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| Mom's engagement photo - 1968 |
When I see the word “sketch,” I think of a drawing. When I see the word “life,” I think of a body. My dad wrote a beautiful obituary of his wife and I will refer you to that for a more chronological timeline of her life achievements. For this service, I want to draw you a portrait of my mother with words.
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| Mom at about 3 years old riding her tricycle in front of their home in Hall, Montana |
I’ll begin with her head and her beautiful mind. Mom was an intelligent, educated woman. She grew up on an isolated ranch in a small town in a sparsely populated state. I mention those details because without the influence and encouragement of her own educated parents and an innate desire to learn, she could have easily claimed school learning didn’t matter much. Living on a ranch required a lot of daily chores and hours in the fields but mom had her priorities straight, and often snuck away to hide in a closet or tree so that she could read instead. She was motivated to do well in school and graduated valedictorian of her high school class. Her love of the English language and literature led to a career in teaching others to love the English language and literature. She loved grammar and was the family go-to authority when it came to the confusing use of lay, lie, lain, lying, laying and laid. Mom was the kind of teacher who would sign up to drive a car full of college students to New York City for a Model UN convention as well as the kind of teacher who could take a practical joke. Once, she got locked inside a classroom by some of her students. We think they must have barricaded the door to keep her in but rather than waiting for help or crying about her situation, mom climbed out the window, dropped to the ground, reentered the school and walked into the next class she had to teach. Her students were stunned. They asked, “Miss Parker, did you climb out the window?” and she responded with a smirk, “Is that something you think I would do?” Although she valued the classroom and its importance, when giving a college final interfered with meeting her brother at Lake Tahoe to go water skiing, she did what any responsible professor would do: she found a TA to stand in her place and went!
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| High School graduation photo |
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| At Lake Tahoe |
We are all gifted with senses. On paper, we see eyes, ears, noses, tongues and skin but Mom used her senses as tools to create and enjoy beauty. We grew up in a home where classical music was played, piano lessons were required, community concerts were attended, dinners were eaten together and presented on a table with a tablecloth and food in bowls - never pans. Flower beds adorned her yard and in the spring and summer, vases were filled with the bounty of her gardening skills. She was never snobby about her tastes but using dishes she had collected from her travels abroad and the silver from her wedding gave her a lot of joy. She knew and loved opera. It excited her and I remember her being given an assignment to teach an opera appreciation class to her Relief Society and her concern once she realized most opera stories are pretty R-rated. I believe she taught it anyway and focused on the beautiful music and majestic sets. She crafted beauty. We girls were constantly outfitted in dresses she sewed and all of us children and grandchildren have benefited from her talent at knitting and quilting. This week, I saw an old class report my sister did on Ireland and rather than just leaving it in a plain binder, my mom bound it with green cloth and cross-stitched the title “Ireland” on the cover. She loved her jewelry, especially her necklaces and dangle earrings and always made an effort to look nice. I think she loved beautiful things because she was so beautiful.
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| Sewing on scout patches for me |
Mom was thrifty. She knew the value of a dollar and of hard work. Every summer, she used her hands to pick fruits and vegetables, cut them up and can them for use in the winter. At dinner time, one of us was usually sent downstairs to what we call the “fruit room” but is actually the laundry room that also has a wall of shelves for food storage to get a bottle of peaches or pears. A half-dozen loaves of bread were made each week and I remember looking at my friends’ store bought, Wonder bread sandwiches with envy because mine were made with thick, hand sliced, homemade bread. Poor me. Two Christmases ago, because of a fabric sale and a 40% off coupon, Mom decided to make all 15 of her grandchildren and some of her children and in-laws a pair of BYU pajama pants as a gift. Never mind the time and hassle of getting measurements, sewing with elastic, and shipping it all because none of us live close. It was cheaper than buying everyone a pair. Likewise, literally dozens of Easter, choir, prom and bridesmaid dresses have been made because there was a sale on velvet, satin, taffeta or chiffon. Poor Jon sort of got left out of the fun of homemade clothes, being the only boy, but when he needed his own space and privacy from his five sisters and the budget didn’t allow for a bigger house or an addition, Mom converted most of the fruit room into a bedroom for him. He still had to share it with a washer and dyer but she brought in carpet, wallpaper and even some wood paneling to make his new space more inviting and comfortable. There wasn’t much that could put Mom in a better mood than getting something for 70% off. Going to Dillards, Macy’s or JC Penneys and finding that kind of deal often warranted a phone call to share the good news or maybe even a fashion show if we happened to be visiting. She would even find these kind of deals for my dad, who never immediately appreciated her finds. Sometimes it took a few years, but eventually he usually came around and when he finally wore that discounted belt, shirt, pair of pants or shoes, she would call with that good news too.
