A Strong, Godly Mother

My wonderful grandfather, Daniel F Wilson, was the most prolific poet in our family to date.  I don't have a total count of his works, (because there are duplicates and the poems are written in hard-to-read, old-timey cursive, in pencil)  But my estimate is 230 - 250 poems.

As his mother before him (Mary W Cox) and his daughter after him (Erma W Walker) he had a sentimental spot when it came to mothers.  This is his poem in tribute to the way his mother courageously cared for the family, with God's help, after her husband's premature death in 1894.

Mother

Our dear mother is now at rest

She is now in heaven with the blest

The Savior called and she could not stay

An angel guided her on her way

Many years have come and gone

Since Father left her side

But she bravely carried on

With Jesus for her guide.

She is happy now we know

But we dreaded to see her go

With long life she was greatly blest

And has earned a blessed rest.

Now with father reunited

She will be so happy and delighted

And the friend that went before

Will greet her on that golden shore.

She was so cheerful and so gay

We would have her always stay

Now on this Christmas morn

We are so sad and forlorn.

But we know that she will wait

To greet us at the pearly gate

There on the golden street

Her brothers and sisters she often will meet.

There in her mountain retreat

In her cottage clean and neat

With the vines around the door;

When our work is done

And the Sabbath begun

She will greet us smiling as of yore.

by Daniel F Wilson

written 1946-47

Mary, Daniel, Jonathan and Ella Wilson in 1883

The Privilege of Being a Mother

I come from a literary family. They write poems in small notebooks, in odd hours, and stuff them in drawers.  They never publish anything, never make any money, and never think that they are talented.  Nevertheless, the testaments remain.  Passed down in the family by those who are more interested in family history than in literature, these works have accumulated to something of a body by my generation.  I type them, gather them, treasure them, tell my children about them -- and now finally -- share them.

This poem was written by my aunt, my mother's only sibling.  She had only one child. After reading this poem you may think, as I do, that being a mother was the high point of her life.  

If you are a mother, pat yourself on the back.  You have accomplished the most important job of your life!!!

The Privilege of Being a Mother

She passed me on the street one day

Dressed in her silks and furs,

The dog that trotted on her leash

Was not a common cur,

He boasted ancestors on each side

With a mile long pedigree.

Yet a stab of pity filled my heart,

Though a wealthy woman is she.

Her husband is a kindly man

Generous, loving and true,

Her home is quite luxurious

With broad lands and a beautiful view,

She owns diamonds and jewels rare,

Each worth a princely sum,

But no childish laughter fills the halls

Of the mansion she calls home.

I do not envy her her wealth,

Nor long to take her place,

My jewels rare are two blue eyes

In a laughing, childish face,

My precious gems are ruby lips

And ringlets of golden hair,

Compared to my great treasure,

Her life seems cold and bare.

She has never felt soft, dimpled arms

Around her neck entwined,

Nor held a little hand in hers

With a love that’s undefined,

She has never had a curly head

Laid gently on her breast

With two bright eyes gazing into hers

In confidence and trust.

Would she like a child? I asked myself,

Ah! yes, I think she would

But an unkind Fate denied to her

The joys of motherhood,

And I think if the truth were ever known,

In spite of the fuss and the bother,

She would exchange her wealth and her beautiful home.

For the privilege of being a mother.

Erma I. Walker

10-31-46

Mother

Do you miss your mother?  Did she bandage your cuts, wipe your tears, tell you stories, and kiss you goodnight?  Did she bring you cups of tea, teach you how to cook, or--most important of all--teach you how to find saving faith in Jesus Christ?  If she has gone on ahead to her eternal home, and you can't kiss her and thank her this Mother's Day, here is a poem of tribute -- and of Hope.

Write and tell me if it touches you.  It was written by my great grandmother Mary Cox (1843-1931), in memory of her mother, Sarah Jane Earhart (1817-1870).

Mother

Friends may depart and foes arise,

Christ’s love is just the same;

He never, never will forsake,

Those who are trusting in His name.

Oh! What a blessed hope is ours,

What meditation sweet,

To know that we will meet again, Mother

When life’s journey is complete.

Our thoughts are turning backward,

To childhood’s winsome years,

When we always ran to Mother,

With all our joys and fears.

We would go to her when tired,

To get the needed rest;

We would go to her when wounded,

To get a fond caress.

And when we were sick or troubled,

We would go to her for aid;

And though it would be dark around,

We never felt afraid.

