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My childhood home was a happy one with five children, Beverley, Aubrey Ronald, Jay, Dennis, myself and parents Myra and Reuben Thelin. We lived on a farm in Orton, Alberta, Canada in the middle of the southern Alberta prairie. Everyone worked very hard. Life on the homestead was not easy. There was always hard work to be done in a farm atmosphere. Chickens, pigs, sheep and turkeys needed to be fed. Cows were to be milked morning and night.
Crops needed to be planted, harvested and then planted and harvested year after year. Too many a spring saw the wheat or barley crop flattened to the ground by an insidious hailstorm buffeting the fields. We had no running water until I was three years old and washed laundry with an old wringer washer .

We heated our small three room farmhouse with a large pot-belly coal stove in the living room/master bedroom. The wood-burning stove in the kitchen was always lit, making home-made bread, cooking large amounts of food for the threshers during harvest time. The stove heated water on Saturday night for the metal bathtub. The youngest of five bathed first. Mother and father bathed last. I always wondered how my father ever got clean!!!

One of my fond memories was during a late spring snow storm a baby lamb was born. My father tenderly carried the lamb into the house. He filled a glass pop bottle with warm milk, attached a big nipple and I was given the opportunity of feeding the baby lamb. Then as the fire in the stove died down the lamb had a warm place in a basket on the open door of the stove.

A small bedroom added on after the house was built was where I slept. In the winter the wind blew the snow under the window sill into the room during furious blizzards. Because of the cold I slept under many heavy quilts and my head underneath to keep warm.

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Next to the farmhouse was a two-seater outhouse,(probably the only excuse our parents could use to be alone). Toilet paper was the Sears catalog. I have a vivid memory of our small black dog accidentally falling through one of the outhouse holes. That dog smelled terrible for weeks!!!

At age four, when my parents were gone, I climbed our windmill without permission (what a little rebel). My older sister, Beverley was baby-sitting. When I climbed to the top I suddenly was overwhelmed by how high I was and lost my balance. I fell onto a pipe sticking out of the ground. Six stitches were eventually administered to the under-side of my little chin. I have often thought how close that pipe came to my vocal chords. At an early age God was aware of me and blessed me to only have minor injuries.

I’m told that my mother, Myra Elizabeth Helton, sang to her children in our home. Sacrament meetings and other venues were also graced with her beautiful voice. From a young age I loved to sing also. When I was in fifth grade I competed in a school vocal contest. My school teacher was a beautiful teacher Mrs. Asachuck (she needed to be good-looking with a name like that!). She gently encouraged me to enter the contest and sing “The Child and the Snowdrop.” I was very nervous. The words were:

“Pretty white flowr’t where did you hide
When the winter storms raged far and wide.”

At an early age I became acquainted with death, and the pain and anguish associated with it. When I was six years old my mother passed away of an embolism in the lungs.

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She had entered the hospital with a blood clot in her leg. Overnight the clot moved and entered her lungs, killing her. This was in the days when there were not blood thinners available. My father was forced to return home to inform us she had passed away. At the funeral I remember sitting in the front row with my family. I was puzzled why everyone else was crying so I cried too. My father took a picture of Dennis, Jay and I at the cemetery. They had sad looks on their faces and mine was wreathed with a broad smile. That fall I was sent to reside with my Aunt Arrilla and Uncle Ron Wright in Charlo, Montana. They took great care of me and loved me and I loved and adored them. I attended first grade there.

I missed my family so much. Aunt Rilla wrote to my father. She mentioned there was a lady divorcee living in her rental house next door. She felt Mary Jessen Smith would make a great wife for Bob, my father. My father came to take me back to the farm and at the same time asked Mary if she would consider coming to the farm for the summer as a housekeeper. She said yes. At the end of the summer my father proposed and they were married in September 1959.

Two years after my mother passed away my father re-married Mary Jessen Smith. I sang at the lovely wedding in Ronan, Montana. I sang the song

“True Love” and “Love and Marriage, Go Together like a Horse and Carriage.”

The friends I made in first grade in Montana were the Maughan girls. They were Mary’s grandchildren! What a small world.

Our “Little House on the Prairie Life,” saw blowing and drifting snow. There were no mountains to stop the wind. My father visited southern Alberta later in life and said,

“I don’t know how I lived in such a windy place for fifty years!”

The temperature on the prairie was often minus zero down to fifty below; biting cold for Dad and my older brothers to do chores.

