“Change and decay in all around I see—O, Thou who changest not, abide with me.”

It’s hard to remember a time I wasn’t dealing with a great deal of change. It seems that change is something that’s always with us, in one form or another. I’ve occasionally wished I could have one change at a time, instead of navigating through a storm of changes all at once, but I don’t get to choose most of the timing. So here I am, in the middle of COVID 19 lockdown, moving my family to a new home across town.

I’ve been planning a move and looking at houses for years. Last November, the timing finally felt right, the place felt right, and, as I started the wheels in motion, everything fell into place quickly and easily. It was a miracle to me. It seemed a long-awaited dream of a smaller, more manageable home and a new start, with the opportunity to make new memories, and lay some others to rest, was finally coming true. On the very day I signed the contract for our new house, on the way home in my car, I received the news that my mom might have cancer. While my new house was being built, I was unexpectedly home caring for my mom, who did indeed have widespread and aggressive cancer, and trying to cope with the intensity and sadness of that reality.

There’s no way I ever would have imagined all that occurred in that small window of time.  Although some days, some moments, seemed like an eternity, the time was so short, and in a blink, it seemed, everything changed. I felt confused and disoriented. On one hand, I was the brave woman, filled with hope, planning and envisioning a new space and new opportunities; on the other, I was the overwhelmed caregiver, preparing to say goodbye to my mom for a very long time. My mom—who’d been with me since Dad died six years ago, who’d been nearby my entire life, who’d been a comforting, constant presence these last four years during my divorce and the mournful times that followed—wouldn’t be moving with us. She had her own new start coming. How had everything changed so quickly? From the first suspicion of cancer to a last goodbye, was less than 3 months. From the first possibility of moving, to the blessing of serving my mom for the last time, in all the change and uncertainty, the one constant was the help of the Lord. He was in the details. He never left me comfortless. He walked beside me and held me up when I didn’t think I could make it one more step.

“Be still, my soul: The Lord is on thy side; With patience bear thy cross of grief or pain. Leave to thy God to order and provide; In ev’ry change He faithful will remain.” 

Here I am, now, sitting in my new home. After all the planning, the details, the packing, the worrying about how the business closures might affect moving, the physical and emotional toll of picking up every part of my life and transferring it to another place, we are here. The house is wonderful, beautiful, and clean, with a place for each of us, and a comfy gathering spot, as well. It’s a dream come true to have everything close—more compact—and…no stairs! This home—like our previous home—will be dedicated to the Lord, invite and welcome the Spirit, and serve as a refuge from a world in chaos. I’m filled with joy, knowing the Lord loves me and has been with me through it all.

“I need Thee every hour, Stay Thou nearby…I need Thee, O, I need Thee.”

It’s been a strange time to live and to relocate. It feels so isolated moving without knowing a soul in our new ward—our church family. We met a few people when we attended, as luck would have it, the week before church gathering was suspended. We cried at our front door, in the home we left, as members of our ward family, dear friends, drove by in a loving, social-distanced parade to wave goodbye, while my daughter’s friend sweetly sang to us on our porch. They’ve been our extended family for 25 years. Though they’re still only 20 minutes away, we feel a bit dislocated. Thankfully, we’re blessed to have a big, supportive family. We couldn’t have even accomplished our move without them. I can’t really express how thankful I am for family members who have been there for us, risked coming out to help us, became professional movers and cable installers, ran errands and did grocery shopping, called and texted and joined in the hubbub, and, most of all, shared in our excitement and happiness, even amidst the trials of a pandemic.  

With the hardest part of the move over, and most of the unpacking done, things are settling down a little. In the quietness, my heart has begun the long process of grieving the loss of my mom.  I was amazed how much I felt her near during my move. I kept some of her things, and having them around me makes me think of her and miss her terribly.  I can feel her happiness for me. So many times I’ve wanted to tell her or show her something I knew she’d enjoy. I still have trouble thinking back on those painful, though often sweet, days of her illness, but that will come. I won’t be alone as I process my pain, and it will be tempered by my treasured knowledge of the eternal nature of families. I’m so grateful for the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, found in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, and temples of God on the earth.

“Fam’lies can be together forever, Through Heav’nly Father’s plan. I always want to be with my own family, And the Lord has shown me how I can.”

I don’t know why things happen the way they do, but I know, without a doubt. that our Heavenly Father and His Son, our Savior, have a plan, know what’s happening, and are willing to guide us along every step, if only we ask. Though I’m still reeling a bit from all the changes and feeling the pressure of world conditions like everyone else, I feel hope and joy knowing Jesus has overcome the world. I’m where he wants me to be and He’ll continue to abide with me.

