I feel for the sweet angels sent to my own children. Even when I don’t get to live close, and be a major part of their lives, they are constantly in my heart and their names in my prayers. I’m thankful for the connection of generations, of love, of family. I had a sweet opportunity to talk to my daughter-in-law about our temple covenants and sealings, reminding her that because of those, she is my daughter, and her baby is my grandson; they belong with us and are forever a part of our family, along with my son. The blessings of the gospel of Jesus Christ are the most comforting, sweetest, most unifying gifts we have in this life. Knowing these people, I love so much, are sealed to me—can be mine through eternity—gives me the strength I need when we are apart.

“Covenant belonging is to make and keep solemn promises to God and each other through sacred ordinances that invite the power of godliness to be manifest in our lives…

“To belong with God and to walk with each other on His covenant path is to be blessed by covenant belonging…

“As we honor our covenants, we may sometimes feel we are in the company of angels. And we will be—those we love and who bless us on this side of the veil and those who love and bless us from the other side of the veil.” Gerrit W. Gong

It’s hard to say goodbye, even temporarily. While we’re together, life feels brighter, more hopeful, more joyful. I imagine eternity is full of moments like these, together, happy, encouraging one another, and lending support and strength.  I think of my parents and grandparents, who were loving, cherished people in my life, and who I still feel around me often. I want future generations, to think of me in the same way; I want to be there for them, if only in heart and spirit, when I can’t be there in person. I want them to feel my love for them and for the Lord. I’m thankful to have these treasured years with them now, and I love building those relationships one trip, one hug, one precious moment at a time.

“All of us are in the middle of an eternal family. Our role can be a turning point at which significant changes can occur in positive or negative ways. President Hinckley [said], “Never permit yourself to become a weak link in the chain of your generations.” Your faithfulness in the gospel will strengthen your family…

“It is never too late to look up to Jesus Christ. His arms are always open to you. There are generations before us and after us depending on us to follow Christ so that we can be an eternal family of God.” Yoon Hwan Choi

“The Family: A Proclamation to the World” identifies building blocks that form the foundation of eternal families: “Successful marriages and families are established and maintained on principles of faith, prayer, repentance, forgiveness, respect, love, compassion, work, and wholesome recreational activities.”

I continue to miss my mom and reminisce about the near and distant past. Mom worked hard when I was younger, and I missed having her at home. I imagine one of the reasons I love the beach so much is because it was the one place we all went together every summer, and mom was with us all the time, relaxed and happy.  We lived in California, so the drive was only a little over an hour, and on the way there, we used to see who could spot the water first, feeling so much anticipation as we sang and played games in the car. I still feel that same sweet anticipation whenever I head for the coast.

We stayed at many different condos, but one we returned to several times was right on the sand.  We just climbed up three steps and were on the beach. We could run back and forth to use the bathroom, grab lunch or more snacks, or change our clothes. Mom and Grandma worked out the menu ahead of time, which always featured tacos and chili, and the first thing we did was go grocery shopping, including lots of special snacks and sodas. The beach is the only place I ever drank black cherry soda. During the week, we’d make sure to visit Rusty’s Pizza Parlor and Foster’s Freeze (Dad’s favorite).

I loved everything about that time together. I remember the grainy sand between my toes and the way it sounded as it scratched under our flip flops as we headed out with Dad or Grandpa for a walk to The Spot, a hamburger place just down the street, for lunch. I loved the ocean and swam all day, often with my sister, as Mom and Grandpa watched from the sand. My favorite was when Dad occasionally came in with us, showing us how to catch the waves, though I learned later that he barely tolerated the freezing water, which I relate to now. Grandpa was always up for a walk along the beach up to “the point,” where we often found a tide pool of amazing little creatures, and Dad played frisbee and other ball-catching games with us down by the water and was a great sandcastle architect.  

