{"id":1463,"date":"2016-05-08T11:40:52","date_gmt":"2016-05-08T18:40:52","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/admin.patheos.com\/blogs\/welcometable\/?p=1463"},"modified":"2016-05-08T11:42:05","modified_gmt":"2016-05-08T18:42:05","slug":"mothers-day-tribute-nancy-young-layton","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/welcometable\/2016\/05\/mothers-day-tribute-nancy-young-layton\/","title":{"rendered":"Mothers’ Day Tribute–Nancy Young Layton"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<\/head>
\n

\"stars\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Ye cannot behold with your natural eyes, for the present time, the design of your God concerning those things which shall come hereafter, and the glory which shall follow after much tribulation. For after much tribulation come the blessings.\u00a0 Wherefore the day cometh that ye shall be crowned with much glory; the hour is not yet, but is nigh at hand<\/i>. (Doctrine and Covenants 58:3-4)<\/span><\/p>\n

The Savior\u2019s disciples once asked why a certain man had been born blind.\u00a0 Had he committed some premortal sin, or had his parents sinned?\u00a0 The answer was simply, \u201cNeither hath this man sinned nor his parents, but that the works of God should be made manifest in him\u201d (John 9:1-3).\u00a0 The Savior then blessed the blind man with sight.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"
\n<\/span>Nancy as a child<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

Though her body was never healed, the works of God were made manifest in the life and even through the tragic illness of my sister-in-law, Nancy Young Layton.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"
\n<\/span>An early Christmas in the Young home. Nancy is kneeling on the right hand side of the photo.<\/span><\/p>\n

Nancy was diagnosed with chronic progressive multiple sclerosis after the birth of her third child.\u00a0 By the time I married her brother Bruce, she had had two more children and was confined to a wheelchair-though she still had full use of her hands and speech.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"
\nNancy\u2019s high school graduation photo<\/span> <\/span><\/p>\n

Her wheelchair was motorized, and her young children enjoyed riding on her lap as she maneuvered it.\u00a0 She could press buttons to move forward, backward, or to the side.\u00a0 Because she could no longer do household chores, there were detailed work charts for her five children, and they did their jobs beautifully.<\/span><\/p>\n

When Bruce and I visited her in Hawaii shortly after our marriage, Nancy apologized for the simple fare we would be having for dinner-burritos-but explained that they kept things easy.\u00a0 After dinner, she helped her children with their homework and assessed the next day\u2019s assignments while she talked with us about our new marriage.\u00a0 She was thrilled that her older brother had finally gotten married-at age thirty-four.\u00a0 She was just a year younger than Bruce, and they had been great childhood friends.\u00a0 Bruce reminded her she had taught him how to swing on their backyard swing set.\u00a0 He also reminded her she had borrowed one of his record albums and never returned it.\u00a0 The two had quibbled for years over the musical worth of \u201cThe Monkees,\u201d and teenaged Nancy had sometimes turned the volume way up on \u201cI\u2019m a Believer\u201d just to annoy her older brother, who was certain that the Monkees were a direct and insidious affront to true rock \u2018n roll.\u00a0 (He had a complete collection of the Beatles.)\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"
\nThis is a family picture of the Ruth and Daren Youngs. Nancy is on the front row. This is before she became ill.<\/span><\/strong> <\/span><\/p>\n

Nancy had been a brilliant, much-awarded student at Spanish Fork High and later at BYU.\u00a0 And she was beautiful.\u00a0 Bruce remembered the day he realized that his sister was \u201creally cute\u201d-about the time she traded her glasses for contact lenses.\u00a0 She was slim, graceful, and quiet-a poetic figure an artist might sketch in a garden of wild lavender.\u00a0 Though such a portrait would omit much that is central to Nancy\u2019s character-her strength, her intellect, her steadfastness-still, there would have been no denying her lithe beauty.\u00a0 You could easily picture her carrying her books to a BYU class, smiling that radiant smile.\u00a0 Her future looked magnificent, and she was pursued by a variety of appreciative men.<\/span><\/p>\n

Surely no one would have guessed what lay ahead.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"
\nNancy as a bride. <\/span><\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