“I need thy presence every passing hour; Who, like Thyself, my guide and stay can be? Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me.”

This week I’ve had the blessing of reminiscing about the life of my dear Mother, Jackie McEwen, and the influence she’s had on me and my family. I don’t remember much when I was very little, but recently when going through old photos, I found pictures of Mom with us girls, when we were young. Mom told me many times how much she loved being pregnant and having a tiny baby. (She made it sound easy and fun.) She was excited and happy for each of her three children to join her family. I was especially touched by the pictures of her down on the floor with us.

I remember going shopping at Kmart with Mom. She loved to shop and buy clothes for her girls. That’s where I first learned about “layaway.” We had some fun dates to get our hair cut, too. Afterward, we’d go downtown and have corned beef on rye at our favorite deli, or barbeque sandwiches at Love’s.

Mom was smart and witty, with a great sense of humor. She was fun to be around. She listened to Credence Clearwater Revival, The Grass Roots, and lots of country music, including Kenny Rogers and Crystal Gayle. Once, when we were young adults, we all went to an Oak Ridge Boys’ concert. We had fun singing, “Giddy up oom poppa omm poppa mow mow.” She used to listen to the music loud in the car and push the brake pedal to the beat. She liked hosting neighborhood parties and dancing on the back patio. Our high school friends liked Mom and thought she was cool.

Mom enjoyed vacationing. She and Dad went on several cruises and always came back happy and tan. They also made it to Hawaii once. Mom’s favorite vacation has always been staying at the beach in Carpinteria. I have fond memories of many years of beach trips, with the whole family, including Grandma and Grandpa. Sometimes we stayed at the condos right on the sand; we just climbed three steps and were on the beach! It was such a fun and carefree time for us girls, and we got to spend a lot of time with Mom and Dad up there. Grandma would make chili or tacos, with root beer. We’d walk to “The Spot” for hamburgers and up the street to the drugstore for treats. Grandpa loved sitting up on the beach in the evenings and was so happy and peaceful there.

Mom continued to love the beach more than any other place on earth. She went every year until she left us. Her cousin, Pam, shared that passion with her, and they spent many vacations up there together. In the last few years, we all enjoyed time up there with her, keeping watch over her, including her sister, Jo, and her cousin, Vikki.  Mom had just been to Carpinteria a couple of months before her illness. My sister, Kris, spent a week with her, as she always loved doing, and my other sister, Heidi, was able to join her for the first time.  It was a tender blessing for them to have that special time together.

Mom was close with her own family. She spent a lot of time with her parents and brother and sister. We spent many holidays and Christmases all together, with yummy food, Grandma’s homemade treats, and presents all over the place. Auntie Jo had a pool, and there was always fun and hilarity at family gatherings.

Mom and Grandma took us girls on trips to Washington to see the great grandparents and great aunts and uncles. One time we took the train, which was really fun and exciting. I remember having a bag of things to do, like word puzzles and books. In Olympia, Washington, where they lived, we ran all around their huge wooded property and rode in a golf-cart-like vehicle. Sometimes it snowed! They had a cow, which was a novelty to us city kids. One year when we were there, Kris had a horrible allergy attack from the hay and couldn’t breathe. Another time, I was sleep walking in the middle of the night and fell down the stairs. We were both fine, but now I think, poor Mom! That must have been terrifying. The family there played cards, which Mom loved. Pinochle was her favorite, and they played for hours at a time while we were visiting. I sat and watched the grown-ups while they played.  I learned how to play, as a teenager, and sometimes they let me join in.  These last few years, Mom occasionally joined the kids and I for card games. The kids were surprised and amused at her competitive nature and sassiness during the games.  She played for fun, but wanted to win!

Mom was epically good at ping-pong. She had a unique way of holding her paddle, and she was incredibly consistent. She just got every ball back. Dad was so good at all sports, that he found it a little hard to constantly lose to Mom at ping-pong. There’s an infamous story of Mom once again beating him and hearing the paddle clatter against the door just after she walked through on her way out.

When we were kids, Mom worked a lot. She was very conscientious and took responsibilities seriously. She was talented at her job as a keypunch operator. She was lightning-fast. She and Dad ran their own business for a while. Grandma used to come and stay with us, during that time, in a room downstairs. I loved when she came. I missed my mom when she worked, but now I realize how much she did, working all day then coming home and making dinner, helping with homework and school stuff, and all the other things we needed. Mom continued to work until we were grown. She worked so hard, and worried so much, she eventually had a kind of mental breakdown and couldn’t work anymore. That’s when the second half of her life began.