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Our family owned a six-man toboggan and used it for tons of winter fun. I seemed to always be the tag-along with my older brothers up to the foothills by the river. It seemed like a dream as we zoomed down those hills a hundred miles an hour!!!. It was so very cold but we never noticed. We were having too much fun. Jay and Dennis flooded the pasture with water close to the turkey coops. Overnight the water would freeze into a gala hockey rink. We played hockey (they played, I watched). "Bullet" was our German Shepherd dog who loved to play goalie. I was always puzzled how that dog could stop the puck every time with his teeth and not break them.

Old Man River beckoned all of us in the summer. It was fun to splash and swim in the clear water. It sounded like this:

“Let’s see how much we can splash Julie!"

A deep water hole on a bend in the river was our favorite. Jay and Dennis jumped off the steep cliff over and over again. I was too chicken to jump off! I happily watched from the sidelines.

We did not have a television, but we walked a half mile to Lee Orr’s house to assemble ourselves in front of his T.V. When our father married Mary Jessen Smith in September of 1959, she brought with her a TELEVISION! We liked to watch anything that emanated from that blue, glaring screen. We were transfixed.

Because my father still needed to send his youngest two sons on missions we moved to Beaverton, Oregon for a better financial life. We had a farm auction, sold all our farm machinery and rented out the land to the neighbors.

We must have looked like the Beverly Hill Billies as we crossed the line from Canada. Our half-ton GMC truck was loaded to over-flowing with ALL of our possessions. We were required to register as legal aliens and required to keep our green cards with us at all times. It was funny to tell people that I was an ALIEN!

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My sixth grade teacher in Beaverton, Oregon was Mr. Bray. He was very strict and demanded strict adherence to his class rules. Moving from Southern Alberta to Beaverton Oregon was unquestionably a culture clash. I asked Mr. Bray for an elastic and he promptly aimed and threw his chalk eraser at my head. I learned to keep my mouth shut after that. Kids in class made fun of me because of the way I talked.

I wore glasses for a year and expressed an interest in contacts. My parents said I could not get contacts. I told them I would save up all my money to buy them myself anyway! (a little rebellious streak). They weren’t happy. Three hundred dollars later I was wearing contacts and loving them. Doing janitorial work with my Dad had been worth the price!

I tried out for summer stock theater after my freshman year. The play was "Little Abner," and I was just part of the chorus. However, I gained the confidence I needed to tryout for plays my Sophomore year.

At sweet sixteen I started going steady with Mark Houglum, a Lutheran boy in my high school choir. He had a deep baritone voice that impressed me, along with his kind and giving nature. When Mark went away to college at Pacific Lutheran University, I still continued on with my senior year of high school. It became my most memorable year.

I tried out for “The Sound of Music” and was pleasantly surprised to get the lead part Julie Andrews played in the movie. Working with eight children from the community was so very fun and convinced me that I wanted to have a lot of children. Long practices were every night of the week until 10:30 P.M. Tedious hours of practice paid off in the spring when we played to packed houses for four nights in a row. I wore a nuns habit; strange for a Mormon girl!. I wore a wedding dress and walked down the aisle to get married at age sixteen. But most of all I loved the singing and the acting. It was a very thrilling experience, one I will fondly remember!

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As a result of my leading role in The Sound of Music, everyone in school knew who I was. I was nominated to the Spring Prom Court. I chose Hal Reiter to be my escort. It was held at the Masonic Temple in downtown Portland. Our dresses were made of white cotton material with tiny red cherries as accent. I was so grateful that my sister-in –law Betty Thelin sewed the dress. She did a lot of sewing for me since my step-mother did not sew.

My parents were always very supportive of everything I did; my voice lessons, my Young Women’s activities, dating, sports. I did not participate in any organized sports during high school. It is something that I regret.

I attended Seminary for three years until my senior year. I enjoyed Seminary a lot. I loved learning more about the gospel and never went to sleep in class. Two of my three years my teacher was a man. I learned so much from both of them.

Because I was so busy with drama my senior year I felt it would be too taxing to arise so early in the morning. I was right. Some of the play practices were until 10:30 night after night. I do wish now that I had taken all four years of Seminary. However, at Brigham Young University I made sure to take Old Testament, the subject I missed in Seminary.