As backward on the wings of time,

We fly to her embrace;

We see her face all bright to shine,

Of tears there is no trace.

Written in love by

Mary W. Cox

1843-1931

Tribute to Christian Mothers

Everyone is talking about mothers this week.  Since mine has gone on to be with Jesus, I think of all the women who have "mothered" me.  Right now I am thinking of the Christian heritage that has come from my grandmother and great grandmother.

My great grandmother, Mary Wilson Cox (1847-1931) was a remarkable women whose influence cast a very long shadow in my family.  In an age when women "stayed home," she was a church planter, inspirational speaker, midwife, teacher, and poet, to name a few.  Five of her poems remain to us.  Here is one in which she praises her mother for the Heritage of Faith that she passed down.


Thoughts of Mother

Our thoughts go back to Mother,
To that cottage on the knoll,
Where we knelt each night in prayer,
For the strengthening of the soul.

Our thoughts go back to Mother,
As she read God’s Holy Book,
And then we often wondered,
Why such pleasure in it took.

But when we gave our heart to God,
We learned to love it too,
Because we knew within our own heart,
That God’s blessed word was true.

Our thoughts go back to Mother,
As she sat in the rocking-chair,
And sang with sweet abandon,
There is no sorrow there.

Our thoughts go back to Mother,
As each Sabbath rolls around,
And we with our friends and neighbors,
In the church pew we were found.

We are thinking, dearest Mother,
Of the many who sought and found the Lord,
And many who long since have gone,
To gain their rich reward.

We will ne’er forget you, Mother,
Though our hair is turning gray,
And our eyes are not as bright perhaps,
As in our youthful day.

Our feet are not as fleet as when,
We used to walk together,
To church and prayer meetings,
No difference what the weather.

Our voice is not as strong, me-thinks,
As when we would so often sing,
And meet with one accord so oft,
To praise our Heavenly King.

But Christ is just the same, Mother,
As in the days of yore;
He will guide and keep us to the end,
And save us ever-more.

By Mary W. Cox
1847-1931

Going Home

from Grandma Stories: God’s Little Miracles by LDMahan

There once was a family who didn’t have a home.  They had lived in an apartment.  They had lived in a trailer.  They had lived in one room of somebody else’s house. They had moved thirteen times and lived in seven different cities.  Would you like to live in all those places?  They had seen Boston, Beverly and South Hamilton, Massachusetts.  They had been in Dallas, McAllen, San Antonio and Austin, Texas.  This family really had had a lot of adventures!

The four children of this family were aged twelve, nine, four and two years old, and they really wanted to have a home.  The mother was especially tired and really prayed to God for a home of her own.  Finally, even the dad got tired of moving and they began to look for a house.  The boy wanted a basketball hoop.  The younger girls wanted a trampoline.  The big sister wanted a room of her own.  And the mom wanted a big open kitchen.  They looked and looked, but nothing they could afford was big enough. 

One day while they were in the middle of supper, the phone rang.  It was their real estate agent.  A real estate agent is the person who helps you buy a house.

“Yes. Yes!  We’ll be right there,” said the father.  He hung up the phone and all the kids were herded into the family car for a quick drive across town to see a house that had just become available.  No one put the food away.  No one even looked for their shoes! 

The mom and dad raced across town and arrived at the house just before dark.  That was good, because the lights were turned off in the house and in a few more minutes they couldn’t have seen anything.  But what they did see got them all very excited. 

A big open living room, an extra living/dining area, and four bedrooms – the parent’s bedroom with a large mirror, vanity and bathroom.  The main bathroom had two sinks and a full-wall mirror!  And best of all for the mom – there was a huge kitchen with plenty of room for people to sit around and eat, cook and talk!  Walk-in closets!  A giant-sized yard with trees for hanging swings, a driveway for putting up a basketball hoop, and plenty of room for a trampoline or for playing Frisbee.

The mom and dad made their decision within twenty minutes and got right back in the car to meet the realtor.  That evening, before eleven pm, they had sent a contract and money to the seller of the house, telling them they wanted to buy it.

Now, you may not know it, but buying a house is not easy, even after you find the right one.  Getting through the process is like surviving an obstacle course—if you fall down along the way, too bad, but it you make it over all the hurdles—you get the house of your dreams!

