Pilgrimage & Jubilee
My First Fifty-ish Years in Poetry, Prose, Pictures (and a Family History of Sorts)
by Virginia Quarrier Knowles Pilgrimage and Jubilee Table of Contents
Poems About Life
• Pilgrimage and Jubilee / 5 • Shimmer and Shadow / 6 • The Harp in the Willow / 8 • Lift Up Your Head and Laugh / 9 • Your Kindness Gave Me Courage / 10 • This is My Song and I Sing / 11 • Rebound / 12 • In the Poet's Realm – with Self Portrait 2012 / 14 • It Became to Me a Dark Thing / 15 • Sanctuary / 18 • Kaleidoscope / 18 • A Mother's Seeds / 19 • Do Cry – with pottery painting / 21 • A Woman of Beauty / 23 • Bella Sophia / 24
Poems from My Younger Years
• Who Is There Like Unto Thee? / 25 • Creator on the Cross – with Throne Room of Grace painting / 26 • How Will They Know? – with Self Portrait Teen Years / 27 • Follow You / 28 • Alabaster Jar / 29
Poems About Nature
• Moth / 31 • Over Utah in January / 32 • Between the Seed and the Tree / 34 • One Sky / 35 • Autumn Breeze / 35
[ 2 ] Poems for Advent
• Pure Devotion / 36 • Invitation to Stillness / 37 • Paradox / 38 • The Story Did Not Start with a Stable and a Star / 39 • Shepherd's Tale / 40 • Corpus Christi / 41 • Grace Will Lead Me Home / 44 • Candlewick / 45 • Peace and Joy / 46 • Psalm to Sweet Jesus / 47 • Rhapsody in M / 48 • The Jesus Poem / 49 • Christmas in Malawi, Christmas in America / 50
Essays and Observations
• My Glorious Dish Towel / 52 • The Mom's Alphabet / 54 • A Parable of Grace / 55 • What Does It Take to Forge Our Character? / 57 • It Couldn't Be Done poem by Edgar Guest / 58 • If You Expect Real Respect / 59
Life Time Line / 60
My Children • Twenty Years, Ten Kids, One House / 62 • To Bolivia with Love / 64 • To Italy with Love / 65 • Seven Blessings for One Marriage / 66 • Ivory and Gray / 67
[ 3 ] My Childhood • The Kansas City Years / 68 • My Story of Liberty in 1976 / 70 • My Odyssey from “Renaissance” to “Reformation” / 71
My Parents
• Tribute to My Mother, Mary Quarrier / 72 • A Eulogy is Also a Beginning / 75 • Tribute to My Father, Phil Quarrier / 76
My Grandparents
• Diamonds in My Family Tree, poem for the 75th Anniversary of Henry and Dorothy Hess / 78 • Memories from Dorothy Ransom Hess / 79 • Tribute to Henry Edward Hess, Sr. / 81 • Tribute to Dorothy Ransom Hess / 82 • Tribute to Jack Quarrier / 83 • Tribute to Margaret Driggs / 85
My Ancestry
• A Letter from a Mama to Her Son, 1933 / 87 • Memoir of Heinrich Hess / 90 • Quakers in Our Family Tree / 91 • Margaret Scott / 91 • Andre and Suzanne Lamoureaux / 92 • Samuel Ransom and George Palmer Ransom / 92 • Alexander Quarrier with Bruce and the Spider poem / 92 • Bible Notes from Lillian Brazier / 94
A Legacy / 96
[ 4 ] Dear reader,
I have compiled this book as a legacy for my children and grandchildren of what has come before them. This is my history and my heart.
I have often said, “I am a poet, not a logistician or administrator.” That is where I'll start, with the poems.
Pilgrimage and Jubilee by Virginia Knowles, 2013 (my own jubilee birthday)
It’s been a long road And I’ve traveled the valley of the shadow. But I write as a free woman Still with earthy bonds, yes But able to rise above and go beyond.
We are called to the dignity Of the Image of God. We are called to walk the path Of peace and glory. We are called to hear the holy echo: "Proclaim liberty throughout the land!" So let us rise, strong and free. Mine is the story of pilgrimage and jubilee.
[ 5 ] Shimmer and Shadow by Virginia Knowles, 2012 I.
Epiphany dawns to blaze of day Fiery sun and cooling shade Then sunset glow Seeping dusk Star sparkle, honey gold of moon Obscuring haze of deepening dark Dark deep Wait Rest Heal Epiphany dawns Hope rises on the horizon
II.
My life is shimmer and shadow Shadow and shimmer A chiaroscuro portrait, clear and dark The Artist draws and draws Draws me into scenes of day and night Draws me to himself in glimmerings and glimpses There is still life I am still here I am here and so is He In shimmer and shadow
[ 6 ] "Even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you." Psalm 139:12
"Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord rises upon you. See, darkness covers the earth and thick darkness is over the peoples, but the Lord rises upon you and his glory appears over you." Isaiah 60:2
"He who made the Pleiades and Orion, who turns blackness into dawn and darkens day into night/ the Lord is his name." Amos 5:8
"On my bed I remember you; I think of you through the watches of the night. Because you are my help, I sing in the shadow of your wings." Psalm 63:7
"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me." Psalm 23:4
"… because of the tender mercy of our God, by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven to shine on those living in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the path of peace." Luke 1:78-79
"But for you who revere my name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings." Malachi 4:2a
[ 7 ] The Harp in the Willow by Virginia Knowles, 2014 We hung our harps in the willows When we could sing no more They dance in the branches To the tune of the wind on their strings. This is not our homeland Captives we are, far from our own paths We are poor in spirit: mourning Remembering, lamenting, longing. We can spare no lilting melody to amuse The mockers who lock away our destiny Our lives are not in harmony here And we cannot sing of joy. Sing we will, one day, for Someday freedom is coming and Harps dancing in our hands We will sing our sojourn home.
"By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion. We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof. For there they that carried us away captive required of us a song; and they that wasted us required of us mirth, saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion. How shall we sing the LORD's song in a strange land?" (Psalm 137 KJV)
[ 8 ] Lift Up Your Head and Laugh by Virginia Knowles, 2014
“Lift up your head and laugh!” He spoke as a prophet. But what did he know those thirty odd years ago? What did he know of my future? I was still so young then, with only a taste of raw and broken And visions of a whole life open before me Certainly not knowing quite what to expect But with dreams and plans nonetheless: Happily ever after with maybe a few little bumps along the way… Why not? And why not laugh? Life could be, would be, one grand adventure.
It’s been a rather curious life indeed This grand adventure of mine. Now I shake my head and laugh at myself, at how I clung to so much That prickled and burned and then gave way. Yet mysteries and marvels came to me when least expected Laughter mixed with tears and sighs And more than a few bumps along the way So much good and so much grief mingled in So much for dreams and plans! A worthwhile journey still, Just not how I thought it would be.
It’s not just me, I know I watch the world walking by And I try to understand, wonder Where it is going: out and about And home again, home again A million silent stories walking by A million mingling stories of mourning and mirth.
I have lived long and learned much And I find myself speaking to the young ones With their whole lives open before them The words of the timeless sage Thirty hundred years ago: “There is a time for everything… A time to weep and a time to laugh.” They have seen me weep, and I will weep again. But for now, I will lift up my head and laugh.
[ 9 ] Your Kindness Gave Me Courage by Virginia Knowles, 2014
Your kindness gave me courage A gentle conversation A thought-filled gaze A good deed done A warm embrace A place at your table A long letter, short note, silent words A prayer for wisdom and strength A gift from the heart.
Surely you did not fully know (How could you?) What that would do in me. Could you sense my soul’s burdens: The dark and doubt and defeat?
Then, just then, your kindness came as Light: luminous Love: lifting and leading me with Steady steps toward faith, hope, and joy.
Even though you could not fathom Its deep reach and widening ripples I knew then what I know now And what I live a little more each day.
The very remembrance Keen and bittersweet Still fills me with dignity and wonder that I can see, speak, serve, sing and Bring light and love to others.
I bless you, my friend, with all my heart. May the Lord Almighty bless you beyond Full measure, pouring over the rims, for Your kindness gives me courage.
[ 10 ] This Is My Song and I Sing by Virginia Knowles, 2009
This is my song and I sing Lyric of life, medley of my days Melody and harmony Solo, duet, chorale, round Love song and lullaby Anthem and protest chant Rhapsody and dirge Staccato, legato, crescendo, rest Measure on measure, mystery on mystery, mercy on mercy Stories of love, loss, faith, adventure, struggle, hope, grief, Heaven at last I sing my own part as only I can These lines, this life, penned by One who sang me into being Who still rejoices over me with singing Amazing grace, how sweet the sound! This song of my pilgrimage A cry of jubilee long coming Echoing into an eternity of praise This is my life and I live it This is my song and I sing.
[ 11 ] Rebound By Virginia Knowles, 2012
It’s an old Bible, burgundy leather Not ancient from generations past But growing old with me From college days until now Three decades and change.
Oh yes, the changes: One wedding, ten children Two grandchildren in the generation after that Entered onto the Marriage and Birth pages. (There are Deaths, too.) Nine moves, a dozen churches, in three states And many more states of mind.
I have many Bibles in many versions Each one an anchor, a refuge for the soul. Yet I always return to this one Well loved, well worn: underlined, highlighted Small prayers, Greek and Hebrew roots, And faith jingles mingle, scribbled in margins Even diagrams and tiny impromptu sketches To illustrate some fine point gleaned along the way.
[ 12 ] And when I do not know what to read This Bible always opens, as if by itself Pages falling quite naturally to Psalms 65 to 68: “You gave abundant showers, O God, You refreshed your weary inheritance.” And so you have, Lord, raining showers and refreshing This weary soul from this worn Book.
In a hard moment One of many hard moments in these years of change I carry this refuge to a quieter place to read, reflect. And I see again in a new light The three decades and change of Wear and tear on Book and soul: Frayed-edged pages pulling away Unstitching themselves in great chasms From the burgundy leather cover Which was meant to shelter them. I too am tattered in places At times tossed loose by life From my Shelter, my own dear Refuge. This will not do, Book or soul. (Rein me in Lord, reign in me.)
So still pondering the words on the frayed pages And out of respect for the Eternal Word that never fades I set out to repair, rebind Making sure the loose pages do not slip Out of the sheaves, out of my heart (Even the hard ones I would rather not always read). And when I am done, my fixes are conspicuous It has been rebound, not to look fancy and new But merely to hold pages together in burgundy leather To hold me together inside my Enduring Refuge For thirty more years and change.
[ 13 ] In the Poet's Realm by Virginia Knowles, 2011
In the poet’s realm today, almost Lingering on the threshold yet unsure of my welcome Meter and rhyme still bend not, bow not before my pen I am not one who writes or thinks or lives in tidy rows Yet I am as a stranger in a foreign land Thirsting to hear my native tongue in a different voice My ears quicken; in relief, I spurtle a reply A cry to be heard and understood In the communion of poets In the creative conversation
For I have no wish to join the company of sharp-tongued prophets The poets are my kindred, at least in my aspirations Yet perhaps poets are prophets, too, of sorts With gentle images of beauty or haunting tales of woe Piercing the heart Softening the soul Lifting each to a deeper Communion and A creative conversation with the Creator Himself Who hears and understands No matter how skilled the tongue or pen.
[ 14 ] It Became to Me a Dark Thing by Virginia Knowles, 2010
It became to me a dark thing: Words spoken over me, into me Claiming divine light, right, might to rule. "Go down, worm soul, go down - You are unworthy to assume the dignity Of one with victory crowned." As if I had swindled treasure! Embezzled grace and glory from celestial storehouses -- A dastardly slave, masquerading as a devoted heir. Contrary! The enemy himself ransacked, Then accused and confused this child.
Truth: Every spiritual blessing is lavished freely From the Father's endless bounty of grace - And these are not even His only such gifts to me! First He paid, once for all, a royal ransom of liquid crimson To redeem me as one who, yes, Had bolted astray in wild folly with trinkets to squander But then, once broken and defiled, repented and Returned from far off, drawn homeward by trust in a certain goodness Welcomed with wild glee by Him Who sees down the road with forgiving eyes. Such is the magnificent mercy of a Father's unending love The true inheritance all along, abandoned and then reclaimed.
It became to me a dark thing: There is a sulking shaming one who spurns my merry celebration of grace Who daily offers back my filthy prodigal rags in place of my dazzling robes. His grudging shadows seek to quench the light of truth. What shall rekindle in me my Father's radiance? Lift eyes from mud. Look up for rainbows, brilliant and glorious Reflected by a well-washed and shining prism: saintly faith turned toward the light of truth.
[ 15 ] Set your focus on things above, not on earthly things Gaze on the Throne where darkness never dwells, To the King whose rule is Love To His right side, where the Redeemer Son intercedes To purify the Beloved Bride.
"Let there be light!" Words spoken over me, into me, right and might. A daily echo of unspoiled Eden calling forth fresh life Revealing the delight on His face as we walk in the Garden again, restored. Shall I ever listen, as Eve did, to the serpent's hiss of deceitful destruction? The father of lies wraps words in figments of light To drag us downward to a certain darkness. Yet there is One who speaks a more powerful word: Mercy triumphs over wrath. "Let there be light!" My heart dances once more, sings the hallelujah! So this gracious truth, this truthful grace, has silenced the foe again. May I always trust, rest, bask, delight in my Father's life and love. It has become to me a thing of light.
"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God's grace that he lavished on us with all wisdom and understanding." Ephesians 1:3-4, 7-8
“Sing, O Daughter of Zion; shout aloud, O Israel! Be glad and rejoice with all your heart, O Daughter of Jerusalem! The LORD has taken away your punishment, he has turned back your enemy. The LORD, the King of Israel, is with you; never again will you fear any harm... The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing.” Zephaniah 3:14-15, 17
"Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour." 1 Peter 5:7-8
"Satan himself masquerades as an angel of light."2 Corinthians 11:14b
"The devil …is a liar and the father of lies... The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full."" John 8:44 & 10:10
[ 16 ] "Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death... What, then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who is he that condemns? Christ Jesus, who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written: "For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered."No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." Romans 8:1-2; 31-39
“Therefore, since we have such a hope, we are very bold. We are not like Moses, who would put a veil over his face to keep the Israelites from gazing at it while the radiance was fading away. But their minds were made dull, for to this day the same veil remains when the old covenant is read. It has not been removed, because only in Christ is it taken away. Even to this day when Moses is read, a veil covers their hearts. But whenever anyone turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away. Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord's glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit." 2 Corinthians 3:12-18
"I delight greatly in the LORD; my soul rejoices in my God. For he has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom adorns his head like a priest, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels." Isaiah 61:10
"But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light." 1 Peter 2:9
[ 17 ] Sanctuary by Virginia Knowles, 2013
The circumstances of my life can be so troubling. The outward look is not always promising. What counts is the inward reality, the inner focus and perspective and gaze. It will not happen if I do not purposefully cultivate it – tend to it, water it, nurture it. Here the joy, pleasure and delight are revealed. Here is the sanctuary. This is not necessarily a place, but a space I carve out for myself to be in God's presence. It's a space in my heart and in my time, a pause, an embrace, a calm rest. I can carry it with me back into the fray. Sanctuary is awareness of God's presence... sacred, set apart, serene, sacramental, simple, shalom, shield, salvation, safety.
Kaleidoscope by Virginia Knowles, 2014
Broken pieces, raised to the light, jumbled and reflected, turned and turned and raised up again, ever-changing beautiful patterns: redemption.