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I applied to BYU and was excited to be accepted. I majored in Applied Music the first year. I also thought a lot about what I would do with that major when I graduated. I didn’t like the prospect of performing in night clubs where there was smoking and drinking. I did not want to be around those kinds of negative influences. I changed to Elementary Education. I did well and enjoyed my classes tremendously. Looking back, it was the best decision I ever made because it prepared me to become a better mother.

The summer of my freshman year I worked as a waitress at a coffee shop in Beaverton, Oregon. I liked schmoozing with people and listening to their problems. I did not especially like serving coffee. I could not stand the smell of it but always thought of that paycheck. I felt at ease talking and interacting with adults.

The late 1960’s was the era of mini-skirts. I had been forbidden to wear them in high school. My step-mother (bless her heart) used to touch the back of my knee to see if my skirt was long enough. Otherwise I had to wear a different skirt that was longer. I obeyed. When I went to college my skirts became shorter and shorter because nobody was measuring behind my knee. I rebelled a little. I never was into the extreme mini-skirts but my skirts were short. (Two to three inches above the knee)

The second and third summers I worked at a discount super store. The first summer I worked as a checker and the last summer in the paint department. (I felt so qualified. Not!) I had to pretend I knew more than I did about paint. That last summer I met Frank Reuben Marchant at M-Men and Gleaners. He was tall, dark and handsome. Our first date was tennis. Boy did he have a killer serve. Even though he won the match I still accepted a second date and saw him every day through the summer. He asked me to marry him at the Oregon Coast on a singles bus excursion.

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I told him I was waiting for a missionary in Mexico and preferred to wait until that missionary returned in a year.

Frank and I continued to date the rest of August and I left for BYU in September. We spent hours on the phone each night talking. I began to miss Frank so much and wished I had not gone to Utah. I prayed to know if he was the one I was to marry. After a prayerful struggle of my will and God’s will I came to know through the witness of the spirit that I was to marry this man. I called from a pay phone to say,

"Hey dude I want you to marry me.”

Frank traveled to Utah to put his Mom’s antique wedding ring on my hand. At Thanksgiving we became officially engaged, and I received a brilliant, shining diamond studded engagement ring. I was ecstatic. Never before had I worn a ring let alone a DIAMOND!!!! I studied hard to do well in classes until Christmas. Then at Christmas I decided not to go back. I was too much in love to leave him again.

We were married in the Provo, Utah temple March 31st, 1972. I received my endowments in the Salt Lake Temple the day before. It was an overwhelming day with parents, friends, aunts and uncles present. My voice teacher, Helen Weeks, agreed to host an open house for us in Orem, Utah.

We spent our Honeymoon night in a hotel in Provo. The next morning we left for Portland, traveling in his Mom’s Buick LeSabre. I sat on Frank’s lap the whole way. We wouldn’t have had it any other way. We had no official honeymoon. Frank was to report to work Monday at Publisher’s Paper mill.

Our wedding reception was wonderful, like a dream come true. The Relief Society sisters of West Hills ward brought out their silver and decorated the Institute building like a castle. We were thrilled to have so many people come. Most of the people I didn’t know but they knew my parents.

A month later in May of 1972 my brother, Dennis John married Gabriele Schindler in the Los Angeles temple. All of the family traveled to L.A. and stayed with her family.

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January 23rd, 1973, Eric William Marchant was born in Oregon City, Oregon. William was after Frank’s roommate, Bill. My water broke and I hastily made preparations to get to the hospital.

A year later Michelle Pauline was born. The doctor said that he thought the baby would be a boy. We had the name Michael Paul picked out. When our baby was a girl we decided to conveniently name her Michelle Pauline.

With babies a year apart life was extremely busy. All my energies were spent in changing diapers, washing clothes, warming bottles and playing with, cuddling and holding my babies.

My husband worked for ADP in Northeast Portland. We lived in an apartment at the first of our marriage and moved to a three bedroom rental home when I knew I was having my second child.

In order for Frank to play basketball for George Stewart’s ward team we needed to move into his ward. We moved to a townhouse apartment. One day I came into the living room and found Eric, eighteen months old, sitting on Michelle’s head. I learned then that I could not leave them alone for one minute. Aside from the head incident Eric and Michelle were happy playmates. They were good helpers and even conspired to get into mischief together. I have a feeling that Eric, the older of the two, was the primary instigator.