Mom’s arms were open, welcoming and ready to give. If she had something she could give, donate or share that might benefit another, she handed it over freely. This generosity often appeared in the form of patience, wisdom and emotional support but when it manifested in material form, it didn’t conflict with her thriftiness. She loved giving someone something she found for 70% off too! Our childhood toy box was filled with her fancy, formal dresses that she donated for our play. My favorite was a pale pink tulle dress embellished with crystals and rhinestones but I loved her scarlet red organza dress too. I thought it was a little bit scandalous when I learned the long, yellow silk dress we loved to dress up in was actually her wedding nightgown. Entertaining five daughters and our friends was more important to her than preserving her personal gowns for sentimental reasons. Similarly, she donated her wedding dress to Deseret Industries, a thrift store. I know she donated her peace and quiet and, possibly, her sanity during our teenage years. We were incredibly noisy playing our music, jumping on the trampoline or playing basketball late at night, eating whatever we could find and rarely cleaning up after ourselves. A lot of our friends have let us know this past week in their condolences how unbelievably kind and tolerant she was and how she never complained or sent anyone home. She gave us a safe, comfortable, happy place to be. Her generosity extended to the early hours as well. Many of our church friends pit stopped at our house after early morning seminary and breakfast was at the table for those who were hungry. Several of her bookclub friends have sent letters and they’ve mentioned how much they enjoyed her sharing what she knew about literature during their evenings together, elevating a girls night out into a meaningful discussion about a common interest. She did this with us kids as well. This past year, my teenage son accidentally drove our 4-wheeler into a tree. When I called her to lament about his irresponsibility, the expense and other woebegone, she told me a story about when she was a teenager and wrecked her dad’s truck when he was out of town. She worried all week about how mad he was going to be and what her punishment would be but when he came home, all he said to her was, “I heard you had a spot of trouble while I was gone.” My kids ruin a lot of stuff so she may have hared this story with me more than once.
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| With her 15 grandchildren, whom she adored. |
Mom wasn’t an athlete and not even very coordinated (the only C she ever got was in Tumbling), but her legs and feet took her on many adventures. She has traveled the world. During her single years, she toured all over Europe, Canada and the United States, including Alaska. After we left home and she could freely travel again, she lived abroad in China and Myanmar with Dad, and visited Thailand, Mexico, Israel, Egypt, Jordan, England, Wales, Scotland and Ireland and had plans to go to Italy, Greece, Turkey and France this May. I annoyed her last year when I posted a picture on Instagram and captioned it, “How cool is my 80 year-old mother as she tries snorkeling for the first time?” She huffed, “Why don’t you mention your 39 years too while you’re at it?” I mentioned her age in the picture because it was the best part of the story. All of her adventures kept her young. She loved being asked if she qualified for a senior discount and shocking them with her actual age. I know she shocked and delighted her Relief Society sisters when she went tubing with them at Canyon Ferry a few years ago. She certainly earned some cool grandma points when she rode the Colossus roller-coaster at Lagoon during our last family reunion.
