Phyllis Mae (Nugent) Evans

January 15, 1943-May 19, 2024

Phyllis Mae Evans transitioned to her Heavenly Home on Sunday, May 19, 2024, 11:02 a.m.

Phyllis was preceded in death by her husband, Lenford Evans, and Her Parents, Hazel and Delbert Nugent. She had no sisters or brothers.

She is Survived by her children: Deborah and her husband Frank, their three daughters and their 6 grandsons. Diana and her husband Donald, their 7 children and 11 grandchildren. Len and his wife Tamara, their three children and 7 grandchildren. Joyce and her husband Matthew. John and his wife Shellie their daughter and grandson. Stepson Tory and his wife Sherri, their 4 children and nine grandchildren.

She had been in ill health for many years, culminating in an emergency visit to the hospital on Mother's Day, May 12, 2024. Within days she was placed under Hospice care for her final two days. She was surrounded by family and was visited by friends. Recalling highlights of her past, her final days were filled with singing, praying, and conversation which would eventually diminish into unresponsiveness. She passed peacefully.

Phyllis was born and raised in Indianapolis. She was her parents' only child. Her Mother, Hazel Naomi Nugent, was severely injured in a work accident losing her arm. Our Mom was only two years old at the time. Her childhood became suddenly altered. Those were difficult times indeed.

The happiest part of our mother's childhood was her roller-skating achievements. She became a competitive skater in the Pairs/Dance category. Her advanced training took place in the early hours before school. She was dedicated! She walked to the rink, and the school bus picked her up from there. Her parents worked at the rink to help cover the cost of the Percision roller skates that she was so proud of. She attended Wood High School for a time and eventually earned her General Education Degree in March of 1984. That was a great day!

Phyllis loved life! She married the love of her life, Lenford Evans. They met at the skating rink. She always had a sparkle in her eye while telling us the way she would flip her skating skirt as she skated by Lenford in an attempt to gain his attention. She'd laugh when describing how he'd finally asked her for their first date. "Wanna go out drinking?" They went to Steak and Shake and had a malt! They married three months later, July 31, 1959.

Fifty- one and half years later, she found herself starting again as she entered life's unwanted phase of widowhood, where she remained for 14 years.

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Since she loved to laugh, Mom requested that I tell her story with a bit of appropriate humor. She did however, while waving her finger, forbid me to tell some particular antics. We shall respect her request, although those of us who knew her shall giggle as we reflect and recall some of those episodes. Those of you who knew her best might have a giggle or two as well. We will also state up front that Jesus stated in the Sermon on the Mount, "Ye are the salt of the Earth!" Well, our Mother was at times very "salty." I shall not elaborate on those episodes, but I imagine there are several heads respectfully and lovingly, while smiling, nodding in agreement. Thank you for taking the time to read the story of our Mother.

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As We Reflect Complied by Diana

Our Little Years

Mom was the Mother of 5 children, Deborah, Diana, Len, Joyce, John, and stepmother to Tory. She excelled in keeping up with all the activities and schedules of her busy family. Nothing slipped past her knowing when it came to her children. She insisted that no one be taken advantage of, she advocated for our needs and protected us from injustice. On the flip side, she insisted on obedience, and held us accountable for our errors.

Len played Little League Baseball and Mom kept score for the games for over 5 years. We spent many hours each week at Brookside Park watching Len play baseball. Dad was a Pak Master for the Boy Scouts and she assisted him with whatever he needed. Mom told me that Dad didn't want anything to do with organizing the funds for Boy Scouts, so she managed the treasury for him.