In 1975 we bought our first home in Clackamas, Oregon. It was not new but had a beautiful landscaped yard with a garden area. That year we planted a good sized garden. A memorable moment was a corn feed one hot summer evening.

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Pregnancy the third time was so puzzling. "Placenta Previa" occurs when the placenta forms over the cervix causing hemoraging. Complete bed rest was in order. After it was diagnosed, my brother Ron and his wife Betty invited me and my two little ones to stay with them. I still lost the baby at five and a half months along. I entered the hospital to be induced. The doctor delivered my dead baby boy. The umbilical cord had wrapped around his neck and he had strangled. It was a surreal time for me. I felt as if I was outside of my body looking in. Alexander Christopher Marchant did not weigh enough to warrant a funeral. I thought,

“What do they do with the body?”

Other questions came to mind but I REALLY did not want to know. I wanted to forget.

"The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away."

I asked him why and I was given the answer eventually. I came to know that the body of Alex was not forming properly and the Lord was sparing us from raising a child with disabilities. I was so afraid to have another baby. The doctor reasurred me.

“Mrs. Marchant. You would be more likely to be run over by a mack truck than have another miscarriage.”

I felt so relieved.

The year 1977 brought much joy to our family. Kali Sue was born July 29th 1977. Three weeks after her birth my husband was transferred to Florence, Kentucky. We were worried how Kali Sue would do on the long flight. Much to our surprise she slept the whole time.

We liked Kentucky except for the oppressive humidity and the tornado warnings. Frank traveled the east coast in his work and I was home with the three children. To make some extra money I took in two children to baby-sit. The kids enjoyed playing with them.

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I wanted my children to learn the value of work when they were young. One incident I remember very well. I decided that Eric and Michelle were going to learn to clean the bathtub. I found the Ajax and washcloths, dressed my three and two-year olds in their swimsuits, then put them in the tub to show them how to scrub. They had so much fun, they even asked when they could clean the tub again.

I taught Primary in the ward there and enjoyed the people. One Sunday the stake president called us into his office. We were nervous as to what he wanted. Frank was issued a call as a Seventy in the Melchizedek Priesthood. He was asked to be the Seventies leader in our ward in charge of missionary work.

One day we came home from church and there was a huge, ginormous wolf spider (cousin to the tarantula) on the entry way brick wall outside the front door. Frank is deathly afraid of spiders and I was a little intimidated by it’s nine inch diameter size. Frank called the missionaries. The missionaries arrived, and assessed the situation. One of the elders took off his shoe, whacked the spider on the brick wall and said,

“Anything else you need brother Marchant?”

We laugh about it today, but it was not at all funny at the time.

The winter of 1978 in Kentucky was the worst on record. Eighteen inches of snow fell. The eastern states were immobilized. Frank was stuck in Boston. The governor issued a report telling people to stay home. Not even SUV’s were allowed on the roads. Our home had a long driveway and in the garage was our car. There was twenty-five feet of driveway, and eighteen inches of snow. I was marooned in my own house. Frank’s boss brought me some groceries, but after a week I needed to do something. I called the missionaries and they came to clear the snow. They did not quite finish since they had an appointment. The next day I finished shoveling the driveway.

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Cincinnati stake was having tryouts for the play “Saturday’s Warrior,” and I tried out. They wanted me to take the part of the lead. I told them no because I had three small children. I sang the back ground songs. Practices were forty-five minutes away. I arranged for a babysitter, picked up youth from the ward and attended practices. Frances Olson, Frank’s mother flew to Kentucky to see the performance. It was an exciting time.

During this time Kali Sue who was seven months old sustained a number of bouts with colds and bronchitis. She was eventually hospitalized for nine days with allergic bronchitis. In her room was a tented crib where she slept and ate. It was like being in a giant humidifier. When she came home, the skin underneath her identification bracelet had a very severe case of eczema. The doctor even snapped a picture of her ankle. That picture is probably in a medical journal somewhere!

As a result of Kali’s allergies, Frank asked his boss to arrange a transfer back to Portland. After staying a year and three months in Kentucky we left for a “Wheels for Fun Tour” in our Oldsmobile Cutlass station wagon.

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We traveled across country, stopping at Nauvoo, Illinois. We saw the original temple stones from the Nauvoo temple and the headstones of Joseph Smith and his brother, Hyrum. We visited Carthage Jail where the prophet Joseph Smith was killed by an angry mob. It was a sobering experience to be in the room where he and others were shot. It made everything in the restoration become real. These things really happened. These men truly gave up their lives for the gospel of Jesus Christ. I was overwhelmed with their sacrifice at so great a price. If I could only give half as much to my Heavenly Father in dedication and commitment.

