Candle, Candle, Burning Bright


Another Angel Unaware

One of the dear saints of God that stands out in my own mind and personal life was the mother-inlaw of a good friend. She was a farmer's wife who raised eleven {yes,I said eleven} children. That experience gave her a boldness that I often found comical.

She loved the Lord dearly and even the pastor of the church at that time would come to her for wisdom. She was as wide as she was tall, and never took any guff from her many, many grandchildren, but loved them in the way that only Mae could.

When I was just a young mother of 20ish with two little toddlers in hand, I would make my way across several farmer's fields, through the rolling hills of Pennsylvania to attend a bible study that Mae had in her home every Tuesday morning. The grass and field were always very dewy. The children and I would have to carry a change of socks to wear while our shoes and socks dried out by her fire place.

In the summer months that is where all her grandchildren congregated. It was not uncommon for both friends and strangers to find themselves snapping beans on the porch while she testified to all of God's goodness.

Later on, when I had become a single mom due to divorce, and she had become a widow, she went down hill physically real fast. At this time my oldest daughter, then 16, was a nurses aid at the nursing home were Mae ended up. Diabetes claimed her eye site and one leg, and Alzeimers claimed her mind. She was very thin and helpless. Each day my daughter would come home and tell me more. I was such a coward then, not wanting to see this strong woman in such a way. But I finally did, and it quickly became a habit to visit her 2-3 times a week.

Mae never recognized me. On better days, I could be her mother, sister or child. On bad days she would just lie in her bed with little movement. But! When I would open my bible and read scripture to her, her mind was right there and she recited along with me with a smile on her face.

One of the very last times that I saw Mae before she went home to Glory, I had had a particularly hectic week that only a single parent can know. I went in to visit with her, pulled the chair beside her bed and opened my bible on her bed right beside her, as usual. And, before I knew it, I had leaned forward resting my face on my bible and was soon fast asleep. I woke later to the nudge of a gentle nurses aid, my daughter, and I was drooling all over God's word. Mae was stroking my hair and singing softly,"I've Got a Home in Gloryland."

My humble attempts at ministering to this dear woman failed miserably in comparison to her ministry to me. Even in her frailty, she was able to shine for God. Even though she was as frail at the end of life as in the first of her life as a wispy, delicate,embryo, her spirit soared. I was never able to convey to her what her testimony did for me and my family at that time, but I know it added a jewel to her crown in Glory..

In memory of Mae Young, her flame never died

     
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