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| Walking along the Great Wall of China |
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| Snorkeling in the Caribbean |
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| Before an elephant ride in Myanmar |
Her strong shoulders lifted and held up her family. Mom had three siblings who died before she was born but the four she grew up with were her best friends. Because she was 34 before she had kids of her own, she was the “cool aunt” for many years. Between her siblings and my dad’s, she has 42 nieces and nephews and I’m sure she could have told me where each one lives and what they are doing right up until her death. Growing up, it felt like most of our family trips were centered around their missionary farewells and homecomings or one of them getting married. When it came to her children and grandchildren, she came to support us in our activities as often as she could. She was so proud of our achievements and was looking forward to seeing her two oldest grandsons graduate from high school this spring. When her own mother had a debilitating stroke at 87 and required live-in care, Mom moved her in with us for the last six years of her life. Having Grandma in our home had a powerful impact on our family. I think most of us attribute her influence on why we are such a close family. I didn’t think much about it when I was young but now, with my adult perspective, I think, “Wow…how?” We didn’t have the obvious room but Mom made room. Mom dressed her, brought all her meals except dinner on a tray to her room, bathed her and really only took a break from caring for her when my dad would come home for lunch and spend an hour with Grandma watching Guiding Light. One of the most influential memories I have happened during the last winter of my grandma’s life. We attended church at the other LDS building in Helena up on 6th Avenue and its design is different from this building. There is a longer sidewalk to the front foyer doors that took my 93 year-old grandmother a good 5 minutes to amble along with her walker on a good day. Back then, Mom drove a brown, diesel powered Chevrolet Caprice Classic and I vividly recall the absolute mortification I felt when mom decided the sidewalk was too icy for Grandma, jumped the curb and drove our loud, large car all the way up the sidewalk to the front doors. Something that an ignorant and egocentric 8th grade girl did not appreciate then is now viewed with the most tender of hearts. She loved her mom. She served her mom. She was taking her to church, where Grandma could partake of the sacrament, in the safest, most comfortable way for her frail body.
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| Mom, around age 10, with her parents and siblings. Back row from left to right: Marie, AnnaLou, Ruth. Front row: Fred, Edna (mother), Fred (father), Karen (her) |
Where do our testimonies reside? Do we know it in bones? Feel it in our gut? The Book of Mormon prophet, Mosiah, teaches us that we must “open our ears that we may hear, our hearts, that we may understand and our minds that the mysteries of God may be unfolded to our view.” Mom did this and her strong testimony pervaded her entire body. She grew up learning the gospel was true through good parents, teachers and study and certainly lived it and obeyed the commandments but it was while driving home from a single-adult conference when she lived in California that she felt the spirit of God manifest His truth and comfort her in a way she would never deny. She was having a moment of self doubt…wondering if perhaps she should have cared more or tried harder to find a spouse during her younger years. She felt like maybe the Lord had forgotten about her and her desires to be a mother and wife while she was busy earning her degrees, working and seeing the world and she asked in prayer, “Are you aware of me?” With tears in her eyes, she testified to me that God answered her question with the warmest, most loving feeling she had felt in her life with the response, “I know who you are and I know your heart.”
Because of her firm testimony that Heavenly Father would answer her prayers, it was an easy decision to become engaged to my dad after only a week of dating. They had known each other their entire lives and she trusted in her covenant to love and become one in purpose with him.
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| At her wedding reception in Logan, Utah. From left to right: Fred, Grandma Parker, Ruth, Marie, Mom, Dad, Cal Wardell, Grandma Hatch, Grandpa Hatch |
Because of her firm testimony about the Plan of Salvation and the importance of families, she was able to cope with such a drastic change in her day-to-day responsibilities when, less than a year after marriage, she had her first baby and then four more after that within six years. Her last and sixth baby came just after their tenth anniversary at the age of 43. I have asked her, more than once, if she ever had any regrets or wondered what kind of life she might have had had she not given up her career. She was a successful, educated, professional woman with the freedom and means to come and go as she pleased and then she was up to her elbows in cloth diapers and crying kids. It is probably a blessing that she doesn’t actually remember these years but she always replied, “Never! I have been grateful for every one of you. I thought for a long time I wouldn’t get the chance to be a mother.” It does something for a child to know that their mother happily and repeatedly chooses them- their messes and their drama, their expense and inconvenience.