We stopped in Provo, Utah to visit with my brother Jay and his family. Michelle’s namesake, Paul Barton was one of the people with whom we visited.

Back home in Portland we found a three bedroom duplex for rent. The next year David Christopher was born June 29th 1979. He was well loved by his brother and sisters. Kali who was two, loved to have a younger brother with which to play.

Frank made the decision to apply to law school in 1980. We left for a three month vacation to Disneyland in Los Angeles. Then it was on to Provo, Utah to camp in a KOA campground for the month of August. The kids enjoyed swimming in the pool every day and Frank even finagled a color television for the tent. I have not so fond memories of cooking spaghetti on a camp stove. The purpose of staying in Provo was to await word on which law school had accepted Frank. He had applied to Puget Sound in Seattle, Gonzaga in Spokane and BYU. We received an acceptance letter from Gonzaga so we packed up and enjoyed a scenic, leisurely trip to Washington.

Law school was difficult, hard, and challenging. The first year Frank did not work since we had sold our house in Kentucky and had that money to live on. The second and third year he law clerked with a local firm. He was gone from seven in the morning until nine at night. I felt like a single mom most of the time.

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I taught voice and piano lessons, and bartered eggs and milk for lessons. I organized a small singing group which performed at recitals. The average age was elementary school age kids. The fourth year in Spokane I was employed as a Music Specialist in a local preschool. As a result, David was my only child that attended preschool.

I was also second counselor in the Relief Society presidency. It was a busy, yet rewarding calling. I loved the service to my Relief Society sisters.
Meanwhile Eric was involved in Cub Scouts and Weblos. He even won first place in the Pinewood Derby the month his grandma Marchant came to visit.

Michelle organized her own birthday party, making the invitations, planning the food and making some treats. At times she even babysat for a hour so Frank and I could get away. I was so grateful for her maturity at an early age.

I tried out in 1980 for the stake production of “Promised Valley,” and got the lead part. We performed in the Spokane Opera House, and Eric and Chelle were excited to have a part also.

The Thelin family came from Portland to see the production. The Marchant family came also, so it was a reunion of sorts. Our duplex was packed with people. It was stressful but such an enjoyable time.

Frank graduated in 1983 after a long grueling three years. It was an exciting time. But then reality set in. He could not find work. Eventually he went to Portland and worked parking cars. Finally after months of sending out letters and applications a letter came from the State of Washington asking him to interview. He was offered a job as a Enforcement Officer in Everett, Washington. He left in January of 1984. The kids and I stayed to finish out the school year. We missed our husband and father terribly.

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Frank made the trip from Everett every three weeks and it was extremely hard to let him go back. I did not realize I was depressed. When the kids would go to bed I would go too.
We moved in June to live with Frank’s Mom, Frances, and sister, Linda in Milwaukie, Oregon. I was pregnant with our fifth baby and wanted to have Dr. Miracle deliver our baby girl. The home teachers packed up all our belongings into the U-Haul truck and loaded it into a storage unit. There were wonderful people in the ward who came to help clean my house. I will forever be grateful to them and try to pass that kind of service on to others that need it.

The summer of 1984 was hard living with my mother-in-law and my four children. I remember that Eric had a skateboard that he was riding in the house. He was riding pretty fast and hit the kitchen door making a hole in it. Grandma handled it very calmly and he felt bad. I was relieved that he was not hurt and that grandma did not get very upset.

Jennifer Lynne was born August 23rd, 1984 in Portland, Oregon at Portland Adventist Hospital. She was a beautiful, healthy baby girl. We loved her dearly.

Frank found a spacious house to rent in Marysville, Washington and we started our new life there. We arrived at our new house with only our suitcases and the clothes on our backs. All our other belongings, beds, furniture, and clothes were in storage in Spokane. Luckily Frank’s boss, Verna Colson, let us borrow blow up mattresses and sleeping bags. We had fun camping out in our new home for the first week. On the weekend Frank drove a U-Haul truck to load up our furniture, and he arrived on a Sunday afternoon. The word had gone out to the men in the church. They were waiting on our front lawn when we arrived to unload our belongings into our new home. We lived in that house for two years until it was offered for sale.

