A friend of mine sent me one of those “cute things kids say” columns for Mother’s Day this year. It has excerpts from the internet on “Why God made moms”. There were questions like, “Why did God make mothers?” (She’s the one who knows where the scotch tape is and mostly to clean the house.) How did God make mothers? (He used dirt. He made her just like me, but He used bigger parts, etc.) What ingredients are mothers made of? (Clouds and angel hair and everything nice…and one dab of mean.) Why did God give you your mother and not some other Mom? (We’re related.) It ended with a classic line that defined my own mother-in-law. What does your Mom do in her spare time? (Mothers don’t do spare time.)
Oh, how that last line exemplifies Beth Williams. There was no such thing as spare time in her remarkable life. Beth was both a planner and a doer. It seemed to me that she got up before dawn and gave the rooster a little nudge to get him up and at ‘em and she tucked the chickens in late at night before putting her house in order, maybe canning up a peck of something or another and just squeezing in a couple of hands of cards (which she often won) or maybe a round or two of charades before calling it a day.
She went cheerfully about her day with such purpose. She took everything in stride, welcomed each moment in life as a gift; an opportunity to do good. Whether it was scrubbing the bathroom or performing a favor for a friend or calling someone on the prayer line she approached every activity with enthusiasm, happiness and dedication.
Beth had plans. She was always planning something. I often said she missed her calling, that she should have been a summer camp director. If you had the great pleasure of seeing her in action up in Maine with the grandkids you would be astounded at her ability to entertain and organize this ragtag group of 7 kids whose ages spanned 11 years, not to mention her own children. The second we hit Maine she was soliciting suggestions from the kids on who wanted to do what. Each grandchild got a special day to choose the family activity. One would choose a trip to the shore, another a special treat of lunch at the dock. Also included in the mix of activities were favorite hikes like Sabbatus, Tire’m and Jockey’s Cap. A trip (or two) to Shaner’s for ice cream was another favorite.
The kids had more than just fun planned. She made up a chores chart and carefully included each child according to his or her ability to reach, hold or maneuver. Older kids were in charge of the dishes because they could reach the sink while younger, smaller ones might have floors to sweep or dusting to do. They all pitched in…sometimes even willingly. Beth was the organizer, planner and engine behind all the wonderful activities they had up in Maine. She planned for it all year. If you ever saw them leaving for a Maine expedition you would have thought that Lewis and Clark should have been so well prepared.
She had the travel down to a science as well. It was a two day drive from St. Joseph to Maine, so all the kids had one “overnight” backpack with essentials and their suitcases were all stuffed in the back of the van, never to see the light of day until the car reached its final destination. That backpack held whatever the kids needed for two days of travel. The night before their trip the kids slept in their travel clothes so all they needed to do was to get up and brush teeth and hop in the car. She ran a tight ship.
On the road, Beth had activities planned for the kids at rest stops. Lunch was often packed so all they had to do was to find a rest stop, get out the food and the toys and go about their business. The kids were encouraged to eat, get a little exercise and then hop aboard the train, ‘cause it was pulling out.
As the kids grew older her planning changed. She moved on from just doing hikes and shore excursions to activities that were farther afield. I was able to take one memorable trip with her. to Prince Edward Island in Canada to visit all of the Anne of Greene Gables sights. She, of course, had planned well. Having talked with neighbors at the cabin she got the name of a working farm bed and breakfast where she booked our stay. The girls so enjoyed the farm, complete with kittens and a new calf in the barn, they were almost as content to stay at the farm as they were to go visit the sights. She arranged in advance for tickets to the Anne of Green Gables play in Charlottetown, which event was the hit of the trip. She mapped out our tour of the island, making sure we hit all the Anne highlights there were.
The kids hiked part of the Appalachian Trail, they went on a whale watching trip and to a wolf preserve near Boston, a ferry to Monhegan Island and the puffins, and they traveled over to the Trapp Family Inn in Vermont. Each year, Beth planned a special excursion. She had the date fixed and would write out instructions for the kids as to what they were to pack and how long to expect to be on the road, but didn’t tell them where they were going. I think they had as much fun guessing the adventure as they did going…well almost as much fun.
Our Beth was a great planner. One thing that I am certain she had planned was the afterlife. Homegoing, homecoming, death…whatever you choose to call it. Beth was a true believer. A strong and devoted Christian her entire life, Beth had faith in her Lord, her Savior and life everlasting. She was not a Johnny-come-lately to Jesus. She was a fulltime, lifetime believer and was happy to share her faith with all she encountered. She touched lives.
I read a joke recently. A banker arrives at the Pearly Gates carting this huge, heavy suitcase. He gets to the front of the line, sets down his suitcase and St. Peter says, “I don’t know what you’re hauling there, Mister, but you can’t bring anything in here.” The banker, distraught, looks up and says, “But it’s my life’s work. I spent so much time and effort to get all this. I just can’t let it go.” So, St. Peter kindly says, “Well, open the suitcase and let’s see what you have that’s so important.” The relieved banker opens the suitcase and St. Peter sees that it is stuffed to the brim with gold bricks…hundreds of them. The banker is beaming. St. Peter looks at him quizzically and says, “You brought pavement??” Well, Mom didn’t bring pavement to the Pearly Gates. She brought the love of all who knew her; all of the people whose lives she had touched. We are all better people for it.
I don’t know if ice cream and chocolate are available in the afterlife, but if they weren’t already, then my guess is that Mom is making plans.