Ten years after I first met Nancy, she still had that smile, but the disease had plundered her nerves mercilessly.\u00a0 Her words were slurred, though still understandable, and she was confined to a bed, using a wheelchair only to attend church or to sit at the dinner table.\u00a0 I felt my own helplessness in the face of this cruel disease, and I watched the pained compassion in my husband\u2019s eyes as he helped to feed her.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"
\nThis of my sister-in-law\u2019s wedding (Lynda and Joe Tuckett). By this time, Nancy was wheelchair bound. She is sitting.<\/span><\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

Two years later, Nancy\u2019s speech was gone completely.\u00a0 Her husband sent her to a care center in Utah, informing her at the airport that they would need to divorce in order for Medicaid to pay the bills.\u00a0 She cried throughout the flight.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"
\nThis shows Nancy\u2019s beautiful smile\u2013though it was taken late in her disease. This was the picture my in-laws used in Nancy\u2019s obituary.<\/span><\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

The East Lake Care Center was only a few blocks from our home in Provo.\u00a0 My in-laws organized family visits so that Nancy would never have a day without visitors.\u00a0 Our family\u2019s day was Wednesday, though Bruce went more often.\u00a0 Daren Young (my father-in-law) spent most of his time with Nancy, doing all he could to make her comfortable, and Ruth Young (my mother-in-law) helped her write her life history-a painstaking endeavor, since Nancy could not speak.\u00a0 The process was this: We would go down the alphabet and Nancy would blink on the right letter.\u00a0 Often after we had spelled out a word or two, we could guess what she wanted to say, and she would smile and blink to confirm it.<\/span><\/p>\n

In that little room, the miraculous and the tragic flowed in and out, and were often laced together.\u00a0 One of my ward members worked at East Lake, and told me, \u201cThere\u2019s something special in Nancy\u2019s room.\u00a0 I can\u2019t explain it-and I felt it before I knew she was related to you-but there\u2019s something very special there.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"
\nMy children with Nancy in the care center<\/span><\/strong> <\/span><\/p>\n

A cousin of Nancy\u2019s, who was struggling in her faith, began visiting her weekly, often reading to her.\u00a0 Her faith was restored through this service. <\/span><\/p>\n

A bishop sent a young man who was wavering in his decision to serve a mission to Nancy.\u00a0 Her influence, and the spirit he felt through their friendship and through serving her, helped him decide to serve in a larger field.\u00a0 He wrote to her throughout his mission.<\/span><\/p>\n

Of course, some visitors could barely handle the horror of Nancy\u2019s disease.\u00a0 A friend she hadn\u2019t seen in ten years came to visit and left almost immediately, sobbing.\u00a0 She returned a few minutes later with the words, \u201cI\u2019m so sorry.\u00a0 I just hadn\u2019t realized it had gotten this bad.\u00a0 I wasn\u2019t ready.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Bruce found it difficult to talk about what was happening to his sister as the disease relentlessly advanced.\u00a0 Within a few years, she could no longer swallow, so a feeding tube nourished her intravenously.\u00a0 <\/span><\/p>\n

I was in the room when Bruce read Nancy letters from her children, after her ex-husband had remarried.\u00a0 The letters were typical of teenagers: \u201cDear Mom-nothing has changed much.\u00a0 There\u2019s just one more person in the house to criticize us.\u201d\u00a0 But the oldest son had a sense of what his mother needed to hear.\u00a0 \u201cDear Mom,\u201d he wrote, \u201cnobody will ever replace you.\u00a0 You will always be our mother.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"
\nNancy\u2019s children<\/strong><\/span> <\/span><\/p>\n

I began weeping, and heard Nancy\u2019s sobs too. <\/span><\/p>\n

And yet the miracles continued.\u00a0 Somehow, Nancy understood that the works of God were being manifest even through her tragedy.\u00a0 Tightly-structured lives moved into unpredictable arenas of compassion.\u00a0 People unaccustomed to serving began to serve with joy and were permanently changed.\u00a0 Bruce once knelt before Nancy\u2019s recliner and asked in anguish why God had allowed this terrible thing to happen.\u00a0 He went down the alphabet as she spelled out the words, \u201cI think it\u2019s helping Dad.\u201d\u00a0 <\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"
\nNancy with her siblings in the care center<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

