I Believe – My Values

It’s 1963; Karen was born on April 21, and I had just turned 20 on December 14, 1962, the year before. Esther used the S&H Green Stamps she had saved for years to get me all the baby things I needed. Bottles, diapers, undershirts, onesies, receiving blankets, and clothes to come home from the hospital.

What are Green Stamps, you ask? S&H Green Stamps was a line of trading stamps popular in the United States from 1896 until the late 1980s. Sperry & Hutchinson began offering stamps to U.S. retailers in 1896. The retail organizations that distributed the stamps were primarily supermarkets, gasoline filling stations, and stores. They bought the stamps from S&H and gave them as bonuses to shoppers based on the dollar amount of purchase. A 1963 magazine article stated that the average supermarket paid $2.45 for the stamps needed to fill one collector book. The stamps came in denominations of one, ten, and fifty points, perforated with a gummed reverse. As shoppers accumulated the stamps, they moistened the reverse and mounted them in collector’s books, which were supplied free by S&H. The books held 24 pages, and filling a page required 50 points, so each book had 1,200 points. Shoppers could exchange filled books for premiums, including housewares and other items, from the local Green Stamps store or catalog.

Esther was such a blessing; I don’t know what I would have done without her at that time.

Back in the ’60s, when Karen was born, there were no Lamaze classes. I took Nursing during my last year in high school; we had a whole Pregnancy with Labor and Delivery section. I labored alone; there was no one to go in with me. Daddy and Esther took me to the hospital, and I remember the Nurse telling them it would be a while, so they left. That was a very sobering experience for me. I remember the part about pushing, and I wanted this to be over, so I started pushing before being told. Soon a nurse came in, and I remember her calling for someone else. Another Nurse and a Doctor came in and checked me out, and the next thing I knew, they were telling me, here is your Baby. I don’t know what kind of medication they gave me; it was like I passed out, so I missed the actual birth. I didn’t get that first bonding time, and I decided not to breastfeed. Now I feel I missed so much during the birth and bonding experience.

Karen weighed in at six lb., five oz.; she was a beautiful baby; I didn’t realize at first whom she favored. As time passed, I could see she looked just like her father. She was a good baby; I don’t remember her crying too much as an infant. When she became a toddler and began to talk, she talked all the time, from when she got up to when she went to bed. We slept together until she was about six years old. So here I am, 20 years old with a baby and no husband; what will I do?? Get a Job.

I had met Karen’s Father, Alfred B July, at Ft. Eustis when I started going there with Connie, a cousin who was ten years older. We had dated for a while before he left Fort Eustis. He had been doing his active duty in the reserves and told me he was a schoolteacher. He was from Mobil, Alabama. He had talked about when he got out, which was not very far off; he was going back home, then moving to Washington, DC, where he would teach, closer to me than Alabama. He was my first real boyfriend. As I look back, we did not spend that much time together. I was 19, and he was 24-25, a few years older than me. I did not realize that I was pregnant until he had left.

I was afraid and embarrassed to talk to anyone about this, so no one knew I was pregnant. As time passed, I had difficulty trying to hide the pregnancy. On Washington’s Birthday, which is now President’s Day, the grocery store had cherry pies on sale. I bought one and ate the whole thing. I have always had a weak stomach; I started having all kinds of pain that night. I did not know if it was the Baby, so I knew I had to do something. I got one of my sisters to go across the street and get Esther. I knew I had to tell her; I did not know how I was waiting for the right time. Well, this was the time. She came at once, and I was in so much pain; she thought I was in labor when I told her I was pregnant. She felt so sorry for me that she cried, so I started crying. She then said we had to go to the hospital. She got Daddy; he was right there in the house, she told him, and they took me to the hospital. I was not in labor; I just had too much cherry pie.

That’s how everyone found out I was pregnant. Daddy didn’t say anything to me.

At first, when I called Karen’s father, he told me he was coming back on his way to D.C., and we could talk. I called him again after not hearing from him, and he said he was engaged and his girlfriend was also pregnant. He was not going to D.C.; he would be staying in Mobile, AL, and getting married; the only thing was he was already married.

After that, he refused to talk to me. Each time I called, he would hang up or talk threateningly and rudely; he would scream at me; I felt very intimidated. He told me he would change the phone number, and he did. I was shocked; I had no idea he was like that; I did not know what to do, so I did nothing. That is when I made the second biggest mistake of my life.

I decided I did not need him to help; I could take care of my Baby myself, and because I did that, I never asked anyone for help, not the state or anyone else. No one ever asked me about her father or recommended that I take him to court for child support. In my mind, I had decided he did not exist. I didn’t know how this would affect Karen as the years passed, not knowing her father. It is too late now; he died a few years ago. It’s my fault I should not have let him get away with not acknowledging and supporting his child.

About a year before, Connie moved in with Esther for a short while. She was about ten years older than me. I was young, only 19, and I was not dating, so I was eager to get out.   I started going out with her when she had to sing. Connie Ketchmore was very popular, and she sang with a jazz band.

 I enjoyed going out to Clubs and dancing. Connie had been married to a soldier, so we went to Ft Eustis for happy hour and other things at the NCO Club. I tell you this part about Connie and going to Ft Eustis because there was a joke that this was “Connie’s Baby.” If I had not started going out with her, I would never have gotten pregnant.

I was so young and inexperienced. So, when I started going out with Connie, I took all my leads from her; and started doing what I saw her do. That turned out to be the worst example I could have had. I didn’t know that at the time, and I thought I was in with the crowd going out, meeting people, and having a good time. I was so shy and immature that I had no idea what I was doing. And the things Connie was doing did not work for me. I did not learn this until after I had Karen. I am not making excuses for myself; I’m just saying most 19-year-olds don’t know much about life, and I was way behind more than most. We all have to learn; we get out there, make mistakes and learn from them. I am a fast learner, and as you will see, I caught up, and even though I had a few more unfortunate relationships, God was always there, leading me and guiding my steps to where I am today.

Daddy never said anything to me about the Baby or anything else. He just went on as if nothing had happened. After Karen was born, he was there, but I felt the shift. He was there; that was about it; I don’t know if he was mad or just disappointed in me. I was so very disappointed in myself.

Don’t misunderstand; he loved Karen as he loved all the grandchildren. He ended up being one of our best babysitters, and he would let them do anything they wanted. At the time, he did not know what to say and, without Momma, how to say anything. During that time, Daddy spent most of his time with Connie.

I had no help, no support, and I was scared. Esther was my saving grace. I had been working some after graduating high school. But nothing that was a good job that I could make a decent living doing. Esther was a lifesaver for all of us after Momma died. She was the grandmother we didn’t have, although we had a grandmother about 30 miles away.

The three younger kids had gone to Baltimore to stay with Uncle John and Steen. Since they were so young, everyone thought they needed more help and care. We all needed support and guidance. I needed a job.

I must get a job. Mr. Heart, our next-door neighbor, worked as a Longshoreman in the harbor, unloading and loading cargo from ships. At the pier was a Canteen for the men who worked there. Mr. Heart told me about an opening for a server to work in the Canteen. I applied for the position and got the job on the spot. That is when I met Frances Joyner, the manager, and we became lifelong friends. We hit it off immediately, and I worked there for 3 or 4 years. It was not what I saw myself doing for the rest of my life, but it was an income at the time. I made $5 a day, $25 to $30 a week, depending on how many days I worked. We served the men soup and beans when they were on a lunch or dinner break. When I started working the evening shift there, Karen was about a month old. Frances did not have any children and was a little older than me. She took to Karen right away and was a big help to me. We worked together sometimes, but she worked the day shift most of the time, and I worked evenings from 3 to 11. We went out together and liked to go on shopping trips. Frances and I became very close friends. I confided in her more than I did my sisters.

She and I even drove from Newport News to California, taking Frances’s Mother to see Frances’s brother in San Bernardino, California. Six females drove across the country: Francis, her mother, and Angie, France’s daughter. Kittie, her niece, me, and Karen. That was an adventure. That is when I learned that I could not drive in the mountains. Francis did most of the driving, and I read the maps. We got lost in the Grand Canyon and spent the night in the Van because it was so dark; we couldn’t see anything, we did not know where we were, and we were getting low on gas, so we stopped and waited until morning. We were only about ten miles from the hotel. We were in San Bernardino for about a week. Karen enjoyed the trip with the other girls around her age. Frances was there both times I married.