[ 18 ] A Mother’s Seeds by Virginia Knowles, 2008
A mother sows seeds Sows in hearts softened by sweet nurture Seeds of myriad sizes, shapes, and sorts: Truth, mercy, faith, repentance, salvation Wisdom, praise, discipline, responsibility Love, joy, peace Here a seed, there a seed, everywhere a soul seed
No mother is purely saint, saintly pure So subtle weed seeds slip from her packet too: Bitterness, pride, impatience, sloth, doubt, scorn, fear She may wisely snatch them up again right away Before harm takes root in tender spirits But some sink in and grow in spite Later to be plucked out, or not
Yet she seeks to sow good seed in good soil Not for the pleasure of plowing, digging. straining Staining hands and knees with clay Casting bloodied thorns and stubborn stones aside Not for these trials she toils, bowed low But for the hope, for the promise of the soul seed’s sole purpose: Oh, for the fruit!
[ 19 ] Working, watering, worrying, weeping, watching, waiting. wondering: Will these tiny seeds fulfill destiny First with green stem and fragrant blossom, and then fruit at last? Or will they lie lifeless underground or shriveled on dry crust of earth? Oh, did one, even just one, Take root deeper and deeper in the divine deep? Anchored by a sturdy, centering, downward shaft With fragile spreading threads tangled outward, seeking sustenance?
Oh, for the fruit of those roots unseen! So: more seeds! Sow more seeds! Sow and sow again! Lord, make them grow! For a mother must be faithful but He alone can bring forth fruit! (Soli Deo Gloria! Gloria in Excelsis Deo!) His fruit is sweet and succulent, swelling with more seeds Later to be scattered far beyond her own field, season after season
Nations and generations shall witness her seeds and His fruit Fruit from seed, and seed from fruit From her home to His uttermost gardens, from her time to His eternity For a mother’s heart sows well beyond her own wee plot She mothers young and old, neighbor and sojourner Her reach is far and deep, patient and persistent
Any seeking soul becomes her soil She meets needs with diligent deeds Bathes each one in warming rays of kindness and prayer A mother’s heart sows these seeds then Waters, works, watches, waits, wonders again and again By faith, hope, and love, she reaps abundant harvests When goodly, godly fruit is ripe at last!
[ 20 ] Do Cry by Virginia Knowles, 2008
Do cry There is no shame When teardrops fall as healing rain Our Comforter who sees and knows Collects them all in his bottle. Do they mingle there with ancient tears of long ago? Or far-flung ones around the globe? I do not know, nor do I always know why I cry Just that there is a deep welling up inside Or perhaps a thorn prick of conscience Or an oozing scrape of disappointment Or a dagger thrust of insult Or even the gashing grief of death As blood flows, so do tears But they are wiped away By One who also binds up wounds.
Do cry But not from indulgent self-pity Or twisting others to comply Cry to wash the soul Turn the heart with fresh resolve A firmness born from tenderness Cry for justice, mercy Mourn for suffering that is not your own To hear the groans and seek to console With the comfort you yourself have received There is a blessing in brokenness Do cry: then go on in love and joy and peace.
[ 21 ] Put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book? ~ Psalm 56:8
Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy! ~ Psalm 126:5
Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning. ~ Psalm 30:5
You have turned for me my mourning into dancing. ~ Psalm 30:11
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance. ~ Ecclesiastes. 3:4
Blessed are you who weep now, for you shall laugh. ~ Luke 6:21
She has wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. ~ Luke 7:44
Jesus wept. ~ John 11:35
Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. ~ Romans 12:15
He will wipe away every tear from their eyes. ~ Revelation 21:1
[ 22 ] A Woman of Beauty by Virginia Knowles
A beautiful woman is quiet in spirit Gentle in all that she does. Adorning the inward part She trusts the Lord with all her heart She is a woman of beauty! She is a woman of beauty!
She does not need ornaments of fancy gold And it's not in how she fixes her hair. As long as she's clothed in strength and dignity, It doesn't matter what else she wears.
A beautiful woman is quiet in spirit Gentle in all that she does. Adorning the inward part She trusts the Lord with all her heart She is a woman of beauty! She is a woman of beauty!
~*~*~
“The LORD your God is with you... he will quiet you with his love...” Zephaniah 3:17
“Be still and know that I am God.” Psalm 46:10
“The effect of righteousness will be quietness and confidence forever.” Isaiah 32:17
[ 23 ] Bella Sophia by Virginia Knowles, 2013 (Inspired by Proverbs 9:1-6)
Lady Wisdom diligently prepares her feast She fixes her savory meats and mixes her sweet wines Then arranges her lovely banquet table: Linens, bouquets, crystal, china, silver, candles With exquisite hospitality and grace She welcomes her guests: "Come in, sit down, and dine!"
This feast is for our souls Lady Wisdom nourishes our minds with solid truth And delights our spirits with goblets of merry mirth She pleases our inner eyes and ears with a deep harmony A heart mark of the Creator.
Dear Lady Wisdom, Teach me to teach as you do To season my words with the spices of love and prayer To think before I speak so I will know What each hungry heart needs to hear Show me how to captivate hearts and minds With insight and satisfy their souls with delight To feed them the honeycomb of pleasant words Sweet to the soul and healing to the bones.
Bella Sophia Beautiful Lady Wisdom Help me to spread a banquet in my home With the Meat of the Word The Bread of Life and Living Water The Fruit of the Spirit Then come alongside And call out with me through open doors, "Welcome, sit down, and dine!"
[ 24 ] Poems from My Younger Years
Who Is There Like Unto Thee? by Virginia Quarrier
Who is there like unto Thee, O Lord, To Thy name give glory! Full of compassion, righteousness and truth, Full of strength and power, and clothed in majesty! And yet on the cross, you were willing to bleed, And you met us there, in our time of need. And now at your Throne Room, we may boldly enter in, To receive grace and mercy again and again!
[ 25 ] Creator on the Cross by Virginia Quarrier, 1984
Oh, the love of the Holy God For man whose life was lost No greater love there is than this My Creator on the cross.
He made me, yet he died for me He paid the greatest cost, The blood of Jesus Christ the Son, My Creator on the cross.
Grace abounding and mercy free Set fire to my frost My blackest sin washed white by him My Creator on the cross.
[ 26 ] How Will They Know? by Virginia Quarrier, 1980
When I was young, I went to Sunday school. I learned “Do Unto Others”, that Golden Rule I learned that Jesus loved children and he fed the sheep, But I never did give him my soul to keep. How will they know unless we tell them? How will they know unless we show them from his word? I don’t like to think of where I would be right now, If I had never, never heard.
Heaven was just like Santa Claus, You’ve got to be good to get your reward, You have to do right or you won’t get in. No one told me that God forgives sin.
I guess I knew that Jesus died, The pictures on the wall showed him crucified But no one told me what he died for I really wish they had told me more.
Easter was just a new spring dress, Dolling up in our Sunday best, Bunnies and chickies, and “Watch how you behave!” No one told me Jesus rose from the grave.
No one told me that he was coming again To take his loved ones back with him. I thought when he left he was gone for good, I only wish I had understood.
No one told me to ask him in To enter my heart and take out the sin To take my life as Savior and Lord And that he was knocking on my heart’s door.
[ 27 ] Somebody finally told me all the things I’m telling you. Somebody finally told me all the Gospel truth. I finally told Jesus I wanted him as my Lord, When somebody finally cared enough to show me from his Word.
How will they know unless we tell them? How will they know unless we show them from his word? I don’t like to think of where I would be right now, If I had never, never heard.
Follow You By Virginia Quarrier
When I serve you, Lord I wait for a pat on my back Until I remember Whips came down on his back Bloody raw I want people to shake my hand Until I remember They nailed his hands To the cross
And oh, my Jesus What you have done for me! What have I done? What can I do? Unless I take up my cross And follow you.
[ 28 ] Alabaster Jar by Virginia Quarrier
Alabaster jar, costly sweet perfume Devotion broke it open Fragrance filled the room. Poured over Jesus’ head Anointing for the grave Some saw only money lost Jesus blessed the love she gave.
Broken and poured out, broken and poured out But there’s no waste of life, just fragrant sacrifice And it’s all because of love.
Can you see his love? Messiah on the cross Body broken, blood poured out For our sin’s redemption cost Can you see his power? Victory over death Hell could not contain him Nor quench his living breath
Broken and poured out, broken and poured out But there’s no waste of life, just fragrant sacrifice And it’s all because of love.
Lord, break me for your glory, Pour me for your name. Let me share his sufferings And power just the same. Crucified with Christ is what I want to be, For when I’ve died to my old life, I’ll rise up to be free.
Broken and poured out, broken and poured out But there’s no waste of life, just fragrant sacrifice And it’s all because of love.
[ 29 ] Now one of the Pharisees invited Jesus to have dinner with him, so he went to the Pharisee's house and reclined at the table. When a woman who had lived a sinful life in that town learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee's house, she brought an alabaster jar of perfume, and as she stood behind him at his feet weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them and poured perfume on them.
When the Pharisee who had invited him saw this, he said to himself, "If this man were a prophet, he would know who is touching him and what kind of woman she is—that she is a sinner."
Jesus answered him, "Simon, I have something to tell you."
"Tell me, teacher," he said.
"Two men owed money to a certain moneylender. One owed him five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he canceled the debts of both. Now which of them will love him more?"
Simon replied, "I suppose the one who had the bigger debt canceled."
"You have judged correctly," Jesus said.
Then he turned toward the woman and said to Simon, "Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet. Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—for she loved much. But he who has been forgiven little loves little."
Then Jesus said to her, "Your sins are forgiven."
The other guests began to say among themselves, "Who is this who even forgives sins?"
Jesus said to the woman, "Your faith has saved you; go in peace." (From Luke 7)
[ 30 ] Poems About Nature
Moth by Virginia Knowles, 2013
We see you resting, wings unfurled Upon the window of our world A moth, who flutters free, aloft All painted gold and ginger, soft. Your life is brief and ours is long And you are weak while we are strong But beauty: fleeting, fragile, small Is loved by God, who made it all.
Thanks be to Jesus, Savior King Who cares about the littlest thing: This little moth, those little seeds A little child with many needs A little earth among the stars A little problem that is ours Our little lives, our little world Here may we rest, with hearts unfurled.
[ 31 ] Over Utah in January by Virginia Knowles, 2008
I am in the sky looking down on Vast speechless stretches of frozen white Curved round and round by Slicing crevices and streams And human roads abandoned though they be Foothills then soaring mountains beyond Majestic tall yet distant small From the sky where I look down
Clustering pines (wilderness steeples) Defer to barren ground below Shedding to it cumbering, nurturing snow
Upright spires green Evergreen over branches, trunks, Rough and woody brown Rooted deeply into ascending slope Yet as living arrows aiming high To the sky where I look down Up and over mountain towers, fly
Peering through mottled fog outstretched Amid earthy upturned layers, variegated ripples Shadow clouds now upwisping sharply angled peaks.
[ 32 ] Oh! These are of no human construct or design Not even marked by footprints in pristine snow Just fingerprints, signatures divine Where winter earth meets winter sky
Yet in the valley I see manly habitation In patterned rows, casual curves beneath the mist Nestled in yet beckoned to a deep and high communion
Only bold ones venture beyond certain fringes Strive upward, breathe hard, ascending steep, behold Some faithful cannot climb but still lift souls to see To know and long to know
Others seem content merely to stroll In evenness beneath, below Oblivious to wonder I am in the sky looking down Then gazing up in awe at Him Who gazes down in grace on me below On me, who sees and longs to know
[ 33 ] Between the Seed and the Tree by Virginia Knowles, 2010
A seed so small A mere breath might scatter it Never to be seen again Lost on a barren path Yet by some miracle planted with purpose Dry shell softens Releasing a pale root into welcoming soil Down growth, up growth Green stem, leaves What will it be? A tree? From this tiny seed?
The seedling grows Straight up Skyward bound Up and up Empowered by life within A tree to be, and already a tree Defying doubt This slender sapling Shall someday become a solid trunk With lush canopy of branches and leaves A fruitful, sheltering garden blessing.
Though lost and fragile Once found by Love We took root and grew Now between the grace and the glory Still in the middle of the story By faith, with hope Skyward bound Springing forth from the first promise toward the full reality Our destiny unfurls in slow motion Between the seed and the tree.
[ 34 ] One Sky by Virginia Knowles, 2012
One sky Bluest blue peaking through Gray storm clouds hovering over Blazing gold sunset One sky
One life Bluest blue peaking through Gray storm clouds hovering over Blazing gold sunset One life
Autumn Breeze by Virginia Knowles, 2013
Dear Autumn Trees, please Give me all your gorgeous leaves. More will grow. Love, Breeze.
[ 35 ] Poems for Advent Pure Devotion (In Metered Rhyme and Free Verse) by Virginia Knowles, Advent 2014
I.
My Messiah's pure devotion Set his mission into motion He preached his message clear and sure And lived his gospel bold and pure So innocent, he scorned sin's fall His sacrifice redeemed us all.
Then raised to life beyond the grave His power pure enough to save To wash us clean and fill the soul With Spirit's strength to make us whole Let us then with forward motion Live our lives with pure devotion.
II.
He came and lived with pure devotion A set purpose: to seek and serve and save the lost To give his own perfect life as a ransom for sinners His death was planned long before his earthy birth Though he wandered the countryside There was no aimlessness about him He knew who he was He knew where he came from He knew where he was going Something about that infuses a soul with sacred confidence There was nothing that could hold him back from that destiny Herod tried, sending soldiers to destroy the infant Christ The devil tried, tempting him with bread and power in the wilderness
[ 36 ] The Pharisees tried, asking questions to trap him Then that failing, crucifying him Yet nothing could stop that divine destiny That mission of mercy and justice His death instead set the captives free And raised them up like a shining chalice Filled with new wine, with the Spirit of Living Fire Do you see what he did for you? Kindle it in your heart Let it blaze hot and high In holy consecration and Follow him with pure devotion
Invitation to Stillness by Virginia Knowles, Advent Poem 2010
Quiet your soul to ponder, wonder, and worship the Amazing One. In these still and focused moments, embrace his everlasting love for you. Savor his sacrifice: Heaven to Earth, an infinite journey of grace When he came to rescue, release, and renew you.
In sacred response, draw near with a whole heart, a deepening communion. Be still in his presence, be filled with his presence Father, Son, Holy Spirit: God with us. Day after day, time with him is your most precious treasure.
Be the fruitful branch abiding in the Vine. Be the little lamb in the Good Shepherd’s tender care. Be the beautiful Beloved in the Lover’s embrace. Ask, and he will surely show you how.
[ 37 ] The Paradox by Virginia Knowles
Come, see where He lays, Good Shepherd and Little Lamb King of Kings and Servant of All Prophet and Prophecy Fulfilled Physician and Wounded One High Priest and Atoning Sacrifice Counselor and Rejected One Builder and Foundation Stone Righteous Judge and Condemned Prisoner Ancient of Days and Newly-born Babe God and Man
Jesus is a paradox, a seeming contradiction in terms. Who is he? What is his nature? And why did he come? If you have ever wondered how to understand or explain the mystery of Jesus, I invite you to look up the following passages, which correspond line by line to the facets expressed in the poem, The Paradox.
