ROMANS 12:12: Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.
This sums up our mom.
Her secret was simple. On her worst days she prayed, and on her best days she prayed.
She trusted the Lord completely and absolutely never spoke against God or showed any anger toward Him. At all times, she kept the faith. Even when she was struggling against the ugliness of cancer and how it was depriving her of her energy and her physical strength, she stood in faith. She said to us: “God’s will be done. He knows what’s best for me.”
When Daddy died in 2019, while we were gathered at the hospital and then at the funeral home, despite our sadness and tears, Mom stressed to us, “Your dad had so many health issues that there were many, many possibilities of how he could’ve passed away, but God chose for him the most merciful way. He simply slipped away while he was resting.” Our mom had faith like that.
Our mom taught us that wrong is wrong even if EVERYONE is doing it and right is right even if NO ONE is doing it. Our mom was courageous; our mom was wise. She grounded us, she helped us to focus, she inspired us. Personally speaking, during the bad times of my life and the joyous times in my life, she walked with me or guided me along the path when I had to walk the path alone. She taught me life lessons and helped me to heal and to navigate through challenges and difficulties.
Our mom, through her strong and faithful presence, anchored all of us and reminded us often that we are loved. She was our cheerleader. She showed us that even when we were facing despair that there is a brighter tomorrow. That’s what she did–even when her own heart was breaking due to a diagnosis of leukemia, she was grateful for the opportunity to press on. She persevered. She was a mountain of strength and faith and service.
Our mom absolutely believed what Scripture says. Most of all, she knew in her heart that God will always provide, and in one way or another, He always did, but perhaps not in the way we had pictured it. Our mom had tremendous faith like that! Every decision Mom made was in check with the teachings of the church. In all ways, our mom was living a Christ-centered life, and she had wisdom and clarity when making those decisions, whatever they were.
Praying and reading the Bible and her daily devotionals was a routine for her. Toward the last days after her diagnosis, every text she received with a devotional attached would ring like a church bell on her phone, and I would tease her that Jesus was calling. Jesus called our mom a lot in those last days, and she was always eager to listen to what He had to say.
Our mother was a grateful woman. She taught us all to appreciate the good things AND the bad things–even the struggles in our lives because those struggles molded us into the people we have become. When we complained that situations were not ideal, she would point out that “it could’ve been worse.” If I had a dollar for every time I heard “it could’ve been worse”, I’m pretty sure I would be rich. Really rich.
Mom lived a simple life and she never wanted it any other way. In her eyes, she lacked for nothing. Her true loves were spending time with her family, enjoying “Sister Day” with her sisters, cooking and baking for others, sewing, gardening, serving the less fortunate through her volunteer work with the Food Pantry, watching her kids and grandchildren in their school activities, and loving and taking care of Daddy. She was so dedicated to our Dad. Although Mom may not have even desired to watch professional sports on TV, she watched all sports with Dad, especially after he suffered his stroke and had a harder time keeping up with it. Mom even watched his “wrasslin'” shows with him although she found it less enjoyable than my dad did…if it pleased Dad to watch it, she would watch it too. She was self-sacrificing like that. My poor mom…she was 80 years old before she could use the TV remote or touch the thermostat. That was Daddy’s kingdom and she let him rule it as long as he lived. She was so selfless in all she did.
While Mom never desired more than the simple life, she still maintained higher standards than most. She had higher standards for her spiritual life, her work ethic, her kindheartedness, her housekeeping, her financial integrity, her life in general. I only hope to be like her someday.
The last two weeks have been an absolute whirlwind that have changed us forever. Mom said she started aching a few months ago but it didn’t bother her enough to see the doctor. She just blamed it on old age. When we came home for Easter, she looked a little thinner and a little tired, but she was still the same Ethel. She finally felt bad enough on April 25 to visit the doctor, and when her blood work came back, she was immediately referred to a hematologist. We visited the hematologist on April 29, and she was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia on May 2. Two days later, she became so weak and fatigued that she would barely get out of her chair, and then on May 10, the bottom fell out and we took her to the ER in Dimmitt, who then transferred her to Covenant in Lubbock by ambulance. She just could not breathe. Mom told me that day that she was praying the good Lord would take her home soon. God made her wait a few days, however, and after fighting the horrid fight of cancer, she joined Jesus and Dad in Heaven on May 14 just after noon, about 14 hours after Jeff had arrived in Lubbock from a business trip in Chicago. Isn’t that just like Ethel? She kept the diagnosis, the decline of her health, and her passing on a very short timeline because she didn’t want to inconvenience anyone. Just as she taught us lessons in living, she provided more lessons in dying.
We are grateful to the medical doctors, caring nurses and staff at Plains Memorial Hospital in Dimmitt, and we are grateful to the medical doctors and the wonderful, compassionate nurses at Covenant in Lubbock. I feel sure that the Schmucker family overwhelmed the staff at Covenant, but they were so accommodating to us. There were so many of us there that we should now have a waiting room restroom with our name on it on Floor 7, East wing—NOT due to the money we gave them, but by the number of times a Schmucker family member visited it in the few days that we were there.
I will miss my mom. I will miss many things about her. I will miss her wisdom in life experiences and relationships. I will miss my mom’s faith, her competitive spirit in card games, her positivity in the bleakest of situations. Her strength. Her generosity. Her kindness. Her servant heart. But of all the things that I will miss about my mom, I will miss her hands because she truly had the hands of Jesus. My mom’s hands were the hands that lovingly stitched our first communion dresses, our prom dresses, our wedding dresses, the t-shirt quilts for all her grandchildren. Those same hands baked the most beautiful and delicious cherry pies and lemon meringue pies, cinnamon rolls, lemon bars, zucchini bread. Those hands wiped tears during our struggles with relationships, jobs, children, finances…Those hands held our babies, fed them bottles, put them to sleep. Those hands grew peonies and daisies and asparagus and tomatoes and green beans. The care with which she tended her gardens was a beautiful testament of how she also tended to the needs of others. My mom was the master gardener of people. She planted and cultivated love, faith, service, and community…
She was so appreciative of her community. She loved this place and her people. She was most grateful for the opportunity to serve alongside her friends and neighbors in Nazareth, Hart, and Dimmitt. Thank you for showering her—and us—with love and support and friendships for many years, and even more so in the last two weeks.
I recently attended a funeral in which the pastor said: “Inheritance is what you leave to someone; legacy is what you leave IN someone.” It is our hope and our prayer that the legacy of Ethel Schmucker—at least a little of it–is left in our families and our community for a long, long time. Thank you for blessing her with your friendship.
The Prairie Purist 