Testing, testing...

I still have a few more back posts to do to get all caught up. This blog is not my journal, but it has become something of a family scrap book. The longer I keep it up, the more valuable the stories and pictures become for our family, and especially our kids. I started it as a way to share pictures of the kids with our parents and grandparents, but I am also realizing that Ellen, Jack, Rose, and Elijah already love looking back at pictures and reading what they were like when they were "little." I believe they will treasure the stories and memories from their childhood even more as they grow.

To that end, I have also been more mindful of recording my own memories and stories, not just of my life as a mom of four children and a wife, but also of my parents, grandparents, and grandparents, and another people I love who have helped me become the person I am. I want my children and their children to know who they are and where they come from. I have volumes and volumes of personals journals that may never see the light of day. That's okay.

I'm a paper and pencil kind of gal, and the rapid changes in this digital age feel a little disorienting sometimes. For example, I have no idea what I touched on this touch-screen iPad to make this picture show up just now, but that is my mom and dad on their wedding day. Just looking at that picture makes me want to be better, do better, live better, and love better. Our family has a couple of huge events coming soon, both joyful and scary. I look forward to recording and sharing some of my thoughts and feelings then.

Piano teacher

I have always wanted my children to love music and learn to play an instrument. Piano makes the most sense, since I can teach them myself. In the past couple of years we have begun our journey of piano lessons. My mom taught beginning piano lessons for many years. When I was going through her music to find lesson books for Ellen and Jack, I found a notebook she kept with recital programs and a picture of her students and herself at the recital. What most amazed me was that every single youth in my ward who has some musical knowledge appears at some point in a picture at a piano recital with my mother. They were eight-, nine-, and ten-year-olds in the pictures, and they are now college students or finishing up high school.

Mom taught piano right up until she was too sick to do it anymore. Almost as soon as we moved here, friends were asking me if I was planning to teach piano. When I didn't have a piano of my own, I went to my students' houses. My kids played in the back yard with siblings while I taught. Two of those families have since moved away, and we miss them! Now that I have my own piano, teaching Ellen and Jack (and soon, Rose and Elijah) is my number one priority, but I have several other students as well.

I held a recital at the end of May, a first-time experience for all but one of my students. It was short and sweet, and I am really proud of how much these kids have worked and learned. I took a picture and kept a recital program to slide into the next empty page protector in my mom's notebook.

I love everything about this picture. The extreme concentration, the long, skinny fingers, the fact that Jack is walking music. If you sing it to him, he'll remember it... I just had a little epiphany. I may be singing a lot more as the summer goes on. Jack despises practicing and is a little resentful of the fact that I am requiring him to develop his musical talent. But he has lots of good role models and understands that there are things we excel at because we like to do them, and there are things we excel at because we work hard at them. He is a natural, and I am stubborn, so we will keep at it. Even Jack gets excited about being able to actually play a song after he has put in the hard work practicing.

61

When I was eleven, my mom was the Young Women's president of our ward. For one Wednesday night activity she taught the twelve to seventeen-year-old girls to make bread. She took dough ready to bake, dough ready to knead, and ingredients so they could actually make the dough. When she got home she commented that the girls really got into the kneading part, and they kneaded the bread so much that my mom thought it might have been too much. When the bread rose again and was baked, it turned out to be the "lightest, fluffiest, most delicious bread" in my mom's words.

                            

When I was in elementary school, I would get out my homemade lunch in the cafeteria and look around at the other kids' lunches and just ache for a white, store-bought, Wonder bread sandwich instead of my homemade wheat bread sandwich. When there were so many of us kids that my mom couldn't keep up with the baking, she switched to buying discounted Mrs. Baird's bread at their outlet (day old) store in town.

My mom kept baking bread, though. The first kind of bread she taught me to make was her "Easy French Bread" recipe. Few ingredients, minimal kneading. It was perfect for Saturday morning chore day because you had to set a timer and stir the dough every ten minutes for fifty minutes. We would race to see what we could accomplish in ten minutes. I took the French bread recipe with me to college and amazed roommates, ward members, and other friends.

Once I turned 18, I was my mom's go-to partner for many, many visits in connection with her leadership responsibilities in Relief Society, visiting teaching, and serving others. Most often she had a loaf of bread to take along with the spiritual message. Who wouldn't welcome a warm loaf of bread? Meals to new moms and the sick or elderly included a loaf of bread.