Frances was also Godmother to Lonnie. Unfortunately, she did not get to know him because my life changed, and I remarried and moved to Alaska.

I don’t know who kept Karen when I went to work; I think Esther mostly. I believe Esther Mae and Elnora kept her too. There were no daycares; most women who worked then left their babies with another mother who had children and stayed home with them; or a family member. I worked, and boy, did I work. Sometimes, two jobs. In the beginning, it was hard; sometimes, I just had to go to work praying that someone would look after her.

Karen has always been very curious about things; one time, she was maybe 9 or 10. I don’t know how this happened. I was washing clothes; we had this old wringer washing machine.

How a wringer washer works; the defining feature is a tub with an agitator to move the suds through the laundry, dislodge dirt and grime, and then rinse it out. You feed the laundry through the wringer to squeeze out the water. Somehow, she got her arm in the wringer, it should have popped open, but it didn’t. I had to take her to the emergency room. She was alright, with no broken bones, just bruised and sore.

I have always been on a diet, and there was a time I took diet pills. One day, Karen was about five; we were living in Baltimore. She got into my diet pills; she was already a talker. Karen said she only took one pill; I took her to the emergency room. The Doctor said there was nothing they could give her. She probably would not sleep that night, and she didn’t; it would have to wear off. She would be OK… she just talked for 24 hours…

And another time, she was a little older and brought me candy for Valentine’s Day. I took the gift, but I said to her, you know I’m on a diet. I regret saying that to her. I think about that now; she was just a kid.

When we returned from Baltimore, Aunt Mae and I formed a close relationship, and I lived on Taliaferro Rd. with Aunt Mamie. Karen is a little older, and Aunt Mae helped so much with her. Karen and Jackie were close in age, so I could leave her there when I had to work or even just a weekend to myself. It was tough for me not having a mother and Karen not having a grandmother. I didn’t know it at the time.

I worked in the beginning in Foodservice. From the Canteen with Buster and Frances to fine dining at the James River Country Club. I met some friends of Connie’s that waited tables at the Country Club, a very high-end Golf Course. They told me I could make so much more money working with them. Working at the Country Club is much more than serving soup from behind a counter. It’s called Fine Dining, and it is a profession. I was young and open to whatever I had to do. Connie’s friends said they would train me and told me what to say in the interview, and I got the job again on the spot. I have always been a quick learner and was very good at it; I was on my own waiting tables and could carry the large trays with four dinners in no time, and the tips were excellent. Sometimes I would make more in a night at the Country Club than at Buster’s in a month. I loved working at the Country Club, and it was also very social after we got off; most times, we would go out, and the weekends were the best. Most of the people that worked there were good friends, and we would hang out after our shifts; I worked there for about five years.

Then at some point, I decided to move to Baltimore. I can’t remember why I wanted to move; Karen was still very young and growing up fast; I think I wanted more help with her care, and I needed a change. At some point, we all stayed with Steen and Uncle John in Baltimore; this was my time. Steen and Uncle John never said no to us about living with them, and we stayed as long as we needed to. We left when we knew it was time to go. I left as soon as I got a job and could afford an apartment.

I moved to Baltimore; that was an adventure. I remember getting there, and my main thing was getting a job. I have always been fiercely independent, and there was no way I would be there with no income. Steen always believed in working and not spending all your money. I got hired at Westinghouse Electronic Systems Group, which would play a significant role in my life.

 In the late 60s, the Vietnam War was in full force, and Westinghouse was a major contractor making Radars for the Jets. They were hiring; they needed people who could put together tiny parts. I had tried to get on at Social Security, where Esther Mae and Elnora worked, but it was not to be. If I had gotten hired at Social Security back then, I would not be where I am today. I know with great certainty I am where I am supposed to be. I passed all the tests and showed that I was good with my hands. I got hired at Westinghouse, which was the best job I had ever had at that time. I made $2.84 per hour, but I am not sure of the 84 cents. It was close to that. It was a lot of money back then.

The plant is at the BWI Airport, and there was no public transportation. God stepped in again, and the lady next door to Steen and Uncle John, Dorothy Lyles, worked at the plant; she did rideshare to the plant, and I rode with her. So, after getting a ride to work, I was all set. During that time, Karen was in either preschool or kindergarten. I sent her to a Catholic School for pre-kindergarten. I did not know it then, but I was about to go on an adventure and learning experience that would follow me my entire life. As I look back, I can see the blessings of my God all the way.

Westinghouse was a large plant, and I was in a department where we put the parts on the parts. For security reasons, we were not putting the whole device together. The completed device came together in a more secure area. We all had different things to do, I was the youngest in my department, and the women there embraced and welcomed me, and several strong friendships came out of it. Edith Gray, Pearl Lewis, Myrtle Taylor, and Cecilia Jackson are the women I worked closely with in my department. Priscilla Young and I worked side by side, and I moved to Cherry Hill, where she lived. We became close friends, and I am still in touch with her today.

I also met a very handsome young man, Leon Galloway. Leon and I were attracted to each other immediately, and he worked as a courier for the plant, which meant he had the freedom to come and go throughout the day. Leon was also from Odenton, MD, close to the plant. He had an apartment in Baltimore, near where I lived with Steen and Uncle John at 1923 Park Ave. Baltimore MD. We saw each other almost daily at work and then in the evening after work. He came down to Virginia with me and met all my family. Everyone loved him, and Karen started calling him Daddy. We would go to his family home in Odenton. I met all his family, his mother, his sisters, and one of my sisters dated one of his brothers. Leon and I dated for over five years. He gave me a diamond engagement ring and talked about getting married.

I enjoyed working at Westinghouse, and I moved from Steen and Uncle John’s house to an apartment in Cherry Hill, much closer to the plant. The ladies all got together and helped me furnish my first apartment. I remember Pearl gave me an old 50s model kitchen set she had stored in her basement. I thought it was the best thing ever, and I wish I had kept it. A little while after I moved, I hit the lottery there at the plant. We had this number thing they did, and I can’t explain it; I won $200. I brought living room furniture and bedroom furniture for Karen. I lived there in Cherry Hill, Md, for about two years, and then Esther Mae and I moved to The Willows Apartments in Glen Burnie. These were new apartments, and they were also low-income. Esther Mae and I were thrilled we had apartments in the same building. Karen, Renee, and Shelia could be together. Leon was very quiet and did not encourage me to move. In fact, he discouraged the move. I did not understand this because these were new apartments, the rent was well in my income range, and I would be closer to the job. I admit I did not know a lot about his background. He never talked about past relationships, and I did not ask. He never asked me about Karen’s Father, so we just went with what we saw in each other.

I have just moved into the apartment about a month or so. Leon came to see me and told me that he had an ex-girlfriend. They had four daughters, were not married, and did not live together at the time. Still, she was expecting him to move in with her in the same apartment complex that Esther Mae and I had just moved into, just one building over. I was devastated; I could not believe this man I had seen almost every day for the past five years. We had gone on weekend trips together, and he had been to my home; he knew all my family, I knew his family, and I had an engagement ring. How could this be?

He had a girlfriend and four children living about two blocks from Westinghouse, where we worked. Because of his job, he had the chance to go by and see her anytime he wanted. People who worked there knew he had the kids but did not know he was still in a relationship, so no one said anything about her. He was going to, and she expected him to move in with her. What could I say? Nothing, I could not take it, so I decided to go back to Virginia. I was heartbroken; I had not experienced the pain of someone you love deceiving you. I could not see beyond that point.

Westinghouse laid off many people at the time I was one of them. I was getting unemployment pay and expected to return to work at Westinghouse. I could not stay with Leon right there with someone else. Esther Mae was so disappointed that I was leaving. We had looked forward to living close to each other and the girls growing up together. I just could not stay. It would take a while for this relationship to be over.

I went back to 614. I can’t remember who was still there at that time. I think Jr had come back and was living at home with Daddy. I called Daddy, and he came to Baltimore; we rented a truck, and he drove me back to Virginia.