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To bring in some extra money I started a musical theater dance group called

“Sweet Sensations.”

Michelle, Kali and David were involved in the weekly rehearsals for community performances. Michelle designed a candy jar logo for our red T-shirts (our casual uniform) We had them all screen printed and they looked very professional. The dress costume was a white short–sleeved dress with a red ribbon sash. The boys wore white shirts with red bow ties and red cumber- buns. This group lasted two years until shortly after Brent was born. I became burnt out with coordinating performances, choreography, choosing songs, keeping enrollment up. It became too much with six children to manage.

Brent Allen was born June 17th 1986 at Everett, Washington. I went into labor on the last day of school. Michelle stayed home to watch the younger children. It was a sacrifice for her because she missed awards at school. Brent was a ten pound baby; the biggest baby I had delivered by far. A different doctor delivered him. I felt like he was a horse doctor! He did not turn Brent slowly. He yanked him out! If I had any extra energy at the time I would have punched him. When he pulled Brent out I felt such incredible horrific pain. After that I was cured of having anymore children forever and I decided six was enough!

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“The Bartered Bride,” an opera, had tryouts in 1985. I tried out for a chorus part and Kali was in the children’s group. It was fun to go to practices together.

Jennifer suffered with numerous ear infections the first nine months of her life. I told the doctor "no more antibiotics" and asked if there was another remedy to the problem. We agreed to let the doctor put tubes in her ears and the infections disappeared. When Jenny took baths, I could not immerse her under water to rinse her hair. That was a small price to pay for no further infections!

A couple of summers I worked at the local strawberry cannery on the assembly line. We picked out the strawberries that were bad. Frank worked one year with me. Eric also worked lifting the boxes off the trucks onto the assembly line. Another summer Frank and I delivered telephone books. We loaded our station wagon and set off for an adventure trying to find the unknown addresses. It was fun in a way to work together on different projects. These were all creative ways we found of supplementing our income to support our family of seven.

Frank took a part-time job as a basketball referee for high school boy’s and girl’s basketball. We were disappointed when we found out he received all his pay at the end of the season. We had to front the cost of the gas until he was paid two months later. He did not referee again because of that.

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Jennifer Lynne Marchant was our fifth child, born August 23rd, 1984. We moved to Marysville, Washington when Jennifer was three weeks old. Sooner than we anticipated, she met her Grandma Marchant who passed away in 1985. After being first treated for Strep a week before, Jennifer passed away of cardiac arrest at Children’s Hospital, Seattle, Washington August 6th, 1988.

When Jenny complained of extreme neck pain we took her to the emergency room at General Hospital in Everett, Washington. When they could not determine what was wrong they transferred her to Children’s Hospital in Seattle, Washington the next morning, Thursday, August 4th. Ruth Tomlinson, a nurse in our church drove us down. It was her advice we listened to in taking Jennifer to the emergency the night before.

They diagnosed Jenny with Kawasaki disease, an inflammation of the heart muscle. They began massive doses of gamma globulin. She had seven out of the ten markers. Doctors used up most of her tiny veins to take IV’s. When a doctor approached her room she would say,

“Don’t let the doctor hurt me again.”

That night as I lay in the bed next to her, I broke into tears. Jenny heard me. She said,

“Don’t worry Mummy, everything will be alright.”

Her adult spirit was consoling me and giving ME comfort instead of the other way around. I was in awe of such a tiny girl with such grown up courage.

By Friday she wasn’t improving and she was put on oxygen to help her labored breathing. I noticed six specialists huddled together in the hallway. Instantly I was given the thought,

“THEY don’t even know what’s WRONG with her!”

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That evening they informed us that Jenny was being transferred into Intensive Care. I felt privileged to stay at her side slipping ice chips between her swollen, chapped lips. It was surreal. I felt like I was in a bad horror movie. She was so weak she reminded me of a delicate floppy rag doll. She could not sit up without my assistance. Frank and I were asked to leave so they could do a new IV in her ankle. Thirty minutes later an ashen-faced, breathless doctor burst into the room blurting out that Jenny had gone into cardiac arrest after we left. They were at that moment still trying to revive her.

We both fell to our knees, stunned and dazed for the moment. We desperately prayed and prayed that she would be spared but told Heavenly Father that we would accept His will for our daughter. Twenty minutes later a team of five doctors filed into the room. They were sweaty and red-faced as if they had just run a marathon. A doctor informed us they had not been able to revive Jennifer. She was gone. They quietly filed out. We were alone with our thoughts.