Skating

Mom enjoyed many activities. Because she loved skating, we loved skating! She scheduled skating parties for school, Camp Fire Girls, Boy Scouts, and youth groups. If she had a say, it was skating. We weren't half bad! Debbie and I got pretty good at holding on to each other and giving ourselves a hardy spin. (Hey, Len, should I insert the story of how I broke my arm at the skating rink when I was 12, or leave that out?) I recall trying to understand the correct technique for backward skating. I just never got it right. Once I finally figured it out and really understood the mechanics of the turn, I recently demonstrated it to her in her living room, without wearing my skates, and she congratulated me. Since I am now 62 years old, and she would never be returning to the rink, it had to suffice. I still skate and have passed the skill to my children and my grandchildren. I can now turn to skate backwards the proper way. Thank you, Mom, for the gift of skating!

(While Mom was in the ICU during her last days, I laid my cheek on her forehead and prayed that God would ease her discomfort and guide us. I ended the prayer with, "And, please, Lord, help Mom learn to skate again." She tearfully giggled. I saw a cute poster at a local rink recently. It said, "I used to be addicted to the Hokey Pokey, but I turned myself around!" She loved that!)

In addition to managing her home, she was a very active volunteer. While in elementary school we knew we'd better not get in trouble because Mom was somewhere in the building and she'd find out about it. She worked in the cafeteria or as our class Room Mother planning parties and activities. All the teachers and staff knew Phyllis. (We couldn't get away with nary a thang!)

Camp Fire Girls

She was the very capable leader for our IPS School #78 Camp Fire Girls group. She would eventually become the Leader of District 7, an accomplishment of which she was especially proud. Books could be written on her laughter, fun, antics, and accomplishments while being a Camp Fire Girls leader. One of the memories we have is selling Camp fire Girl's candy. We went door-to-door selling with our good friends. Mom and her friend, Joyce, (after whom our sister was named) would set in the front seat of the car with their window down, and manage the money as we returned to the car after each sale. They had it down to a science. There were six girls and only one boy, Len. Yep, he had to knock on doors and say, "Would you like to buy some Camp Fire GIRLS Candy!" We figured, upon reflection, that he sold so much because people felt sorry for him. (Thank you, Len, for being such a trooper. You helped Debbie and me win selling awards and earn free weeks at summer camp. Those camping experiences were some of the happiest moments of our childhood! If Thin Mints Sticks were still being made, Debbie and I would break open a box and celebrate you!)

Mom met her best friend, Joyce, through the Camp Fire Girls organization. The ins and outs, ups and downs, of their friendship lasted over 50 years. I shall narrate one of their antics as Camp Fire Girls leaders. Our group and Joyce's group combined for a camping outing. They were Strick leaders and made sure we followed protocol for all activities and ceremonies. The flag was raised on time each morning and retrieved and properly folded each evening. Respect was shown in everything we did. One night, after settling us down, and making sure we were all happy little girls tucked in for the night, she and Joyce went for a late-night swim in the closed pool. They might have gotten away with it except the care taker's cabin was close to the pool. Mom had always been afraid of the water, but Joyce was not. Mom stayed in shallow water and Joyce jumped off of the diving board. Well, Mr. Pete, the care taker, heard the splash. Caught! Mom says that it took over a year for her superiors to stop reminding them of the error of their ways.

(Mom retold this story, in dramatic fashion, to the ICU nurses in her final days. I'm not sure whether it was the discipline she received or the fun of the episode that was more impactful for her. Regardless, it was never forgotten! We followed up with singing a few silly camp fire songs. The nurses loved it. Two days later she was barely able to breath. With family encircling her, our hands connected, and after prayer with Brother Nathan Hunter, we sang several verses of Kumbaya. Mom's frail hand lifted and circled the air, performing the motions to Kumbaya that we had learned decades earlier while at camp. Our hearts were full and our eyes were a streaming mess as we completed the song that we knew she could hear though no longer sing. Our final verse was, "Hear our prayer, O, Lord, Kumbaya." The God of Heaven indeed met with us in that Spirit-filled moment.

Her friend, Joyce Ann Hauk, preceded our mom in death by just 3 weeks. I imagine that they are fully active again, pain free with their new bodies, and may need to be placed in "Time Out" every now and then. I hope that if there is a pool in Heaven, it remains open at all times.)