But \u201cDad\u201d wasn\u2019t the only one being helped.\u00a0 All who visited Nancy came away blessed. I\u2019m certain she knew that.\u00a0 I don\u2019t know if she felt she was fulfilling some primordial assignment or simply enduring a supremely difficult test, but she knew that she was serving God while others were serving her.<\/span><\/p>\n

During her years in the care center, I found that much of my writing was focusing on multiple sclerosis.\u00a0 Before long, I had written two short stories and a novel about a woman struggling with the disease.\u00a0 I told Nancy what I was doing, and she blinked to give me permission.\u00a0 Eventually, I began writing a play called Dear Stone<\/i>, the title taken from Shakespeare\u2019s play The Winter\u2019s Tale<\/i>, which depicts a woman tragically removed from her family and eventually turned to a statue-or so it seems.\u00a0 In the climactic scene, the \u201cstatue\u201d is brought to life, reunited with her family, and returned to the joy of movement.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"
\nThis is the publicity picture they used.<\/strong><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

After the play was accepted for production at BYU, I often attended rehearsals and coached the woman playing Nancy (renamed Merry in the very fictionalized play) how to hold her head, how to support it on the towels under her chin.\u00a0 We portrayed a young Merry at the ocean in Santa Barbara, after the oil spill of 1968.\u00a0 Someone says to her, \u201cSo you believe in God despite all of this?\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n

She answers, \u201cNot despite. Beyond. You have to look deeper than death.\u00a0 See, beyond those greasy waves, the ocean\u2019s still doing what it\u2019s always done.\u00a0 Beyond this shore there\u2019s all that sea life, deeper than man will ever go.\u00a0 Past the reach of the most evil designs.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"
\nNancy in the care center surrounded by family members.<\/strong><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Of course, the play had an ending which Nancy\u2019s life had not yet met.\u00a0 Merry dies in the play, and Nancy was still alive as we rehearsed.\u00a0 I had fictionalized many things in an effort to explore the dimensions of Nancy\u2019s faith, and the final scene portrays her death poetically, as Merry\u2019s daughter quotes Shakespeare\u2019s lines:<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 It is required <\/i><\/span><\/p>\n

You do awake your faith. . . .
\n<\/i>. . . Music awake her; strike!<\/i><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u2018Tis time.\u00a0 Descend.\u00a0 Be stone no more. . . .
\n<\/i>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Bequeath to death your numbness, for from him
\n<\/i>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Dear life redeems you. <\/i><\/p>\n

In the play, Merry rises from her death bed and even dances for a moment before leaving the stage.<\/span><\/p>\n

The morning the play was to open, I received a call from a nurse at the care center.\u00a0 The family was being asked to assemble in Nancy\u2019s room.\u00a0 I asked if Nancy was dying. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not a doctor.\u00a0 I can\u2019t make a diagnosis,\u201d the nurse said.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI understand, but you have a lot of experience.\u00a0 From what you\u2019ve seen, is she dying?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She paused.\u00a0 \u201cYes.\u00a0 She is dying.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

It was mid-morning when Bruce and I arrived.\u00a0 Nancy was unconscious.\u00a0 Most of Nancy\u2019s siblings were there with her, as were her parents and her oldest son.\u00a0 My father-in-law, true to what he had been doing for years, wiped the sweat from her forehead, wiped her nose, wiped her mouth.<\/span><\/p>\n

We didn\u2019t speak much, and when we did, it wasn\u2019t important speech.\u00a0 We teased her oldest son about his girlfriend.\u00a0 We talked about BYU.\u00a0 Periodically, someone would approach Nancy and remind her that we were all with her, though she appeared not to hear anything.\u00a0 Just after noon, her visiting teacher arrived, whispering, \u201cOh.\u00a0 Oh, I didn\u2019t know.\u00a0 I didn\u2019t know this was happening.\u00a0 I just felt I needed to be here.\u201d\u00a0 Weeping, she walked up to Nancy and said, \u201cI found something in The Ensign<\/i> I wanted to read to you.\u00a0 It\u2019s from a talk Elder Holland just gave in conference: \u2018Christ will say to the women who worry and wonder and sometimes weep over their responsibility as mothers, \u201cDaughter, be of good comfort; thy faith hath made thee whole.\u201d And it will make your children whole as well.\u2019\u201d\u00a0 She squeezed Nancy\u2019s hand and left.<\/span><\/p>\n

