A Few Words About My Mother-In-Law

No one ever called Wanda Fuhrman lazy. 

A few weeks ago, our son, Ross and his wife, Jennie, were making improve- ments to their new house.  I had been helping as much as I could, and at least once each day I would describe to Wanda the progress that had been made.  Each day, her response was the same, "I wish I could help.  You know, I love to paint.  And I'd love to help them with the clean-up."


It soon became apparent that I needed to be with Wanda more than I needed to help them.  Just before I started staying with her full-time, I went over to help.  Wanda didn't have the strength or the stamina to help with the remodelling, but she did find a way to contribute.  She prepared a meal for 12.  If you knew her, you know she didn't bring sandwiches and chips.  It was a meal.  Not only did she bring food, and a fruit drink she'd made herself, she brought plates, flatware and glasses.  She'd thought of everything we'd need.  This was to be the last meal she prepared. 

When your birthday came around, you were going to get something from Wanda's oven.  Accomplishments and milestones were celebrated with food from her oven, and she expressed her sympathy with food from her oven.  Just a few weeks ago, while she was still taking chemotherapy, she made cinnamon rolls from scratch for a friend's grieving family. 

Being tired and feeling sick were no excuse in her book.  There was work to be done and she was the woman for the job, right up until three weeks ago.

My first memory of the woman who would later become my mother-in-law is still vivid.  At eight years old, I would run to the edge of our front yard to wave at the woman with the red bandana wrapped around her hair as she drove past in a grain truck.  Numerous grain trucks drove past our house during harvest, but I only ran to the road for one.  The one being driven by a woman. 

I, like many of you, was impressed by her.  Wanda Fuhrman was an accomplished seamstress, she kept an immaculate house, she tended her lawn and garden with extraordinary results.  She loved to send cards and prepare food for others. 

I had told Wanda she was the epitome of the Proverbs 31 woman.  As I read the scripture to her, I remembered a time when we were shopping and she took me into an expensive ladies clothing store.  My eyes were immediately drawn to an ivory wool jacket. While I had it on, she wrote notes on a small piece of paper.  Within a week, she presented me with a similar jacket she had made.  She loved to sew and she was masterful.

We did a lot of reminscing in the last few months.  As I took her to chemotherapy treatments and appointments for blood work, she  would tell me stories from her past.  Some were new, and others I had heard before.

Like the time she mailed a box of mashed potatoes to her Aunt Elsie. It was Thanksgiving 1953 and this was the first year Wanda had hosted the families.  And not just immediate family.  Grandma Strong's sisters were there with their families.  When Aunt Elsie questioned the amount of potatoes Wanda had prepared, Wanda assured Aunt Elsie that there would be enough.  Aunt Elsie was certain they would run out of potatoes and wanted to quickly prepare more.  Wanda insisted there would be enough, that she knew in advance how many people were coming and she had prepared with that number in mind.

At the end of the day, there were potatoes left over.  Though she never elaborated, I'm sure Earl instigated the idea of mailing the leftovers to Aunt Elsie.  But, he didn't mail them.  Wanda was the one who giggled in delight as she packed them for shipping.  Years later, Aunt Elsie would laugh and tell her version of the story. Not everyone saw Wanda's onery streak, but it was there.

She was also strong-willed.  If she wanted to get something done, nothing was going to stop her.  Not even cancer. 

I've always loved her angel food cake, as one of the grandchildren said, "It's what she's famous for." I've never tasted angel food cake like hers, it almost melts in your mouth. After waiting almost thirty years, she finally gave me the recipe.  I told her I wanted to practice until I was confident I could make the cake without her assistance.  Two weeks ago, she was ready to teach me the secrets. 

As she drifted off to sleep, I decided to make the cake myself.  I was following the recipe, when suddenly, out of nowhere, she appeared!  She was almost frantic as she said, "Why'd you start without me?  You can't do it that way!  You have to sift the flour and sugar first!"  As she was talking she flung her walker out of the way, tipping it over.  I began to laugh as she quickly rattled off instructions and reached around me to get what was needed.  We worked together to salvage the batter.  I was worried that I had ruined the cake, but it turned out perfectly. I rewrote the instructions so that the steps were listed in correct order.  I don't know if I'll always remember everything she told me,  but the image of her shoving that walker out of her way and gently pushing me aside will stay with me forever. 

Her tumor advanced at a terrifying pace.  While she wasn't able to do as much as she would have liked on Easter weekend, she did enjoy having family with her.  Marlin told her repeatedly to, "Sit down and rest."  The idea of sitting and watching everyone else do the work was unimaginable to her.  So, she did as much as her body would allow. 

No one will ever remember Wanda Fuhrman as lazy.



I asked God to heal her, and he said, "not yet."  I asked God to keep her free from pain, and he said, "not yet."  I asked God to take her home, and he said, "yes, that I will do."