“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

Spring time.  Conference time. Easter time. I love it all.  It amazes me how blessed we are with the knowledge of our Savior, Jesus Christ, and the Plan of Happiness our Father designed for us.  It’s part of the good news of the gospel that we have a living prophet on the earth today who teaches us and tells us what the Lord wants us to know.  We have ancient prophets’ words in the scriptures and latter-day prophets to help us navigate our current crazy, scary world.  It’s a singular blessing of being a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.

For me, watching General Conference is like paying tithing, in that the Lord opens the windows of Heaven and pours out blessings, that there is not room enough to receive it. The information and inspiration poured out in one weekend, may overflow our cup and overwhelm us. When I feel that way, I try to welcome the flood, capture all I can, and then slowly and thoughtfully, drink it in over the next few months, going over it again and again, reading, discussing, praying, and applying the messages.  

The year after my divorce, I came to Conference seeking help, healing, and wisdom.  Many messages seemed just for me. Later, I used my notes to compose this pledge for myself.  I read it often and it continues to be a strength and a guide for me.

I am not a victim, but a woman of faith.  I choose to repent of my mistakes, weaknesses, and sins, forgive those who have harmed me, and allow the Savior’s atonement to heal me and my loved ones so that we can be whole.

Today, and the rest of my life, I will keep my focus on Jesus, seeking and embracing joy amidst the sorrows, which I will endeavor to learn from, so that I may be more like my Savior.  I know I don’t walk alone.

I will share with others what I’ve learned from my experiences.  I will open my heart and cherish the wonderful relationships I’ve been blessed with and be grateful for countless blessings from my Heavenly Father.  I will pray more earnestly and sincerely, on my knees, to be blessed with the spiritual gifts I need, and to be taught and led by the Holy Ghost.  I will ask to feel Him more in my life, with a commitment to do what I feel inspired to do.  I will seek God’s will above my own and give my heart more fully to His will for me, trusting Him rather than “wrestling” with Him.

I will remember, especially during difficult times, that steady and sustained progress is enough, and that I can do this—with my Savior’s grace.  In gratitude for the precious gifts of the gospel He has given me, I will love and share and always press on, because God needs brave daughters.

For General Conference, I try to be as prepared as possible to receive what I need to know. I’m at a stage in life where I can attend the temple, take time to ponder what I need help with, and sit and quietly listen to the speakers.  It’s new, and wonderful, but the times of Conference with my big family surrounding me, are treasured memories, happily softened around the edges by time.  Here’s a glimpse, from the past, of my busy mom version of Conference preparation:

1. Monday—Before Family Night, spend the afternoon cutting out tiny pictures of all the Apostles and First Presidency. Realize it’s getting late and think (for an hour) about what really quick thing I could make for dinner. Listen to hungry, grumpy children while I crank out grilled cheese sandwiches. Play the apostles game while the kids whine, “How many more do we have to do,” and “What’s the treat?”
2. Tuesday—Conference tradition: Drag out all nine 72-hour kit backpacks and place them in the family room. Take out the old food items (what’s left after the kids have stolen the granola bars) and make a grocery list of items to replenish. Inventory the rest of the pack for missing socks, mittens, toilet paper, and Band-Aids used in other emergencies.
3. Wednesday—Add to the grocery list items needed to make fun food for Conference days; so the kids will think of it as a special weekend. Absolutely do not forget cheese balls and beef jerky! Also be sure to include treats—they help the kids concentrate and sit quietly. Count to ten before asking the kids to stop taking everything out of the 72-hour kits and blowing the whistles. Attempt to reroll the TP.
4. Thursday—Spend hours scouring the internet for fun Conference activities. Print, copy, and staple together a packet for each child. Feel really proud of myself. Clean up all the messes that somehow happened while I was accomplishing this amazing feat. Add new crayons and jigsaw puzzles to the shopping list.
5. Friday—Enlist the kids’ “help” getting the house clean for Conference. “Why? Is somebody coming over to watch with us?”  “No, but it’s easier to concentrate in a clean environment.” Tired and overwhelmed, go grocery shopping, mentally substituting easier “fun” meals, and decide to save the 72-hour kit stuff for next week, or month, or whenever.  At home, unload all the groceries myself, hiding the surprises in my closet.   Give in and pick up dinner even though I just bought $235.00 of groceries.
6. Saturday—Get up super early. Make individual snack bags for each child, so I don’t have to listen to fighting over who’s hogging the skittles. Rearrange all the furniture, set up the puzzle table, get out clipboards, packets, and crayons, and set out snack bags. Realize I didn’t get to the temple and feel a little defeated. Make the breakfast casserole and put it in the oven. Fifteen minutes before Conference, attempt to get the big kids up. Five minutes before, try again, mentioning food bribes. Two minutes before, turn on the TV and try to find the BYU password to login. Give up and make a new password. Sit down to listen to conference. Breathe deeply.  About an hour in, fall asleep while taking notes on my phone and accidentally erase them all.

Although, this seems amusing to me now, I was giving my all, at that time, to show my family how important General Conference was to me.  Over the years, there have been varying levels of success in attempts to make it just right, but the habit, the preparation, the tradition of sitting down together for Conference, because a prophet of God was going to speak to us, made an impact.  We made a place where the Spirit could be welcome and teach us. I try to always be home and ready for those special times—two of my favorite weekends of the year.

One year, my son was home alone during Conference because I went to help my daughter. He sent me this. 

“Of all the traditions we should cultivate within ourselves and our families, a ‘tradition of righteousness’ should be preeminent. Hallmarks of this tradition are an unwavering love for God and His Only Begotten Son, respect for prophets and priesthood power, a constant seeking of the Holy Spirit, and the discipline of discipleship which transforms believing into doing. A tradition of righteousness sets a pattern for living which draws children closer to parents, and both closer to God, and elevates obedience from a burden to a blessing.” Donald L. Hallstrom

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.