John 10: 11 / John 1:29 Revelation 19:16 / Mark 10:43-45, Philippians 2:7 Luke 7:16 / Matthew 1:22, Luke 4:16-21 (Isaiah 61:1-3) Matthew 15:29-31 / Isaiah 53:4-6 Hebrews 7:23-28 / Hebrews 9:11-14, 10:19-22 Isaiah 9:6 / Isaiah 53:3, John 10:22-33 Hebrews 3:3, Matthew 16:18 / 1 Peter 2:4-9 John 8:1-11, Acts 10:42-43, Acts 17:30-31 / Mark 14:60-65 Daniel 7:13-14 / Luke 2:8-20 John 1:1-5, Hebrews 1:3, Colossians 1:19-20 / 1 Timothy 2:5, Romans 1:1-4
[ 38 ] The Story Did Not Start with a Stable and a Star by Virginia Knowles, 2008
The story did not start with a stable and a star But in the beginning, before billygoats on boulders or bluebirds in birch trees The Trinity, the Three-In-One: Father, Spirit, Son Viewed a vast void with a venturesome vision And lo, this Lavish LORD said, “Let there be…” And there was Light and Life and Love Tigers and tiger lilies and tiger sharks Amoebas and ants, aardvarks and apple trees, Honeysuckle and honeybees and heavenly hallelujahs For it was good: this grand garden, green and growing, glorious and glowing With two to tend Eden: Adam and Eve Masterpieces made to multiply more masterpieces in the image of their Maker Working and walking with Him, worshiping Him for the wonder of His wisdom But then came a choice and a cheater and a chilling challenge They rebelled and rejected and ruined their Royal Relationship In punishment, pushed out from Paradise into pain and peril, perishing Generation after generation Mankind multiplied moral messes The Spirit sometimes seized sinners into the Sovereign Sacred Story Prodding prophets, priests, and preachers to proclaim: “Repent! Return! Revere! Renew!” And so the Father sent his Son And seers sought this Savior from afar But the story did not stop with a stable and a star
The little Lord Jesus, who lay there so lowly, lived his life This Great God-With-Us grew in grace He, the Holy One, who helped and healed Preached and prayed and praised His Father This Lord of Love looked high and low to liberate the lost This consecrated Christ carried His cross He was crucified in His courage by our cowardice Thus our Prophet-Priest paid the penalty price for our Paradise His ransom rescues rebels from ruin Freeing those who by faith will fully follow Generation after generation Multiplying more miracles among mortals
[ 39 ] For the Spirit of the Sovereign Sacred Story Still seizes sinners and sanctifies saints And our Royal Redeemer shall return: Holy is He! Hark the heavenly hallelujahs! For it is good and God is glorious! Earth shall end and eternity shall start And the story of the Savior shall always speak to the heart.
Shepherd’s Tale by Virginia Knowles, 2008
A prayer I make to stay awake, To watch the sheep safe in my keep, When I should see, in front of me, An angel bright in darkest night. “Be not afraid!” the angel bade. “Good news of joy! A baby boy Is born today, on bed of hay. The Savior mild, the Lord’s a child!” Now in the sky the angels fly, And gladly sing of newborn King. “Give God high praise, hosannas raise, And peace on earth through Jesus’ birth!” All shepherds know that they should go, To follow them to Bethlehem. Where baby rests is not the best, A scratchy stall holds Lord of All. But God above sends Gift of Love. Forgiving sin, he lives within. Now spread the word, till all have heard Amazing story, to God be glory!
[ 40 ] Corpus Christi (Body of Christ) by Virginia Knowles, Advent 2007 (Inspired by the book Wholly Available by Gary Thomas)
He, eternal and radiant Creator Became a human mother’s son, a humble babe Promised and anointed one Ambassador from Heaven to Earth Not in resplendent majesty befitting Celestial Royalty But in an earthly body like ours A body like ours? Yes, a body!
A body with eyes to seek out scattered and wounded ones Eyes that weep, eyes that sleep but do not sleep Ever searching, ever watching Eyes that pierce our straying sinner-souls with gracious gaze Eyes that shepherd us safely home again So angels can rejoice with our Father in Heaven
A body with ears to hear quiet sighs And frantic cries of desperation (Lord, have mercy!) As well as words profane and cruel, uttered by fools His ears hear not only what we hear But the very echoes of our silent thoughts and intentions He hears this evidence that we are all fools We need not only wisdom but redemption
A body with a mind that senses, muses, keenly understands All beauty he had designed Ruined by Adam’s Eden fall: Paradise Lost All that was, he remembers still And all that will be, he already foresees Untangles twisted circumstances and chaotic confusions Even when we know not ourselves He knows and cares and plans: Paradise Regained Is anything too difficult for him Whose thoughts are high above the heavens?
[ 41 ] A body with a mouth to teach the way of life Sermons to the simple and to the sophisticated, parables and pearls Soul seeds to blossom in hearts of those who have ears to hear A mouth to proclaim truth and justice Yet speak forth mercy to those who do not deserve it To answer with probing questions Warning those Pharisees who use their mouths to snare A mouth to bless children and all who are old yet childlike still And this man-child’s mouth thanks his Father Prays: “Not my will, but Yours be done”
A body with hands: gentle yet tough are those hands Which created this world we call home Hands to work hard, stuff of daily life Built with carpenter’s nails and beams of wood Hands to heal, stretched forth in victory over pain and decay Hands to break the meager bread and fish Multiply in abundance to feed the hungry multitude Busy hands, yet not too busy to embrace a wee child To ruffle matted hair, to wash dirty feet Or to scribble words of pardon in the sand For a damsel in distress: no stone thrown
And a body with feet, walking from village to village, house to house, Soul to soul, in dusty sandals we mortals are unworthy to untie Walking on waves amidst the stormy sea (His feet are not for soil alone) He traverses the land, announcing the Kingdom of God-With-Us Among those who do not yet recognize his benevolent dominion He goes to those who will not come on their own, in mercy Chases those who run headlong toward the brink of destruction: Hound of Heaven
Yes, a body! Yet he did not just live in this body merely as an example So we could know how to be good, but offered it as a sacrifice because We could not, would not, attain to any goodness in ourselves A body crucified, stretched out to die
[ 42 ] Pierced with carpenter’s nails on beams of wood Pierced with spear until blood and water flow Willingly punished for our iniquities, not his own (Only a perfect sacrifice can obtain atonement for sins of others) Then taken down and laid in borrowed tomb, but not for long Mortal once, yet immortal always, resurrected in power and glory Walking and talking again among men and women So their eyes could see, hearts believe What had been foretold from ages past by prophets of old: God in a body like ours, yet not like ours, victorious over death! (O Death, where is your sting? We are raised with him!)
Yes, a body! But where is this body now? The Son ascended again to his Father’s side Intercedes on our behalf, pleads for his Bride, his Church Whom he purified with his own blood once for all Prepares glorious mansions for us, a wedding feast for us Who deserved his cross and grave and wrath instead Yet he has not left us bereft as we wait He has poured out his Holy Spirit: fill us, empower us, guide us Why? Because we, we who believe and follow Are now the Body of Christ on earth: Our eyes shall seek out the lost and guide them home See, really notice, then meet earthy needs meanwhile Our ears shall listen to their cries, questions, doubts, confusions, Confessions, prayers, testimonies at last Our minds navigate mazes and minefields of life Solve riddles to serve mankind, strategize, plan Our mouths proclaim good news, call sinners to repent and believe Teach the Jesus way, always pray Our hands serve and heal, wash and feed, build and embrace (Gentle always, please) Our feet go out for the King and his Kingdom Around the globe or down the street Our body, his body, working together to do as he has done Laboring with all his strength under his sovereign command Ambassadors of Heaven to Earth Corpus Christi
[ 43 ] Grace Will Lead Me Home by Virginia Knowles, Advent 2009
Grace will lead me home Like a pillar of fire for a pilgrim in the wilderness Like a shimmering star hovering over new Glory and Peace on earth That wise ones still seek and follow.
Grace leads me home When the way is dark and wayward voices call I listen for the Shepherd's steady voice When my soul cries for thirst He leads me to the oasis To the crystal fountain whence the healing stream flows
Grace leads me home Because God is with me: Jesus full of grace and truth Grace upon grace dwelling in the tabernacle of my heart My Messiah abides in me and I in him, my hope of glory
Grace leads me home Because the Holy Spirit is my Comforter, My Counselor to guide me in truth Because I cry "Abba, Father! I am your child!" I am more than a conqueror Nothing can separate me from your love And You will lead me home.
[ 44 ] Candlewick by Virginia Knowles, 2008
Burn with holy flame! This is your destiny Slender thread, stiff stub of wick Down and down, lower, low Snuffed and silent… Then lit to blaze again awhile Amid liquid wax and taunting draft. You flicker blue and gold Bright and hot O light the way Hallow the table Illumine the Book Kindle these candles! When lower reaches lowest and there is no more of you Humble service is over Your destiny here has been fulfilled And the flame is snuffed one last time Then you shall join the blaze of glory Higher, higher and higher more Bright and hot, holy and pure Shining ever in the presence of the Eternal Flame!
Jesus said, "You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven." Matthew 5:14-16
Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you. Isaiah 60:1
And those who are wise shall shine like the brightness of the sky above; and those who turn many to righteousness, like the stars forever and ever. Daniel 12:3
[ 45 ] Peace and Joy by Virginia Knowles, Advent 2013
Beloved, you are loved by a Savior who serves you An Evangel, whose very life is Good News: Peace and joy Peace and joy
A Christ King who calls you: Come and rest Come and follow, follow me: Peace and joy Peace and joy
Beloved, wonder at this Beauty sweet and strong Angels in heaven and saints on earth still sing: Peace and joy Peace and joy
We shall sing it, sing along We shall sing it sweet and strong: Peace and joy Peace and joy
We shall sing and we shall follow, As evangels of this Good News: Peace and joy Peace and joy!
[ 46 ] Psalm to Sweet Jesus by Virginia Knowles
Sweet Jesus, you bring to me all that is good: Comfort and hope when I am discouraged, Peace and reconciliation when I am in conflict, Strength and enthusiasm when I am weary, Wisdom and guidance when I am confused, Courage and confidence when I am afraid, Forgiveness and mercy when I have done wrong.
You bore the fatal punishment that I deserved, Yet rose up again in power, Promising that if I would turn from my awful sin, And believe in your awesome grace, I could become your own precious child, And enter into your everlasting Gloryland. Such a rich salvation that I could never earn!
As a simple gift of gratitude, With help from your Word and your Spirit, I will trust and obey your loving commands, I will worship you with my prayers and songs, I will serve others joyfully, I will share your Good News, So that each one who hears and believes May receive the matchless treasure Found only in you.
[ 47 ] Rhapsody in M by Virginia Knowles, Advent 2006
Myriad mercies: more and more merited? no! no merit in murky miserable me
Mystery: manic malice meted on Messiah Martyr Mighty and Meek
Miracle: manic malice meted on my Mediator misses me marvelous mercies ministered on me
Majestic Master: master me move massive mountains in me make merry melodies in me mirrors of Thee in mere me more and more myriad mercies
~*~*~
But when the goodness and lovingkindness of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of works done by us in righteousness, but according to his own mercy… Titus 3:4-5a
Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need. Hebrews 4:16
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. Lamentations 3:22-23
[ 48 ] The Jesus Poem by Virginia Knowles, 2012
Jesus, we have lost you, not even seeking, thus not finding Maybe especially this season in the fancies and parties -- but It is so easy to decry these, to point the fingers, To insist that clerks greet us properly with "Merry CHRISTmas!" Instead of "Happy Holidays."
In our religious circles we find sacred systems, rigid rules, excess expectations, theological Thou-Shalt-Nots that THOU hast not said In our religious circles we put God in a box and wrap it fancy and tight Yet drawn into your circle, do we not find plain liberty and lavish love instead?
If we are looking for you, we must go to the end of the line, (Which is the beginning, since the last will be first) We will find you walking among those who mourn, With the poor, the prisoner, the outcast, the trafficked child.
You are the Physician who came to seek the sick, not the healthy. You make house calls, or for those who have no homes (As you did not), the alleyway will do. You are the Savior to the lost sheep, to the prodigal son.
We are here and now your hands, feet, eyes, ears, mouth Let us go and look and love and pray and give and serve and set free May we see your face as we follow your way May we find you and, empty as we are, be filled.
[ 49 ] Christmas in Malawi, Christmas in America Advent Poem for Reverend Headson Makazinga by Virginia Knowles, 2011
Reverend Makazinga, Dear brother, precious friend, You are in Malawi, a village pastor, a church planter Baptizing the brothers and sisters Ordaining new gospel workers Caring for the widows and orphans Year in and year out, month by month, serving in His name.
And it is almost Christmas When you will gather again to celebrate As you write to me: “We are going to have thanksgiving to God For the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ And also to worship and praise him As He is the one who made it possible For us to reach to the end of the year.”
You live in a house in Nsanje without electricity You walk or ride a bike to the other villages Though you are getting older and weaker And have been in the hospital just this year.
Yet you are also able to take a bus to Blantyre To use the Internet to send me an e-mail To buy Bibles and hymnals or pick up my care package (I will send you some money for your ministries And fruit tea and some Christian books soon.)
In your note, you say you want poems, my poems, For blessing and encouragement. This is your poem from me, though it doesn’t rhyme. You write, “Wish you all the best of Christmas day!” And I wish you the same.
[ 50 ] You are in Malawi, where the land is Drought dry, dirt poor, primitive With shepherds and farmers eking an existence Much like the Holy Land in the time of Jesus
I am in America, where it is not like that at all (At least in my neighborhood) I am in America, where I have a van And electricity for my own computer And my Christmas tree lights And clean water and abundant food
The simple gifts I send will not erase all your peoples’ poverty But I still say “Wish you all the best of Christmas day!” Because Christmas is not in the stores but in the stories The stories of Yesu Khristu (whom I know as Jesus Christ)
He said: “The Spirit of the Lord is on me, Because he has anointed me To preach good news to the poor.” And at his birth the angels sang: “Peace on earth, good will to men!”
[ 51 ] Essays and Observations
My Glorious Dish Towel by Virginia Knowles, 2007
I confess. I guess I am just sentimental about dish towels. This one came into my life 25 years ago, fluffy and fresh, bright with glorious rainbows, back when I was still a fluffy, fresh, and bright young college student. It arrived in a care package from my mother, nestled in with edibles and kitchen practicalities, and maybe an inspiring new book to feed my idealistic soul. My mom understood about such things (and still does). She always said that new dish towels could perk up even the dreariest kitchen, and that rundown apartment kitchen sure needed it! We had no dishwasher except the human kind, so that towel did daily duty at my sink. And each time I would hang it up proudly so everyone could see its glorious rainbows.
And here we are now, all these years later. I wearily plop a toddler on her little oak bed in my bedroom. My tenth toddler. In my bedroom still. Someday she will move out to another room, when my first no-longer-toddler-now-bright-fresh-idealistic-young-adult-daughter moves out of the house, but we are in no hurry for that at all. Still, I am a tired mommy, a busy mommy. And even after this particularly long and tiring day, it is not time for me to go to my bed yet, except to sit on it and fold another mound of laundry, the foothills of Mt. Neverest, as I call my unending five-loads-a-day pile. Then a wave of melancholy washes over me.
Even in the dim light of the go-to-sleep-sweetie-I’m-still-right-here bedroom, I can see this dish towel in my hand, this faded and threadbare dish towel, with its once bright rainbows barely recognizable. It is so thin I can see through it. How has it survived this long? In these 25 years it has done its daily duties for sure: • drying dishes (imagine that!) • soaking up the drips from the leaky air conditioner in that old apartment • laying under fresh-baked cookies cooling on the counter in our first little townhouse • wiping away traces of morning sickness • playing peek-a-boo with a baby • soothing a fevered brow of a sick child, and another sick child, and another… • cushioning china in a cross-country move to a bigger home for a growing family • mopping up spilled apple juice, milk, and assorted unmentionable liquids from the floor • covering a pan of rising bread dough made by an eager baker-daughter for a family Thanksgiving feast • cleaning a soft young face covered with spaghetti sauce or peanut butter or runny nose • wrapping an ice pack to keep it from being so cold on a bruised forehead • maybe even cleaning a hamster cage, though I hope not… • and much more, much much more, over and over and over again And between each time, to sanitize it for its next task, it is stuffed in a bucket with all of the other wet smelly kitchen linens, churned with bleach and detergent in the washer, and then shoved unceremoniously into the dryer with the heat and dizzying spin, sacrificing its lovely fluffy fiber to the lint trap. Then, after being crumpled into a clean basket, it is folded and
[ 52 ] crammed into the linen closet or the drawer by the kitchen sink, or, bypassing all of these, snatched right from the dryer and put immediately to desperate use again. It is needed, needed all the time. Like me.
