Memories That Last 4
Today wraps up my series about things the members of our ladies’ Bible class remember with gratitude from their girlhoods. I made up their names as usual.
Before I tell you some specific memories, I’d like to share a general impression. Several of the ladies, whom I have not written about in detail, spoke mainly about their mother’s hard work at homemaking–cooking, canning, cleaning, and such. I sort of dismissed those stories at first; but, on further reflection, I realized just how important that is. One of the ways that we show love to our children is to make the sacrifices necessary to feed them day in and day out, to wash their clothes, and all those other mundane things that we sometimes take for granted.
She looks well to the ways of her household,
And does not eat the bread of idleness.
Proverbs 31:27
When we look well to the ways of our household, we follow the example of our Heavenly Father Who also takes care of some pretty mundane-seeming things–you know, things like air and water that we cannot live without either.
Here are some more ways that mothers–and teachers, too–blessed the members of our class:
Miss Shirley, who is eighty-two, is thankful for her mother who took her to church and for her eighth grade teacher who had a party for her class every month.
Miss Margaret, who is ninety, is thankful for her mother who taught her to work and for her teacher who taught third and fourth grades in the same classroom. Even with all this teacher had to do for all of those children, she made time to read aloud to them from classic children’s literature.
After Miss Doris (who is in her mid-seventies, I guess) grew up, she and her husband lived up north. Still, when they came home to Tennessee for almost every holiday, her mother had a pan of baked sweet potatoes ready, because Miss Doris liked them.
I told you about Miss Jeanne on Tuesday. She is also thankful for a lady who went to her church when Miss Jeanne was a girl. I’ll call the lady Miss Lillian. She made bread for the Lord’s Supper each week and carried it to church in a basket, along with a starched white tablecloth. Her husband did not come to church, so Miss Lillian walked the half mile with her three boys, who all grew up to be godly men. When it was time to begin a hymn, a man stood at the front of the church to lead, but it was Miss Lillian’s beautiful voice that always sang the first note from her seat on the front row.
Miss Jeanne’s story about the lady who made communion bread reminded Miss Jane (whom I wrote about on Wednesday) of her own mother baking the bread. She said, “I can just see her . . .” as she used her hands to show us how she rolled it out and marked it so that people could break it easily.
You are painting pictures that your own children will see again someday when they think about their own childhoods. I know you are painting beautiful ones.
Her children rise up and bless her.
Proverbs 31:28