A call to the bishop brought him and his counselors to the hospital soon. Bishop Krogue and his counselors gave us both blessings of strength, comfort and support. I felt so alone, like someone had infiltrated my body, reached into my heart and ripped it out of my body. I couldn’t feel anything. I was numb. Almost simultaneously I felt an overwhelming feeling that I was being wrapped securely in a warm blanket. My heart was ripped to pieces but I could feel God’s love for me so powerfully. It is so difficult to describe in words.

We were given the opportunity to go back to Intensive Care. Her little battered body was so still, so small, so weak, so peaceful, so calm. I held her in my arms for some time marveling at what an incredible child had been in my home for four short years.

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We left the hospital to go home to our other children. Frank and I were both in shock, still not understanding the magnitude of what had just occurred. We carried a balloon she received the day before from her brothers and sisters. It left our hands and launched into the clear night sky. We stood transfixed as it soared.

“Goodbye, Jenny, ‘till we meet again.”

The ride to Marysville was long and quiet as we each shrouded ourselves inside our private grief.

The next morning we quietly and without fanfare, called each child into our bedroom one at a time. It was heart-wrenching all over again to witness THEIR grief and disbelief. Word spread quickly throughout the neighborhood and to church members. We had visits from close friends. They offered assistance and emotional support. The Relief Society president organized meals to be brought in for the next few weeks. It was a relief not to worry about meals.

We focused our efforts on the funeral. It was held seven days after her death to allow family from Oregon to make the trip to Washington. Floyd Finnegan, our Home Teacher and good friend, helped us purchase shoes and other things for Jenny to wear in the casket. Georgia Daniels, our family hair stylist, styled her hair in the funeral home.

“Flying Free” was sung at the funeral.

There is a place I call my own
Where I can stand by the sea
And look beyond the things I’ve known
And think that I might be free.
Like that bird upon the wing
Life has taught me how to sing
I wish that all my life could be like a bird and flying free.

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When the song was being sung I felt a strong breeze swoosh across my face. There were no doors or windows open at the time. I knew Jenny was still there with us for the last time. Janell Watson and her family sang. Dori Lee, Jennifer’s nursery leader, talked about her memories of our daughter. A speaker at the funeral recited a poem. It described a ship setting out to sea. When we can no longer see it, we say,

“There she goes,” yet someone on the other side of the horizon says,

“Here she comes.”

I’m very sure with every fiber of my being that Jenny’s Grandparents were waiting on the other side, exclaiming literally,

“Here she comes.”

An autopsy was done by the hospital to inquire into the cause of her death. When it was completed we were disappointed. All they could discover was she had a virus. They were unable to isolate the type. Her death certificate succcintly stated cause of death as “acute viral sepsis.” We continued on without her. She was gone!

You never get over losing a child; you just learn to live with it.

I have found that to be very true in my life.

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When the song was being sung I felt a strong breeze swoosh across my face. There were no doors or windows open at the time. I knew Jenny was still there with us for the last time. Janell Watson and her family sang. Dori Lee, Jennifer’s nursery leader talked about her memories of our daughter. A speaker at the funeral recited a poem. It described a ship setting out to sea. When we can no longer see it, we say, “There she goes,” yet someone on the other side of the horizon says, “here she comes.”
I’m very sure with every fiber of my being that Jenny’s Grandparents were waiting on the other side, exclaiming literally, “here she comes.”

An autopsy was done by the hospital to inquire into the cause of death for Jennifer. When it was completed we were disappointed at the results. All they could discover was that she had a virus.
There are eighty different kinds of viruses and they were unable to isolate the type. Her death certificate medicinally stated her cause of death was “acute viral sepsis.” We continued on without her. She was gone!

You never get over losing a child; you just learn to live with it.

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Because we were tired of telling Jenny’s story over and over we decided to take a vacation to Disneyland, California. On the way we stopped at the Idaho Falls temple and took pictures. In Provo, Utah we visited with my brother, Jay and his wife Dana and family. We showed the kids Brigham Young University where Frank and I had attended college.

We were all still grieving for the loss of our daughter and sister. We were sometimes irritable and would verbally lash out at each other because of the grief.

