In our family, my mother-in-law was affectionately known as “the Boss.” Of course, she was the eldest, so it was only natural—but behind that title lay a will that no one could sway, a sharp discernment and memory unmatched by any of her descendants.

After my marriage, I lived in circumstances that made it difficult to care for her closely or visit often, as I was supporting my husband’s ministry. She raised her three sons—now a physician in his seventies, a pastor in his sixties, and a businessman nearing sixty—with strict discipline. They called her “the tiger.” And she was no less exacting with her daughters-in-law.

She always kept a watchful eye on our faith and household management. When we brought her gifts—new blankets, shoes, clothes, or food—she rarely accepted them as they were. She would ponder whether they were truly the best, and often insisted they be exchanged several times before she was satisfied.

Even after moving into a nursing home years ago, she would scold her children if they brought gifts meant only for her. She wanted every visit to include something for the hardworking staff and fellow residents. Visits without such consideration never pleased her.

At the end of August, my mother-in-law passed away at the age of 95. Born in Pyeongsan County, Hwanghae Province, of the Hanyang Jo clan, she died in a nursing home in New Jersey, USA. Only then did I begin to understand more deeply who she truly was.

She married at sixteen and moved to Seoul with her in-laws to support her fourteen-year-old husband’s studies. Exceptionally bright, she lived in a time when girls were not taught to read. Later, through church, she taught herself Hangul and began reading the Bible.

In Seoul, she once practiced superstition with devotion. But one day, when the husband of a Christian neighbor passed away, she was moved by their funeral—not filled with wailing, but with hymns and prayer. That moment led her to church.

She lived her faith with the same precision and intensity as her character. Despite poverty, she sent her eldest son to medical school, shedding countless tears to cover tuition. Yet every Saturday, she would iron wrinkled bills or exchange them at the bank for crisp ones, offering her tithe and thanksgiving with reverence.

After the Korean War broke out, during the bitter cold of the retreat south, she traded her precious gold ring for a piece of rice cake to save her second son, whose frostbitten hands were swollen red. How did she know that one day, that son would feed and care for hungry souls in a foreign land?

My mother-in-law was a daughter of Korea who survived poverty, ignorance, discrimination, and isolation through faith. She raised her children in that faith, and passed it on to her grandchildren. She lived by the principle: whatever you do, do it as unto the Lord—with the very best.

I held her cold hand and said goodbye in silent sobs. “Mother… thank you. You are my eternal Boss.