Things did not go very well. I needed to be closer to the job. I had to leave Karen at home alone to catch the bus to school because I had quite a distance to get to work. I had to leave before she left for school. A few times, she missed the bus and even tried hitchhiking because she did not want me to know she missed the bus.

I was talking to Esther about Karen and getting her to school and me also getting to work on time. She suggested I ask Aunt Mamie about staying with her until I could get an apartment near my job in Denbigh. Aunt Mamie said yes, so I stored my stuff and moved to Lee Hall with her. That is how I came to live in Denbigh, which made it seem like I was still living out of town. I don’t remember how long I stayed with Aunt Mamie. That’s when I got closer to her and formed a very close relationship with Aunt Mae. Funny, now developing relationships with my mother’s sister and my father’s sister simultaneously. I enjoyed staying with Aunt Mamie, maybe because it was secure and there was help with Karen. I was working at Bendix and waiting tables in Williamsburg.

I lost contact with most people I knew in Newport News and Hampton. Except for Frances, we remained friends till the end. Frances died on September 14, 2004, from complications of diabetes. I had not lived close to her for years but missed her, just knowing she was no longer here.

Bendix Corporation was a manufacturing and engineering company that made automotive brake shoes. There was a plant in Townson, MD, not far from where I lived in Baltimore at the time. I found out they were building a large plant in Virginia. In 1970 the new production line opened in Denbigh, VA. This was perfect for me, it was right around the time I got laid off from Westinghouse, and things had gone downhill with Leon. I checked at the Baltimore plant, and my experience at Westinghouse would qualify me to work at the Denbigh plant. I did get hired, but I wouldn’t say I liked it, but I needed a job.

There was an assembly line and a belt, and you sat there all day doing the same thing repeatedly, while at Westinghouse, we did the same thing repeatedly, but it was at a desk. You had time to talk to your coworkers. At Bendix, you hardly had time to look up; less have a conversation. I could not stand it; I couldn’t stand to be confined.

I worked there for over a year; that’s where I met Maxine and Beverly. We became best friends. They were both married and had children. They lived in Warwick Lawns, right around the corner from my apartment on Motoka Dr. We started doing things together; we all had children’s and husband’s issues. I was not married then, so I just listened to them. I could talk about the children’s issues; Karen was a preteen or maybe even in her teens at the time. I was hoping I could soon join in their conversations about their married life.

Now we are going back to the 1970s. Maxine, Beverly, and I have become terrific friends. If I remember right, I met Anna and LoLo at Dow Chemical. Dow Chemical manufactured Acrylic Fibers. Acrylic spun yarns and anti-static non-filament yarns for use in clothing and home furnishings. Production of acrylic fibers started at Dow in 1958. BASF bought it in 1978 and continued production of acrylic products until 1989.

Maxine, Beverly, and I left Bendix and went to work at Dow Chemical. The five of us worked there for some time. I can’t remember who went there; first, we all went there around the same time. The working conditions were better than at Bendix, but the hours were brutal. As time went by, we became very close. We were all in our prime with all sorts of things going on, from children, husbands, and home life to trying to get by on the money we made. And I was still single.

We worked swing shifts, which meant we rotated day, evening, and night shifts every two weeks. That can take a toll on your life and health. I have always been very independent, so I had to work. Don’t get me wrong; I would quit a job in a hot minute, and I was never afraid of getting another job. And getting welfare, well, that just was never a choice for me. I worked at Dow Chemical for several years. Except for the hours, I rather enjoyed it. The work itself was interesting. We each had individual stations. We had to put up acrylic yarn on a spool that would stretch from the machine to a net at the back of the machine. You could spin the acrylic yarn into smaller threads on a smaller spool. This was inspiring because you had to keep that net up as the yarn went through the machine.

The position of warehouse clerk came open, and it was  DAY SHIFT. I applied for it and got it; working in the warehouse had drawbacks. It was dirty and dusty from the spinning yarns. There was a large tunnel where the yarn dust and scraps came from the line. We are all blessed that we did not get sick from breathing in all that dust.

As the lead person in the warehouse, I was the manager and supervised three other people. I also had to learn to drive a Forklift and load trucks. I had to pass the course “Basic Supervision of People,” and I still have the “Certificate of Completion” for completing the program. I had to pass a test to get a Vehicle Operator’s Permit to use the Forklift.

I drove a Forklift while pregnant with Lonnie, about eight months. I think that is why he slept so much when he was a kid whenever we would go on a trip in the car. He always fell asleep, no matter how short the trip was. I was so surprised when he got older and drove across the country.

Maxine and Beverly also transferred to the warehouse. I don’t know if I have all the facts in order, so Maxine and Beverly, if you have the opportunity to read this, please, charge it to my brain and not my heart. (Smile)

When I started working at Dow Chemical, I worked two jobs while living at Aunt Mamie’s. I worked primarily in the bar to save money to get an apartment. I got a job waiting tables in the NCO Club at Ft. Eustis. I found this place in Denbigh. It was a Co-op. Co-ops are often less expensive than rental apartments because they work on an at-cost basis. Owners in a Co-op own shares of the cooperative instead of owning their unit outright. It meant lower rent, and I could use the interest for tax purposes. I can’t remember how I found these, I had to come up with the money for the move-in cost and the move, so I saved all the money I earned waiting tables at Ft Eustis.

Irongate Townhomes, 171 #5 Motoka Dr., is the apartment we moved to in Denbigh. It was very nice; two bedrooms upstairs with bath and living room and kitchen with half bath down. Karen had friends that lived there in the same section. And by now, she is a little older and rode the bus to school. Karen went to Lee Hall Elementary School and Dozier Middle School. By the time she graduated from Menchville High School in June of 1981, we had made a life-changing turn. I married Lonnie, and we moved to Harrington Rd.

Karen would stay with Aunt Mae on the weekends while I worked waiting tables in Williamsburg or Ft Eustis. Karen did well in school, and things were going decent then. Karen learned how to keep things from me. And now, as I look back, I was so busy trying to make a living for us I did not give her all the attention she needed. When we were together, we mostly watched T.V.; we could tell you about every show that came on T.V.

We made it; as I write this, I now understand that sometimes you want to do more than just make it. Some things in a child’s life are significant, and you can’t go back to make it up to them. When Karen and I lived on Motoka Dr., I felt we were all alone. Sometimes I would pick up the phone to see if there was a dial tone. My phone did not ring much during that time.

Karen, I must apologize to you; I am so sorry. As I raised you, I tried hard to supply the things we needed on my own; sometimes, I left you out. There are no excuses; I did not know about life myself when I looked back 20, even 30 years ago. Therefore, I did not know what a jewel I had in you. I did not understand the part about you not needing more stuff, but more of me and more understanding. I wish I had put in more hugs and kisses rather than all the latest toys

If I could go back and talk to my younger self. I would tell her to slow down. You don’t have to work so hard; you don’t have to go so fast. I would tell her there is a man that was born just for you. God has it all worked out. God will send you the love of your life. Take time to look at your daughter and love her. She will have a Dad, and he will love her, and she will love him. He will love her, teach and guide her, and she will learn to trust and love him. He will be the grandfather to her only daughter. He will be there for her daughter from when she is born to when she is an adult when he will drive from Virginia to Texas to bring her back to Virginia to live with us.

He will give her all the love, support, and guidance all of his life. I would tell my younger self how much I love her. I would tell her you are not perfect right now and never will be, but you will get it together and live to be a role model to other young women. 

 God has always been on my side, and he opened doors for me that I did not know were closed; he opened my eyes and heart.

“I can see clearly now the rain is gone. I can see all obstacles in my way. Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind. It’s gonna be a bright, sunshiny day. Oh, yes, I can make it now; the pain is gone. All of the bad feelings have disappeared. Here is that rainbow I’ve been praying for. It’s gonna be a bright, sunshiny day.”  (By Johnny Nash)

This song came out in 1972; it was like it was written just for me the first time I heard it. I loved the words and related because I was coming out of the fog. The ’70s were a fog for me. I can see God had it all planned out; as I look back, I was coming close to my “Place in Time.”