And so the wave of melancholy, as I sense its metaphor of my own life. I feel like this dish towel. Old. Used up. Threadbare, with frayed fringes where neat hems used to be. Always in a spin. Like the faded rainbow, where have my once sparkling young dreams gone? I weep and wipe the tears with the towel. I hold it to my face and breathe in deeply. It is soft, so soft as it comforts me, as it has comforted others. It deserves dignity. I do not want it to be carelessly discarded by someone who does not understand dish towels and nostalgia, so I tuck it safely into an unseen crevice on my bookcase where no one can find it. I clear the rest of the folded laundry off of my bed and sleep. Oh, how I need sleep.
I wake in the wee hours of the morning, as I always do, like it or not. My mind churns, as it often does, thinking, pondering. This is not a bad thing in itself, because I love to think and ponder and dream awake, but right now I would rather sleep. And then it dawns on me, like a glittering rainbow as a shaft of sunshine suddenly illuminates a gray and drizzly sky. This is the glory of the dish towel, the glory of my life. What? What is the glory? Service. Being used up from constant need. Emptying myself in order to fulfill my purpose. Love working itself out in humble and practical ways. This is why I’m here: in God’s strength, serving my husband and children in our busy life-filled home, where celebrations mingle with sorrows, and the momentous punctuates the mundane. This is the life I chose, preparing young hearts and minds to fulfill their own life destinies. It is a good life.
The recent words of another bright, fresh young woman flood in to comfort me: “Mrs. Knowles,” she said, tapping me on the shoulder on a Sunday morning at church. “Mrs. Knowles, I believe the Lord wants me to remind you that your motherhood is a holy service to him. It is no waste. When you bow down to wipe up a spill from the floor, you are bowing in worship and service to him.” Remembering these refreshing words, I rise from my bed and tiptoe over to the bookcase, quietly, so as not to wake the tenth toddler, who nonetheless starts to rustle in her bed, sucking her thumb furiously until her I’m-about-to-wake-up- breathing evens out into restful sleep again. I grope around in the crevice and my hand feels the softness of the towel, the esteemed towel. There are tears to wipe again, but this time tears of gratitude. I am thankful that, unlike my lowly and lifeless dish towel, I can be renewed and I will receive my reward.
~*~*~
“Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going back to God, rose from supper. He laid aside his outer garments, and taking a towel, tied it around his waist. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples' feet and to wipe them with the towel that was wrapped around him. When he had washed their feet and put on his outer garments and resumed his place, he said to them, “Do you understand what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord, and you are right, for so I am. If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet. For I have given you an example, that you also should do just as I have done to you. Truly, truly, I say to you, a servant is not greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. If you know these things, blessed are you if you do them.” John 13:3-5, 12-17
[ 53 ] The Mom's Alphabet
Accept, admire, affirm, and appreciate your family. Boldly believe our big God for beautiful, bountiful blessings. Calm courtesy communicates care and combats chaos. Diligence and delegation dutifully do daily deeds. Encourage by enthusiastic example. Face, fix, forgive, and forget foolish faults. Grace is given where grace is needed. Glory to God! Have a happy, humorous, harmonious, hope-filled home. Include imagination, inspiration, and interesting information. Juggle your jobs judiciously and joyfully. Kiss your kids! Listen, then lovingly lead. Meet many marvelous mothers. Notice new needs. Overcome obnoxious offenses with optimism. Pray, prioritize, plan, and prepare for productivity and problem prevention. Quick and quiet, not dawdling or riot. Rules without relationships reap rebellion. Serve sacrificially. Take time to teach and train truthfulness and thankfulness. Understand until united. Virtuosity is victorious. Wise words will win. Xpect excellence. Yackety yack, no talking back. Zippety doo-dah, zippety ay, my oh my what a wonderful day!
[ 54 ] A Parable of Grace by Virginia Knowles, 2009
Once upon a time, a wise and gracious king, longing to mingle freely with the subjects in his dominion, decided to host a huge feast on the castle grounds. So he dispatched his messengers far and wide with an invitation for everyone, from nobleman to common peasant, to come and dine with him. Not wanting anyone to be left out, he made it clear that no one needed to dress up or bring any gifts or food. Everything would be provided through the generosity of the king.
His Royal Majesty was so full of anticipation for this glorious event that he commenced immediately with the preparations. He hired the best gardeners to cover the castle grounds with beds of beautiful blooms and to trim the verdant hedges into fanciful shapes. The finest tailors were called to sew exquisite party clothes for all of the guests. The most talented musicians tuned up their prized instruments to rehearse for a grand symphony concert. Jugglers and jesters, minstrels and mimes practiced their own merry entertainments. Of course, master chefs concocted the most luscious recipes, from roast herbed mutton to succulent spicy honey cakes, to nourish both the senses and the stomachs of all would come. The very air was electric with excitement.
On hearing of this magnanimous invitation, all the citizens of the kingdom set out for the castle in droves, chattering and singing along the way, eager to meet their mighty king face to face. However, as many of them approached the castle walls from the far side, circling round in search of the open gate, they were surprised to discover a tall and sprawling tent with boldly colored banners flapping in the breeze. Near this impressive structure, a short stocky man, dressed in the garments of nobility, shouted forth from his megaphone: “Hark! Tarry here to prepare for entering the feasting grounds! All citizens must pay for their tickets. Then you must either pass an inspection of your clothing or purchase new royal robes from the official feast store. You may also purchase your gifts and food contributions there. After this, you may take your test to make sure that you are talented and intelligent enough to sit at the king’s table. Lest I forget, there will be a health inspection, too. We must not allow any germs to enter the castle
[ 55 ] gates! Finally, you must present your pedigree, so we may be sure that none are descended from horse thieves.”
The startled citizens gasped in dismay. They thought they had been assured that all were welcome, that the feast was free, and that no one needed to bring anything! They had nothing to offer! What they didn’t realize was that this man, a traitor to the king, was trying to spoil the pleasure of the party for everyone. His strategy was to keep as many citizens as possible away from the feast entirely. In response to their earnest protests, he slyly promised them that they could stay at the tent and work for him until they could earn enough to pay the fees. For an extra price, he would tutor them in courtly courtesies and all manner of sophisticated conversation. Some of the peasants sighed and entered the tent, not realizing that his exorbitant demands were impossible to meet no matter how long they labored for the treacherous nobleman. Others, despairing completely ever meeting the king, trudged slowly back to their huts.
However, still others, trusting the word of the king’s own faithful messengers, continued on their way toward the open gate and the wonderful feast. Garbed in regal robes, they dined sumptuously from the banquet tables and filled their souls with all of the beauty and delights that the king had prepared for them. Best of all, each had an audience with the king himself, who delighted to speak with his subjects, young and old. Then, urged by the king, they went forth from the castle gates, around to the tent, to urge their fellow citizens to ignore the wily nobleman and come freely to the marvelous festival of the king. Then they visited each village, seeking out the hopeless ones who had turned back, bidding them to come again, full of confidence in the king’s promises. Many, still captive to trickery, refused to believe and laughed at their fellow countrymen. But the king rejoiced that myriad precious ones at last ventured forth to meet him and savor all he had prepared for their enjoyment.
This wee parable of grace is but a shadow of a larger and truer saga, one with a Great Rebellion and a Glorious Redemption, written in a Holy Book. And that timeless tale, weaving its way right up to “Once Upon a Here and Now” beckons us to freely enter in to the Throne Room of the King of Kings. Come! The gate is open! He awaits your arrival!
[ 56 ] What Does It Take to Forge Our Character? by Virginia Knowles for English students
"What does it take to forge our character?"
Does that seem like an odd question? Well, let's think about our goals in life. If the goal in life is to have an easy, fun time and to please ourselves, then we have no hope. There will always be things that get in our way, and we will be continually frustrated and angry. But if the goal of life is to grow to be strong, solid and mature in our character, that's another story, and it's filled with hope. You see, we have all the opportunities we need to help us grow up this way. These opportunities come in the form of troubles, trials, and other tough stuff like work and relationships with family and friends. That's what it takes to forge our character! So we can really see our difficulties as gifts that are custom designed by the Lord to make us strong. However, our response makes a huge difference. We must respond well to our challenges in order to make the most of them. If we fight against them or get bitter, it's not going to help at all. In fact, God is likely to "increase the heat" even higher until we get the message to rely on him and accept what he is doing in our lives. If you think about it, the natural physical world provides so many examples of how difficulties bring about strength.
Diamonds are born from lowly carbon, transformed by years and years of intense heat and pressure dozens of miles under the earth. Diamond-bearing rock is brought to the surface by volcanic eruptions, not exactly a happy occasion. But a "diamond in the rough" is not worth much until it is chiseled and shaped by a master craftsman. Then the facets radiate with beauty.
Gold, silver, and iron must be hacked out of the ground, then liquefied over fire until the dross floats to the top and is burned or skimmed away. The process is not done until the refiner can see his face reflected in the molten metal. Then it is pounded and pounded and pounded with the hammer on the anvil until it takes on the shape of what it is destined to become. Not a pleasant process, is it?
An athlete must exercise and practice, straining his muscles and training his reflexes just when he would rather be back home in bed or eating Twinkies. He undergoes discipline so he can compete and win.
When we talk about writing, we discuss the revision process. Think of yourself as a rough draft, and God as the author. He is going to make many changes in your life before you reach the final version. The Bible says he is "the author and the perfecter of our faith" and that "he will be faithful to complete the work he has started in you" (Philippians 1:6). So, think of yourself as in the revision mode!
The poem "The Village Blacksmith" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow includes many references to the process of growing strong through adversity. First, we see the blacksmith has strong sinewy muscles, developed through the hard physical labor of swinging his sledge. Second, we see that he has endured the grief of his wife dying, yet he still faithfully worships God in church with his children. (Longfellow himself lost two wives to tragic deaths.) And third, we see the picture of iron that is forged and formed by fire and anvil. The last six lines sum it up:
[ 57 ] Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, For the lesson thou hast taught! Thus at the flaming forge of life Our fortunes must be wrought; Thus on its sounding anvil shaped Each burning deed and thought.
The Bible, too, reminds us how suffering shapes our character: "Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing." James 1:2-4
"More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us."Romans 5:3-5
"Iron sharpens iron, and one man sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17
I hope that these thoughts have been an encouragement to you to not only endure, but actually embrace the hard times in your life – as gifts from God for your good and his glory. Perhaps this will even help you to be patient with other people (who are in the forging process, too) as God uses them as tools to chisel away at your character.
It Couldn't Be Done by Edgar Guest
Somebody said that it couldn’t be done Without any doubting or quiddit, But he with a chuckle replied He started to sing as he tackled the thing That “maybe it couldn’t,” but he would be one That couldn’t be done, and he did it. Who wouldn’t say so till he’d tried. So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done, On his face. If he worried he hid it. There are thousands to prophesy failure, He started to sing as he tackled the thing There are thousands to point out to you That couldn’t be done, and he did it! one by one, The dangers that wait to assail you. Somebody scoffed: “Oh, you’ll never do that; But just buckle in with a bit of a grin, At least no one ever has done it;” Just take off your coat and go to it; But he took off his coat and he took off his hat Just start in to sing as you tackle the thing And the first thing we knew he’d begun it. That “cannot be done,” and you’ll do it. With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,
[ 58 ] If You Expect Real Respect Virginia Knowles, 2014
If you expect real respect, show your strength, not your power. Lead with your character, not your charisma. Cultivate your inner integrity, not your outer image. Admit your weaknesses; don't pretend perfection. Be tender-hearted yet tough enough to endure; don't be bitter or brittle. Motivate with inspiration, not manipulation. Leaders listen.
Embrace your equality with others. Don't cling to (or hide behind) your gender, your color, your age, your wit, your wealth, your beauty, your education, your successes, your connections, your rank, or your title. We need each other!
Real respect is reflected in mutual consideration, cooperation, community, and most of all, compassion. Respect flourishes when there is liberty and justice for all. Look out for the least and the little, for the Greatest One is watching you.
If you want real respect, share it freely and fully with others; don't demand it for yourself. Coerced admiration is worse than worthless. Insincerity increases insecurity. Flattery is a feigned feast that leaves you hungrier than ever. Sham will not cover shame. It is far better to be clothed with simple dignity than to be exposed as the “emperor who wore no clothes.”
Real respect? The kind that truly matters? There is no other way. If you expect real respect, just set your heart on becoming really respectable.
[ 59 ] Life Time Line
• 1963: Virginia Lynn born on September 7 • 1967: Moved to Kansas City, Missouri and lived at 34 Green Tree Lane • 1968: Started kindergarten at Little Folks School • 1970: Took family trip to England • 1971: Moved to San Carlos, California, lived at 1112 Dayton Avenue, and attended Brittan Acres Elementary and later Central Middle School • 1976: Left on month long cross-country bicentennial vacation in June • 1976: Became a Christian at a family reunion in July • 1977: Moved to Cockeysville, Maryland, lived at 17 Stillway Garth, attended Cockeysville High (8th-10th), and joined Timonium Presbyterian • 1977: My grandfather, Jack Weems Quarrier, passed away at the age of 68 • 1979: Teen Missions team to Catrine, Scotland • 1979: Moved to Fairfax, Virginia and attended W.T. Woodson High School • 1980: Teen Missions team to Nazareth, Israel • 1981: Moved to Covington, Kentucky and started college at Northern Kentucky University • 1981: Graduated from W.T. Woodson High School in June • 1981: Moved to Orlando, Florida in June and attended University of Central Florida • 1982: Bridesmaid in sister Barbara Quarrier's wedding to David Dell • 1984: Started attending Northland Community Church • 1984: Met Thad in July at church • 1985: Graduated from UCF on May 3 • 1985: Married Thad on November 23 • 1986: Moved to Maryland in June and attended Great Commission Church • 1987: Bought our first house in March at 17639 Larchmont Terrace, Gaithersburg, Maryland • 1987: Mary Hannah born in June 24 • 1988: Miscarriage on April 22 • 1989: Helped plant Cedarbrook Community Church in March • 1989: Julia Grace born on April 11 • 1991: Rachel Ann born on February 6 • 1991: Brother John Quarrier married Adrienne Sands in September • 1992: Joanna Joy born on December 10 • 1992: Officially started home schooling • 1993: Moved back to Florida in June, bought house at 1925 Blossom Lane • 1993: Started attending Northland Community Church again • 1993: Sister-in-law Adrienne Sands passed away in July
[ 60 ] • 1994: Lydia Hope born on October 22 • 1997: Father-in-law, Thaddeus Edwin Knowles, Jr., passed away in March • 1997: Andrew Thaddeus born on May 6 • 1998: Started publishing the Hope Chest e-magazine in February • 1998: Started attending Orlando Grace Church in October • 1999: Micah Philip born on July 2 • 2000: Published the first edition of The Real Life Home School Mom • 2001: Naomi Faith born on February 8 • 2001: Published the first edition of the Learner's Journal • 2002: Published the first edition of Common Sense Excellence • 2002: Started attending Metro Life Church in July • 2003: Benjamin Peter born on February 13 • 2003: Mother-in-law, Ann Lillian (Scerra) Knowles, passed away on September 29 • 2004: We renovated the house and weathered three hurricanes • 2004: Brother John Quarrier married Dana Vilardo on September 5 • 2005: Melody Lynn born on August 2 • 2006: Joined Providence Home Educators Co-Op and taught for several years • 2008: My grandmother, Margaret (Brazier) Driggs, passed away in January at the age of 98 • 2008: Started my first blog in March • 2008: Mary marries Ryan Tindall on May 8 • 2010: My grandfather, Henry Edward Hess, Sr., passed away in June at the age of 97 • 2010: First grandson, Jacob Eliav Tindall, born on June 21 • 2010: Started attending Lake Baldwin Church in September • 2011: Julia marries Alex Corbett on October 15 • 2013: My mother, Mary Graves (Hess) Quarrier, passed away on July 10 at the age of 74 • 2012: Second grandson, Isaac Nachman Tindall, born on February 12 • 2013: Worked for Champion Prep as a teacher • 2014: My grandmother, Dorothy Irene (Ransom) Hess, passed away in January at age of 99 • 2014: Third grandson, Lucas James Corbett, born on May 16 • 2014: Fourth grandson, Ezra Ilion Tindall, born on August 25 • 2014: My father, Philip Quarrier, married Annielise Weber on November 26
[ 61 ] My Children
Twenty Years, Ten Kids, One House (July 2013)
Twenty years ago last month, we moved into this house. The longest I had ever lived in one place prior to that was six years, so this is a big deal for me. In my almost 50 years, I have lived in seven states (two of them twice), eight houses, and too many apartments to count.