The parents prayed—and the seller decided to choose them over another person who made an offer on the house.  They prayed some more—and the paperwork which had gotten lost was found.  More problems and more paperwork went flying back and forth. 

Finally, nothing happened for several weeks.  The mom had a bad feeling about this.  She drove to the front yard of “her” new house.  She committed this purchase to God.  She asked Him to open the doors that were closed and make a way for her family to have this house—which seemed to be standing there sadly, waiting for them to move in.  She asked His light to come in where there was any darkness.  She finally felt better and went home.

The day arrived for signing the final papers.  The appointment had already been cancelled and rescheduled several times, and the parents’ nerves were on edge. The purchase was taking so long that the family had had to move in with another family and put their things in storage.  What a hassle!  The closing time got closer and closer … 2 pm, … 2:30, … 3 pm, … 3:25.

At 3: 25 their real estate agent walked into the closing office carrying a house plant and wearing a big smile.  Five minutes before, she had just saved the deal from disaster due to yet another last-minute glitch.  Oh my!  The parents gratefully signed the papers and moved the family into their dream house. 

This family learned one more time that, even though their own efforts could not get them what they needed, “With God all things are possible.”

A Boy Far From Home

from Grandma Stories: God’s Little Miracles by LDMahan

The young girl was NOT ready to move far away.  She had been raised in this Ohio city, and knew nothing else.  The world seemed a big, scary place.  But all that was about to change.

College was looming ahead, and the brown-haired senior was not prepared.  She had tried very hard to be responsible, but how could you know what was “out there” before you arrived “out there”?  Unfortunately, after applying to a beautiful, ivy-covered university nearby, there were no funds to attend it. 

Now her father wanted to take her on an exotic vacation even farther away—to MEXICO!  She had never been out of the state of Ohio, never flown in a plane.  The thought of a foreign land made her knees tremble, but since her dad had been there before, she could hang onto his coattails.

The big day arrived.  The plane took off amidst loud, unfamiliar noises, strange uncomfortable feelings in her ears and head, and giddy, electric anxieties mixed with thrill.  Have you ever flown through huge mountains of puffy-castle clouds?  Awesome!  Mexico City was far stranger and far more wonderful than she had imagined.  Huge skyscrapers, ancient museums, cool cave-like cathedrals, and exciting night life.  Maybe going far from home would not be so bad after all.

The return trip was supposed to be routine, but she was in for another surprise—they had to deplane in Dallas, Texas.  Being an inexperienced traveler, the girl had expected to fly straight through to Ohio, but when she found herself on the ground in Dallas, the city where her boyfriend Bob now lived, she was simply struck that she had to see him.  You may know how it is with teenage girls! 

She pleaded with her father.  He checked with the airline clerk—it would be an additional charge of $100.00 each to interrupt their flight.  Dad thought a bit … he looked at his daughter’s hopeful face … he thought some more … then they picked up their baggage and headed for a Dallas hotel!

When she arrived at Bob’s home, she was greeted by his mother and three sisters with hugs and squeals.  It had been a year since his family had moved away from Ohio. The girl stayed with the family, while her father stayed at the hotel. 

She and her boyfriend talked about college life, he showed her a huge book that he had to read in less than five days, then he took her around the campus.  She met with the Dean of Admissions, and counseled with the Director of Financial Aid, all in a whirlwind two days.  Her friend tried to convince her this was the best school on the planet.

After she had returned home to Ohio, however, she began to feel as shy and scared as ever.  Taking an adventurous trip with her dad was one thing; moving to a strange place on her own was too much.  It was too big to decide on her own.  She would ask God.

She got down on her knees on the purple shag carpet of her bedroom floor.

“Dear Jesus, I don’t know what to do.  I’m scared and I have three problems.  First, I need money to go to the school in Dallas.  Second, I need to come back here and to be in my sister’s wedding two weeks after school has already started.  Finally, I don’t know any girls in Texas, so I need a roommate.  I leave it in your hands.”

Within the week a college financial aid officer called.  “We’re offering you all the money you need for school: loans, scholarships and work-study,” she announced.

“Wow!” the girl responded.

When she told her dad, he was very pleased.  “And don’t worry about your sister’s wedding,” he added.  “I will fly you back for that.”

Next, a letter arrived from one of Bob’s university friends.  This girl wrote: “I am in need of a roommate next year – won’t you please come and live with me?!”

So, that is the story of how God led a young girl to the college of her dreams – through an answered prayer and a boy far from home.