A few years ago I started making most of my family's bread and began a quest for homemade whole wheat bread to rival the soft white bread I had so pined for as a child. Assisted by a stand mixer, I regularly mixed up loaves of bread for us and to share. I was so used to making bread that when the mixer wouldn't knead the bread anymore and just died one day, I figured I might as well finally learn to make bread completely by hand. It turns out that it's not that hard, but it does take some effort, and it's very therapeutic.

As I knead, I think about my mom raving over those teen girls' kneading skills and wonder to myself if you can really over knead bread. Every. single. time. (I have since googled it and resolved the question in my mind.) I feel a sweet connection to my mom and an entire family heritage when I make bread. I get sentimental that way, and it's one of the reasons I continue to do it.

On my mom's birthday the year after she died, my husband recognized that I was having a hard time and asked if I would like to go to the cemetery and visit her grave. The thought hadn't even occurred to me before then, but in that moment I realized that I did want to, and that I wanted to plant some flowers there since the cemetery encourages it. The following year we did the same thing. This year I was thinking about it several weeks before the date, and I felt impressed to do something different to celebrate her 61st birthday.

We live in the same ward as my parents, in the same neighborhood as my parents, my kids go to the same school my siblings went to and where my mom sometimes worked as a substitute teacher. We know lots of people who knew and loved my mom, so I decided that over the course of the two weeks until my mom's birthday, I could bake 61 loaves of bread and give them away. I didn't tell many people what I was doing, but a few asked and were touched to find out. It was a lot of baking. Most of them were mini loaves. I tried to make a special effort to give bread to people who knew my mom, but I didn't limit it completely.

My daughter Ellen was my partner in crime and extremely excited about the whole idea. She asked me daily what the bread count was, and how many more loaves we needed to reach 61 by grandma's birthday. In the end it was a beautiful and emotional couple of weeks. I cannot begin to describe how it felt to deliver gifts to unsuspecting friends and family. I absolutely felt like the messenger, the deliverer. I had to consciously stop myself from saying "this is from my mom" as I handed over a loaf of bread, but that is what it felt like every time. It's the kind of gift I think my mom would have loved since she was a giver her entire life.

Happy birthday, Mom.

Magic things happen in choir rooms.

So recently my dad mentioned to me that a young man in our ward had written a choral composition and was going to be performing it with the high school choir he was a member of, and did I want to go hear it, too, and by the way, the song is about my mom. Um, yes, yes I do want to be a part of that.

The young man has been my family's home teacher for the past two years or so. He is graduating and this performance was taking place during the last period of his last day as a high school student. He's going on a mission to Brazil in September. My younger brother used to babysit him, and my mom was his piano teacher when he was 8 or 9.

I met my dad at the high school, walked down to the choir room, where the choir director met us and chatted with us for a few minutes. Class started, and Mr. Rice gave a little introduction to the choir. "This is Mr. Jackson. He and his wife have eleven children; they all graduated from Midway High School, and they all sang in the choir. This is his daughter, the second of eleven. We are really privileged as a choir to be performing a song written by a member of our own choir, and Addison came to me and initiated this project. Mrs. Jackson was Addison's piano teacher, and she passed away almost two years ago. He wrote this song for her."

So then I was already emotional, and was immediately reminded of how I felt watching my mom at my youngest brother's last choir concert. Addison's song is beautiful and a sweet, sweet reminder of how we can connect and touch and serve and bless others just by sharing our gifts. In addition to teaching all eleven of her own children to love music, my mom had a hand in the musical education of just about every child Addison's age in our ward as a piano teacher, Primary music leader, and faithful member of the choir. When she knew families couldn't afford it, she offered free lessons or lessons in exchange for something other than money.

Addison is on the left end of the top row in the video.

The Gift She Gave Me
Dedicated to Ellen Jackson

by Addison Wilson


When I was only a child
I found a glorious thing
a gift I was giv'n
it was the gift she gave to me

You took me by the hand and
you showed me your true love
you taught me to sing and
gave me a gift sent from above

I remember how my heart clinched with pain
As I watched her slowly die
Oh what an awful day

I promised on that day
my songs shall be in her name
maybe deceased, but
her song still lives within me

She lives on through my song that is ringing
she can never die while my voice is singing
Though she is gone her mem'ry lives on