We were living in Gaithersburg, Maryland when my husband decided we should return to Florida so that he could work with his dad in the family engineering business. Frankly, I was worried about trying to sell our little townhouse in a lower income neighborhood, mostly because we had four little girls under the age of six and I knew I wouldn't be able to keep the house clean for very long at a stretch. Imagine my surprise when we had a contract within just a few days! Now I really had to scramble to get ready to move within several weeks! I was also worried about finding suitable housing for a “large” family in Florida on such short notice. We asked my father-in-law and some of our Orlando friends to post notices on their church bulletin boards (this was before the Internet was common) saying that we were looking for a short term rental until we could find a house to buy. Pretty quickly, my father-in-law called saying that a lady he knew from church said she had a house for us to rent, but that we wouldn't want it since the pastor was selling his house and she knew it would be perfect for us. It was also a reasonable price because it was a fixer-upper and was For Sale by Owner. He went over, took pictures, got the floor plan and site map, and sent it to us by overnight mail. I checked off everything on my “House Wish List” including at least four bedrooms, a garage for our cars, a double sink, and some orange trees. Just after that, my husband traveled to Orlando to start making arrangements for our move, and I told him if he liked the house, to just go ahead and buy it. He did. Fortuitously, we had already planned months ahead of time to meet my husband’s family in North Carolina for a vacation. So, we loaded the minivan with kids and suitcases, drove to the mountains for a week, and I kept going down I-95 to Orlando with the kids while my husband returned to Maryland to pack the truck and drive it to Florida. Perfect timing! I always think back on that story and smile at God's providence for our family.
We knew our house would take a beating since we had young children, and since we didn't have much money left over anyway, we didn't fix up much at first. It wasn't until 2004, eleven years after our move, that we finally decided to invest some of our inheritance (from his parents) toward renovating. Over the course of several months, we painted, had new carpet and ceramic tile floors installed, got new storm windows, and bought new living room
[ 62 ] furniture. (We've almost always bought our furniture used or gladly accepted hand-me-downs!) Then in 2005, since we were expecting our tenth baby, we hired a contractor to permanently convert our garage into a much needed fifth bedroom, small office, and laundry area. We also added space for another car in our driveway since there are usually five drivers and we obviously don't have a garage anymore!
Now after all these years of raising kids and home schooling here, we are actually emptying the house out. Two of my daughters have gotten married, the third is a nurse and will be moving out soon since she’ll probably be working night shift, and the fourth is spending a semester in Australia and plans to get an apartment when she comes home. We still have quite a crowd for birthdays and holidays, though, with all of my children, my sons-in-law and my two grandsons. I can only imagine how full our tables will be in coming years as more join the family!
I have loved living here. Our neighbors are awesome and never cause us any trouble. Most of the folks on our street have lived here longer than we have. Our home is centrally located within a mile of grocery stores, the library, my favorite used bookstore, discount stores, thrift shops, my bank, the post office, etc. Inside our four walls, I've tried to make a nurturing home for my family. It’s still such a challenge to keep the house clean and tidy and it's not always (or even very often) quiet and peaceful. Nonetheless, I have many sweet memories here mixed in with the inevitable trials and tribulations.
[ 63 ] To Bolivia, With Love (A Bolivia, Con Amor) by Virginia Knowles, 2009
To Bolivia: Out of my ten, Julia is just one But a full one she is One full of life and love and laughter One for you, from me
With bubbles and balloons for your little ones And a Bible in her language and yours, side by side (It speaks love in any language) How beautiful are the feet that bring Good News: She will walk in your mountains (Lord, have mercy! Snakes, be still!)
And she will give hugs in your villages Speak words of grace, too And so she will love and listen and learn Just a short while Though it seems so long to a mother far away
And even if she leaves a part of her heart in you Even if she empties herself for you This is the paradox: I know you will send her back full From Bolivia, with love
[ 64 ] To Italy with Love (In Italia con Amore) by Virginia Knowles, 2011
To Italy with love, I send two daughters Together on a mission to go forth, beyond! To their ancestral homeland Of beauty and ancient lore For the love of Gesú and ordinary people Story by story: telling truth Stitch by stitch: knitting hearts Meal by meal: nourishing souls
Sweet Sovereign Spirit In and through these two And those who came before And those who shall come after evermore Kindle a fresh flame A new Renaissance in Italy When art retells the gospel glory And minstrels sing Amazing Grace
May a rebirth of your vibrant presence Abide in this place Neighbor by neighbor Village by village Bring your abundance of life To Italy with love. Sì, abbondanza di vita In Italia con amore.
[ 65 ] Seven Blessings for One Marriage by Virginia Knowles, 2008, for Mary and Ryan Tindall's wedding
Reverence As you stand side by side in humble awe of Him, Devote and purify your hearts to please the Holy One in whom Justice and mercy met on the cross.
Wisdom As you ponder the mysteries and epiphanies of life, Think, imagine, listen, linger, and reflect with one another. Learn from the LORD and His Word: Know and then do.
Light As you reflect the larger luminescence, Seek to mirror the marriage of Messiah and his beloved Bride, A radiant, translucent testimony of grace and glory.
Purpose As you embark on a journey of excellence together, Move forward faithfully and fruitfully as partners On your mission: a grand adventure of faith and destiny.
Joy As you drink of the abundant sparkling fountain, Make a merry melody and holy harmony to celebrate our Creator, Who beautifully fashioned each of you for each other.
Peace As you confess, forgive, reconcile, respect, and embrace, Let shalom, wholeness, blossom as an olive branch, And you shall be united in the One who makes all things new.
Love As you commit to cherish and nurture one another, Surrender, serve, and sacrifice with loyalty and affection In the sacred marriage which our God has entrusted to you.
May these blessings be yours in the LORD!
[ 66 ] Ivory and Gray For the wedding of Alex and Julia on October 15, 2011
On this beginning day of your marriage, You appear in ivory and gray, not black and white. So too in the nuances of life you will learn to blend in a little like this, Making the differences between his way and her way a little less stark. The way you grew alone now changes into The way you will grow together. Yet you are still designed to be distinct from one another.
So go forth boldly with grace and joy, Cherishing who you are each created to be in Christ: Two gifts of uniqueness joined. Jesus makes you one for one another, for his own glory, Reflecting his radiant love in your new home, your new family, Starting on your wedding day of ivory and gray.
[ 67 ] My Childhood
The Kansas City Years (1967-1971)
Our family moved from Thornton, Illinois (a suburb of Chicago) to a northern suburb of Kansas City the summer before my 5th birthday. We lived there from July 1967 until April 1971. Sometimes while driving home at night, we would stop at a certain bluff overlooking the beautiful city lights and exclaim, “Oooh, ahhh!” Living in a hilly neighborhood meant that adjacent houses were not always at the same level as one another. One nearby yard sloped to a six foot retaining wall. I must have been only five when my tricycle, with me on it, plummeted over it onto the concrete patio of the next house below. The neighbor children ran screaming to my mother: “Ginny fell over a cliff! Ginny fell over a cliff!” The ambulance could not find our house so my parents frantically drove me to the hospital. I still have the scars underneath my left eyebrow and a finger which got caught in the tricycle spokes.
My birthday, September 7, fell just one week after the deadline for entering public school Kindergarten. Not wanting to hold me back, my parents enrolled me in a private school, Little Folks, which went up to first grade. The picture here is from my first day of school. It was on that momentous day, when the teacher called roll, that I found out my real name was Virginia instead of Ginny Lynn. (I had been named after the Ginny Lynn Restaurant. My Grandma Hess did persist in calling me Ginny Lynn off and on until I was a teenager.) When I graduated from Kindergarten there, my Grandpa Quarrier gave me a stuffed purple cow that played “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”
Mom had to go back to work about halfway through my Kindergarten year. The first day she dropped me off at a home daycare before school, the cranky old lady, Mrs. Johnson, spanked me! My crime? Crying for Mom because I missed her! I dreaded her house so much that one day I got off at a friend’s bus stop instead of the one near her house. My mom got the picture, and found another babysitter. Ah, heaven this time! Mrs. Hull lovingly cared for the little children who were valued guests in her home. We read books (like Meet Abraham Lincoln, of which I have a copy today), watched Romper Room and Captain Kangaroo, and ate cookies dipped in milk. Her son Philip, the same age as me, would walk me to the bus stop since I was afraid of dogs. A teenager named Marsha Thornton also sometimes babysat us in our home. She gave me the booksThe Large and Growly Bear andSylvester, the Musical Mouse for my sixth birthday. I still have them! Books also make such a lasting imprint on small hearts and brains!
[ 68 ] In 2nd grade, the public school finally decided I could join their ranks, then promptly moved me up to a combined 2nd/3rd class. My classmates and I loved to run to the library at recess time to check out our favorite Thornton W. Burgess animal books like Reddy the Fox. (I still own some of these classics, too!) The Bobbsey Twin mysteries were our other top picks. Back then, the school dress code was regulated by the ultra- conservative John Birch Society. Little girls could only wear dresses or skirts, unless it was snowing. Then they could wear pants underneath their dresses and then promptly remove the pants upon arriving at school. One day, our teacher had to leave the classroom and told us not to leave our seats. Being the obedient child, I stayed in my seat --- and wet my pants rather than walk over to the little bathroom that connected to our classroom. Mom had to bring me fresh clothes, and, you guessed it, I was sent home because she brought me a pair of pants to wear!
I treasure distinct memories of visiting the parents-in-law of my Aunt Nancy in their home in small Missouri town at age seven. I remember Mrs. Allen's vegetable garden in the front yard, and that she made pickles from the cucumbers she grew. We kids discovered a robin's nest with pale blue hatched eggs in it, put it in a cardboard box, and took it home. Playing the board game Life, we moved little cars around the board, picking up a tiny plastic spouse and children along the life journey. After strolling to the village antique store, I purchased a small glass cat playing with a ball, which might have been the start of my extensive glass animal collection. My end-of-day memory was snuggling into a borrowed white flannel nightgown and going to sleep in a cozy guest room in their two story white house. It’s funny that I didn’t even recall that this trip was at Thanksgiving until I found an old photo in a box. The inscription on the back notes that it was 1970, and that Mom Allen took the photo of me reading Good Housekeeping figuring it might make a good ad for the magazine.
In spring 1971, Dad lost his job, but he found another one in the booming Silicon Valley near San Francisco. Our Midwestern days came to a close as we climbed aboard our covered wagon (a white pickup truck with a shell constructed of two-by-fours, canvas, and heavy plastic for windows – it even had bunkbeds in it and most certainly would be illegal now!) to head for the Pacific. I will always remember our Kansas City days with nostalgia.
[ 69 ] My Story of Liberty in 1976
In July 1776, our country declared its independence. Two hundred years later, I had a very special independence day of my own! I had just finished 7th grade, and I was a mess. We lived near San Francisco, California, which was a pretty wild city. I was depressed and didn’t always want to live. I knew I had a lot of sin in my life, and I felt guilty. Unfortunately, I thought “born again Christians” were extremely irritating because some pushy folks at a county fair had tried to “shove the gospel down my throat.” Really, looking back I can see that they weren’t that bad. I was just being defensive and hostile. Then we received a letter from my Aunt Fay in Pennsylvania. She said that she had become a Christian. We thought she was off her rocker, crazy, deluded!
Then my Grandpa and Grandma Hess, who also lived in Pennsylvania, decided to host a big family reunion at their house out in the woods. My folks decided would be awesome to take a month-long bicentennial vacation, drive across the country, visit relatives along the way, see Washington D.C., go to the reunion, tour New England, and drive back across Canada. What a way to see the country!
By the first week of July we finally reached Pennsylvania. We stayed a night at my Aunt Fay’s house and got to camp in a tent by the pond. My cousin Cindy, who is a year older than me, showed me these weird looking Gospel tracts and tried to tell me about Jesus. But I was distracted because my cousin Rick, who is a year younger than me, was pretending to be a wolf outside the tent.
The next morning, we all drove to Grandma and Grandpa’s house. They lived out in the woods, and they called their homestead Squirrel Hill. Acres and acres of beautiful trees spread out beyond Grandpa’s huge vegetable garden and his smokehouse. Cindy and I explored all over the place, sniffing the fragrant sassafras plants in a meadow. We finally ended up on a large flat rock overlooking the country road. Cindy pulled out her weird looking Gospel tracts and tried again. This time I listened. The Holy Spirit was working in my life that day, showing me my sin, and pointing to Jesus as the answer. I realized how much I needed the Savior in my life. I confessed my sins, told him that I trusted in his death on the cross, and prayed for him to save me. I knew something very profound had happened in my heart!
I was really eager to share the news. Of course, Aunt Fay was delighted! She took me to a Christian bookstore and bought me a little white King James Bible. Since then, I'm happy to say that I have grown so much as a Christian through reading the Bible, praying, going to church, and ministering to others. I pray that God would use me to share the good news with some of my relatives, just as Cindy had with me.
[ 70 ] My Odyssey from “Renaissance” to “Reformation” by Virginia Knowles
When I was seven years old, living in a suburb of San Francisco, my parents made a really wise decision: they pulled the plug on our TV! We were addicted to sit-coms and needed to use our time more productively. For the next several years, we had the opportunity to develop creatively and intellectually. Mom and Dad took us to concerts, plays, Renaissance Fairs, art and history museums, ethnic restaurants, and many other cultural places. We often went camping in the Sequoia National Park and Yosemite. (The picture is our family at Crater Lake in Oregon in the mid 1970's. I'm on the right. We looked like hippies and my brother's hair was much longer than mine.) We grew blackberries, corn and tangerines in the backyard, and pansies, golden poppies and plums in the front yard. We read books constantly. We took art, music and drama classes. My brother John played the trumpet, trombone, piano, synthesizer, organ, and other instruments, while Barb specialized in the cello. There was always a great high school musical to attend! I took piano lessons for several years, and later added the mountain dulcimer and guitar. We also attended music theory, history and performance classes at a local conservatory. We were quite a “Renaissance” family when it came to the arts and book knowledge.