“Behind every Strong Woman is a Tribe of other Strong Women who have her back.”

I have so many; I wanted to name them all but was afraid I would leave one out, which would be a tragedy.

I have met Lonnie Allen Williams, and he will become a significant part of my journey, and we would turn seven years into a lifetime…….

Here are some of my memories with Mom. I wish I could remember more!

One of my earliest memories is sitting next to Dad’s little brown homemade stool in the kitchen next to the old black stove. On top of the stool is a bowl of canned peaches and it is my job to eat them. I have issues with canned peaches and I am not happy about being forced to choke them down. I don’t remember what happened after that. I was pretty stubborn and I’m sure there was a lot of drama. However, I do remember that after that Mom always made sure there were canned cherries available for lunch.  It was probably a simple thing for her to start adding a jar of canned cherries to the lunch menu, but it meant so much to me.

Bedtime was always crazy because we were usually reading scriptures late at night. I loved it when Mom would sing to help me fall asleep she would often sing “I Wonder When He Comes Again” and she would sing all the verses! It always brought the spirit and helped me calm down. I had terrible leg aches when I was young. Mom was always so gentle and sweet about helping me. She would get a warm water bottle for me or start a bath so I could soak my legs.

When I discovered a love for reading she always encouraged me! She had to get a library card and I’m pretty sure they had to pay a little fee because we lived out of town. She would take me to the library and let me wander and look at books and choose as many as I wanted! I have so many memories of pushing the chair close to the fire and snuggling up to read in the winter. I know she let me miss out on lots of chores because I was reading and she wanted to encourage me. My love of reading has been such a blessing and I’m still use it as an excuse to miss out on chores!

One summer I got on a cooking kick! I didn’t necessarily want to cook anything useful. I wanted to cook muffins and lemon bars! I remember making batch after batch. Probably anytime I had a craving for sweets. Mom was so patient and allowed me to experiment and make messes in the kitchen. I learned so much and I still love to make treats. Although, now that I am the one cleaning up the messes I have a greater appreciation for the sacrifice it was for her!

Mom always encouraged me to develop my talents. When I was younger I remember having piano lesson’s with Aunt Beverly. I wasn’t very good at practicing and so I didn’t progress and eventually I wanted to quit. Mom was ok with that. I played the flute in middle school band and because I liked it so much Mom found out that Debbie Johnson taught flute and so she signed me up for lessons. She taught the Suzuki method and it was a really hard way for me to learn so Mom let me stop. I loved to sing and I have wonderful memories of Mom playing the piano for me to sing songs from Les Miserables and Phantom of the Opera. I know she always had a million things to do, but she took the time to sit and let me sing. She also worked it out so I could take voice lessons from Lou Cheney. In high school, I decided that I wanted to get a little better at playing the piano and so she signed me up for lessons with Bev Richins. I joined Bruce and Linda Walker’s choir in Ontario and it was a big time commitment and cost quite a bit, but she was always on board with whatever was needed. I never felt judged for jumping around to different talents or for deciding to focus on other things. I’m so grateful that she supported and encouraged me with love instead of force.

During junior high I had the chance to be in a play and I got a part with quite a few lines! I started to get nervous because I wasn’t sure how I was going to memorize all of them. Mom taped the lines up next to the sink and practiced with me while we washed dishes together. I never liked doing dishes (I still don’t!), but I have such a clear memory of this experience because it actually ended up being fun! When I mentioned this to Mom recently she said that  was how Grandma Esther used to memorize scriptures!

I played basketball and volleyball starting in junior high and she would take the time to run me to the store to buy Gatorade to drink during the games. Mom and Dad spent hours watching me play sports. I know it was especially hard during my 7th and 8th grade basketball seasons – we lost every game! When I had early morning practices she would wake up and make me a warm breakfast. When I came home late at night from games she would warm up left overs for me or make a grilled cheese. I never heard her complain about how much of her time was spent taking care of me. She showed her love in so many ways!

When I was in junior high I remember borrowing clothes from Mom. She didn’t mind when I would raid her closet or when I wanted her to take me to buy clothes at Maurices in Ontario. One time when we were on a trip Mom took me to a Goodwill and it was like heaven! We had such a huge stack of clothes. I still love to shop at thrift stores thanks to Mom’s example! In high school Mom made most of my dance dresses. I wanted a crushed velvet dress for prom and it was a tricky fabric, but Mom figured out how to make it work and it was such a beautiful dress! She also taught me how to sew pajama bottoms and helped me pick out cute fabric so I could make presents for my friends for graduation.

When I was a senior I had the opportunity to do a job shadow at Dad’s office with Mom. She was so patient as she showed me the ropes. She found projects for me to do so that I could learn- like transcribing dictation and data entry. She did a good job too! I used that experience to get a job at the BYU law school as a secretary to the law professors. I realized then how well she had taught me because I already knew how to do most of the things they required.

Dating in a small town can be rough. Most of the time the boys feel like your brothers since you’ve known them forever. Mom was so supportive of me getting to know boys from other towns! Derrel and I went to many stake dances just so we could meet people from other stakes. She even let me invite a boy from Rexburg to a dance in Weiser (a friend of DeLon & Lisa’s). When I was a Junior I went to All-State Choir in Boise and met a boy named Steve Dodds. We wrote letters back and forth to each other and he asked me to go to prom with him in Twin Falls. Mom found out that Steve’s mom was friends with Carol Soelberg and allowed me to drive to Twin Falls, sleep over night at their house and go to the dance with him. He was killed in a tragic accident my senior year and Mom took me to the funeral. When Mom met Aaron I’m not sure who was happier that I had finally found the man I wanted to marry – me or her! She was amazing at trusting me to make good decisions.

When Lanette was born Mom came to stay with me for a few days. She was incredible! She would wake up in the night with Lanette and hold her off from eating so I could get some much needed sleep. She made bread, cooked meals and sewed Lanette a little blanket. She was about to go home when I came down with mastitis. I was so sick! Mom just changed her plans and rescued me. When she did go home she was always available to chat on the phone when I had worries or questions about how to care for my first baby. I was so grateful that she had all the answers!  I count it as one of my greatest blessings that she (and often Dad) were able to come and stay with my other kids when I had all of my babies. When I was in the hospital I could totally soak in the time with Aaron and the new baby because I knew that my kids were in excellent hands! My kids have great memories of Grandma’s food and watching church shows together.

When I came to stay with Mom and Dad for Grandma Beth’s funeral I knew that Mom was starting to have a hard time. I munched on too many treats on the drive to Weiser and asked Mom for some Tums before bed. The next morning when we were having breakfast and Mom and Dad were asking about how we slept I mentioned that I should have asked for a melatonin because I always have a hard time sleeping the first night in a new bed. The day of the funeral was busy! I ended up staying at Lara and Judd’s house playing games pretty late and so Mom and Dad were already in bed when I came back. In the bathroom on the counter Mom had written my name on a ziplock bag and put a few Tums in it. On top of the bag was a bottle of melatonin. Mom was doing what she had been doing my whole life. Watching for my needs and doing all that she could to help me. I couldn’t believe that on such a long, busy day she had taken the time to gather those things and put them right where she knew I would find them. Her ability to love and nurture others is incomparable!

 

I’m grateful for the opportunity to share a few remarks today. I learned to feel and recognize the love, comfort and peace available to each of us through our Savior Jesus Christ, from my mother. As a child, my first and earliest recollection is of the loving and comforting sound of her beautiful voice singing “I wonder when he comes again” and “I love to see the temple” as she calmed my fears at bedtime.  This memory is vivid, it pierced my soul and has not dimmed since childhood. This same feeling has returned again and again throughout my life with each moment where the atonement of Christ would be needed.

In my late childhood and adolescent years, she continued to quietly teach me about the love and comfort of our Savior as she nurtured me through many health challenges including (but not limited to) an unfortunate incident with a BB gun, a motorcycle incident requiring 18 stitches (thank you Dr. Drake!), acute appendicitis, repair of a deviated septum (I’m still not sure how I broke my nose 🙂 and multiple interventions at the hands of an ornery chicken sandwich. With immense kindness and with a twinkle in her eye she later awarded me the title of her “most expensive child”. Ironically, that felt like such a compliment.