She lives within my heart that is beating strong
she lives on
she lives through my song which is ringing
she can never die while my voice is singing

she took my hand
she taught me to love
she lives through me
she gave me music

She cannot ever die while my voice is ringing
while my song rings through the sky
she cannot die

For all my mothers

Mother's Day hasn't been able to sneak up on me like it usually does. We've been practicing songs for Mother's Day for the past three weeks with the children in Primary and at home, I was involved in a mother/daughter activity for eight- to eleven-year-old girls last night, and story time at the library today was a Mother's Day tea party. So here's a little pre-Mother's Day video that I love. It made me smile, cry, miss my mom, feel inadequate, want to be better, remind me that I'm not alone, and of many, many things that I love about being a mom. I am so grateful for the many women who have mothered me and continue to do so. Life doesn't come with a manual. It comes with a mother.

Happy Birthday to my Mom

Yesterday was my mom's birthday. Last year on her birthday I had a horribly emotional day, and my sweet, perceptive husband asked me if I'd like to go by the cemetery. The thought hadn't even crossed my mind, but as soon as he mentioned it, I knew that's what I wanted to do. After dinner we took the kids, picked up a flowering plant at the store, and I planted it next to the headstone.

About a week ago we went by the cemetery again because I was thinking ahead this year. I wanted to see how the sage was doing, and I wanted to see if there was space for a rosebush.


I like taking my children to the cemetery. They arranged themselves and asked me to take a picture. This cemetery is especially lovely and green with lots of trees, and they encourage planting things because they don't allow silk flowers. Ellen and I had an interesting discussion about family history after this visit, and since the kids have no doubt that we'll all see Grandma again some day, it's hard to get weepy with them there. I also have no doubt about seeing my mom again and being with her, but I just miss her so much.

Yesterday we went back and planted the rose bush about where Ellen is in the first picture. One of the things my mom said before she died was that she thought she could do more good for her family on the other side, and that she would still be a part of our lives. I have really, really felt that this week, and I'm so grateful for it.

Music and Mom

Today and everyday I'm grateful for my mom. I'm so glad she left volumes and volumes of written ideas, thoughts, and feelings. I find journals, notebooks, planners, and random notes when I'm least expecting it. Recently I found something else completely unexpected.

A few years ago one of my brothers recorded Mom playing the piano and made a CD. I was looking for some Christmas CDs I have and found my mom's piano CD, which I don't think I've ever listened to. I turned it on and it was like she was in the other room playing the piano again. She recorded all her favorite songs to play, songs I've heard my entire life. She also included an arrangement of "Love One Another" that I did for my grandmother's 80th birthday, and it took me a minute to realize why it sounded so familiar to me. One track features my brother Matthew singing with my mom accompanying. I am so, so, so glad she took the time to make the recordings.

I had the CD playing while I was getting breakfast ready and making lunches for Jack and Ellen before school. Ellen came out and said, "I know these songs! Grandma played them on her piano." So sweet.

That's my mom in the picture with Ellen on the day she was born and the day Mom found out her name was Ellen, too.

Happy Mothers Day

Today in Sacrament meeting a sister who could have been my own mom said, "Just when you think you're a complete failure as a mother, your children call to ask for advice about their own children, and you realize that maybe you were all right after all."

I cried. Because I grew up with her kids and the one who slept through seminary is now in our bishopric. Because I went to girls camp and sang musical numbers in church with her daughters. Because her husband was my seminary teacher, then my bishop, and usually our home teacher. Because I watched her and her husband visit my mom and dad more and more frequently as my mom got sicker and sicker. Because I am her visiting teacher and going to her house feels like going to the home I grew up in. Because I am light years away from my kids having kids. (That one kind of scares me.) Because my kids are small enough to be so forgiving and so loving, but I know that I can be better, so I have a hard time forgiving myself for being less than loving to them. Because yesterday morning I woke up and went out to the kitchen to find my six-, five-, and three-year-olds mopping and drying the floor. By hand. Because I was recently called to the Primary Presidency. Again. And it's hard to smile and sing about trying to be like Jesus when my daughter was kicked out of nursery for biting another child. Because my dad sent me a Happy Mothers Day email this morning telling me "there is no greater challenge than being a mother. And there is no other way to receive such great blessings."

I really, really love what my friend Jen wrote about our relationship as mothers with God and with our children. It is so comforting to know that God loves me horrid.