However, for all the blessing this was, I remained deep in the spiritual “Dark Ages” for these preteen years in the mid 1970s. God was missing from all of our pursuits! Historically speaking, the Renaissance in southern Europe was largely a rebirth of classical, humanistic knowledge. The Reformation in northern Europe, on the other hand, was saturated in Scripture and a total reliance on the finished work of Jesus Christ on the cross. I already had the Renaissance in my life, but I needed a personal Reformation, a total rebirth and reshaping from the inside out. Then came July 1976. I had just finished 7th grade and mocked the crazy Christians who tried to witness to me. Yet in his mercy, the Lord reached down and saved me when I certainly wasn’t looking for him. Thus started a spiritual odyssey that not only gave me citizenship into God’s kingdom, but transformed my approach to creativity, the arts, and learning in general.
In Spring 1977, we moved from San Francisco to Baltimore. In my chorus class, I sat next to a sweet girl named Anne, who invited me to church. Her parents gave me rides to Sunday services and youth group. Here I began intense Bible study, fell in love with Christian books, learned hymns and Christian folk songs, and went to Scotland on my first overseas summer mission trip. Then our family moved to northern Virginia and I blossomed even more creatively in the faith. Inspired by praise and worship services sponsored by two local churches, as well as Keith Green and 2nd Chapter of Acts concerts, I started writing my own songs and setting psalms to music. My oil painting took on inspirational themes such as Christ’s sacrifice, prayer, and entering God’s presence. I devoured Christian books and magazines. My career goal was to own a Christian bookstore. When I wrote, it was to encourage my fellow believers and to witness to those who didn’t yet know the Savior. As God brought this Reformation to my life, learning and the arts became a means to not only worship my Creator (who made us in his creative image) but to reach out with a redemptive mission and a message.
[ 71 ] My Parents
A Tribute to My Mother, Mary Quarrier
Today (October 8, 2008) is the 70th birthday of my mother, Mary Quarrier. She is the most special lady in the world to me, so I honor her with this brief little photographic tribute.
Mom was born to Henry and Dorothy Hess on October 8, 1938 in Kingston, Pennsylvania, and grew up in the rural outskirts of the Scranton / Wilkes Barre area. She was named after her grandmother, Mary Grave Hess, who also had a grandmother named Mary. My mom’s first granddaughter (my daughter) is named Mary, which continues this tradition. Really, though, it’s because I associate the name with that sweetness and light that my mother exemplifies. Mom was the middle of five children. Her childhood pictures and mine look so much alike, and we were often mistaken for sisters. At age 17, she met my dad when he came for visits with his roommate (Mom's cousin Charlie Davis) from the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy in King's Point, New York. They celebrated their 50th anniversary on Christmas Day last year.
My brother John, sister Barb and I came along soon enough, so she kept busy mothering us full-time for many years. Isn't this a cute picture of us?
Eventually, when I started full day kindergarten and tough economic times hit the country, she went back to work. She’s had a variety of careers, including secretary, hotel manager, typesetter, and owner of an office cleaning business, medical transcriptionist, and computer trainer. She retired from this last position (working for the National Institutes of Health) several years ago. Even when she was working, though, she always made time to do stuff with us, like read us stories.
I wasn't always really grateful for what my mom and dad provided for us. They gave me this little red wagon for Christmas one year, but I thought it was a "boy toy" and refused it. Mom said if I didn't want it, she would take it. She rode off in it, then filled it with her own stash of Christmas presents. Of course, my jealousy was quickly incited, and she graciously gave it back to me. Smart mommy!
[ 72 ] Gardening has been one of her favorite hobbies. We always had flower gardens when we were young! The first one she helped me plant, in Kansas City, had zinnias. We grew pumpkins there, too. Later, in a San Francisco suburb, we enjoyed growing pansies and golden poppies. We also had a small corn field and a blackberry patch (from which we made fruit leather) in our backyard there! Mom still lovingly tends gardens – her own flower gardens and a vegetable garden supervised by my Grandpa Hess, who is a gardener extraordinaire! I wish I had their green thumbs. Along with the garden, my mom loves to watch birds. She has a whole bunch of feeders in her yard, just outside her windows, with different kinds of seed (or nectar) for the various species.
Mom was a Girl Scout leader for more years than I can count, and one year she was the city coordinator for all of the troops in San Carlos. She was also the cookie mom. I remember one time when a hapless young Girl Scout knocked at our door wanting to sell us a few boxes. I merely opened the adjacent door to our garage and showed her the cases and cases of them! Somehow she survived dozens of troop camping trips, but she always managed to come home with a splitting headache for some reason! We also camped often as a family, especially when we lived in Northern California and could visit the gorgeous Yosemite and Sequoia National Parks, as well as Big Basin. We even had a family tradition of roasting hot dogs on the beach at Half Moon Bay on Christmas Eve every year.
My mother is also a very creative seamstress. I distinctly recall a pumpkin outfit that I wore for Halloween for several years, a big round orange thing that we stuffed with newspapers. She has also made quillows (a cross between a quilt and a pillow) for several of her grandchildren and me), and together we made a few sets of jumpers for my five oldest daughters when they were naive enough to still put up with wearing matching clothes.
My mom loves to take and edit pictures and videos to record our family happenings for posterity. I know I inherited my love of family history from her, and I am blessed to know so many of my precious relatives because we often traveled to family reunions “up home” in Pennsylvania and kept in touch with everyone in between times. My mom has always been up for learning something new. When I started college at Northern Kentucky University in 1981, she took a class in Small Business Management with me. A lot of college kids might be upset to have their mom go to class with them, but I treasured this time with her! When I went away to college, she kept up with me through phone calls and letters. I remember one note that she wrote to console me when I had endured a big disappointment in life. She was so sweet about it. She is not only my mother, she is my dear friend. Mom learned the fine art of stained glass when she was in her 40s, and I am the lucky owner of a nativity set and other beautiful pieces.
[ 73 ] And then there is her singing! I remember that from my very earliest years at home. Always a song in her heart! Her mother had been a church organist, so music played an important role in her own growing up years. Mom played the piano and made sure that the three of us had music lessons of our choice, too. My sister and brother performed in a whole bunch of high school musicals, so attending them as a family is another happy childhood memory. Many choirs have been graced with her voice, and she spent many happy years singing, recording, and touring with the National Christian Choir in her “spare” time.
Speaking of traveling, my mom is the adventurous sort. When we were young, we traveled all over North America, visiting 48 different states, as well as Canada and Alaska. With all of that long distance driving, I don’t know how she had the patience to spend that many hours hearing, “Are we there yet?” and “I get the front seat!” But she did, and we are richer for it. I suppose it helps that we lived in several states: Illinois, Missouri, California, Maryland, Virginia and Kentucky. They moved to Texas after I left for college in Florida, but they now live back in Maryland. Since they became empty nesters, she and my dad have taken the opportunity to visit such far-flung locales as Bolivia and Germany, among other countries.
But really, my mom is just as happy right at home. You see, she is a nurturer at heart. And she’s had plenty of practice, starting with her own three kids and thirteen grandchildren. She also opened her home for months at a time to a few of my cousins in their teen or young adult years. My sister’s family stayed with them for a while and my mom helped home school my nieces and nephew. She still plays an active role in their lives since they live nearby. (My one and only beef about living in Florida is being so far away from them. At least she visits us often!) Mom also took care of her mother-in-law, my Grandma Driggs, who lived with them from 1995-1997. And twice, for a total of three years so far, she has had her own parents live with them. They are turning 96 and 94 next months, and she keeps very busy as their primary caregiver! Right now, she is helping my grandma recover from surgery for a broken hip. She does all of this so cheerfully, even though she herself suffers from migraines and arthritis. She is such a treasure. I told her I wished she could take care of me when I am in my 90s, but she has declined that opportunity.
There is so much more that I could say about my sweet and lovely mother, but I guess I’ll have to leave it at that!
[ 74 ] A Eulogy is Also a Beginning July 2013
This word "eulogy" literally means “good word.” My words are in praise of my mother’s good deeds, good heart, and good life. But they do not just mark an ending of that life. A commencement marks the end of an educational endeavor, but also the beginning of a life of productive work. A commissioning marks the end of purposeful training, but also the beginning of a season of service to others. A eulogy marks the end of a life well lived, but a eulogy is also a beginning. It marks the end of an old life of enjoying the presence of one we love, but also the beginning of a new life carrying that presence forward in our hearts, following the praiseworthy examples, and passing along the love we have received.
[ 75 ] A Tribute to My Dad, Phil Quarrier
Happy Father's Day for 2008! I wanted to take a few minutes to honor my dad, who has given me so many happy memories in life.
Of course, my birth was quite a memory-maker for him. I arrived on his 27th birthday (September 7, 1963) around 10 in the morning. He had intended to be in the delivery room, but figuring I was going to take a while yet, he stepped out to buy a newspaper and I promptly made my grand entrance without him. Sorry about that, Dad!
We lived in a little house in a Chicago suburb at the time the above picture was taken, moving to Kansas City when I was almost 5. Dad was finishing up a master's degree at the University of Chicago at the time, and since he worked for TWA (an airline) he flew back to Chicago twice a week for quite some time to finish it up. Also during that period, our family joined him on a business trip to England. We stayed in the Hansel and Gretel Hotel, enjoyed a live production of the musical Oliver, rode on a red double decker bus, and experienced the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. What a memory!
One of my fondest memories from my elementary school years is that my dad used to regularly decorate my brown paper lunch bags with clever sketches. One with an elaborate ocean liner, complete with silly passengers and port holes, stands out in my mind.
Another memory of the California years is that he was a free lance photographer for the Peninsula News Association. We would be riding around in the car, and suddenly a call would come in on the police scanner that he kept on. Off we would race to see a fire, a car accident, or some other kind of interesting emergency. Then we'd head home so he could develop the pictures in his dark room (the bathroom) and deliver them to one of the local newspapers.
My dad also made sure we had plenty of cultural opportunities. We often attended plays and concerts, took music and art lessons, and always had a generous budget to buy books. We also traveled all over the country, as well as to Canada and Mexico. The only two states I haven't been in are Hawaii and Alaska! Of course, it helped this roving endeavor that we actually lived in seven states on both coasts. People ask me if my dad was in the military, but I tell them that he was just a "bored civilian." He never is boring, though! He is one of the most fascinating people I know. He loves to learn and to chat with complete strangers. I must have inherited those traits, because my mom laughs at how I strike up conversations with folks in the grocery store line.
[ 76 ] It was while we lived in Maryland (1977-1979) that my dad brought home our first computer, a TRS-80 Model 1 by Radio Shack. Quite primitive, its only storage unit was a measly cassette player. The screen was black and white, and all of the letters were uppercase only. But I did learn how to program the thing in BASIC and VisiCalc (a spreadsheet), which paid off when I earned most of my way through college as a computer programmer. Thanks, Dad, for imparting such a vital job skill to me! That was such a gift! I simply can't imagine life without a computer now! Dad also picked up a Masters of Finance degree from Loyola College in Baltimore in the late 1970s.
In 1979 we moved to Fairfax, Virginia, and a mere 16 months later to Covington, Kentucky, a suburb of Cincinnati. Dad was going into the geothermal heat pump business with my Uncle Bob and an old family friend. They gave it a valiant try, but the business never really got off the ground. After I left for college in 1981, my dad and mom moved to Houston, Texas, where he worked for Texaco. They finally returned to Maryland a few years later, and they've been there ever since. I don't think they ever plan to move any place else!
Dad also loves languages. I have lost track of how many of them he knows, but he is fluent in Spanish, and has picked up some German, Portuguese and Vietnamese as well. That's not even counting the computer languages. I once made a T-shirt for him that said, "Mi computadora es polylinguista tambien."One of my dad's side jobs a while back was teaching foreign language courses some where or other, and he once spent a month in Mexico City on a job contract.
At age 71, my dad is still working full-time in computers, plus working on weekends in northern Virginia as a security guard, which is an extremely physical job. He also jogs at least a couple of miles every day. I can't imagine trying to keep up with him. His fitness push really started when he was in his 40s and diagnosed with diabetes. I admire how he keeps himself in such good health.
Dad has had the privilege of walking both my sister and I down the aisle at our weddings, hers in 1982 and mine in 1985. I think it was at Barb's wedding when he was asked, "Who gives this bride...?" and in his best (newly acquired) Texas drawl, he replied, "Her mother and I do." (Just imagine the accent -- I can't reproduce it here.)
I'll close this tribute by recounting the wisest thing my dad ever said to me. He was full of pithy advice, such as, "Pray to God but lock your car doors," and "You can be any kind of doctor, lawyer or computer programmer that you want to be..." He also told me that if I wanted to be a professional artist, I had to learn to drive a taxi first to pay the bills. But the thing I most remember is when I was a rather cocky teenager and I thought I had life all figured out. His reply: "You have just the skeleton of it. Time and experience will put flesh on those bones." He was so right.
I love you, Dad, and thank for all of the memories!
[ 77 ] My Grandparents
Diamonds in Our Family Tree by Virginia Knowles
Pink roses on the arbor Arched over groom and bride Now seventy-five years later They’re still smiling side by side.
With love enough for a lifetime And four generations since then Stories and laughter are flowing As we all “remember when…”
So Happy Diamond Anniversary To Henry and Dorothy Hess We’re so glad to be your family Knowing we’re forever blessed.
You are diamonds on our paths Dazzling in our family tree What a heritage to treasure What a loving legacy!
[ 78 ] Memories from Dorothy Ransom Hess
Your grandfather Henry Edward Hess was born in 1912 in the small town of Forty Fort, Pennsylvania, on the Susquehanna River. Years before there had been a fort built there. Forty settlers from Connecticut walked or came by horses to settle in the Wyoming Valley on the Susquehanna River and named the area Forty Fort.
Grandfather Hess lived at Forty Fort through his kindergarten years. Public schools did not have kindergartens at the time; private people ran them and charged for it. Then his father decided to move to the country to raise his children and he bought a 165 acre farm out beyond Dallas, Pennsylvania, near Demunds Corners. They had cows, horses, chicken, pigs, turkeys (I was scared to walk over there sometimes to see my best friend Elizabeth because they had a mean turkey gobbler). They hired a man to help them farm because Great Grandfather Hess was really a banker and drove one of the few automobiles in the area down to the city of Wilkes-Barre each day to work in the bank. He worked in a bank in Scranton, then became President of the Dime Bank of Kingston.
Grandpa Hess attended a one room school for his first eight grades. They walked about a mile to school. When the weather was nice they could cut across fields and through the woods to get there. There were about 15 in the school and three in his grade. The first teacher was a man teacher who was quite mean. He used a switch on them and sometimes would yank them out of their seats by the hair and hit them for talking or misbehaving. He was glad when they got a woman teacher. Each day one of the big boys would take a pail and go down the hill for a pail of water for drinking. They all used the same dipper. They had two outside toilets and Grandpa's brothers were so embarrassed that he went into the girls' toilet one time. They had a potbellied stove in the room for heat.
When it came time for high school, the township had to pay for them to attend any school they could get to. Some folks would move in town with relatives or friends for the week and go home weekends. Of course with Great Grandfather Hess working in the city, his children would ride into town with him and go to Kingston High School. Grandpa Hess and his best friend Hilton Long would sometimes take the trolley out to around Dallas and walk the five miles on home so they didn't have to stay in town such a long day. They graduated from Kingston High School.
I was born on down the river from Forty Fort in a small town called Dorranceton, later merged with Kingston. I went to Kingston schools. The first five grades I walked about three blocks to school.