As an adult, I suffered another health emergency that left me hospitalized for a week and a half and with a prolonged recovery. Mom joined by dear wife, Kim, as they both nurtured me back to health. She was an expert at sharing the Savior’s love and comfort.

This week, even after her passing, she taught me of the peace the Savior can provide in the most painful moments of our lives.  Unfortunately, the notorious COVID-19 infection deprived me and my family of being at her bedside as she slipped away into her eternal glory. My beloved wife and children are unfortunately still quarantined and unable to join us in grieving her loss today. Nonetheless, as we discussed this as a family, we felt an overwhelming sense of peace enter our home. Certainly, this was a result of her continued influence in our lives.

Few things are as painful as loosing your beloved mother, but somehow I am at peace. It is the peace the Savior brings in our hours of need. I have known it since I was a young child. I learned it from my mother.

I testify that the Lord Jesus Christ is the source of the deepest and purest love we can know. He heals the sick and the afflicted. He comforts those who stand in need of comfort and brings peace in our most desperate hour. He is the balm of Gilead. He is the great physician. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

Danny’s memories here.

Memories of Mother

By Devin G Walker

12-27-2020

 

My mother Marianne Kofoed Walker was a multi-tasker, a selfless servant, and talented teacher, and a savior of souls.

 

Multi-tasker

 

Multi-tasking was a necessity with eleven children. She was constantly pulled in so many directions, ranging from changing diapers, to football games, to scouting projects, to church activities, and all the other daily duties of a mother of eleven very active children. 

 

With the four of us youngest boys in the bedroom upstairs next to my parent’s master bedroom, there were many nights that rowdy distractions kept us awake. My mother may have simply resorted to singing us to sleep in order to help us fall asleep faster, so that she could get some sleep herself. But for me, it felt like love washing over me, as she would lullaby my active young mind into a calm slumber. Her soothing voice filled my mind and heart as she gently stroked my hair and face. The effect was mesmerizing. As was highlighted at her funeral, she often sang “When He Comes Again”, “Give Said the Little Stream”, but my favorite was “When Joseph Went to Bethlehem”. This song tells of the journey of Joseph and Mary to Bethlehem, and the birth of Jesus Christ. As the spirit testified to me of the truths in the song, the story of Jesus Christ’s Birth, sung by my mother’s beautiful voice, became a reverent childhood memory and a precious root of my testimony.

 

As a parent now, I can imagine how annoying it would be to have four young boys next door to the master bedroom, who would come in every few minutes, and complain about not being able to fall asleep. I remember the door to my parents bedroom being locked on various occasions, and I remember wondering why? None of the other rooms had locks on the doors, I thought to myself. So, although I was confused at the time, it is obvious now that it prevented us from disrupting their night time privacy, and their precious little sleep. I remember being disciplined for waking up at night and going into their room. I must have gotten up several times a night sometimes, causing justifiable annoyance. However, there were many times when I was greeted with open arms when entering their bedroom. 

 

Some of my earliest memories were of these times when my legs would ache at night, and it was painful enough to wake me up so that I could not get back to sleep. There were two remedies that my parents used to help alleviate the pain. 

 

The first and most common was lying in their bed while one or both of them (but usually my father) rubbed my legs. The second was that my mother would draw up a hot bath in which I would sit and soak, which eased the aching in my legs. As parents, my wife, Lindsey, and I have rubbed our kids’ legs, but we also give them a little children’s Tylenol, or Ibuprofen, and send them back to bed. However, I don’t ever remember my parents having any medication available for such leg pains. It was comforting to lie next to my parents and have them rub my legs, and I loved the hot baths on cold nights. I could fall asleep quickly in the warm water. I remember my mother drying me, dressing me, and carrying me back to bed. I belabor the point of nighttime interruptions in order to emphasize the point that my mother NEVER had enough sleep! She was a multi-tasker day and night!

 

Selfless Servant

 

The Savior Jesus Christ was a selfless servant. He was constantly pulled from one person in need to another. He voluntarily, selflessly made himself a servant of the needs of those around him. Healing, teaching, and comforting others were his daily routine during his ministry. My mother lived her life the same way. She was up late helping teenagers do homework. She was awakened during the night by crying toddlers. Then, she was up early making rice cereal, with biscuits from scratch; french toast, with homemade maple syrup; or a number of other gourmet farm-style breakfasts which all required significant time and effort to prepare and serve. All this to say that through these acts of service and many others my mother placed her children’s needs above her own comforts. She wore out her life in service to her husband, eleven children, and several unofficial foster children. If there were a certain number of hours of selfless service required by heaven for a mother to gain “angel status”, my mother would have earned “angel mother status” many times over.

 

If daily preparation of gourmet farm-style breakfast for eleven children, a husband, and several foster children through the years sounds like a heavy burden, then you don’t know my mother. She enjoyed it! If you’re saying to yourself, “Whipping up a batch of french toast doesn’t take that much time or effort.” Then you should also consider that she used to make fresh bread from fresh ground wheat flour. 

 

Finishing breakfast was not the end of her morning routine, it was just half of it. The other half was making home made lunches for the same hungry crew. At one point she was making nine home made lunches everyday before sending us all off to school. We would go through six or seven loaves of her delicious homemade whole wheat bread every week! Each lunch was made to order, with the exact right number, and type of sandwiches, according to our request. Young kids might eat half a sandwich. High School age boys could eat two or three sandwiches. I remember that two and a half sandwiches was my regular request, while in high school. Home bottled pickles, or hand washed and sliced carrot sticks from the garden were often the side dish, with a homemade cookie for dessert.

 

With so many mouths to feed at the breakfast table, who would take the time to fulfill such specific requests for a home made lunch? Why not make them all the same, and let “father’s discipline” handle any complaints? I think “father’s discipline” just might have something to say if one of my children had the following lunch request: “I’ll have one half chicken sandwich, one whole peanut butter and honey sandwich, one half peanut butter and homemade strawberry jam sandwich, and one half tuna fish sandwich.” The fact that my mother was eager to make our lunches exactly like we wanted them is an important story in itself, and a great life lesson. 

 

The Story: I may not have all the details right, but I remember hearing that for the first few years of their married life, my father had tuna fish sandwiches everyday for lunch. The kind man that he is, led him to express his gratitude for my mother’s efforts in preparing him a home made lunch everyday. My father may have mentioned several times how much he enjoyed tuna fish sandwiches in the beginning, but he eventually got tired of them. I remember hearing him years later, as he lamented the fact that he had eaten too many tuna fish sandwiches for lunch. He recounted, “I was so sick of tuna fish sandwiches, that I never wanted to eat one again.” It was an emotional moment when he finally admitted to mom that he was tired of eating tuna fish sandwiches everyday. Although I wasn’t there, I heard she cried because she felt bad about making him eat the same thing everyday for so long. But, instead of being offended, she spent the next forty years taking food requests. And so, it was not unusual for us kids to request several different types of sandwiches for lunch. It was nice to have a mother who catered to our requests. I remember getting a bit tired of chicken sandwiches at one point. I also remember sharing my peanut butter and honey sandwich with my cousin Justin. I could have as many sandwiches as I wanted, so it wasn’t an inconvenience to share, and he loved having a little more. The crux of the matter is that her humility quelled her pride enough to turn the “too many tuna fish sandwiches” experience into a lifelong opportunity to minister to many specific lunch requests. 

The Life Lesson: Getting to request what I wanted for lunch everyday made me feel loved. Growing up and realizing the propensity my mother had for nurturing our needs while catering to our culinary biases taught me about Christ-like love. She exuded the kind of love that makes you feel like your preferences are important enough to attend to. That kind of love expressed regularly and sincerely like she did, made me feel like I had infinite worth. That kind of love sticks to the soul like no other. I’m not advocating for all parents to cater to their childrens every request, lest our children become overly picky eaters, with diminished self reliance. However, from first hand experience I do recommend trying to make your children feel like their wants, needs, and preferences are valued, because it makes a child feel loved- especially when the service is rendered sincerely, and selflessly.