Really Hard Stuff

As we grew, she grew with us. Her volunteer work began to revolve around our high school activities. She supported our various music activities, took her turn in the car-pool, and eventually worked at the high school. She worked in the admissions office helping students who had dropped out to re-enroll. Around this time, she also volunteered on a community suicide prevention hotline directing people to the help they needed.

During those years our baby sister, Joyce, and baby brother, John, were born. Mom knew by then that Dad was experiencing a kidney disease that would eventually lead to a transplant. Debbie, Len and I were very involved in high school and college studies. Debbie was away at Ball State majoring in Music Education, I was either in school, at work, or playing bassoon all over the city with various organizations, and Len was busy with work and various high school activities. It was a very complex schedule, since Mom was also working, had the stress of an ill husband, and two very young children. By the time Len graduated from high school and was off to the Air Force (makin' his mama proud), Mom reached out for help with household chores, babysitting, and general spiritual support from a precious older lady from church, Sister Perry. Her help was invaluable. Mom loved Grandma Perry, as everyone called her. Such needed relief. Sometimes, as the song says, "When the waves of life grow so high that you can't mount them, He will roll you over the tide." God blessed Mom with Grandma Perry.

She told me several years ago that during those turbulent years, in her mind, she was already a widow, so protecting her family by starting a career was what she felt she had to do. She was only in her thirties and quite young to be carrying such a heavy load. John was around 9 years old when Dad's transplant finally took place. Dad was only 55 years old but had to retire form Conrail Rail Road after over 30 years. After recovering from the transplant and getting used to the new normal, he did much to help run the home while mom advanced in her career. She made everyone proud, and over the years, her income continued to increase. Debbie, Len, and I were now married, and very busy with our growing families. Life was now beginning to calm down for her, the littles were nearly grown, and dad was feeling fine!

(Describing the turbulent years is very difficult since we all had various perspectives. When we put ourselves in Mom's shoes, now as adults, it really makes us take a deep breath and say, "Wow, could I have done that?")

Her Career Begins

She had her first paying job outside of the home at Woolworths Department Store where she worked part time. From there she balanced daily receipts for the K-Mart Corporation (1980-1982). After earning her General Education Degree in 1984, her career took off. She was an Accounts Receivable Clerk for Lanwerlen Leather Company with over 500 accounts (1984-1986). She used double entry accounting and figured all interest on delinquent accounts by hand.

Not long after her journey with the Lord began, our church, Central Church of the Nazarene, found out about her accounting abilities and appointed her as church treasurer.

She excelled with numbers. Every penny was accounted for in her personal life, so it made perfect "cents" to embark upon a career dealing with money. She became a Business Office Manager for nursing and rehab centers and eventually a state wide auditor for her company. This occupation would be enjoyed from 1988 until 1994 when she became a sought-after self-employed billing consultant for several years, until her retirement from the nursing and rehab industry. And in what seemed the blink of an eye, Joyce and John were grown up. From there, she and dad would involve themselves with the small businesses of their children. Sometimes they helped with bookkeeping, sometimes they provided labor, but always they provided their counsel and opinions.

(In 2023 she spent 6 weeks in a rehab center trying to stabilize her health condition, Congestive Heart Failure. While there she told the business office personnel of her work experiences and how they'd have to submit the bills for her account. She told them all of the form numbers and the processes! Until two days before her passing, she was telling us, between labored breaths, when her bills would be due and what the amounts would be. If for any reason someone would have tried to take advantage of her in the area of finance, they would have met with a formidable foe!)

Traveling

Mom and Dad dearly loved saving funds for their next adventure. Traveling by themselves or with their family and friends, they were always ready to go. They boasted of being in every state except California, Oregon, and Washington. Oh, how they enjoyed the vacation they took with Debbie's family one year. They flew! It was dad's first flight. He said he'd never fly, but Mom said he loved it and talked about it for weeks afterwards!