We stopped overnight in Las Vegas. I remember it was 106 degrees at nine o’clock at night. We left early the next morning traveling through death valley. We kept a cooler full of ice in the back seat of the car. Every fifteen minutes everyone would drink some of the cold water. Going through Death Valley was like driving through an over-heated furnace. We were relieved when we arrived at our Disneyland destination in Anaheim, California.

We stayed in a Holiday Inn and loved the swimming pool. It was August 31st when we arrived at Disneyland and all the local kids in that area were back in school, so there were no lines for the rides! We rode our favorite rides over and over; the Matterhorn, Splash Mountain, Wildlife Safari, and Pirates of the Caribbean.

School was starting and we all needed to get back into normal life; not that life was normal with Jennifer gone from us. Frank suffered greatly with depression for the following two years. He went to her grave each day still wondering what he could have done to prevent her death. It was a very difficult time for our family. One day I was making chocolate chip cookies, an activity that Jennifer had loved. All of a sudden tears were falling into the cookies. I realized that the grief had finally caught up with me. I wish we had been prepared for this experience in our lives, but whoever is prepared for untimely death.

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If we had to do it over I think we would have sought counseling individually and as a family. Emotional scars stayed and changed the way we all dealt with life.

Our life was was very busy for the next three years. Three teenagers were a challenge. Eric earned his Eagle Scout Award and tested the patience of many a scout leader, some of whom still have much love for our son. Michelle and Kali attended each year of Girl’s Camp and enjoyed the friends in the Young Women’s program of the church. David was in Cub Scouting, earning merit badges. There were always daily meals to fix, endless loads of laundry, Saturday chores, church dances, Driver’s Education classes, myself teaching children to drive. One time Eric backed out of the driveway with me in the car and instead putting the car in drive, mistakenly put it in reverse. He came within inches of hitting the landscape railroad ties with our rear bumper. It was all I could do to remain composed.

In 1990 Frank and I discussed how we could manage financially to help our children through college. I had been teaching piano and voice lessons from home for years. It was unreliable as a regular income because monthly amount frequently fluctuated up or down. I decided that I needed to find a job with a predictable paycheck to help out Michelle at BYU.

I worked as a temporary hire for the Department of Social and Health Services (Support Enforcement) for three months. My next job was with Children’s Services in the Daycare Licensing section. I continued to get on the State Register by testing to qualify for higher paying jobs. I worked for Juvenile Rehabiltation as a Secretary to the CEO. Then I was transferred to the Regional Welfare office as a Clerical Supervisor. I applied for and was accepted into Computer training classes where I learned WordPerfect, Microsoft Word, Powerpoint and Publisher. I became proficient in troubleshooting printer problems and copier problems. My training gave me a working knowledge of the computer. This helped me later when I worked on church copiers and my own printer and computer at home. I was extremely grateful for that training and knowledge I gained.

In 1996 I became a Naturalized citizen of the United States. My co-workers celebrated my great accomplishment! I was thrilled that I could finally vote for the first time since 1963 when I had moved here.

In 1990 I was also diagnosed with Osteo-Arthritis and took Naporsen and Prednisone in small amounts for nine years. One Christmas I was in so much pain I could not pull the clothes out of the washer. One of the kids had to do it for me.

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In 1991 we took a family vacation to San Jose, Great America and Disneyland. Eric did not go with us, just Michelle, Kali, David and Brent. We visited with Frank’s ex-roommate, Bill Boyce and his wife and family. Bill and his daughter went to Disneyland with us for the day.

February of 1995 Eric and Heather Neilsen were married. Nine months later on October 26th, 1995 they gave us our first grandson on both sides of the family, Camron Kasey Marchant.

September of 1996 Kali married Andrew Spark in the Portland, Oregon temple. We all traveled down for the wedding with the Thelin and Marchant relatives in Portland attending. Jennifer Kaycee Spark was born January 3rd, 1998, our first granddaughter.

January 1997 my step-mother, Mary Jessen Smith Thelin passed away after being in a rest home for three years. We all attended the funeral and the grave-side ceremony. We were sad at her passing but grateful she was not suffering any longer. She had experienced a stroke two years before which paralyzed her vocal chords. It prevented her from talking or eating. Doctors inserted a tube in her stomach to give her nourishment. It was devastating to have her communication taken away. She had always loved to talk and sing. However, when we came at Christmas time and sang Christmas carols, miraculously she was able to sing with us.