 

Running errands for us children, and getting us to our various activities was time consuming to say the least. So it must have been annoying for her to bring my football uniform to school because I had forgotten it at home. I know that this forgetfulness was exemplified by many of my siblings thereby making use of mom’s same-day-shuttle services on a regular basis. This may not be a big deal, until you know that (at least to my knowledge) she never complained, even when it happened way too often through the years. In fact, I don’t even remember her scolding us for our forgetfulness, which forced her to waste time, and gas money playing delivery woman. On the contrary, she felt it was her responsibility to help us be more organized, and prepared before we left home. She viewed her role as a mother like that: a teacher and trainer. It was as if she was thinking, “What can I do to help this child?” Rather than, “This child needs to be more organized, and less forgetful.” I was forgetful, and I really appreciated that she never criticized me. Rather, her Christ-like loving attitude reframed my forgetfulness: She often worried that I was too busy, and involved in too many things for a teenager. She defended me by blaming my forgetfulness on my over involvement. To defend someone even when they are weak, or in the wrong shows that you can truly empathize with them; you see things from their perspective. It shows true christ-like love. I left my brand new (literally day old) astro turf shoes in the dressing room while trying on pants. They were gone when I went back to get them. I left my new (a few months old) levi jacket in the middle of the field at a track meet. She patiently drove me back to the track as soon as I realized I’d forgotten it, but it was gone.

 

Always on the run, attending to the needs of one and then another, she was a selfless servant of our needs. From four or five o’clock in the morning until ten or eleven o’clock at night she was occupied with cooking, cleaning, washing, and other household duties. We could have helped a lot more than we did, but she often said she enjoyed taking care of us. As I got older I realized how tired she always was, and how many burdens she had on her shoulders. As I watched her stay up until after midnight helping my older brother with homework, keeping the laundry going, then get up at 4:30 am to make breakfast before early morning seminary, or freshman basketball practice, and make sure the laundry was dry before we were off to school, I made myself a promise. Sometime in my early teen years I decided that I would do everything I could do by myself. That may sound extreme, but I honestly had a deep seated feeling that she was running herself ragged. She was wearing thin, and exhausting herself with all the burdens she bore. I made sure I always had my homework done, so I would not need her help. I kept my own room clean. I did some of my own laundry. I say some, because she would often collect it from my room. I even started cutting my own hair, because of course we never went to the barber, mom cut our hair. When Delton was a senior we had Matt Sanders, and Brett Dillie. The two little girls’ hair could grow without needing a regular trim, but that left nine boys, including dad, who needed regular haircuts. 

 

During football season she washed all of our football game uniforms at least weekly, and often had to wash practice uniforms and underclothing after every use. So when I say that she kept the laundry running day and night, I’m not exaggerating. I could hear it as I fell asleep, or when I woke up in the night. I remember her getting up during the night to switch the clothes from the washer to the dryer, so they would be dry for school the next day. 

 

There were too many burdens for one person to bear, too many needs for one mother to meet. I remember a point at which I realized that she had no personal time, no “me time”. She had no hobbies, no outlets, and no relaxation or relief from her burdens. (Of course she had hobbies, but during this period of her life, she never had time to indulge in such things.) So I promised myself I would not add to her burdens in any way. Over the years she began to notice that I did not need her help, and there were a few times when she expressed the desire to help me. We had a memorable discussion about this, and I came away feeling that she honestly was a bit hurt that I did not want her help. It brought her happiness to selflessly fulfill our needs, and I did not understand that at the time. She voluntarily made herself a selfless servant of the needs of those around her; healing, teaching, and comforting others were her daily routine during her lifetime. 

 

Talented Teacher

 

My first piano teacher, my first voice teacher was my mother. I just learned the basics from her, but it was enough to set me on a path of musical aspirations, and self reliance. Fifty cents an hour was our encouragement to practice. But, my inspiration to learn to sing came from two things. The first was how I felt when she sang me to sleep as a young child. It was the most peaceful soothing thing as a child. As I mentioned, “When Joseph went to Bethlehem” was one of my favorite songs. I loved to imagine Joseph and Mary making their journey to Bethlehem as described in the song. It had a powerful effect on my testimony of Jesus Christ. I distinctly remember feeling inspired and touched by the message of the song. As there was no room in the Inn, there is often no room in a busy parents life for singing children to sleep, but mom always took the time to tend to our needs. How one mother can do so many of these impactful things for so many different children could be called a miracle of inspired motherhood. 

 

My only lessons in cooking, and my only lessons in sewing came from my mother. I am not a chef of any accomplishment, but I learned many life skills from her in order to be self reliant. One day she told us she was going to teach us how to crochet. We each got to choose a color of yarn we wanted to work with. I chose pink, and although my older brothers laughed, and said that pink was a girl color, she defended me. She kindly informed them that it was ok for a boy to like pink. I was so excited to learn to crochet, and she was coming home with a ball of pink yarn just for me! I remember watching for the car to drive up the driveway, then running down the lawn toward the pine trees to meet her as she drove up the hill toward the house. I don’t remember all the things we made, but beyond basic crocheting skills, I learned how to sew buttons back onto clothes, and I even learned how to use the sewing machine. 

 

One year for Christmas I made a pillow for Kirsten. It was about eighteen inches long, and twelve inches wide, more like a couch pillow, than a bed pillow. It was stuffed with batting cotton, and made with a soft cotton fabric which had a print of a raccoon on it. It was Kirsten’s favorite pillow for quite some time, and she carried it around to play with during the day, as well as refusing to sleep with any other pillow at night. I remember my older sister Lara helping me finish this project because mom was busy with so many Christmas preparations. 

 

Church activities consumed much of our time. I remember giving talks in primary before I could read. She helped me plan out my talk with pictures. We practiced until I could say a sentence or two about each picture. She would stand beside me and hold up the pictures for the rest of the children to see as I gave my talk. On a few occasions we used several pictures that illustrated a concept like the plan of salvation, which we put all on one page. She then laminated the page, so I could hold it up myself and give one explanation after another following the diagrams and pictures on the page as I explained the plan of salvation. 

 

My last day in primary, I sang a solo. We spent significant time practicing and preparing the song which was called “A Young Boy Prayed.” I had it learned perfectly, and the performance went flawlessly. The primary children and teachers were all very complimentary, and so was mom. That experience gave me confidence to perform, and built my self esteem. 

 

In my early teen years she taught me two songs that I still sing today. “O Holy Night” and “Oh Divine Redeemer” have both been songs I’ve loved performing on many occasions throughout the years. What a blessing it was that mom was a talented enough teacher to accompany me on those songs, and teach me how to sing them. 

 

Hinge Points toward Salvation

 

I believe that the way we live and interact with those around us has a significant effect on the salvation of their souls, as well as our own souls. There are turning points in everyone’s life, experiences that affect us so significantly that they could be viewed as hinge points in our progression toward salvation. My mother was the type of person who created those hinge points which set people on a trajectory toward salvation. Pointing people toward the Savior Jesus Christ in word and deed, she created hinge points toward salvation for us children, for several foster children, and others in the community.

 

One of those hinge points in my life was at my mission farewell. She spoke about a time when my younger brother Dan and I had helped a girl from school. I had forgotten about that experience, which occurred more than a year before. Furthermore, it didn’t seem that significant to me at the time. However, when I heard it from the perspective of my mother, it changed me. In the way she spoke, I could hear and feel how pleased she was, and how important it was to her as a mother that her boys had the kindness to do what we had done. Dan was a junior in High School, and the starting quarterback. I was a senior, the team captain, and the star running back. Some might say we were the popular kids. I would not personally emphasize our popularity, but others saw it as unusual that the football stars were willing to go out of their way to help someone in need. The girl was overweight, and although I knew most everyone’s name in our High School of 600 kids, I did not know her name. Dan was driving, and I was in the passenger’s seat. As we turned onto hill road headed toward the High School, I could see that this girl had just wrecked on her bicycle. I told Dan to pull over. I got out, helped her brush the gravel off her bare knees, which were scraped and bloody, and then helped her sit in the passenger’s seat of the truck. I hopped into the back of the truck with her bicycle, since there wasn’t really room for three in the cab of the little red pickup. Once we arrived at school, I parked her bike in the bike rack and walked her to the nurse’s office. After telling the office staff that she had wrecked on her bicycle and that she needed some help cleaning and bandaging her scrapes, I forgot about the whole experience. I did not feel like a Good Samaritan at the time, nor did I feel like I had done anything significant. It wasn’t until I heard my mother tearfully recount the experience, as if I had been a “Good Samaritan”, that I realized how significant it was to her to see her son do as the Savior would have done. It was then that I realized that she – my mother, and my teacher – deserved as much credit for raising good kids, as I did for doing the good deed. The retelling of the experience from her perspective opened my mind to the depth of her love for me. The satisfaction she felt for our willingness to help someone in need was evident as she retold the story. I had lived up to her expectations, and that made me feel worthy of God’s love and respect as well as her admiration. That kind of spiritual validation from my mother did something inside me that I can’t fully explain. It was a hinge point which pointed me toward the Savior. 