(While in ICU Mom was still making plans to travel with John to the West Coast. John threatened to fly her to California, and he'd pick her up at the airport if she wasn't going to behave on the ride across the country. She gave him no guarantee.)

Mom's favorite place to travel was to Gatlinburg, Tennessee. The marketing campaign for Gatlinburg is, "The Mountains Are Calling." All I can say is that those mountains knew her number! Once or twice every year she would gather as many friends as would fit into her car, while still allowing room to bring home packages, and head south. We thought of secretly placing rocks in her pockets to keep her in one place, but there's no way it would have worked. We figure she had an undiagnosed condition called "Go Fever." Turns out we were right, and it was a lasting, incurable condition. Her refrigerator displays photos of family plus the magnets from nearly everywhere she's been. If you look closely, you can still tell that the color of the frig is beige. Such a happy traveler was our Mother!

(Two years ago, Mom was in an accident that totaled the car that she and Dad purchased in 2004.She was able to replace it with the same make and model. Two days before her passing she told us how much she regretted not being able to initiate her new car with a trip to Gatlingerg. She felt sorry for her car because it would never experience the joy of travel!)

Scrapbooking

You can't travel and photograph everything you do without making a scrapbook of memories. Mom and her friends spent countless hours sharing this activity. She dearly loved being creative with her scrapbooking hobby. Of course, she thought, the very best scrapbooking supply stores were in Gatlinburg. There were a few trips to Gatlinburg with scrapbooking supplies in tow, to create the scrapbooks with photos from previous trips. If "The Mountains Are Calling", you just have to go! The best tangible gift she ever gave us was the gift of a family heritage scrapbook. She gave each of us our own story in pictures. The books were huge and beautiful. Thanks, Mom, for putting our heritage at our fingertips.

Crocheting

Mom was gifted when it came to her ability to crochet. She learned the art from her Aunt Flossie, her father's sister-in-law. She dearly loved her Aunt Flossie. She could follow a pattern or make it up as she went along. If she was sitting in her chair, she was crocheting something beautiful, while sipping a Diet Coke. Chances are good that there was probably a Nutty Bar there, too. We all have been gifted one of her beautiful Afghans. All of her grandchildren have beautiful Afghans, and all of her great- grandchildren have beautiful Afghans. Her crochet hook moved so fast, perfect rhythm without skipping a beat. Debbie learned the skill and so did one of her daughters. I always said that I wanted to learn the art of crocheting before she passed from this life, but on the few attempts that I made, I tied the yarn into knots. I defended myself by insisting that I had created a new stitch. Well, that didn't fly! She'd just say, "NO, NO, NO!" To further defend myself, I asked her if she could play the bassoon? Of course she'd say, "No!" So, we ended the crochet lessons with the understanding that the score was "1 for me" and "1 for her."

(She was feeling particularly low in spirit a couple of year ago. I suggested that she focus on something positive. She began the Next Generation Baby Blanket Project. We'll be distributing her baby Afghans to the next generation, presenting them to her great- great- grandchildren in her name. She left us nearly 50 baby blankets for the project.)

Music

Multiple instruments would pass through the Evans Household over the years. Dad played music "by ear." His piano, guitars, harmonica, banjo, and other stringed instruments were frequently heard. Mom was always purchasing another instrument for dad while on her Gatlinburg trips. She purchased beautiful guitars and unusual things for him. If anyone came for a visit and could play, he'd put a guitar in their hands and the music would begin. Sometimes he'd hop over to the piano and play through the hymnal or play whatever he made up. A harmonica was usually close by so he'd go back and forth. Mom took incredible pride in her husband's musical ability. I'm reminded of the phrase spoken by Brisco Darlin' from the Andy Griffith Show, "Ya got time to breathe, ya got time for music." It was our happy place like mom and her skating. Debbie is really accomplished on the piano. Lots of diligent practicing. As she advanced, Mom was so proud at her recitals. She was dedicated to early morning practicing just like Mom was with her early morning skating. Bless our Mother who had to put up with the early years of our musical development. Len tried the french horn and then the trumpet. I'm not afraid to admit that my bass clarinet and my bassoon each sounded like a fog horn, and Mom was not afraid to agree. Sometimes she had to request in her "salty" way that I should really just stop practicing now! It took a while, but I eventually got it right and made real music worth listening to.