[ 79 ] Then it was six blocks until I was through eighth grade, then further to walk to high school. When I was around five years old, my father decided to buy a farm, too, and bought one right across the dirt road from the Hess farm. So you see, we grew up as neighbors. We only stayed at the farm from May until October and then would go down to our city home. That was until the big stock market crash in 1929. Then my father sold our city place and we lived in the country one. My father was a contractor and built hundreds of homes in the Wyoming Valley. Imagine, in those days he sold homes for $500 and automobiles cost about $500. He was also one of the first to own an automobile in the area. The houses of course didn't have plumbing nor electricity at the beginning. Like out in the country, we used oil lamps and candles and gas lanterns until our fathers bought Delco light plants for our electricity (The picture is of the Ransom home in Demunds.)
Airplanes were a rare sight. We would go outside to see them when we heard them flying over. I can remember going outside to see Charles Lindbergh fly over on his way to New York, and then he flew solo in his little plane clear across the ocean to France. That was quite a feat. We didn't have the big planes at that time and couldn't hop a plane to New York or Philadelphia like we can now. Our first radio caused lots of excitement. We had to use our ear phones so only one could listen at a time until we finally got a speaker to set up on top the radio. You didn't just plug in your radio at first, you had batteries working it. Folks would brag that they heard Chicago last night, or New York.
When I was fourteen I invited him to a Valentine Party and they played Coray and Olive Ransom 1904 kissing games. We said we'd all invite boys. So I invited Henry. And he'd never been to a party with kissing games. He drove the Cadillac down, and all the kids were saying, "Who has that big Cadillac?" He was 16. He kissed me and some of the others too. We played Post Office and Spin the Bottle. It was all the rage about then. After that he asked me for a date. From then on if there was anything going on at school Henry and Elizabeth and I would all go together.
When we first got married we had an apartment over the Ransom garage. We had a nice sized living room and a small kitchen and a bedroom, and we built a big porch across the back. There was an outside toilet, or we used a pail. It wasn't really winterized but we had a heating stove up there. Our daughter Barbara was on the way when we had the apartment. My mother wasn't well and Mother Hess got sick, and I guess that first winter we went over and stayed with Mother Hess and Henry's brother George in the big Hess house. She died that spring. Henry's older sister Amelia and her husband Sam were in the Hess big home, and we had George come live with us in the little Hess house down by the road. There were two Ransom houses and two Hess houses.
One of your Grandfather's first jobs was in an ice plant. Before they learned how to manufacture ice, men cut ice from lakes and ponds and stored it in an ice house where they packed the ice in sawdust to keep it from melting. Then men would truck it from house to house and sell you maybe fifty pounds for your refrigerator and it would keep things cool for a few days. We were married over ten years before we bought an electric refrigerator. After the refrigeration business died down, your grandfather learned how to sell life insurance and that remained until retirement.
[ 80 ] While still in the ice business, the war, World War II, came along and your grandfather served in the Navy. He was a Machinist Mate second class. He didn't have to fight. He was on a repair ship to keep refrigeration units working. He was gone for almost two years. They were a long two years for me for we had five children and I was expecting the sixth. While he was away in 1944, David George was born in the back of my brother Willis' car with his cord around his neck. All I could remember was taking the blanket and saying "Here Louise, wrap him up in a blanket." Willis came later and said, "Dorothy, we buried the baby on top of Mother Hess." I never wanted to go to the cemetery to see. I was in the hospital a week and I don't even remember being in the hospital.
Then along came TV. Our neighbors bought a TV set and graciously let our children and the neighbor children to come in Friday night and sit on the floor and watch a certain family program, like "I Remember Mama" or some such show. It was a great Friday night thrill. After a year or two they wanted to buy a better set so offered their set to Grandpa Hess for a reasonable price and we became TV owners. Now we are into the Computer Age. What fantastic changes every day. We just can't keep up with what they are doing. Tribute to My Grandfather, Henry Edward Hess, Sr.
My 97 year old grandpa, Henry Edward Hess, Sr., is in his final days. I am so grateful that he is surrounded by loving family. Grandpa and Grandma are two of the most loving people I know. They are a mere 24 days away from their 76th wedding anniversary, and their marriage is full of warm and genuine affection. They always speak kindly of one another and serve one another gladly. Grandpa has always been affectionate to us children, too. It was always a pleasure to cuddle up on his lap in the rocking chair and hear him tell jokes. Grandpa has kept his trademark sense of humor to the end, asking my sister if she wanted his false teeth. Barb said, "No thanks, I have my own. Do you want them?" He replied, "Nooo, I came in without them and I may as well go out without them." As they say, you can't take it with you.
After retiring as an insurance agent, Grandpa and Grandma took the opportunity to travel around the globe. They visited Iceland, New Zealand, and Germany, among other countries. For more domestic trips -- say, a 10,000 mile round trip Alaska trek (via our house in San Francisco) -- they drove a bright orange VW bus that we dubbed "The Orange Crate." They liked to have fun at home, too. We always played games like Scotch Bridge when we visited their "Squirrel Hill" homestead in Pennsylvania, then their retirement home in South Florida, or more recently my parents' home in Maryland, where they have lived for several years.
Grandpa is also known for his thriftiness and resourcefulness. One symbol of that would be his garden. When they lived on 10 acres in Pennsylvania, he had a huge vegetable garden. I remember snapping peas on their porch. He still has a garden -- he just makes other people do the work for him! He hunted deer every year and smoked his own venison. Grandpa is the one who inspired me to learn how to make turkey scrapple from scratch. It's one thing he always made for us when we visited. He's quite the cook.
May his memory live on in the stories we tell and the pictures we share.
[ 81 ] Tribute to My Grandmother, Dorothy Ransom Hess
My beautiful Grandma Hess was such a sweet and lovely person, inside and out. I have only the very happiest of memories with her. I know she is having a wonderful reunion in Heaven with loved ones who have gone on before. Just a few days ago, she was imagining that she was with her brothers and sister, and also that she was baking cinnamon rolls and pies. :-)
Several memories come to mind right away...
• She kept a drawer of toys at her house in Pennsylvania so we grandchildren could play when we visited. Unfortunately, we always lived hundreds or even thousands of miles away until I was almost a teenager. • There was always something good to eat at her house. She and Grandpa were both excellent cooks and so good with showing hospitality. She loved ice cream and all kinds of other desserts, and often ate them before dinner. • She sent lots of letters and cards. I especially remember the ones with cute little animals on them. There were also postcards from their world travels. • She was very good keeping up with photo albums. There is a huge pile of them. She also kept journals of what happened each day, though never much about her feelings. • She is the only person who ever called me Ginny Lynn past the time when I got to kindergarten and found out my name was really Virginia. And she got away with it. • She made colorful afghans for each of my children. • She played the organ and piano beautifully. She knew and loved lots of old hymns. • The last few times I saw her, she didn't always remember who I was, but she sure was glad to see me anyway! I am so glad that I have been able to travel to Maryland several times in recent years to see her. • She and Grandpa were faithfully married for almost 76 years.
[ 82 ] The 100th Birthday of My Grandpa, Jack Quarrier
Today I would like to honor the 100th birthday of my paternal grandfather, Jack Weems Quarrier. Grandpa was born at home on February 27, 1909, the day after his mother's 20th birthday. His name at birth was John Kenner Quarrier, but it was changed. Unfortunately Jack Quarrier didn't live to see a full century of life. Grandpa passed away on August 6, 1977, when he was 68 and I was almost 14 years old.
Grandpa’s father, John Chilton Quarrier, was the editor of a newspaper. His mother, Olive Blanche (Weems) Quarrier, was the daughter of a Confederate sharpshooter (sniper), Charles Chilton Weems, whose usual target was Union river boat captains. She was born on February 26, 1889, at her uncle’s Oak Lawn plantation in Bayou Teche, New Iberia, Louisiana. John met Olive when he was working as a telegraph operator for a railroad. My dad noted that there is a possibility that they were distant cousins since Chilton is a last and middle name of folks on both the Quarrier and Weems sides of the family. Also, in the 1700s, the Weems and Quarrier families both came from County Fife in Scotland, which is near the English border. (My dad has often reminded me that the Scots and English carried on their centuries old feud in America; during the Civil War, those of Scottish ancestry were quite often Confederates, reminiscent of the Scots’ desire for independence from English rule. It should also be noted that my Scottish ancestor Alexander Quarrier, arriving in the American colonies in 1774, fought for the patriots against the English during the Revolution.) In 1825, the Weems clan moved from Maryland to Louisiana to raise sugar.
Jack was born in Galveston, Texas, and was baptized Catholic. His paternal grandfather, Dana Ward Quarrier, had studied to be an Episcopal minister, but apparently Dana’s wife, Sallie Hogan Quarrier, was Irish Catholic. I'm not sure if he was raised Catholic, though. Jack had three sisters: Maxine (born in 1907), Geraldine (1913), and Olive May, nicknamed "O.M." (1919).
Jack actually grew up in Kansas City and lived there for the rest of his life. He did not graduate from high school but left home at age 15 to work for the Associated Press as the world’s youngest commercial telegraph operator. I think he was based at the offices of the Emporia Gazette. Later, he switched to teletype operation from Morse code retransmit. Teletype had a paper tape punch which could be torn off, hung up, and put into another teletype machine to be read again. He eventually had to work on computer terminals, which annoyed him so much that he quit in the early 1970s, after nearly 50 years in the business. He had worked all the way through the Depression, which is quite notable.
Jack met my grandmother, Margaret Brazier, when he was working in the building that housed both the AP offices and the Kansas City Star newspaper, where she was a reporter. They had three children, but divorced in 1945 when my father was 8. Upon her marriage to Dr. Driggs in 1948, Margaret and the three children moved to New York City, so my dad didn’t see his father quite as often. What I hadn’t known was that my What I hadn’t known was that my grandfather also remarried from 1954 to 1956 to a bank official named Elleen Hobbs Moroney.
[ 83 ] My dad doesn’t remember ever meeting her. My dad doesn’t remember ever meeting her.
My own memories of my grandfather are sketchy. When I was almost five, our family moved from Chicago(where I was born) to Kansas City, where my grandfather lived. I remember our family going out to dinner at a steakhouse with him several times. He came to my kindergarten graduation and gave me a lavender colored stuffed cow that played “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” when you pulled the cord. One Christmas, Grandpa gave Dancerina dolls to my sister Barb and me. You could push on their crowns and they would dance. Barb recalls, “I VIVIDLY remember the Dancerina dolls. I wanted one SOOOO badly and was beyond thrilled when he gave them to us. I also remember going to a baseball game with him (KC Royals?) He was a huge baseball fan.”
I vaguely remember meeting my great grandfather, John Chilton Quarrier, when we lived in Kansas City, and only then because my brother John wrote that, “Our great grandfather did come to see us a number of times when we lived in KC. He bought me a trumpet and got me started with private lessons. He didn't have much of a lip left but I remember him playing "Red Roses for a Blue Lady.””
After we moved to California in 1971, Grandpa Quarrier would come to visit and take us to Denny’s, where I would order a French dip sandwich and Jello blocks with whipped cream. I think we once took a day trip to Alcatraz, Fisherman’s Wharf, China Town, and other San Francisco sights with him, too.
In April 1977, we moved to Maryland. That summer, my dad had to fly to Chicago for a business trip. Since my brother John was just then moving to Maryland from San Francisco, Dad suggested that they meet in Kansas City for a four generation reunion there with my grandfather and great grandfather. I had asked my dad if I could go with him on this trip to Kansas City because I wanted to see Grandpa. He said no, because Grandpa would be flying out to see us in August. I protested, “But what if he dies before then?” Ironically, Grandpa had a fatal heart attack on the airplane flying East to see us. We packed the car and left the next morning to drive to Kansas City for the funeral. I saw my great grandfather, who died two years later. One random thing that I recall from that trip to Kansas City is that it was the first time I ever saw a bar code scanner in a grocery store.
We cleaned out Grandpa’s apartment while we were there. The thing that struck me was that he had a bazillion books. We brought many of them home, marking each with the initials JWQ inside the front cover. I still have his Revised Standard Version Bible. Grandpa may not have had much of a formal education, but he sure loved to read great books! He also enjoyed classical and jazz music and had quite a record collection.
I wish I could have talked to my grandfather more. There are a lot of questions I would have asked him. I believe in being aware of our stories, about our own lives and about those who have gone before us. In so many ways, it is where we have come from, even before own births, that shapes who we are, how we think, and what we pass on down to the next generation.
[ 84 ] My Grandmother, Margaret Brazier Driggs
She was beautiful. Just look at that photo. Grandma Driggs was so graceful and proper, always the lady.
Margaret was born in Kansas on June 30, 1909. Her father, William Brazier, was a union bricklayer who worked until the day he died, well into his 90s. He could point out countless buildings in Kansas City that he had helped to construct. Her mother was Lillie Edith Landers Quarrier.
She graduated from the University of Kansas in 1930 with a degree in Journalism. Then she began her career as a newspaper reporter for the Johnson County Herald and Kansas City Star. She married my grandfather Jack Quarrier, and they had three children. She met her second husband, Dr. Howard R. Driggs, through the American Pioneer Trails Society, of which he was the president. He was a prolific author and historian, born in Utah in the 1870s into a polygamous Mormon family with 22 children. When they married, she was 39 and he was 75. She helped edit his many books until his death 15 years later in 1963. I own copies of many of his books, some written even before Grandma was born! As a widow, she worked at a college and several private schools until she retired in 1974. She was also a docent at the New Jersey governor's mansion.
Though she lived for several years with my parents in Maryland, she spent her final years in Colorado with my Aunt Camille. I think the last time I saw her was in 2004 at my brother John's wedding in New Jersey. I had offered to stay with her in her hotel room for a night. She saw TV coverage of the hurricanes in Florida, and worried about her skirts blowing around if she left the hotel. She also told me then that her mother had emphasized the importance of
[ 85 ] being a good person. She certainly tried.
I remember her calling me “dolly girl” and my children “dolly angels.” She was affectionate to us, but always very proper. Her apartment furniture and decorations in Princeton were ornate. I only once saw her wearing pants, on a very cold day. Other than that, it was always pretty dresses or skirt suits. She liked to give us books as presents, or little notepads that she had decorated with ribbons and felt covers. She often clipped newspaper articles and sent them to us in big packets. She encouraged education and was disappointed when I told her I wasn't going for my master's degree. But she loved me all the same!
My sister Barb recalled, “My first memories of Grandma Driggs are of visiting her in Bayside, Queens. We ate English muffins with jelly using the fancy china. She was always so elegant, even when feeding little children breakfast! Grandma was always the epitome of elegance and propriety, from the way she dressed to the way she spoke and carried herself. I believe that she valued reading and writing above all things. One of my prized possessions to this day is the hardcover set of Louisa May Alcott novels she gave me when I was a teenager. I wish I could have known Grandma Driggs as a young woman, when she was a reporter in Kansas City, falling in love, as a young mother. I wish I could have known her when she was my age, in her 40s, working with Dr. Driggs, raising young adults, playing the piano. Of course I didn’t know her then, but my intuition tells me that this was the happiest time in her life.”
Grandma passed away in January 2008 at the age of 98. She is buried in Salt Lake City, next to Dr. Driggs. It was on the way to her funeral that I wrote the poem “Over Utah in January.” Here is a poem by Dr. Driggs.
"Parting" by Dr. Howard R. Driggs
Life is a series of comings and goings: We meet to part, to meet again, And again to part. Yet really we never part - In memory - in our heart of hearts - We ever hold those we cherish; Loved ones are a constant part of our lives; Treasured friends are always close, However wide the space that lies between. This is a precious truth that soothes somewhat The pain of parting.