 

Great and talented teachers are inspired. They have an ability to say the right thing at the right time, to teach the most important lessons of life amidst the most important moments of our life. She told that story about the girl on the bicycle at my mission farewell. But for me the most impactful thing she said during that sacrament meeting was. “I never had to do anything to raise Devin.” That was a hinge point toward salvation. My clandestined introspective promise to “never do anything to add to her burdens” had materialized at the perfect moment into the greatest maternal accolade I had ever received at that point in my life. She did not hand out compliments like hors d’oeuvres at a party. She was honest, straight forward, even critical at times, and did not throw praise around lightly. The greatest compliment, and the most impactful thing she ever said was on her deathbed. It was personal enough that I won’t recount it, but I will just mention that when she complimented someone, she was sincere. My mission farewell was the right place, right time, and it was the perfect thing to say at the perfect moment! It was a truly inspired compliment, because of course she never knew I had made myself the promise to “never do anything to add to her burdens”. I’ll never forget the feelings of spiritual validation I felt that day, thanks to the inspired teaching of my mother.

 

Inspired Warnings

 

My mother had a knack for giving inspired warnings. There was a swing which hung from the beam in the downstairs family room. We often swang too high on it, so that our feet would touch the ceiling on both sides as we swang. One day she warned us not to swing so high, and shortly after one of the kids fell off and got a bit banged up. The swing came out of the J-Hook lag bolt because we had swung too high. The family room floor had thin carpet without carpet pad underneath, so it was almost like landing on cement. If we had listened we would have been free from harm. These kinds of inspired warnings preceded many of our childhood traumas.

 

Changing hand sprinkler lines for Rod Panike was a common summer job for several of us boys. The Honda NightHawk 650 Motorcycle was my mode of transportation the summer before my senior year of High School. The 5:00 am late August morning air was quite cold. Although I had been riding without a helmet all summer, one evening near the end of the summer, mother said, “You know Devin, you really should wear a helmet when you ride to work.” We never, ever wore helmets when riding dirt bikes! If she had asked me to wear a helmet to ride up and down the dirt hills at Uncle Wendell’s house, I doubt I would have listened. However, it made sense that riding to work on pavement was different from riding the dirt hills. So, as I walked out the sliding door of the family room early in the morning, the words of caution that my mother had given me the evening before, sprung into my mind like a prophetic warning. 

 

It was an unusually cool morning. “The helmet would keep the wind off my ears…It’d keep me warm,” I thought, as I paused in the doorway feeling the cold breeze on my face. I turned around, went back to the coat closet, and put on a heavy winter coat, gloves, and (thanks to my mother) I grabbed my Dad’s old orange helmet. 

 

I had hardly noticed the two feet wide strip of pavement which had been dug up to lay a pipe under the road the day before when I passed over it. However this particular morning, after a bit of settling, and a light rain during the night, the gravel-dirt they had filled the trench with had settled enough that the road was now quite uneven. Just past Norm & Joan Wood’s house, I rode over the now sunken, and uneven trench across the road. With a light grip on the handle bars, the uneven trench was just enough to wobble the front tire. Riding at somewhere between 60 and 70 mph, the front tire flipped to one side, and the Honda NightHawk Motorcycle laid down flat on it’s side, while I soared into the air, head first toward the pavement. Instinctively, I curled into a ball, doing a front flip as I was thrown from the motorcycle seat. I landed on the right side of my head, cracking the faceplate of the helmet, and on my right shoulder bruising the top of my shoulder bone. Landing on the cold hard pavement just as I curled into a ball, I rolled along the pavement- as if parkour summer-salts were second nature, of course they were not. I don’t know how many times I rolled, but after several turns I found myself on my feet, running, then jogging, and gradually slowing down to a stop. In disbelief I stood in the middle of the road – on my feet – processing the fact that I had just Superman dove off a motorcycle going roughly 65 mph, and I was alive! 

 

They say, “There’s a first time for everything.” It was the first time I’d wrecked on pavement; First time I’d done a front flip going roughly 65 mph; (I had done many front and back flips on the ground, and off diving boards, but never going 65 mph, and never starting from a motorcycle); First time I’d landed on my head in a motorcycle accident, and miraculously for the first time in my life, I had been wearing a helmet! I think there may have been an occasion or two as a child that I had worn a helmet, but as a grown boy, I did not own a helmet, and I had never worn one before this tragic, yet miraculous day when I needed it most. It saved my life! My mother had saved my life with her inspired warning to wear it! Obedience to her suggestion had saved my life. 

 

And, let me be clear…nothing but the miraculous power of heaven could have planned and orchestrated the acrobatic front flip onto my father’s durable helmet, absorbing the most dangerous portion of the blow, and then the following summer-salts dissipating the potential road rash that could have skinned me alive. Then in some strange feet of cat-like reflexes transitioning from a human bowling ball rolling down the road onto my feet at the exact right speed to be able to run the last few yards as I gradually slowed to a stop. Nothing but heaven could have caused all those devilish details of speed, inertia, force, impact, and rotation to come together in such perfect harmony in order to preserve me from serious injury. 

 

I wonder how many people have wrecked on pavement, no broken bones, no other serious injuries, ended up on their feet, and walked away without any visible injuries. I wouldn’t be surprised if I were the only one. 

 

The motorcycle had slid 20 or 30 yards further ahead off the road and into the fence. 

I left the motorcycle in the barrow pit and walked back to the Wood’s house. Joan answered the door, and did not notice that anything was wrong, because as I said, I had no visible injuries. I casually asked her if I could use her phone. She led me into their kitchen, and handed me the phone. When mom answered, I asked if she could come and get me at the Wood’s house. 

 

“Why?” She asked. Not wanting to cause Joan Wood to faint, who was within ear shot, but who had stepped away to give me a bit of privacy, I replied to mom’s question, “I’ll tell you when you get here.” And then with a seriousness in my voice I knew my mother recognized, I emphasized, “Can you please just come and get me as soon as you can.” 

 

I could tell I was not seriously injured, so I didn’t want Joan to call an ambulance. I felt it was best to just have mom come and pick me up. But, I was sore, my right shoe was ripped open, and my toes were bleeding. I could feel the scrapes and bruises on my knees and back. Most of all, I was scared, and a bit faint. I had just escaped death, due to the inspired warning of my mother to wear a helmet, but emotionally I was frazzled. After picking me up, I recounted to her what had happened, and to my surprise she was calm and told me I was lucky. She took me home, and dressed my wounds. 

 

Below is the poetic rendition of the motorcycle incident which I prepared for her funeral:

 

En Route to the Farm

By Devin G Walker

 

En route to the farm one autumn morning

My life was saved by my mother’s warning

Riding helmet-less each previous warm day

One crisp fall morning my mother did say

“You know Devin, you really should wear a helmet when you ride to work.”