Mom loved music and always bragged that she could play the stereo. In our early years there were a bunch of Country and Western artists that she loved. She would transition to Southern Gospel albums over time. She transported us all over the city for music participation, recitals, concerts, and private lessons. Mom and Dad were great fans of our music. They supported us, our children, and even our grandchildren. They made attending the concerts, performances, and dramas of their grandchildren and great grandchildren a high priority while they could. Knowing that Grandma and Grandpa were in the audience always made the little ones smile and do a quick little wave to get their attention. She would continue going to the events of our children after Dad was gone. She held season tickets for my orchestra concerts. From the stage, I always had to know where she was sitting. Debbie and I scanned the audience for Mom when we were young, and I continued scanning the audience as an adult. Ya always gotta know where Mom is whether you're young or old(er).

Mom and Dad frequently took us to Gospel Sings. They loved the Harvest Time Quartet. That quartet was our cousin's group. She loved them as her family not just as musicians. The Gospel Servants, Inspirations, Cathedrals, and Kingsmen were some of their favorites. The higher the tenor singers could sing and the lower the bass singers could sing made them more beloved. In recent years she enjoyed taking road trips to Shipshewana for the concerts they hosted. Dailey and Vincent were her absolute favorite. She loves the bass singer and had to make sure her seats would be in front of him so she could see him really well.

Her friend MaryAnn also went to a few of those concerts. One in particular was when Mom had two tickets for herself and a friend. She wanted to take Mary Ann. By now Mom could not walk very far and needed quite a bit of assistance. Shellie, John's wife, and I took Mom and MaryAnn to the concert. A huge storm took out the electricity for the entire town. The concert venue had backup generators so the concert continued. Shellie and I were watching the intensifying storm and wondering how we were going to communicate with home once our phones died. We were ever so grateful that Mom and MaryAnn had their room on the first floor. Since the elevators were out and the hallways were pitch black, there would have been no getting her down three flights of stairs. Apparently, the concert was amazing.

Mom thoroughly enjoyed the broadway productions that came to town, Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra and any ice-skating show that toured through Indianapolis. Since they all live close to downtown, Debbie and Joyce were able to include her in the many downtown activities that they all loved. l'd call her and tell her what the ISO was playing and she'd be ready to go. I loved playing and she loved listening to the Dvorak Symphony No. 9 "From the New World." The music from the second movement has spiritual lyrics and is well known in our culture. It's called, "Goin' Home." It seems appropriate to insert the lyrics here:

Goin' home, goin' home

I'm a goin' home

Quiet-like, some still day,

I'm just goin' home.

It's not far, just close by,

Through an open door;

Work all done, care laid by,

Going to fear no more.

Mother's there expecting me,

Father's waiting; too

Lots of folks gathered there

And all the friends I knew

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Special Memories with Mom

Mom was proud of her Air Force son, Len. Though his family did not live close by, they stayed in contact and shared a love for NASCAR. If there was a race on TV, Mom and Len were on the phone talking smack about each other's favorite driver. Mom liked Kyle Busch so much that she sent him and his wife a baby Afghan when they were expecting a baby. She received a lovely "Thank- You" note for the gift, which she kept and treasured.