It took a long time for Mom to recover from the stress she’d been under. Dad took over everything and began taking care of Mom in a different and tender way. I think it helped him that she needed him more, and he rose to the occasion. We’ve always been thankful he was so good to our mom. He adored her and would do anything for her. He called her his “sweet companion” and his “Dearie Face.”

Mom was a sports fan. She and Dad enjoyed watching all kinds of sporting events together. She never missed the Olympics. Her all-time favorite sport to watch was tennis, and Dad was a good sport about letting her have her idols, like Edberg and Federer. He even let her hang a poster of Edberg in the garage and “I heart Federer” stickers here and there.  They had a great time attending a tournament in Palm Springs a few times. After Dad died, Mom said she really missed discussing and watching the sports stuff with him.

Mom loved being “Gramma.” She totally embraced that role and it brought her so much joy. Her email was Grammaof12 and she had Gramma stuff all over her room. She adored the babies. The majority of the photos I have are pictures of Mom with the grandchildren. She read thousands of books to them, let them spend the night, attended their performances and tennis matches, wrote to them on their missions, and wanted to hear all about their lives and adventures. She and Dad were a huge part of their lives, especially when they were little.

Mom developed a passion for cross-stitching, after she retired. She had the skills and the patience to do the most intricate patterns. She made hundreds of beautiful projects and hung them all over her house. Doing that work with her hands helped her be calm and feel productive. She worked on projects up until her last month, when her brain would no longer do that anymore. About that time, I sat with her and helped her get the threads all labeled and ready, and watched as she tried to work on a new project.  She had trouble, but she didn’t get upset. She stitched and tore out one section several times.  She just kept at it. She didn’t complain or get frustrated. She told me that when she was younger, she used to get really upset if something went wrong, but she learned to just expect it and know that she could go back and fix it. Last year she did a project with a cute little grandma and grandpa.  After completing the entire piece, which was pretty big, she decided she didn’t love the color scheme, so she chose her own colors and did the entire project again.  It turned out beautifully. Near the end of her life, she moved her hands when she was kind of somewhere else in her mind. One time I asked her what she was holding (because her finger and thumb were touching) and she said, “The needle.” Immediately I could see, in her motions, that she was stitching and pulling on the thread. She was still cross-stitching in her head right up to the end. I love that.

Mom liked puzzles—all kinds. She sometimes did jigsaw puzzles and had stretches of time where she’d do tons of crossword puzzles. Later in life, she learned to do sudoku puzzles and liked the quick little challenge of those. I got her a couple of easy sudoku books when she was sick, and she could still work those until the last weeks. She would get a little frustrated that her brain wouldn’t work the way it used to, but she kept a good sense of humor about it. She’d say, “It’s taking me all day to do this puzzle!” but she kept at it. I think her love of puzzles kept her brain strong. Until the last few days, she was alert and would smile and joke with us. Until the very end, she knew us still, and heard our words of love and gratitude.

The things mom loved-she really loved!  Tennis, giraffes, Tweety bird, cross-stitch, and most of all her family. She thought about her family all the time. She was a worrier and prayed for her loves constantly. She missed her sweetheart every day.  After Dad died, Mom learned to love and appreciate him so much more. She shared, many times, that she wished she’d let the little annoyances and differences go when he was still here. The beautiful part was, she loved him better each passing year and wanted to be with him more than ever. During her last week, she wanted me to be with her all the time. When she woke, she would call for me.  Sometimes, she would call, “Jenny?…Daddy?” I knew she was calling for my Dad, who she called “Daddy” or “Grandpa.” I know he’s been close by all these years, but especially during these last hard months. I felt like Mom was torn between her love for family here and family on the other side.  On a particularly hard day she said, “I bet Grandpa’s getting excited that I’m coming soon.”

Mom and I had talks about dying and what it meant. She knew I thought leaving this life and going to Heaven was the best thing ever. She said she didn’t know if she felt the same way about it because we all talked about Dad going on and continuing his work on the other side.  She didn’t want to go to work; she was so worn out.  I shared with her the scripture in Alma 40:11-12,

“…the spirits of all men, as soon as they are departed from this mortal body…whether they be good or evil, are taken home to that God who gave them life. And then shall it come to pass, that the spirits of those who are righteous are received into a state of happiness, which is called paradise, a state of rest, a state of peace, where they shall rest from all their troubles and from all care, and sorrow.”

