Two years ago, I sat in the funeral for my Aunt Lila Marchant Christiansen, my father’s sister. Her family paid tribute to her strength and testimony. She was widowed at an early age, not long after her youngest daughter Brenda, who is my age, was born. Aunt Lila raised her large family on her own. I knew much about her life, but found myself admiring her more for overcoming so many difficulties in her life. What a positive example and good mother, and then grandmother, she had been to her large posterity. How her family had been blessed by her life.
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| Janice Seely, Julie, Louise, Lynette, Blake, Becky Marchant. Ione Marchant August 1979, the day of Louise's Mission Farewell. |
I soon realized that I had a woman in my life with similar circumstances, my own mother. She, too, had been widowed early in life. Ione Stembridge Marchant was 44 when my father died. I’ve come to realize how young that is. Of her six children, two were still at home, while the oldest four were away at college. She faced the challenges of raising her family alone with courage and resolve. She carried on with the farm with the help of my brother Blake who was still in high school. She still had to deal with teenagers as well as some serious medical emergencies and challenges. As we became adults, she gave advice and encouragement about life decisions--careers, missions, relationships, marriages, babies and families. When I talked to Mom about some of the major turning points in my life, she wouldn’t tell me what to do. She would listen, make a comment or two, then leave the choice to me. She assured me I’d make the right decision. Just talking it out with her was comforting.
Mom was our family’s most important nurturer. She was a good cook and made sure we ate well. How blessed we were to live on a farm. Roast Beef almost every Sunday for dinner, accompanied by baked, mashed or scalloped potatoes. Fresh vegetables from the garden in summer and fall, then frozen or preserved vegetables and fruit through the winter. We had treats of homemade candy, popcorn balls, cookies. And homemade bread. Mom made bread every week. We had a large oven, and it was filled with bread pans on baking day.
Mom did more than feed us physically; she provided a nurturing spiritual environment. She didn’t preach to us. Her example spoke louder than words. She served in quiet, thoughtful ways. Mom often visited our neighbor, Tilde Anderson, who was a widow. It wasn’t an assignment or duty, just something Mom chose to do frequently. Many times, on baking day, Mom would send some of us kids to take a loaf of fresh bread to Darrell Milliner. Darrell and my father drove to work every day at Park City High School, where they taught high school. Darrel lived alone in Peoa. His wife had died and his children were no longer at home. I wasn’t always happy to be the one assigned to deliver bread to him, but it felt good to give something so good to someone who appreciated it so much. It was later that I realized she was giving us the opportunity to serve. As a mother now, it’s something I try to do with my children.
I love you Mom. Happy Mothers Day! I’m forever grateful for your life and example.
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| Ione Marchant Reese, June 2010 |