Len shared a hilarious memory of himself and Mom. (This was not on her do-not-share list!) Len had just acquired his permit for learning to drive. He knew that Mom had a bad driving habit of using her left foot to break. Len, Mom, and Dad were on their way to the Cedar Point Amusement Park in Ohio. Len was driving. Dad was riding "Shot-Gun" in order to supervise the new driver, and Mom was stretched out across the back seat sleeping. Len decided to see how breaking with the left foot would work. So, the next time he needed to break, he decided to give it a try... (UH-OH!) ... Mom was suddenly awakened as she was being rolled into the floor of the back seat from the abrupt stop. Not ever being at a loss for words, she had a word or two to share concerning her situation. Len says that he and Dad looked at each other and laughed. Something tells me that Mom would eventually laugh as she recalled the event, but would not have laughed at that particular moment. (Am I right, Len?)

John was able to benefit from Mom's expertise when she helped him keep records for his business. The daily ups and downs of business transactions needs to have a special person looking over things. Having the business located close to Mom and Dad allowed them to help with oversight. John had the vision, Mom and Dad helped him make it happen. John took Mom to a Monster Jam event downtown several years ago. I suppose more excitement exists somewhere in the world, but I don't know where. She loved it. (For the longest time I was not aware that our Mother was also a fan of Monster Trucks!) Here lately, John taught Mom how to scan a dollar bill for unusual serial numbers. They had a blast flipping through stacks of one-dollar bills. She was so good with numbers! She loved that activity, and they collected many unusual bills. It was like a treasure hunt whenever they were scanning dollar bills. It was a great activity when she became less mobile.

Joyce knew how to keep Mom active! Joyce, Debbie, Len, John, and their spouses took her on a cruise and she was hooked on cruising forever. Fancy clothes, fancy food, fancy everything was right up her alley. Joyce's heart is still full of the special memory of one of the cruises when on an excursion Mom ziplined with her above the jungle canopy in Honduras. Her smile was ear-to-ear in the photos. Mom wasn't shy and she wasn't a scardie cat! Stick her in the front seat of a roller coaster and she'd be ready to go, with her hands up, before it even took off. In fact, if it was time to go to King's Island, Mom would think the day was lost if she was not there when they opened. Leave before the closing fireworks? NEVER. Tell her to not do something and she'd do it in a heartbeat.

Mom loved to laugh, shop, hang out with someone, play practical jokes, ride roller coasters, celebrate Christmas, watch TV, eat hotdogs, just like Matlock, and spend hours on the phone with her friends. (Thank you, MaryAnn and Kay, for the way you loved our mom and spent countless hours on the phone with her once she was no longer mobile. She treasured the many years of friendship that you shared. You always brightened her day.)

Once Mom became widowed, having Joyce and Debbie as neighbors was especially good company. They provided extra care and comfort for her in those early days of adjusting to being without Dad. Because they lived in the neighborhood as well, Debbie's grandchildren visited frequently and were a continued source of joy. Debbie also learned the art of scrap booking and they spent many hours working on beautiful scrapbooks together.

Mom never lost her enthusiasm for life. She said she wanted to live to be 100. I reminded her that there might not be anyone to celebrate with her, since we would all be dead by then. I offered to give her a birthday party at age 75. She flat out said," NOPE, I'm waiting until I'm 100!"

She remained connected and had three households of family members in her neighborhood. The fence between her and Debbie's yards had been removed several years earlier allowing the children to roam more freely between the two houses. Mom always had a snack ready for any grandchild or great-grandchild who would visit. Debbie recalls all of the memorable conversations she had with Mom while just sitting out in the backyard on the swing sipping soda. No special agenda, just talk time. Life-to-Life. Heart -to-Heart. Moment-by Moment. That's the best. (Thank you, Debbie and Frank, Joyce and Matt, Stephanie and Aaron, for being amazing companions and sharing your daily lives, and just being there when the rest of us were too far for daily interaction.)