Planted

Before Mom came home from the hospital after her last surgery, the Relief Society sisters came over and planted flowers everywhere. They brought pots and lined the driveway and the back patio with an explosion of color. When Mom and Dad drove in, Mom sat in the car and just cried because it looked so beautiful. On days that she felt strong enough, she would walk out or have someone help her out to the side of the house where we put some patio chairs in the shade so she could sit and look at the flowers.

Jack asked me if I wanted to visit the cemetery on my Mom's birthday, and I actually hadn't even thought about it. We grew up far from extended family, and all of my grandparents and even some of my grandparents were living when I was in high school. I went once to see my grandfather's grave in Idaho while we were there on vacation, but that was about it. My grandmother talked about going every Memorial Day to "decorate graves." She took flowers to her parents' graves, cleared away weeds, and remembered.

Jack and I took the kids, found a lovely little sage that will have brilliant pink flowers, and planted it to remember my Mom on her birthday. The cemetery is filled with huge trees and is well-kept and watered, and they provide water hoses and encourage family to plant things that will last longer and stay more beautiful than plastic bouquets. It felt good to remember that it's just Mom's body resting there. There are green, growing, living things all around it. Jesus lives. She will live again, too.

Happy Birthday

Today my mom would have been 59 years old. Last month I was asked to present something about my mom for a Relief Society dinner, preferably something she had written. I chose an email I found in my collection of recipes that she had written while I was in college, and then I took a look at some of her journals. I found this:

              "1 January 1979 [I was two years old.] Larry spoke in church this past Sunday and gave a list – priority list that will truly be beneficial to me this coming year. Number one was a closer relationship to the Savior – personal – and way basic. I need just that.
              "I feel I’ve not progressed slowly for my 25+ years but time is not going to wait. I’ve known the deep abiding comfort of the Holy Ghost and the whispering in times of need. I’ve had help in raising my children, in my church callings and coping with a busy husband’s schedule. But I’m having problems with consistency. Prayer and scripture reading every morning and planning my weeks to use time wisely. I’ve had some good practice here and I’ve got a good system when I use it. It keeps my mind free of details so I can think of other things. Time marches on and my life gets more complicated with each day it seems.
                "I hope I can remember where real joy is – in giving of myself. I need to do more of that, but I’m finding myself very selfish of my time.
                "I hope to do better in the coming year.”

At 26 my mom could say that she knew, that she needed to do more, and that she wanted to be better. For the next 33 years she worked on knowing more deeply, doing more, and being better. I feel blessed to have been a witness of the multitude of lives she touched with her knowing and doing and being. Especially mine.

Legacy

Dad, 10 children, 8 spouses, 18 grandchildren

Not pictured: Mark, serving a mission in Chile, Rancagua

8 July 2011

A whole lot of living going on and going forward.

I was writing in my journal this morning...

. . . that just a week ago my mom was still with us, and it's so hard to believe that it has only been one week since she passed away. It seems like a lifetime ago. The past week was very long and at the same time just flew by.

This afternoon a beautiful flower arrangement was delivered to my door from some wonderful friends that I haven't seen in almost a year. I think of them often, and it is so nice to know that they are thinking of me.

Our ward photographer took these pictures of "the Jackson family" back in April for our ward directory, and his wife emailed them to me while my mom was in the hospital. They were buried in my inbox until I opened them today, and I wished I had looked sooner.

Earlier this year my mom was unhappy about having to do chemo again, and she was unhappy about her hair thinning more with each treatment, so she went to the cancer center and picked out a wig. I love how it makes her look years and years younger, and how happy she looks in these pictures.

She's still reminding me that I have so much to be happy about.

Wife, Mother, Grandmother, Daughter, Sister, Friend

Ellen Jackson
April 26, 1953 -- July 5, 2011

__

Ellen Phillips Jackson, 58, and mother of 11 children, passed away Tuesday, July 5, 2011 at home in Woodway. Services will be held at 10 a.m. Friday, July 8, at The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 7201 Viking Drive, in Waco. Burial will follow at Oakwood Cemetery. Visitation will be from 6 to 8 p.m. on Thursday, July 7, at OakCrest Funeral Home, 4520 Bosque Blvd.

Ellen served in many church capacities in music, teaching, and at various times and on many occasions as a leader of children, youth, and adults. In recent years she substitute taught at Midway ISD, particularly enjoying working with the special education students.

