The Ladies Page

Country Echoes

By MAE BABER, R.D.2, Brandon, Wisconsin

It makes me rather happy this morning to find that we are still
not too old to take a chance, and we are really taking one this
morning. It is 6:10a.m. and we are headed 225 miles due north to
the funeral of a dear friend, and heavy snow is the forecast for
the entire state.

Should we be making the trip now, in May or June, all of nature
would be be awake and growing but we are rather welcoming seeing
the north country in its winter dress as I write this column.

The evergreens, of which we have relatively few in our locality,
are beautiful with their white covering. They remind me of the row
of green sentinels which stood back of the church sheds where the
horses were kept while we worshipped in the old country church
about forty years ago. It was on a spring morning in 1924 in that
church that I found Christ as my Saviour.

Mother and Dad Wilsie , as we called them, took us with them to
Sunday School and Church. They were good neighbors who sensed our
spiritual needs. Today we are going to the funeral of their
youngest son’s wife and it brings back a flood of memories. If
there are some unchurched youngsters in your neighborhood think
what it may mean to them if you tuck them under your parental wings
and make an attempt at being their spiritual parents.

Then there is the ironical truth that when parents try to hand
down a spiritual heritage to their children it is sometimes most
unappreciated and even bitterly resented. It is then that
heartbreak for parents come as every Christian realizes God has no
grand-children. Each individual has his own decision to make and he
can either accept or reject salvation. We can hand down many things
but not this. In a world full of all kinds of ideologies how
carefully we should walk that our life may speak even more
vehemently than what we say.

I wonder how often we ‘ladies’ (and surely we should all
conduct ourselves that no one would question the thought of calling
us ladies) realize that we have a special privilege of perhaps
being the ideal of some little girl. Mother Wilsie was my ideal of
a wonderful woman. Perhaps I didn’t know all sides of her
personality but the side I saw as a child was enough to make a
terrific impact.

When I remember this I get a panicky feeling of what kind of an
impact I am making on my own children and other young people with
whom I come in contact. What a tremendous responsibility is ours.
Young people do not want to be bad. They want someone worthy of
looking up to, – someone of whom they would like to say, ‘I
want to be like her when I grow up.’

Recently I saw a young woman trying to smoke a cigarette and
feed two small children and herself. I got such a sick feeling at
the example she was setting it spoiled my lunch also. It surely
wasn’t a pleasant nor enriching experience. She was a busy
person – that I will admit. I doubt whether part of her busyness
was of much credit to her.

As I rest my eyes gazing on these beautiful, lacy evergreens
interspersed with white birch, all in their setting of lovely, pure
white I remember gracious ladies I have known and some I know today
with dainty lace at their throats and crowns of white hair, and one
of the loveliest of these was Mother Wilsie. The saintly expression
on her face told of patience, faith and love. One cannot match this
loveliness with any amount of so-called glamour. The word rather
nauseates me.

One hundred miles have clicked up on our speedometer and all is
well. The storm warnings have been diminished somewhat and we are
thankful for God’s goodness to us. I definitely feel His hand
is over us. The road is good taking the time of year into
consideration.

We have the most beautiful classical music on the car radio. The
violins are really singing. Both my husband and I go for this type
of music and now we have ample time to fully listen and absorb it.
It lifts you out of yourself, soothes the soul and is a balm for
the sorrow we carry with us.

We are approaching Wausau and are absorbing something not so
pleasant – the smell of paper mills, at least that is what we think
they are. The farther we come the more stately are the evergreens
and the more vast the stillnesses. Oh! – I love it in the
wintertime too !

Now that we are back home and the sadness has worn off a little
I can say I am glad I have seen the north-land in the wintertime.
It makes me wonder whether there will be any adventures into our
summertime world this year. We have never seen the west and have a
number of friends and relatives who are urging us to come west.
Somehow I am afraid of the thought of crossing the mountains. I
suppose it is one of those things you fear until you face it.

Keep in mind that Wisconsin is lovely any time of the year as
you travel around, but from what we have seen of the east, south
and the middle west there is something to see most anywhere in the
Good Old U.S.A.

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