After a fun day in the sun, sand, and water, we cleaned up (we always had to remove tar from our feet with baby oil), ate dinner together, and played games, usually cards. It was so much fun. Sometimes at night, after showers, we’d find places on our skin that were sunburned and sensitive. I find myself smiling while I type these memories. Those trips increased my sense of belonging in my family, my feelings of love and security. They are the happiest times of my childhood and are always present in my heart when I go back.

“Build family traditions. Plan and carry out meaningful vacations together, considering our children’s needs, talents, and abilities. Help them create happy memories, improve their talents, and build their feelings of self-worth.” Robert D. Hales

The beach will always remind me of Mom and Dad. Throughout her whole life, Mom’s special place was Carpinteria. I imagine, like me, she carried sweet memories of her own family, who also spent summers there in her childhood. I know she felt especially close to her dad there. The salty beach breezes, the warm sunshine, and the sights and sounds of the waves rushing in and out transported Mom to a relaxed, joyful place, away from her worries and cares. Dad took his sweetheart every year, no matter the sacrifice. After he died, my sisters and I took over getting Mom to her annual beach trip.  She began staying for a whole month, soaking in all the peace and joy she could to last throughout the rest of the year.

We loved seeing the positive change that came over Mom at the beach and cherished the time we spent with her there, as we became her companions so she could still safely go. There was the occasional grumble, and greater appreciation for Dad, because she wasn’t a light packer, and we filled up the back of her SUV to the tippy top with all her stuff, including her cross-stitch paraphernalia and library books.  We also took her motorized scooter for her to get around. After she was all settled in, which took a day or two, she put on her hat each sunny day, loaded up the basket on her scooter, and navigated the short distance to the sand to set up her little place close to the sidewalk.  We reminded her often to be sure she always had her phone, and when she was alone, people were friendly and kind, offering her help if she needed it. Mom’s cousin, Pam, shared her love of the beach and was her beach buddy, especially in the last few years. Mom and Pam both had their last stay at the beach in September 2019; Pam died on Christmas Day and Mom only a few weeks later.   

Whenever I drove my mom to California, my heart got lighter and lighter as we approached the coast. I felt really close to Dad and also Grandpa and Grandma, who were a treasured part of the wonderful times spent there. I don’t know how it will feel to go back to Carpinteria this year.  My sisters and I will go together, which will be a first in our adult lives—we’ve always taken shifts, in the past, which allowed Mom a longer stay and gave us each special time just with her. I can’t imagine not having Mom with us, but, thankfully, I know from experience that she’ll be there in spirit, and she’ll be happy we’re together, remembering her and Dad and all the wonderful days we spent there.     

“Being part of a family is a great blessing. Your family can provide you with companionship and happiness, help you learn correct principles in a loving atmosphere, and help you prepare for eternal life.” For the Strength of Youth

I never really thought about my name much when I was younger.  I grew up as Jennifer McEwen (mik-you-in). McEwen was a difficult last name.  Nobody knew how to say it or spell it.  I said it and spelled it out loud, a million times! When I was little, my family called me Jenny.  My teachers and friends called me Jennifer.  I sometimes made up a name it would be fun to have, like Rose. When I was 11, I decided to name one of my daughter’s Rose. (I never did, though.)

When I got married, as a young adult, I happily took my husband’s last name.  To me it meant becoming one—united—starting a new family unit. Plus, it meant I wouldn’t have to say and spell my last name over and over anymore; everybody can pronounce Barker.  I liked having that new name, and I loved my husband’s parents and siblings, increasing my extended family.  It was a little weird at first, especially at church, where people called me “Sister Barker.” Although I love my mother-in-law dearly, I didn’t want to be called the same name.  Many years later, I chose “Gran” as my grandma name, because “Grandma Barker” was my mother-in-law, not me.