Ellen is survived by her husband of 37 years Lawrence, 60, of Woodway; her mother, LaRue Phillips Pack of Idaho; brothers and a sister Brent, Ray, Paul, Wayne, Vaughn and Nancy; her 11 children, Heather (Allen) Shutt of Greenville, Lorraine (Jack) Starks of Waco, David (Chelsea) of Dallas, Sarah (Matt) Svedin of Idaho Falls, Idaho, Eric (Callie) of Dallas, William (Rebecca) of Austin, Rebecca (Travis) Woodsworth of McGregor, Mary (Luke) Mott of Waco, Daniel of Provo, Utah, Mark who is serving a two-year church mission in Rancagua, Chile, and Matthew of Woodway; and 18 grandchildren.

In lieu of flowers, contributions to the LDS Philanthropies Humanitarian Aid Fund are welcomed.
( http://www.ldsphilanthropies.org/humanitarian-services/ )

A Guest Book is available at www.oakcrestwaco.com

Love you forever.

There must be great rejoicing in heaven tonight, and many happy reunions.

Sisters

Recently I have been able to spend more time than usual with my sisters, sisters-in-law, and their kids. It makes me wish we all lived closer together, and so, so glad that we have been able to be together now.

Thanks to Sarah for this.

Thanks to Mary for this.

Thanks to Heather for this.

Families can be together forever.

Happy birthday to me!

We had a sweet Family Home Evening lesson tonight about the plan of salvation, how much Heavenly Father loves us, how Jesus made it possible for us all to be resurrected, and how we can be with our families and loved ones forever.

On Friday I got to celebrate my birthday spending the afternoon with my mom. Early this morning my dad took her back to the hospital because she hasn't been able to keep any food down for several days, and the pain she is feeling has been getting worse and worse.

After church I stopped by the hospital to see her and hear the news. It's not good. And that's okay. Every time I consider a serious or sad post, I have to ask myself the question at the top of this blog. Can life get better than this? This gives me time to reflect and look for some perspective when I really, really want to ask, "Can life get crappier than this?"

I showed my kids a picture of Heavenly Father and Jesus presenting the plan of redemption to all of us spirit children, and told my family how much they love us, that they know what's best for us, and that they want us to be happier than we can imagine. I asked them where their Grandma will go when her body dies and her spirit leaves, and they immediately answered that she would go live with Heavenly Father and Jesus. I imagine that she will also have a beautiful reunion with her father, David Phillips (Elijah's namesake), as well as other loved ones.

My mom has spent the last few months telling everyone who will listen to her from the nurses at the hospital to her friends and children that our Savior loves us more than we can understand, and that if we will just come to him and give him our burdens and sorrows and ask him to help us, he can and will help us. It's all she talks about, and she's sure that's why she's still with us.

We will miss her and feel sad, (and I will cry a lot more in the days and weeks to come), but just thinking about my mom going home, and knowing that because of the Savior's sacrifice, we can all go home, helps me to remember how very much God loves and how well he knows us. Really, can life get better than this? I submit that it cannot. Not as long as we can come to Jesus and live.

And the lifetime achievement award goes to . . .

Tonight I went to my baby brother's spring choir concert. He's a graduating high school senior, so this was my last chance to attend a sibling's concert. I dragged my husband and four children, ages 5, 4, 2, and 7 months tomorrow, along with me. I did not have to ask myself if it would be worth it because I knew it would be.

The music, the black formal dresses and tuxedos, the slideshow of seniors and choir events throughout the year, the seniors singing "Roots and Wings," the senior girls holding hands and everyone hugging everyone else, just sitting in the auditorium took me back, and the nostalgia was definitely flowing.

The most impressive event of the evening was the fact that my mom, less than a week after coming home from her two-week hospital stay and surgery, got herself up and dressed and went with my dad to see her youngest son's last choir concert of his high school career. In a few months he'll be off to college.

As the choir booster organization was recognizing the choir directors and the directors were recognizing the accompanist and the graduating seniors, I couldn't stop thinking about what a friend mentioned just before the concert started. "Your mom just told me that she and your dad have been coming to Midway choir concerts for over 21 years."

I began hoping that somewhere in all those thank yous and recognitions they would recognize my parents, who were attending choir concerts long before the choir directors and pianist began working there, before the booster club existed, and before the auditorium was even built. I was hoping someone would make a special announcement or bring out a special plaque or a bouquet of flowers for the parents graduating their eleventh Midway senior and choir member, but no one did. They probably don't even know.