She liked the sound of that. She had a firm faith in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. Her grandparents taught her about Jesus when she was little, and she’d always believed in Him. She loved having pictures of Jesus around her, especially the last few weeks. She did several detailed cross stitch projects of the Savior. In the last one she completed, His hands reached out to her.  She asked us to hang that where she could see it from her bed. She loved Him and knew He loved her.

We were blessed to be able to say goodbye to Mom gradually, much in the same way we did with Dad. We were given the opportunity to serve her and show her how much she’s loved. She became very sweet and childlike during her last months. She was extra loving and grateful, telling us all how much she loved us. It was a sweet and tender blessing to see this side of her heart and feel that connection and closeness before she left us. Though there’s a giant hole in our lives where our Mom was, we’re thankful her pain and worldly cares are over. We’re joyful that Mom and Dad are no longer apart and can be together forever.

Because of our Savior, Jesus Christ, we can live again with our families, when this life is over. It’s not the end. I know this is true—I’ve felt my sweet parents comforting me and lending me strength. Their love still lives on. We celebrated the gift of Christ’s atonement, resurrection, and eternal life as we saw mom’s body, but not her spirit, placed in the ground with Dad’s, to come forth again in the resurrection. Families can be together forever.

“And this is life eternal, that they may know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou has sent.” John 17:3

I’ve been blessed two times in my life with the opportunity to return a tiny bit of the care and service a parent gave to me. Six years ago, my dad had a stroke, very unexpectedly, and my two sisters and I spent his remaining few weeks, physically and emotionally taking care of him and reminding him it wasn’t a burden, but a gift, to serve him. I’ll forever be thankful for that special, though painful, time and the lessons I learned about love. Now, quite unexpectedly again, we’ve been granted the opportunity to tend our mother in her final days on earth. We’re blessed with time to share the precious and spiritual moments that come when Heaven draws close.

Both Mom and Dad were concerned for us, that we had to take on the difficult task of caring for someone no longer able care for themselves. Those who once provided for us, and diligently attended our every need, felt sorrow at asking us to do the same for them, in their need. As children becoming adults, we learn to be independent, which is a good thing, but we usually aren’t taught how to gracefully accept that the circle of life generally leads to the independent once again becoming weak and dependent. It requires humility and perspective of the plan—the sweet plan of our Father in Heaven—which allows us the opportunity to return, in a small way, the years of sacrifice and service of a loving parent.

“Even after years of teaching and hearing lessons on serving others and accepting service, we found that to actually let someone help us was difficult to do. But, as we allowed them to help us, we soon found our hearts full of thanks for their thoughtfulness.

“…Is it hard to give? Yes. It’s a sacrifice on someone’s part. Is it difficult to receive? Yes. But we love those who serve us and those we may serve.” JoAnn Randall

One day, in caring for my mom, I was bending over the bed, rubbing cream on her feet. For some reason, when she became very distressed, her feet began to itch unbearably, adding to her discomfort. After a particularly difficult evening, after she was settled and feeling better, I got out the cream to try to alleviate further irritation of her feet.  As I gently massaged the cream into her cold, dry feet, gently rubbing each small toe, I distinctly felt the Savior whisper to my aching heart, “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these…ye have done it unto me.” As the tears flowed, I suddenly realized that although I received joy from serving my sweet mother, the thought that I was also serving my Jesus filled me with eternal gratitude. That He accepted my small acts of love to my mother as acts of love to Him, blessed me with a peace and joy I can’t express.

There are times in life when every day, every moment, is so intense, it feels like it will never get better, never pass. Of course, It always eventually does. Every woman who’s ever had a baby knows that feeling, near the end, that “This baby is never going to come and I’m going to be pregnant and miserable the rest of my life.” But eventually the time always arrives. During those times, we often think of the trial, or the difficult part, as something that keeps us from our lives: a distraction, a hurdle, a period where time seems to stand still and our “normal” life is put on hold. Recently a wise and cherished friend texted me, “This is life. You are living it! One breath at a time. One moment at a time you are getting it done.” She then expressed her love for me, her support. I’ve thought of those words every day. This time of caring for my dying mother is not something that’s keeping me from my life.  This is my life, and I’m living it, and learning, and loving, and, because of these, often excruciating, experiences, I’m drawing closer to my beloved Savior.

“The Lord has said, ‘If thou lovest me thou shalt serve me,’ and we serve Him by serving others.

“As we serve, we draw closer to God. We come to know Him in ways that we otherwise might not. Our faith in Him increases. Our problems are put into perspective. Life becomes more satisfying. Our love for others increases, as well as our desire to serve. Through this blessed process, we become more like God, and we are better prepared to return to Him.” Carl B. Cook