[ 86 ] Our Ancestry
A Letter from a Mama to Her Son, 1933
Many years ago my mother digitized letters that her widowed grandmother (and namesake) Mary Graves Hess had written to her son Henry when he was a young adult and had recently moved out of town to find work.
Here she wrote a chatty letter about cooking chicken, planting peas in her garden, asking someone about ploughing, sick neighbors and family members, plans for visiting, encouragements to go to church, and all sort of other topics. I am glad that I don't have to do everything from scratch like she did. Plucking a chicken? I think not. I think she liked to drop hints about her expectations for him as a son, like saying, "I don't know how many times a day I think 'If Henry were here, I wouldn't have to do this," or lamenting, "Poor Mr. Harris! If he only had children to look after him!"
Sadly, Mary passed away about three years later at the age of 47. I visited her grave this past summer when I went to the memorial for my grandparents at the same cemetery. She did live long enough to see the wedding of Henry and longtime neighbor Dorothy in 1934; they were married for 75 years and named their middle child (my mother) after her. My oldest daughter is also named Mary.
I sometimes wonder what it would have been like to sit down with my great-grandmother and learn about her life, her faith, her aspirations, her mothering experience, and so much more. I'm so glad that she cared enough to write letters to her children. She did it for them for then, not for me for now. But still, I guess this is the next best thing to talking to her in person.
[ 87 ] I also think of my own legacy. I don't send my children handwritten letters often, but I do blog, and I do send out monthly family e-mail letters to all of my relatives. I tell my stories. I share my thoughts. I take plenty of pictures. Maybe someday my own great-grandchildren will see them and wonder. I'll sign off now as she did then: "Lots of love, Mama" and "God bless you and keep you."
[ 88 ] [ 89 ] Memoir of Heinrich Hess, My German Immigrant Ancestor
My great-great-grandfather Heinrich (Henry) Hess came over from Germany in 1849, settled in northeastern Pennsylvania and became a coal miner. I have a copy of his handwritten memoir written in German. This is the English translation. Note that the words in parentheses are explanations, and the dashes represent information that was illegible. What a heritage! I am thankful for this testimony from the path as I continue to keep the heritage of faith.
Scranton, July 3rd 1886
Henry Hess born the 30th of November 1826 in Harnheim on the Pfrem, Rheinbaiern. My father was Henry Hess; my mother Barbara Gottler.
As a young man of almost 23 years of age, I left the ancestral home on the 21st of August 1849 to immigrate to America. Arrived in New York in September on a sailboat in which we had been on the ocean 24 days. Stayed in New York a few days where I and three of my comrades decided to go to the state of Pennsylvania. Since at that time where was no railroad there we had to travel partly by water and partly on foot through virgin land until we reached Hale on the Rainen and then came to Blekle on the Crafede Road. From there we had to continue our trip on Shuster's Rabe (Shoemaker's black horses) to Schlokem Haller (now Scranton). It wouldn't have suited us for we had heard of distant Pitston where the pigeons were already roasted and only has only to eat them. However, we turned back disappointed to the renowned Backdon where we stopped and stayed with Ludwig Engle. We spent a few days here and looked for work. Went to Slaken Haller again where we finally got work as laborers for 75 cents per day. On the 8th of October 1849, I found it (myself) in the Rest House with Carl Art (probably tuberculosis). In the first year, everything became so ill that there was no hope for my getting well. However, the Lord decided otherwise; I became well again. So it went good again. I stayed in the above named Rest House a year; then I went to John Reob where I then met Elisabeth Simon, now my beloved wife. We were married on the 5th of July 1852 in Wilks Bar (Wilkes-Barre) by Bredge Lasher with Henry Rebb and Micheil Helperch as witnesses. My wife, identified above, was born in Ruhrhessen on Basken Singlis on ------. Her father was Henry Simon; her mother ------. Eight children were given to us; 7 boys, 1 girl, of which one, a boy, went before us.
A review of almost 37 years -- so I must say the Lord has done great things, more than I can comprehend.
"At my confirmation I selected this verse, Psalm 143, verse 10, "Lord, teach me to do thy will for thou art my God. May your good spirit lead me on a smooth road." The Lord has lead me up to this point and I know that He will also lead me further on if I will only believe in Him. My wish and will is to make myself subordinate to Him and to be true to Him until my end."
[ 90 ] Quakers Up Our Family Tree (from Priscilla Perry)
One of our immigrant ancestors was Noel Mew, an English mariner. His father was Richard Mew who was an English merchant and a friend of William Penn. Noel Mew bought land in New Jersey from William Penn, and later bought a farm in Rhode Island. They were Quakers. His daughter Mary married Michael Wanton. Their daughter Ruth Wanton married Gideon Freeborn. Their daughter Mary Freeborn married Stephen Potter. Their daughter Ruth Potter married Joseph Fenner. All of these folks were from Rhode Island and were Quakers. Abigail Fenner married John Tomkins and the Tomkins were early Methodists. Some of them also seem to have been Baptists. John and Abigail were some of the founders of the Tomkinsville Methodist Church. This village is now spelled Tompkinsville. John and Abigail's daughter Mary Slack Tomkins married George Graves and had George Fenner Graves who married Priscilla Hollis and had Mary Adelle Graves who married Charles Hess. So we had about 5 generations of Quakers in Rhode Island. It was the Tomkins who came to Pennsylvania and that seems to be about the time they ceased to be Quaker.
John Tomkins descended e from the Tomkins family who came with a group from Connecticut to be the founders of the city of Newark, New Jersey. At the age of about 13 he ran away from home and went to sea. After sailing for about ten or more years he got off in Rhode Island and married Abigail Fenner who was from a prominent Rhode Island family. A Tomkins descendant who has done a lot of research to determine the possible parents of John Tomkins has come to the conclusion that he is probably the son of Joseph Tomkins and Bethiah Freeman. Joseph Tomkins was a Revolutionary soldier from the Newark area whom the British referred to as "the fox" because he was so clever at eluding them. This couple had a son who was supposedly lost at sea. There is a discrepancy of about ten years in the birth date of this son and the birth date of our John Tomkins but who knows how accurate either of those dates really is.
Margaret Scott: In the Wrong Place and the Wrong Century
Margaret Stevenson Scott was the last and oldest person hanged in the Salem Witch Trials. This was in September 1692, when she was 77. She was not a witch, just a cranky old beggar widow who had had several children die young. She was born around 1615 in England and had been married to Benjamin. Here is the family line since then: • Margaret Stevenson and Benjamin Scott • Mary Scott and John Decker • John Decker Jr. and Sarah Bennett • Sarah Decker and Clement Meserve, 3rd • John Meserve and Sarah Strout • Jane Meserve and Josiah Segar • Rachel Segar and Solomon Hollis • Charles Hollis and Delia Britt • Priscilla Hollis and George Fenner Graves • Mary Adelle Graves and Charles Frederick Hess • Henry Edward Hess and Dorothy Ransom • Mary Graves Hess and Philip Quarrier
[ 91 ] French Huguenots, Andre and Suzanne (Latour) Lamoureux
The Huguenots were French Protestants who suffered persecution from the Catholic Church. Andre was born into a Catholic family but became an evangelical believer as a teenager. He and his wife Suzanne smuggled Huguenots out of France on his riverboat. Eventually, they had to flee, too. They first moved to Bristol, England, where they continued their ministry of rescue and relief, and then eventually the United States around 1700. They are our ancestors through my grandmother, Dorothy Ransom Hess. You can read more about them in the book The French Pilot by Allen Steele. Samuel Ransom and George Palmer Ransom
Captain Samuel Ransom was either born in England or Massachusetts on April 10, 1738. His parents were Robert and Sarah. He married Esther Lawrence on May 6, 1756, and they eventually had eight children. They settled in the Wyoming Valley (then Connecticut, now Pennsylvania) in 1773. He was a prominent citizen who held public offices in both government (including selectman and surveyor) and the church (such as tithing man). It is reported that he fought in the French and Indian War. As a Revolutionary War captain with the Second Independent Company, he fought in several battles along with George Washington, including Millstone, Brandywine, Germantown, Bound Brook, Mud Fort, and other smaller ones. He was on George Washington's staff. Resigning his commission, he returned home to the Wyoming Valley to protect it from the British and the Indians. He was one of eleven officers killed in the Wyoming Valley Massacre on July 3, 1778. His name is at at the top of the list on a monument built to honor those who died in the massacre, as well as engraved in the memorial chapel at Valley Forge. Ransom Township is also named after him. Samuel's second son, George Palmer Ransom, born January 3, 1762, enlisted in his father's military company at age 14. He arrived home just in time to find his father's decapitated body on the battlefield and bury him. In December 1780, at the age of 18, he was captured with five others and taken to Montreal in Canada, suffering grievous hardship on the way. The following June, they escaped and made their way back through the wilderness toward home, exhausted and starving. They survived by eating frogs and snakes. He married Olive Utley in 1783 and had four children. After Olive's death, he married Elizabeth Lamoreaux in 1794, a descendent of Andre and Suzanne. They had 13 children, and their ninth child, Chester, born in June 1808, is our ancestor. He and his third wife, Harriet Tupper, had several children, including a son named Urbane in 1841. Urbane's son Coray, born in 1877, married Olive Wrislar. They were the parents of my maternal grandmother Dorothy Ransom Hess. Alexander Quarrier
One of our immigrant ancestors was Alexander Buchanan Quarrier. He was born March 11, 1747, in Fifeshire, Scotland to Alexander and Margaret. In addition to Huguenot ancestry, he was reportedly a descendent of the great king Robert Bruce, who lived from 1274-1329 and valiantly fought for the liberty of Scotland. Further down in the line is Agnes Campbell Anderson (1637-1716), known as Lady Roseburn. A mother of eight, she was the first woman to be the king's printer, despite fierce jealousy and rivalry among her male competitors.
[ 92 ] Alexander Quarrier married a widow named Elizabeth Hunter, who already had two sons. In 1774, they came to America and he trained as a coach maker in Pennsylvania. He was a captain in the Revolutionary War with the Pennsylvania militia, and his name appears a few inches above Captain Ransom's at the Valley Forge memorial. He later settled in Richmond, Virginia, where he was a prominent citizen, and by 1805, he was Keeper of the Keys at the Capitol. He was a personal friend of James Madison. In 1811 he moved to Kanawha County in what is now West Virginia, and later became the Justice of the Peace. He died in 1827. As for his family, he apparently divorced his first wife, and in 1783 married Elizabeth Dannenbury, with whom he had eight children. She died in 1797 from childbirth. In 1798, he married Sally Burns and had eight more children. We are descended from Sally, who was born in 1771. The genealogical line since then was James Young Quarrier (1803) married to Letitia Chilton (1798), then Dana Ward Quarrier (1847) married to Sallie Hogan (1854), then John Chilton Quarrier (1886) married to Olive Weems (1889), then Jack Weems Quarrier (1909) married to Margaret Brazier (1909), then my father Phil Quarrier. Bruce and the Spider by Bernard Barton (1784-1849)
For Scotland's and for freedom's right From beam to beam of that rude cot-- The Bruce his part has played;-- And well the insect's toilsome lot In five successive fields of fight Taught Scotland's future king. Been conquered and dismayed: Once more against the English host Six times the gossamery thread His band he led, and once more lost The wary spider threw;-- The meed for which he fought; In vain the filmy line was sped, And now from battle, faint and worn, For powerless or untrue The homeless fugitive, forlorn, Each aim appeared, and back recoiled A hut's lone shelter sought. The patient insect, six times foiled, And yet unconquered still; And cheerless was that resting-place And soon the Bruce, with eager eye, For him who claimed a throne;-- Saw him prepare once more to try His canopy, devoid of grace, His courage, strength, and skill. The rude, rough beams alone; The heather couch his only bed-- One effort more, his seventh and last!-- Yet well I ween had slumber fled The hero hailed the sign!-- From couch of eider down! And on the wished-for beam hung fast Through darksome night till dawn of day, That slender silken line! Absorbed in wakeful thought he lay Slight as it was, his spirit caught Of Scotland and her crown. The more than omen; for his thought The lesson well could trace, The sun rose brightly, and its gleam Which even "he who runs may read," Fell on that hapless bed, That Perseverance gains its meed, And tinged with light each shapeless beam And Patience wins the race. Which roofed the lowly shed; When, looking up with wistful eye, The Bruce beheld a spider try His filmy thread to fling
[ 93 ] Bible Notes from Lillian Brazier
[ 94 ] An excerpt...
“The psalmist had found that Holy of Holies within his own temple. For Our Lord has told us we are the temple of the Holy Spirit. God has put his Spirit within. When our spirit contacts the Holy Spirit, we know we are the children of God and our eyes are opened and we know we have found this abiding place of spirit where we can find peace, inspiration, and strength and know the real will of God. Jesus says If ye abide in me and I in you, ask what ye will and it will be given you if you ask in faith believing never doubting. This is a time for decisions. Right choices must be made... We like David are brought low and must seek our Lord for help and strength. Mothers must face a world of anxiety and children must make choices early. Ideas. Thoughts we thinks, words we say count most for good or evil, happiness or sorrow. Let us call upon the Lord, and may our gratitude and praise be ever on our lips.”
[ 95 ] So there you have it: a poetry anthology, life history, and partial genealogical record, all in one book. How about one more little essay for my children and the generations beyond? My Legacy
Let's be honest. I can't do it. I can't be the mother that I want to be. I have all sorts of ideals. But I can't live up to them. You all know that well.
It makes me cry to think of all the dreams and plans I had when my first sweet baby was placed in my arms. I look at the future and worry about what life will be like for you in a world gone crazy. I've tried to prepare you, tried to give you a sure foundation, but sometimes I think I've contributed more to the chaos than to the calm. So what is my legacy? What can I still give to you and to the generations yet to come?
I have often tried to guide you with these words: Compassion. Integrity. Dignity. Courage. Responsibility. Respect. Cooperation. Encouragement. Honesty. Kindness. Ingenuity. Patience. Understanding. Diligence. Forgiveness. Perseverance. Contentment. Generosity. Wisdom. Purity. Joy. All good words. Think about them. Put them into practice. Make them your enduring heritage.
I hope you can gather these fragments, the essence of my ideals, and see that they go way beyond me. You can still make something beautiful out of them. But you will find, as I have, that you can't do it all just right every time. You will fall short, as I have, as everyone has, generations and generations, back through the Hesses and the Quarriers, all the way to Adam and Eve.
So really, the best legacy I can give you is faith in Jesus, who is the perfect Son of God. It is his sacrifice that pays the price of our failures, so we can ask him to forgive us and grant us eternal life that we could never earn through our own attempts at virtue. It is his grace and strength that enables us to pick it up and keep going, to still make a positive impact in the spite of our many weaknesses. But here is the thing. I can't just pour this faith into you. It is something that each of you has to actively take for yourselves by believing the gospel, the good news. So in a sense, this heritage I'm talking about is actually a challenge to you to make it your own, more and more each day. And here is my prayer, from Colossians 1:9-14.
“We continually ask God to fill you with the knowledge of his will through all the wisdom and understanding that the Spirit gives, so that you may live a life worthy of the Lord and please him in every way: bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God, being strengthened with all power according to his glorious might so that you may have great endurance and patience, and giving joyful thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of his holy people in the kingdom of light. For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.”
For me this is a long journey of faith toward the fullness of joy and peace and redemption. This is the most important thing I can pass along to you. So I give you a rich heritage of Jesus, who is my Pilgrimage and Jubilee.
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