My name is Jo-Ann Barton. I was born on March 1, 1938, and I grew up in Littleton, Maine. Life was simpler then. We didn’t have much, but we had family, and that meant a lot.
There were three of us kids in my family—a brother, a sister, and me. I was the oldest, though people often thought I was the youngest. I don’t know why, but that’s how it seemed. With my mother and father, that made five of us all together.
My father worked on a farm for his cousin. He worked very long hours, often late into the night. Because of that, we didn’t see him very much during the week. Usually we would see him on Saturdays and Sundays. He was a good man and good to us kids, but since he worked so much and wasn’t home a lot, I remember feeling a little shy around him. When you only see someone a couple of days a week, you don’t always know them the same way you might otherwise.
My mother was different. She was the one who kept everything together. I always say she was a little crazy—crazy in the good way, like me. She had a lot of spirit. She was the glue that held our family together. She kept us going, made sure things got done, and made sure we stayed connected. When I look back now, I realize how important that was.
Growing up, our family had traditions just like many others. Thanksgiving and Christmas were special times. Every year we would go up to my grandmother’s house to celebrate. I remember those gatherings as fun. Family would be together, and those were the moments that stayed with me.
Church was also a big part of our life when I was young. We went to church in Littleton every Sunday—morning and evening. That was just the way it was. It wasn’t optional. Unless you were sick and truly couldn’t get out of bed, you went to church. That was simply expected.
The church had something called junior church for the children, but I didn’t care much for that. I usually stayed upstairs with my mother during the regular service. Every summer we also had Bible school. Two young women would usually come to help lead it, and many of us kids would attend.
It was during one of those summers, when I was around seventh or eighth grade, that something important happened to me. I remember we were given a book to read at Bible school, and during that time I came to believe in Jesus for myself. I can’t say I understood everything at that age, but I remember accepting Jesus in my heart. That was the beginning of my faith.
Later in life, I met my husband, Bob. The way we met was a little unusual. Bob had been dating one of my girlfriends. When they broke up, she ended up introducing him to me. That’s how it started. Life can take funny turns sometimes.
Bob grew up in Houlton, and after we married in 1956, I moved there with him. Bob was Methodist, but when we first moved to Houlton, we attended the Court Street Baptist Church for a while. I remember Pastor Peter Beck there. He was a very kind man, and I liked him very much.
Eventually, though, Bob brought me to the Houlton Methodist Church. You might say he converted me. Over the years, that church became a part of our life. One of the things I really enjoyed was the women’s group and Bible study at the church. I liked going to those gatherings and spending time with the other women. I would have kept going, too, but at one point I sold my car. Once I did that, it became hard to get there. I’ve sometimes thought maybe I shouldn’t have sold it, but that’s how things worked out. Life changes as the years go by.
Bob and I raised three children together. When I think about my life, some of the best years were when all of my kids were still at home. The house was full, and there was always something happening. Those were busy years, but they were good years.
In fact, if someone asked me about the happiest time in my life, I would probably say it was when my children were all home with us. There’s something special about that time when your family is together under one roof.
But children grow up, of course. They leave home, start their own lives, and things change. After the kids moved out, the house felt empty. I missed them. That’s just part of being a parent. You love seeing them grow, but it’s hard when the house gets quiet.
Now my joy comes in different ways. One of the biggest joys in my life today is my great-grandson, Canon. He’s about seven years old now. He’s Steven’s little boy. Canon is very active—full of energy. When he comes to visit, I feel quite content. Children bring life into a room, and when he’s around, it brightens my day.
Over the years, faith has continued to be important to me. Like anyone else, I’ve had times when I struggled—times when my thoughts would run and run, and I would worry about things. Sometimes I would lie awake at night worrying about people or situations that I couldn’t control.
Eventually I realized something important. I can’t carry everyone’s problems. I can’t fix everything. When something comes up now, I try to turn it over to God. Instead of worrying all night, I give it to Him. I’m learning to trust Him with it. That has helped me a lot. I sleep better now, and I feel more at peace.
One hymn that always reminds me of my childhood is “Life’s Railway to Heaven.” My father used to sing it in church all the time. I can still hear it in my mind. The image of life being like a railway traveling toward heaven—that has stayed with me all these years.
These days I also enjoy reading. I like Amish stories in particular. They’re peaceful, simple, and often about family and faith. I find them comforting.
When I think about my family—my children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren—my biggest hope is that they grow up well and stay out of trouble. So far they’ve been good kids, and I’m thankful for that.
If I could leave them with one message, it would be this: stop fighting. Families
sometimes argue, but it’s better when people get along. I think we all need more peace with one another.
Maybe that’s one of the lessons I’ve learned in life. Peace matters. I didn’t always have as much patience as I should have, and I’m a bit feisty—that’s what people say about me. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that peace, both in your heart and in your family, is very important.
If I could be remembered for anything, I think I’d like to be remembered as someone who cared about her family and wanted people to stay together. My mother was the glue that held our family together, and in some ways I think I’ve wanted the same thing—to help keep people connected.
Life goes by faster than you think. Families grow, children move away, and things change. But the love between people—that’s what lasts. And through it all, I keep trusting God to lead the way.
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