Remembering Mom: Her Journey. Heart. Tears. Prayers.

Dorothy Owen de Ymaz
November 29, 1923 - April 25, 2016

OBITUARY
Dorothy O. de Ymaz, b. November 29, 1923, passed in peace on April 25, 2016, in Little Rock, AR. She is survived by her beloved son, Mark DeYmaz (Linda); grandchildren Zack (Lori), Emily, Will, and Kate; great grandchildren, Grace and Catherine; and preceded in death by her daughter, Jean Foote.

STORY
On November 29, 1923, Thanksgiving Day, Dorothy Mae Owen was born. She was the fourth of five children.

Dorothy spent her childhood in Hermitage, AR where her father owned the local store and her mother was a beloved member of the community. After her father's death, Dorothy moved to Little Rock, together with her mother and sister, Juanita, where she completed her senior year at Little Rock High School, today known as Central. Following graduation, she spent a year in business school; and at nineteen years of age, moved to Washington, D.C., taking a secretarial job at the United States Department of Agriculture. Thus began a thirty-six year career with the government that included stints in Europe and South America attached to U.S. embassies in London and Buenos Aires. In these roles, she served the Air Force in covert operations via the air attaché.

By 1961, she was living and working for the Department of Health and Human Services in San Francisco, CA. It was there she met and fell in love with Ned Tripoli, who was married. Their relationship led to the birth of her only son, John Mark (Mark). Pregnant and single at a time in the United States when this was stigmatized, she married long-time suitor, Jorge Ymaz, who gave her and her child his name. When Jorge returned to South America in 1962, Dorothy chose to remain in the Untied States. It was at that point, and in line with Spanish culture, that she added the preposition "de" (of) to her name, becoming Dorothy de Ymaz.

Throughout her pregnancy Dorothy prayed that if God would give her a son, she would give the child right back to Him, wholeheartedly dedicating her son to kingdom service. That she did, in a Catholic church, shortly after Mark was born.

Ten years later, in August 1972, Dorothy and Mark moved to Phoenix, AZ, where she took a new position with the Social Security Administration. The move was prompted by her desire to spend less time commuting to and from work each day in order to have more time with Mark, as well as to help him heal from chronic bronchitis due to the damp coastal air. Indeed, from the day of his birth until the day she died, Dorothy's first and foremost priority was Mark's happiness, significance, and wellbeing. In ways too many to enumerate, driven by love, she faithfully dedicated herself and sacrificed much personally to ensure this very thing. Dorothy died knowing her dreams for him had been realized. Indeed, one story from this season of her life bears repeating.

From 1975-1977, Dorothy and Mark shared a single bedroom apartment on Central Ave. in Phoenix, across the street from Brophy College Preparatory where Mark attended high school. In those years, Mark did not know Jesus Christ as Savior and was making poor choices detrimental to his future. It was in these years that Dorothy's childhood faith in Christ was rekindled through involvement in a house church led by a woman called Sister Smith. Through the ministry of Sister Smith, Dorothy discovered the power of prayer and of the Holy Spirit. She began to pray fervently for Mark; for a change of heart, mind, and will; that he would soon come to know the Lord as she did; that He would one day serve him as she had long ago prayed.

One night, at 3:00 A.M., Mark awoke and noticed Dorothy missing from her bed. Hearing what sounded to him like intense screaming, he became concerned and frightened. Finding the courage to further investigate, he left the bedroom, walked quietly past the bathroom, and entered the kitchen area that overlooked the living room. In the darkness, he could see his mother on her knees, at the foot of the couch, agonizing in prayer and crying out to God. As he stood silently watching and listening, he perceived her to be praying for him in a language other than English or Spanish, those in which she was fluent. At the time, Mark had never heard of the spiritual gift of tongues; and never again would he hear Dorothy praying in this way. But that night, the Spirit helped her weakness, interceding with groanings too deep for words, (Romans 8:26). Though it would be several years later before Mark would seek the forgiveness of God through personal faith in Jesus Christ, it was that night, he believes, that set such wheels, and the destiny of his life, in motion: a mother's prayer for her son.

In 1977, Dorothy purchased her first home in Scottsdale, AZ into which she and Mark moved in his junior year of high school. From that home, in 1978, Dorothy began a search and in time located her only daughter, Jean, then living in Aspen, CO. Dorothy had given birth to Jean while living in Washington D.C. in the 1940s where, in light of her youth, inexperience, and lack of resources, she made the courageous decision first to give birth to the child, and later a difficult one to place her daughter for adoption. Loving parents in Palo Alto, CA ultimately raised Jean who would later meet and marry her husband, Bob Foote, an Australian, living in Cairns. Throughout the years following their reunification, and to the day of Jean's death (cancer), both mother and daughter enjoyed a loving relationship. Jean and Bob visited Dorothy several times in AZ, as she did them in Australia.