My brother-in-law, Larry, repeated, \u201cNancy, we\u2019re all here.\u201d\u00a0 He named everyone in the room who was attending her in her last moments-everyone we could see, anyway.<\/span><\/p>\n

As 3:30 approached, I picked my children up from elementary school, explaining to them that Aunt Nancy was dying and we would be going to the rest home.\u00a0 \u201cIt\u2019s a little scary,\u201d I said, \u201cand you don\u2019t need to be in the room with her, but Mommy does.\u00a0 You can play outside.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Nancy had died by the time I returned.\u00a0 My father-in-law was crying, and I embraced him.\u00a0 I thanked him and my mother-in-law for all they had done to care for Nancy.\u00a0 Later, at the funeral, a member of their stake presidency would say, \u201cRuth and Daren, I don\u2019t have the power to seal you up to eternal blessings, but I believe that God will seal you his because of the great work you have done in caring for your daughter.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Three hours later, I went to the theater for opening night.\u00a0 Bruce had written a brief description of his sister\u2019s ordeal which was included in the play\u2019s program.\u00a0 Though greatly fictionalized, the play became a two-week tribute to Nancy.\u00a0 Many of the cast members attended her funeral, and many of Nancy\u2019s nurses attended the play.\u00a0 To me, the play\u2019s death scene was from the angels\u2019 eye view.\u00a0 We who had been with Nancy while she was dying watched a much less poetic scene.\u00a0 But I believe those beyond the veil saw a statue return to life, and rejoiced.<\/span><\/p>\n

Nancy had chosen the hymns she wanted sung at her funeral.\u00a0 Bruce and I sang \u201cI Believe in Christ.\u201d\u00a0 I was especially moved by the testimony of the fourth verse:<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I believe in Christ; he stands supreme!
\n<\/i>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 From him I\u2019ll gain my fondest dream;
\n<\/i>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 And while I strive through grief and pain
\n<\/i>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 His voice is heard: \u201cYe shall obtain.\u201d
\n<\/i>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I believe in Christ, so come what may
\n<\/i>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 With him I\u2019ll stand in that great day
\n<\/i>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 When on this earth he comes again
\n<\/i>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 To rule among the sons of men.<\/i><\/span><\/p>\n

I knew that Nancy was indeed standing with Christ.<\/span><\/p>\n

I want Nancy to conclude this essay with her own words, that \u201cthe works of God may be manifest\u201d in the hearts of any who read this.\u00a0 You can imagine my mother-in-law moving down the alphabet as her daughter blinks on the letters she wants.\u00a0 Here is Nancy\u2019s message:<\/span><\/p>\n

As I have done my history I have had many different thoughts and many different feelings.\u00a0 I hope as you read it you will think not only of my history but that you will also think of your own history.<\/i><\/span><\/p>\n

One of my main feelings as I recalled things that had happened in my life was one of JOY!\u00a0 That does not mean that there have not been trials, but even those have brought a kind of joy.\u00a0 I think your attitude has a lot to do with the way you look at life.\u00a0 You may only see the troubles and so you are sure life is bad and cruel.\u00a0 You may act resentful and bitter about everything.\u00a0 Or you may learn from the trials that come and try to be as positive as you can be.<\/i><\/span><\/p>\n

I once heard that it is not so important WHAT you believe is true but that you are TRUE TO YOUR BELIEFS.\u00a0 That is the way I hope I have lived and the way I hope I keep on living.\u00a0 It is also the way I hope you will live.\u00a0 I might say more but I will leave you with your own thoughts and remind you that \u201cman is that he might have JOY.\u201d<\/i><\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/body><\/html>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Ye cannot behold with your natural eyes, for the present time, the design of your God concerning those things which shall come hereafter, and the glory which shall follow after much tribulation. For after much tribulation come the blessings.\u00a0 Wherefore the day cometh that ye shall be crowned with much glory; the hour is not […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1301,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[45,281,280,279,278],"class_list":["post-1463","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-bruce-young","tag-gratitute","tag-joy","tag-multiple-sclerosis","tag-nancy-young-layton"],"yoast_head":"\nMothers' Day Tribute--Nancy Young Layton<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Ye cannot behold with your natural eyes, for the present time, the design of your God concerning those things which shall come hereafter, and the glory\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" 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