Walnut Cove Days

Elsie Mitchell at age 18, 1931.

Walnut Cove, North Carolina is a pretty small place.  The last time I was there, I almost missed it.   Nestled in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mts, just north of Winston-Salem, it's typical small town America today with 3 blocks of 'downtown' shops, banks, and library surrounded by modest homes and businesses.

But in 1913, I'm sure things were different.  Grandma's father, Will Mitchell was young and trying to make a go of farming with his new wife, Mattie Bell.  Then Elsie came along, and then another and another.  Farming in those hills was hard too.  Grandma spoke of how he'd spend his days digging rocks out of the fields so the tobacco could grow.  Of course they grew as many vegetables as they could as well so they'd have something to eat, with the usual chickens, pigs and milk cow as well.

Mattie Bell made sure her children attended church with her, even if her husband didn't always join them.  She had a strong faith and wanted her children to have the same.   One warm summer day, she gathered Elsie and her sister, Ruby, a chair and a pot of snap beans and settled under the large shade tree in the yard.   The beans were coming in fast and it was time to put some up for the winter, which meant using little hands to get the job done.

As they sat under the tree, Elsie leaned against her mother's knees and helped - picking up bean after bean, snapping off the ends, and dropping them in another pan.   Ruby, too small for such work, sat in the shade playing with flowers.

Times like this are precious for a mother and Mattie Bell used that afternoon to tell her oldest daughter about God's love for her and how Jesus came so that he could take the punishment for our sins and bring us back into a right relationship with God our Father.  This was the first time that Elsie remembered hearing the Gospel, at her mother's knee under a cool shade tree over a bowl of green beans.

I'm sure it wasn't the last either because Elsie put her faith in Jesus and lived her life, all 90 years of it, guided by His Word.  She learned to lean on Him in the good times and in the bad times, knowing He'd always be there for her.

She also learned something else from her mother over those green beans... how to make a wonderful pot of green beans, ham and all.  Yum! I can taste them now just thinking about it!

Being Mother

While I was a student at Wheaton College, a friend and I were "adopted" by a couple from our church.   Once a month, or as was most often the case, once a week, we'd have a fine Sunday dinner with Angus and Betty.  If you can't guess by the names, they were British, very British.  He worked for Air Canada then, but had lived in many other places before Wheaton.    Those Sunday afternoons included some wonderful food, stories of WWII and post-war London, and of course a cup of tea.   Betty would bring in the tray laden with a pot of strong tea, a pot of hot water, milk and sugar and cups and saucers.  As she knelt by the table she'd proclaim, "I'll be Mother" and proceed to pour each of us a cup of tea according to our individual tastes.  I'd take mine strong with a spoon of sugar, but Angus liked his weak with milk of course, no sugar.  She'd proceed to pour and mix each cup to suit our tastes.  


Betty was simply serving tea, but that simple statement of "I'll be Mother" said so much more than that.  Being Mother entails so much more than just doing the needed chore.  And it's something I'm continuing to learn after 16 years of on the job training.    Being Mother is all about serving, serving out of love, serving each child uniquely and unconditionally.   I first began to learn about being Mother by watching my own mother, and by watching her mother.  When I came along, my mom already had 2 boys keeping her more than busy, and another followed soon after me.   Her mother, Elsie, still had a teenager at home, her baby, Billy. 

Her five children were always close to her, at least to her heart if not physically.  She was there to listen to their joys and laugh with them (the purple bathing suit story will have to come later!).  She was there to listen to their sorrows and cry with them, something she did for my mom many, many times.  She was on her knees for each of them in their hardest times - whether it was an alcoholic husband, the loss of an unborn child, a husband severely burned in an airplane accident, a wayward child, or her own son in the jungles of Vietnam.    The prayers never stopped.  


Grandma was there for each of us.  You could feel it in the hug as you walked in the door - the hug that said "I love you this much and I'll never stop!"   Us grandkids would be sent outdoors to explore, dig, swing, run, make mudpies, pick berries, and just be free of care.  While we were enjoying this freedom, she was sitting in the kitchen with our mother - listening over a cup of coffee, being Mother.  


When her daughter, Betsy, gave birth to her "fourth" child that turned out to be triplets, she wasted no time in getting on the plane and heading south to Colombia to lend a hand, and be Mother.


When a son-in-law died suddenly, she was there to cry, to love, to laugh - she was there to be Mother.


When the brothers and sisters didn't get along so well, she was Mother and quietly brought understanding and grace back to the conversation.  When there was separation, it was only physical, because each child was so close to her heart.  She was being Mother.   


Like her heart, her door was always open (though you had to be careful not to let the screen door bang so as not to wake up Papa!).   There were always Oreos in the cupboard, and popsicles in the freezer.   Flowers were always blooming, and there was always some craft in some stage of completion.  And by her chair in the den, was a well worn Bible.   


All this love and grace didn't come naturally - it came from her Father. "God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him." (I John 4:16)  Grandma had experienced God's love first hand, so it naturally flowed right back out to others.  


I'm writing this on Mother's Day, just a few days after her (would have been) 99th birthday.  Maybe that's why this is kind of sentimental, and I hope not too sappy.  I guess this is more of a reflection on motherhood than on Grandma's life.  But to me that's what her life was all about - being Mother.