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| Christmas 1978. These clothes were handmade. |
Because of her firm testimony that the scriptures are the word of God, she was a great teacher. She loved teaching and her favorite callings were teaching Gospel Doctrine or Relief Society. It was a treat to come home and be in her classroom. One time, uncomfortable comments were made in response to a question she asked. This person went on and on in a negative way about the faults and shortcomings of members of the church and my mother stopped the ramble, lovingly, but firmly and said, “Not if they are living the gospel. And that is what we are here to learn.” Like so many things my mom did, it has stuck with me throughout the years. She always helped me navigate my own doubts and concerns. She was an intellectual who lived with faith. And when I came to her with my own rambles and complaints about this policy or that, she testified in that powerful way of hers that the gospel is true.
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| I love this picture of her |
Because of her firm testimony in the life and mission of Jesus Christ, she fed His sheep. She made so many blankets and leper bandages for humanitarian aid. She spent hundreds of hours indexing names from census records for family history and loved serving in the temple. As sad as it makes me and as unfair as I originally thought it was, I think the fact that her fall came when performing an act of service for a friend that she loved and who needed help is a fitting end for her life’s story. She was always a high achiever and it has to give her some bonus points or extra credit when it comes to judgment time. She’ll probably be the spiritual valedictorian up there too.
Mom slipped on the ice on a Thursday morning. The following Tuesday, just five days later, Mom and Dad were planning to leave for a trip to attend the Open House for the new Provo City Temple and to stay with me in Durango for a week before heading to Arizona. When she fell and we all came to realize how serious her injury was, the six of us came to her bedside in Great Falls as soon as we could. That is what you do when your mother is as noble as ours is. Those days together in the hospital, when Mom could wake up and converse with us, make us laugh with her sassy answers and complain about the overcooked food were a miracle and a gift. Before the stroke that took her movement, speech and possibly understanding, she was alert enough and herself enough to know that we were there with Dad. She was able to FaceTime with her grandchildren and in-laws to tell them she loved them. She read your words of love and encouragement on Facebook. I want you to know that she knew she was loved.
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| In the hospital with mom. Emily took the picture |
I hope you have seen my mother’s beauty, power and grace with my sketch. In conclusion, I have one final story that I hope will add some shading and texture to her picture. To preface, it is embarrassing to admit after extolling her many skills and abilities that many of her homemaking skills were not passed on to her daughters and son. We cannot sew or knit or quilt. She always told us that instead of teaching us how to do it, she taught us how to learn and we could learn how to do it should we choose. But, she didn’t make us suffer in our ignorance. When she came to our homes, she would offer to bring along her sewing machine and do our mending and such. Perhaps because I am the most inept of my siblings, I always took her up on her offer so when I got to the hospital on Friday night and came to her side, I kissed her cheek, told her I loved her and then jokingly asked, “Mom, are you trying to get out of the pile of clothes I have for you to hem and fix?” She wasn’t very alert and her eyes were closed but she whispered back to me, “You can do it.” That was her final lesson to me: I can do what is required….what is necessary…even if it is hard and beyond my current skill level or understanding. I think of those words now when I think of having to endure the rest of my life without her constant support and influence.
The Book of Mormon prophet, Nephi, wrote, “Wherefore, ye must press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope, and a love of God and of all men. Wherefore if ye shall press forward, feasting upon the word of christ, and endure to the end, behold, thus saith the Father: Ye shall have eternal life.” Karen Frances Parker Hatch followed this exhortation. I have no doubt as we struggle to adapt to life without our wife, mother, grandmother, aunt, cousin, teacher and friend, as we struggle to press forward and endure to the end, she would lovingly tell each of us, “You can do it.” It is my testimony that, through the atonement of Jesus Christ, we can, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
