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By any standard, her radiance was a sight to behold. The straw hat, casually hanging down her straight back by a yellow ribbon, gave little protection to fair skin, dark shiny hair and flashing blue eyes. Her sisters were almost running to keep up with her confident and energetic stride as she led the way to her favorite place, Sunday morning church services.
Across the street, a young man in a crisp National Guard uniform came to an abrupt halt. He could hardly believe his eyes. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Totally captured, he did an about face, marched to the other side, and surrendered to his future. The year was 1915.
My grandfather took great pleasure in telling the story, reaching back through time, grasping for that dim memory. Some sixty years later she still had that engaging way that all her children and grandchildren adored. Life had not been easy, not for one minute, but her unwavering faith and spunk became an affirming testimony.
By her own admission, there were times of weariness, especially when life threatening kidney disease sent her to a distant hospital. The only transportation was by train. She remembered rattling along in the baggage car, the only available place to put a bed. Her pregnant, toxic body screamed in pain, but constant communion with the Lord remained her lifeline. Neither the baby nor the kidney survived. She recalled being so sick she could barely tolerate the smallest sound.
Eventually, she was back on her feet and back in labor. Children piled up like a doll collection. She marshaled her young troops, telling them, "Work brings a sense of accomplishment." She trudged down to the creek to drag up tree limbs to build a fire under the wash pot. The older boys pumped water and carried it in buckets to her well-tended garden where she used a gourd dipper to irrigate each vegetable plant. To make the work more palatable, she made up games, told Bible stories, sang the chick-a-dee song, and taught them about nature.
Somewhere along the way, the man she married seemed to lose his ability to provide, so she worked from sunrise until after dark. Selling a few eggs, and the butter she churned, generated a little money but never enough to buy shoes to wear to her favorite place.
The Bible and the dictionary were the only books she read. Wisdom gleaned from this tiny library and struggles to sustain the large brood were life lessons to her children. They watched her pray over everything from a sick baby to the old cow. They listened to her clear sweet voice sing encouraging hymns as her hands worked and her back ached.
During the Great Depression, she willingly shared with beggars what little food was available, another example of walking the talk. Seven pairs of offspring eyes drank in her benevolence and obedience. Sweetly, she quoted, "You never know when you are entertaining angels unaware." Their mother was the personification of love, her price above rubies.
Her delightful laughter cushioned some of those grueling early times. Once, when all the chickens had ganged up on the runt of the bunch and pecked off his feathers, she came to the rescue by sewing a protective outfit on him until he could grow his own covering. No chicken ever had a better tailor. He was named for the funny little sound he made, "Pee-urp." The Pee-urp suit story is legendary.
Unafraid to stomp her foot in righteous indignation and defend her own, she surprised a sneaky snake who was gulping a precious, just laid egg. She grabbed him behind his thieving head and forced him to eject the ill-gotten loot, still intact. Then, she took him out of commission with the hoe.
This dear and creative woman had an unfailing adherence to the tenets of the Scriptures. Her stance on honoring God and acting "right" was a beacon of inspiration. At the departure of any child or grandchild, she would stand on the back porch, smiling and pointing her finger to the sky. That was her message to remind us, "Don't forget God is in control."
In the beginning, a smitten young soldier discovered a beautiful treasure parading by, so happy to be on her way to worship. At her death, multitudes of family gathered to pay respect to a matriarch whose living discipleship will influence generations. In our commemorative photograph, each of us is pointing toward heaven.
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