Following her retirement in the 1980s, she enjoyed a deepening relationship with Christ and Christ-centered friends through involvement at Scottsdale Bible Church. Dorothy spent two years (1990-1992) as a short-term missionary with Greater European Mission (GEM) in Vienna, Austria.

In 1994, while serving as the student ministries pastor at Fellowship Bible Church in Little Rock, AR, Mark wrote a loving tribute to Dorothy, a poem, that was read as a prayer for graduating seniors during an event he had organized in their honor. He had parents stand behind their seniors, and lay their hands on them as he read the tribute. Dennis and Barbara Rainey, co- founders of FamilyLife were in the room that night with their son, Ben. Subsequently the poem was picked up by FamilyLife, and to this day is promoted through their radio broadcasts each year, as well as by various other parties online. Part of an on-air discussion from the May 15, 2014 broadcast entitled Preparing Your Teen for the Future went like this:

• Bob Lepine (host): Dennis, was there a time that you remember when it clicked in for you that it was here—that time had come (for your first child to graduate high school)?
  
  
• Barbara Rainey: I'll try. [Laughter] It's not real easy to listen to because you can picture doing all of these things that he's written about. So, I will do my best to read this:

With these hands, I gently cradled this child;
Held him close to my heart,
Nursed his wounds and calmed her fears, [Emotion in voice]
Held the books that I would read
And rocked this child fast asleep.

• Dennis Rainey: She's never going to make it. I'll read it.

With these hands, I gently cradled this child;
Held him close to my heart,
Nursed his wounds and calmed her fears,
Held the books that I would read
And rocked this child fast asleep.

With these hands, I made his lunches
And drove the car that carried her to school;
Snapped endless pictures, wrapped countless gifts—
Then did my best to assemble those gifts.
Combed his hair and wiped her tear,
Let her know that I was near
To nurse his wounds and heal her heart
When it would break.

With these hands, I made mistakes.

And with these hands, I prayed, and prayed, and prayed.

These hands are feeble—these hands are worn, [Emotion in voice]
These hands can no longer calm the storms.
These hands have done all they can do.
These hands now release this child—my child—to You.

For Your hands are able, Your hands are strong,
Your hands alone can calm the storms.
Your hands will continue to do
What they are so gifted to do
To shape his life and make her new.

Into Your hands, receive this child.
For my child I now give back to You.

In the strong name of Jesus,
And with all my heart, I pray, Amen.

Returning to the United States and following the death of her only sister, Juanita, in the late 1990s, she sold her home on and purchased another in North Scottsdale. As with her initial move to Phoenix, and strategic purchase of her first home east of Camelback Mountain, this, too, would prove an insightful, forward leaning, financial decision that well positioned her in the most desirable area of the Valley ahead of future growth.

In the mid 2000s, she purchased a second home (rental property) in Little Rock, AR, next door to her son, Mark, and his family. Later that decade, she rented her property in North Scottsdale and moved in to a senior living center in Florida together with her two nieces, Randi and Kathy. There the three of them spent a few good years of life and laughter.

Just after 2010, and in her late 80s, Dorothy returned home to Arkansas, moving in to her house next door to Mark and Linda in order to be near them and her grandchildren. Lovingly cared as her strength slowly deteriorated, she found relational restoration, reconciliation, and redemption in the final years of her life with all she knew and loved. Dorothy lived to see her great grandchild, Catherine, born in January 2015. Through personal visits, pictures, and videos, Catherine gave her much joy, as did each and every friend and family member that visited her at home, during hospital stays, and in the final months of her life in hospice.

On Monday afternoon, April 25, 2016, just hours after her death, Mark would pay tribute to Dorothy on social media.

She was a pioneering single parent raising me alone at a time when only 6% of children were growing up w/o a father in the home. Strong, resilient, and industrious, she worked two jobs to provide; and well she did. She prayed me into the kingdom, dedicated me to God, and sacrificed herself, her own desires and needs that I might serve Him. She taught me how to survive, and to thrive; that no obstacle was too big to overcome; no mountain could not be moved; that I could do anything I set my mind to do via faith, courage, and sacrifice. And then, this morning she passed after 92.5 years of life: my wife Linda in the room, my daughter, her granddaughter, Kate, lying next to her in bed and holding her close. To the end she had her mind; she did not suffer; she was well cared for; she felt loved. Thus, my mother, Dorothy Owen DeYmaz, left this world better than she found it; at peace with God, family, and friends. Rest now, Mama. You done good;-) You made a difference. Your legacy endures. You are home.