As I stepped outside cold breeze chilled my face 

Her words recalled to mind like heav’nly grace

I’d heard her warnings before and took note

So I grabbed a helmet, my gloves and coat

Not far from the house my tire hit a bump

I flew off the bike onto my head with a thump

I rolled, and rolled with a clunk and a clang

Then slowed to a jog while to my feet I sprang

Standing there stunned, motorbike in the weed

I had flown through the air at freeway speed

But now stood on my feet alive and well

Oh what a story to mother I’d tell

Her warning had saved me from certain harm

My first day with helmet en route to the farm

 

©01/08/2021 Devin G Walker in loving memory of my mother Marianne Kofoed Walker

 

One day we were looking at pictures, and several of us children were laughing and talking about the family pictures. Mom made a point with significant emotion to tell us to never make fun of the way someone smiled. She said that while they were growing up one of her siblings had made fun of the way her brother Kay smiled in one of their family pictures. He was a young boy at the time of the picture, and he had a big gummy, and toothy smile in the family picture. I don’t know exactly what was said, but I remember how deeply my mother felt about kindness among siblings in family life. The comment hurt Kay’s feelings, and she said that he never wanted to smile again in a family picture. “I love my brother Kay, and it really hurt his feelings. I don’t want that to happen with any of our kids,” she said. This was an occasion where it was not so much what was said, (the above quote may not be exact, but it’s close) but it was how she said it that affected me. It might sound like she was scolding us, and in a small way she was. She was constantly correcting us as most mothers do. However, in this instance the love I sensed in her, for her brother Kay, and the empathy she felt for his embarrassment was so powerful that it sunk into me and tattooed onto my soul the importance of sibling kindness. It was a typical childish comment turned into a profound teaching moment by a wise mother. Again, it was not so much what was said that impacted me, as it was the depth of her love for her brother Kay: pure, and profound like the Savior’s love for us. 

 

Near the end of high school there was an event planned which I did not want to attend. I had never been rebellious. I don’t think I ever refused to attend a church activity before, but I did not want to attend this camping event. I was busy in school, and other things were more important at the time. The event was planned as a multi-stake young men camping activity called “The Big Event.” The first thing that turned me off was the name, which seemed absurd. I was done with scouting, and I was not interested in camping. I told her I wasn’t going, and she kindly talked it over with me the night before. I don’t remember all that was said, but I do remember her saying that she “felt” -referring to personal inspiration- that it was important for me to attend. So, I went. It turned out to be the most memorable, most fun activity I ever attended as a youth. There were many different stations/activities which were mostly oriented towards physical skills. There were obstacle courses, rope climbing, hiking, and good food. The Caber Toss, or the “log throw” was a traditional Scottish athletic event in which a log, called a “caber” is thrown end over end. It was a test of strength to see how far the log could be thrown. The log was roughly 8 to 10 inches in diameter, and roughly 8 feet long, weighing nearly 100 pounds. It was heavy enough that some kids didn’t even try, and most could just barely hoist it up with help, and give it a shove over the starting line just to have it lay flat a few feet ahead. With the log leaning onto the shoulder and chest extending over the shoulder behind and above the head, with both hands at one end of the log situated between the knees, the athlete squated at the starting line with the log extending several feet above the head. With about 3 feet from hands to shoulders, the majority of the log was leaning up over the shoulder making it top heavy. The technique was to gradually lean the log forward, then thrust up with legs and arms at the same time as the log passed the vertical point and began to fall forward in front of the athlete. Ideally the athlete would throw the log upward and forward at the same moment that the log reached a 45 degree angle in front of the athlete. If thrown at this precise moment the log would optimally spin in the air so that when it hit the ground it would fall forward yielding a longer throw. It was heavy enough that you really couldn’t do much with the log other than get it situated between your knees, and stand up with as much force as you could so as to throw it forward at the 45 degree angle as described. I did it a few times and got the hang of it enough to win, having thrown it maybe 20 or 30 feet. 

 

The athleticism of all the events was what I enjoyed. A few high school friends and I hiked to the top of one of the nearby mountains, and sang “Angel Eyes” at the top of our lungs because we felt we were so high up, and so far away that no one would hear us. When I came home, I thanked my mother for encouraging me to go, and told her that it was surprisingly fun, and I was glad she had insisted that I go. 

 

If I were to highlight a dominant characteristic which I felt impacted my life the most, It would be that Marianne Kofoed Walker was inspired. She was inspired in her teaching, inspired to give life saving warnings, and inspired as she cared for others’ needs in crucial moments to create hinge points toward salvation. 

 

Below is a poem to illustrate this concept written for her funeral:

 

Mother’s Inspiration

By Devin G Walker

 

My mother’s inspiration saved my soul

On more than one occasion kept me whole

She knew just how to teach my youthful mind

And helped me strive to leave the worst behind

 

You might say intuition played a roll

But I know inspiration had control

She often warned of dangers just ahead

And lives were saved by heeding what she said

 

Through her I’ve felt God’s perfect love and peace

The lessons learned from her will never cease

Now angels sing while she makes her ascent

Mother’s inspiration was heaven sent

 

©Copyright 01/07/2021 Devin G Walker in loving memory of my mother Marianne Kofoed Walker

 

In the last few days of her life I had the opportunity to serve her by attending to her needs. I had many moments of inspiration on how to help her be comfortable. Her feet hurt the pressure of the couch, and her tail bone was sore from the lack of movement. Typical Marianne, she did not want to inconvenience anyone, so it was hard to draw out from her how I could help her be comfortable. I had to convince her that I was strong enough to lift her, and hold her while she got up from the couch to use the bathroom. She was so modest, and never viewed herself as the miraculously inspired mother that she was. She undervalued the selfless service she rendered to those around her. She was not self aware of the christ-like love she exuded on many occasions. “I wish you weren’t so far away,” she said, during one of our final conversations. 

Devin: You’ve been an amazing mother.

Marianne: Oh I don’t know.

Devin: You did great! You did so many things other mother’s could not have done.

Marianne: I tried. I loved you so much! (It was how she said it that made such an impact! The sincerity accompanied by a heavenly power was unforgettable.)

 

Then she complimented me for being a good husband, and what she said, and how she said it was revelatory! It was the greatest spiritual validation of my life! So as she had done throughout her life, she ended her life saving souls by giving inspired counsel and compliments that will last an eternity, with a sincerity and love that makes eternal families the ideal to which we all look forward.

 

6/6/2021

My all time favorite Primary song is and will always be “When he Comes Again”.  I have sang this song to my children for many years!  Many of them love it and want me to sing it to them still!  The song was published in 1968 and would have been a relatively new song when I was a little boy!  The reason I love this song is the wonderful memories I have of Mom singing it to me many times.  I loved to lay in bed and listen to her wonderful voice singing that beautiful song about my Savior Jesus Christ!  Often times my children will ask me to sing them a song and some of them have their favorite songs and love to hear them.  But they still want this wonderful song sung to them!

Another great memory I have of mom is when I was little I learned a joke about Davey Crocket.  I don’t remember all of the joke but the punch line went something like this.  There was some money left on the table and the little boy came into the house and went to get the money and a ghost said I’m the ghost of Mable table and the money stays on the table. The little boy says well I’m Davey Crocket and the money stays in my pocket!   I remember her having me tell it to several of her sisters and others when I was growing up!

Mom figured out early in life that one thing that would build loving relationships and bonding was food!  I can remember all my life having great dinners around the table as a family!  We would eat as many meals together as we could!  We spent many hours at the table talking about school, work and gospel topics of every kind.  All of it done either at dinner or after dinner.  Sometimes it was hot pudding before bed or frozen fruit milkshakes or home made ice cream.  What every it was it was a treat to sit and talk about what ever topic we discussed.  I attribute much of my Gospel Learning and understanding to these wonderful discussions.  I also feel it laid the way for the wonderful relationship I have with my parents.  I can remember so many nights getting home late from a football game or some other activity and mom would make us diner (sometimes a second dinner) sometimes it was left overs, or waffles or French toast or egg on toast.  She loved to help us and take care of us.  Showing Christlike love and kindness to the ones closest to her!

Another memory I have is the many times mom would come to our house and spend time helping Lisa and I after we had a baby!  She was always willing to come when ever worked for us and she would stay with us and help cook meals and take care of older children and hold the new baby to give Lisa a break and let her rest!  I think she came with ever child we had and spent time helping, holding, and cuddling our children!  She always wanted to help when ever or wherever she could.  Most of our children were born after she was diagnosed with her cancer and she probably did not feel that good through most of it.