When I think of a memorable moment with mom, it has to be how she advocated for me in grade 5. In grade 4 the music teacher came to our class and taught us how to play the song-flute, a little plastic black thing with open holes. They would assess us for musical abilities and start us with real instruments in grade 5. Debbie was already in grade 5 playing the flute. I could not wait my turn! Grade 5 came and I was not invited to choose an instrument. I was devastated. For the previous year, when Debbie finished practicing her flute, I picked it up to learn. I knew my destiny was to blow into something! So, Mom went into the band director (bless him) and insisted that I be given an instrument. He took us to the instrument room and most all of the instruments were taken by other students. (Gasp of horror) He said that there was only a bass clarinet left. "I'LL TAKE IT!" It was huge, heavy, and sounded like the afore mentioned fog horn. Within a couple of years, we would be bused across town when the forced integration policies began. The promise that accompanied the busing program was that we'd have an equivalent education and nothing would change. However, there was no bass clarinet in the instrument room at the new school. (I refer you back to the opening paragraph of this narrative) Mom did not drop it! She went straight to the Board of Education with her complaint and within days the Head of the Indianapolis Public Schools Music Department, Mr. Shaw, delivered, to my house, a brand-new bass clarinet, with their apologies. It was stunning. Don't mess with Mama or her children! Just don't.

A special Gift

As adults we came to know our Father's son, Tory. Life's circumstances did not allow us to meet him until our adult years. Every time we are with him it is a joy. He has Dad's humor. Mom regrets all the years that passed without knowing him. We all do. We love you, Tory, our brother. Tory's persistent search for his Father opened the door for us to know him. He told me the most incredible story. He said he always knew that his father loved him. One period of his life he very clearly knew in his spirit that Dd was being transofrmed into a new creature in Christ Jesus. As it turns out, that was the year Dad and Mom were baptized outside in a creek on that cold New Year's Eve. No more words can explain that! (Thank you, Tory, for visiting Mom, praying for her, and sharing the Love of Christ.)

Change

In 2019 Mom decided, reluctantly, to sell her home of 52 years, and relocate to a single-story house to improve her mobility. She maintained her self-sufficient life style until the last year and a half when it became necessary to assist her in daily tasks. Like a good old-fashioned pot-luck church dinner where everyone brings a little bit to share and it becomes enough for everyone, we each contributed bits and pieces to her wellbeing by supporting and assisting when needed, which allowed her to maintain her tenacious desire for independence. It worked, even though at times we were very concerned. We all learned to abide by the saying, "If Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy!" We became careful observers and let her remain independent. She had wonderful, caring, home health nursing visits which she loved. (Thank you, Rhonda, and Dyvia. Mom loved you both so much.)

Prayers answered

Mom fought to keep Dad out of a care home when he was in the late stages of Dementia. We prayed for the Mercy of God to intervene and take him peacefully without Mom having to make that decision. That prayer was answered. December 22, 2010, he entered into his eternal rest. Likewise, Mom knew what she herself was facing. She knew that she was not going to make it this time. She knew what the word "Hospice" meant. Again, we prayed for the Mercy of God to take her peacefully. She was placed in Hospice care at the hospital for only two days. Prayers were answered. She was called Home to her eternal rest on May 19, 2024.

Final Thoughts

These few lines of text will never be sufficient to tell the story of our Mom. There were many ups and downs. There is so much more in the stories of her with her grandchildren and great- grandchildren. She was so very proud of her family. How can we search our hearts and recall all that is there in this brief expose'. She gave us this sacred life. She was our greatest fan and sometimes our harshest critic. Because she lived in this fallen world like the rest of us, she was imperfect. But she knew that! We were midway through our childhood when she met the Living Savior. She and Dad were baptized in the cold waters of a winter creek on December 31, so they could start the new year anew. She loved us. We loved her. She was Mother. There are not enough words...

Thank you to my wonderful siblings: Tory, Debbie, Len, Joyce, and John for sharing your memories. It was my honor to compile the information for this narrative and represent our family in this incredibly difficult time. I told Mom in one of our last conversations that we'd look for her in Heaven so we'd be able to tell her and Dad how we made it through. She was just fine with that!

Diana, for All

Phyllis Evans

January 15, 1943 - May 19, 2024

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