Tribute To Mother

A tribute in honor of Emma Olmon from her children

Who can know except a mother what it is to be a mother? Yet motherhood—childbirth at least—is greatly varied in circumstance. It was so with you. Your oldest child, Larry, and your youngest, Mavis, were born in populated places with adequate medical help. The other three, Marion, Bill and Glenn, came into the world in the wilds of Canada, two with no medical help, in winter storm or deadly epidemic of illness. Sometimes you were shivering with cold and practically penniless. In these conditions you brought us into the world.

With God's help you gave us birth. You nourished our tiny bodies and fondly watched us grow. Like the mother of Samuel, you provided for us ever larger clothes as our bodies matured.

You did not neglect our spiritual life. Early you taught us "Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so." Before long we joined little singing choirs and in our childish voices praised the Lord. We loved the music, but we meant what we sang, because we sensed your joy that our family was a part of the great family of God. How we loved those times, so long ago now, when all seven of the Olmons gathered around that battered piano and sang hymns by the hour.

If only that simple family worship were more valued and followed in these hectic, demanding times!

Life in a parsonage has its special demands and its own rewards. Ten different congregations brought seemingly endless requests for help and advice. It is hard for a pastor's wife to know how to divide her time between her family and her church, but you seemed to strike the right balance. If a church needed you at the organ or to direct the choir or lead the Ladies Aid or the mission group, you were willing to do what you could. If someone else came forward, well and good. There was always plenty to do at home.

Baking, sewing, canning food and fruit, making quilts, doing mountains of dishes, making beds, washing and ironing, it all had to be done and mostly it was you who had the task. When we were sick, you watched over us; when we were well, you helped us thank God for health.

In one way, you seemed to have a little problem. You were so proud of our little accomplishments and made them sound far greater than they were. We're afraid that you told more than once how wonderfully your children and grandchildren were doing. But your friends only smiled when you repeated yourself because they knew you couldn't help your mother-love showing through.

And now you have left us!

Father went first to find which of the mansions God had in mind for the Olmon family. Now you, Mother, have joined him. It is almost like when you where first married, Dad and you together there.

But we're coming! The way time passes, it won't be long before we're all with you there. Then Dad and you can say to God, "Here we are, Lord, with the children you have given us!"

Goodbye, Mother, for now, until we meet at Jesus' feet!

Glenn V. Olmon