My children had to deal with the typical juvenile name-calling and teasing about barking dogs and such (does anybody escape that?), but Barker is pretty mild in that regard. Year after year our family grew…and grew, until there were 7 Barker kids.  We worked hard, doing the best we could to establish a Christ-Centered home, including sleepy family scripture study before early morning seminary, family prayer, (largely uncivilized) family home evenings, chaotic dinner together every night around the table, and family traditions.  One tradition, still continued today, was our holiday talent show, usually performed after Thanksgiving dinner.  We always had varying musical talents, including singing, piano, violin, ukulele and guitar, but we’ve also enjoyed, throughout the years, a variety of other talents such as Lego creations, magic tricks, artwork and video presentations, dancing, sign language, and even speedy Rubik’s Cube solving.  We were the Barker Family, with a subset of Barker kids who were intelligent, talented, and beautiful as a group and in their own individual ways.  Also tall! They looked and acted like siblings and had an identity and belonging as part of the Barker family, especially in our church family, where they all grew up and were loved by many. With nine of us, we filed in to church together each week and took up one whole pew.  We shared our testimonies and helped each other stay strong in our faith.  Time has dulled the frustration of the drama, fighting, and mutiny that occurred on Sunday mornings, and sharpened the sweetness of those memories.  Now, I sit in church each week with my youngest daughter, grateful that she is with me for a few more years, and more than a little sad that my row is no longer filled with a small army of funny, annoying, wonderful little children. 

After my divorce, I struggled with my identity, my name.  Who am I now? I had been Jennifer Barker for 30 years—10 years longer than I had been Jennifer McEwen.  I didn’t feel like either of those people anymore. My closest connection to the name Barker had been severed, and it felt like I had been cut adrift.  For a time, I considered changing my name back to McEwen.  My associations with that name were fond ones; my loving dad, who died only a few years ago, and my mom and sisters, who have been there my whole life and seen me through these rough post-divorce years, are all part of my McEwen identity. Changing a name, however, isn’t quick and easy, and I was hesitant about having a last name differing from that of my children.

One afternoon, I was driving home from church with my daughter. She was filling out a questionnaire-type form, for an activity in her church youth group, about what made her unique.  It was anonymous, and the other kids were supposed to figure out who each form described. There were questions about favorite foods and movies and such. One question asked, “What’s your claim to fame?”  She and I humorously discussed possible responses, for a couple of minutes, and then she said, “I would say, ‘I am a Barker kid,’ but then everyone would know who it was.”  We chuckled about that, but after she went inside, I sat in the car for a few minutes thinking about what she had said.  Yes, she was a Barker kid.  It was part of her identity and her “claim to fame.” Tears came to my eyes. I was incredibly grateful she knew what it meant to be a Barker kid, that she felt that connection. Some of my daughters are married, and no longer have Barker as their last name, but they will always be one of the Barker kids. It occurred to me then, that I am also a Barker.  I’m happily part of that crazy, wonderful, talented group; I still belong to them and to that name.

The name of the church I belong to has always been The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, since it was first organized in 1830, by Joseph Smith Jr., a prophet, called of God to restore Christ’s original church in the latter-days. Many people don’t know that name for Christ’s church.  Some know it as the “Mormon Church,” because a book of scripture we believe in was abridged by, and named after, Mormon, an ancient prophet. Others know it as the “LDS” Church, which stands for Latter-Day Saints.

Jesus Christ is central to the church. The Prophet Joseph Smith declared,

“The fundamental principles of our religion are the testimony of the Apostles and Prophets, concerning Jesus Christ, that He died, was buried, and rose again the third day, and ascended into heaven; and all other things which pertain to our religion are only appendages to it.” 

Russel M. Nelson, the President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, and a prophet of God, said, recently in a General Conference,

“Jesus Christ directed us to call the Church by His name because it is His Church, filled with His power.”

Admittedly, it’s a long name for a church, however, it’s my blessing to use it, sharing with others that I believe in Jesus Christ and follow Him. 

Both my last name, and the name of my church, are part of my eternal identity.  I’m thankful and comforted knowing that I belong to an amazing family, here on earth, and to an eternal family in Heaven.