It doesn't really matter, since my mom would have done (and in reality did) whatever she had to do to be there just because it was Matthew's concert. I'm pretty sure my mom and dad got into parenting for the rewards, not the awards. I can't remember my mother ever missing a concert. It did take just about everything she had, and she ended up skipping out on ice cream and post-concert analysis around the kitchen table, but thanks to my amazing, wonderful husband, for the first time in over 21 years, my mom now has a video recording of Matthew singing with his choirs, and she can enjoy it whenever she wants. I hope she also enjoys Rose saying over and over, "Me seepy; me seepy. Me lay down." during his appropriately titled song, "Sleep."

I love you, Mom. Congratulations, Matthew. Happy spring, happy singing, happy graduation.

life and stuff

Elijah is doing great, but my mom could use your prayers. She came home yesterday after spending nearly two weeks in the hospital. You can read about it here and here.

My mom

For a girl who has been half way across the country to college, half way across the world on a mission, and now married for over five years with a husband and three children of my own, you'd think I'd be done being homesick. Thank goodness for email, blogs, and cell phones. I have visited with my parents regularly, especially my mom, on the phone and in person since I "left home" more years ago than I can believe.

Since my mom was diagnosed with cancer last summer, I've talked to her several times a week. I can and do talk to my mom about everything. I especially love how mom always shares her testimony with me through her experiences with prayer, scripture study, being a mom, working, serving in her ward, and helping others.

This Christmas we went to my parent's house. Some of my siblings were there also. We visited, played games, quilted, watched movies, baked, ate, shopped, wrapped gifts, talked, took care of children, and did all the things I remember doing and loving as we were growing up. As I have thought about Christmas and what it means to me, I have also wanted to help my children learn about loving and serving others during the Christmas season. I'd like that to be part of our gift-giving to each other and to the Savior.

My sister-in-law suggested visiting a retirement home and playing games or visiting with the residents after having a very positive experience with her family last year. When I talked to my mom about going Christmas morning before opening any presents to sing at a local facility (i.e. doing something completely different than we have ever done before) she immediately said, "Oh, that's a wonderful idea. Dad and I and the boys will come with you."

I made arrangements to carol in the halls of a place just down the street from my parents' house. My newly married sister and her husband decided to join us. Christmas morning the twelve of us walked up and down the halls singing everything from Frosty and Rudolph to Silent Night. We spent less than an hour doing something that I will remember forever and plan to continue doing every year as long as I can.

That activity alone made this the best Christmas I have ever had. I had forgotten how much I love singing with my family and serving with my family, and being able to do both of those things at the same time was the best Christmas gift I have ever received. Thank you for singing with me, and thank you, Mom, for the gift of immediate support. That is what I love best about my mom.

Live strong

Last April, as Henry B. Eyring delivered these words about adversity, I couldn't stop thinking about them.

Particularly when the comfortable times have gone on for a while, the arrival of suffering or the loss of material security can bring fear and sometimes even anger.

The anger comes at least in part from a feeling that what is happening is unfair. The good health and the serene sense of being secure can become to seem deserved and natural.

It was the part about deserving good health or security that really struck me because I realized at that moment that what President Eyring was saying was that we don't deserve good health any more than sick people deserve to be sick. It's just part of life.

While my children have been playing with cousins, aunts, and uncles, they've also been missing Grandma and praying special prayers for her to be able to come home soon.

Last night I had the opportunity to accompany the sister missionaries serving in my parents' ward to a couple of appointments. And because I was tired of people asking me what they can do for my family, and because it's the kind of thing my mom would do if she could, and because it's been nearly ten (!) years since I've been teaching with sisters, and because I needed to do something for someone else, I decided to go with them. It was amazing. How has your relationship with Jesus Christ helped you, Sister Starks? How did you come to know that Joseph Smith is a prophet, Sister Starks? These are questions I needed to think about and answer out loud to remind me that Heavenly Father does have a plan for us, knows us, and loves us individually.

At our second visit, the man (who had no idea who I was) began telling the sisters about the yellow Live Strong bracelet he had gotten for himself and his wife to wear "because we found out that Sister Jackson has cancer." I said, "That's my mom." Then he said, "We're thinking about her and praying for her. I don't think she'd want everyone coming up to her and asking what they can do and saying they're sorry. She'd want us all to keep on going and doing our best to live the gospel, and to be strong for her."

My mom has been living strong for a long time, and she hasn't been doing it alone.