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Letter She Might Have Written

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I envision, Grandma Nellie would have written a letter like this to my dad if she could have:

January, 1937

Dear Paul,

There are times when being a sensitive soul is a curse for those of us endowed with tender temperaments feel life deeply. When I held you in my arms for the first time, looked at your tiny face, and felt your skin, soft and smooth beneath my touch, I thanked God for the depth of mother love. I knew in that moment that forever and always my heart belonged to you.

 

When you said momma for the very first time, the tentacles of you wrapped even tighter around my heart. I thought it would burst with pride that you knew my name, and that I belonged to you. Your first steps brought a smile to my eyes, and a prayer to my lips, “Oh, God, my son will take many steps before he walks through the eastern gate of heaven, please be his constant guide. May his feet lead him in paths of righteousness, away from evil, into obedience to Your will.”

 

 

Ah, yes, the joys of a sensitive soul. But, tonight I know the deep sorrow that sensitivity brings. For, my heart is troubled, and my imaginings for your tomorrows are filled with sorrow. You see, tiny son, I sense in my spirit that soon I will leave to enter eternity. Next week, next month, perhaps in the spring . . . I’m certain I will not live to see the beginning of another year. Heaven’s sounding sweeter every day. If it were not for leaving your father, Fred, and you and your brother, Jim, I would go home today so great is the pain in my body. But, I have you, and I am willing to endure the anguish of illness, if it means being with you.

 

 

You’ll weep, dear Paul, when I am gone - you will not understand. Four is much too young to lose your mother. Jim is only seven. Oh, how much I love you. I don’t understand. I’ve begged God for a few more years - for time to see you grow into manhood. You may be angry that He’s taken me home - but, try to remember that the Father knows what’s best.

 

 

I’m trying to remember that tonight, but it’s very, very hard. The Father knows what’s best, but who will care for my babies? Your father will make certain that you have food, and water, clothing, and a bed. But, son, there are needs that you will have that I wanted to take care of for myself. I wanted to come to you when you cried out in the night. I wanted to wipe your tears, and to soothe your skinned knees. I wanted to hold you, and to teach you how to pray. I wanted to teach you about life, and to prepare you for love. Now, it seems that another will perform that sacred role. I pray that God will send you another mother, but don’t forget the one who gave you birth.

 

 

I’m crying now, my words blurring beneath my pen. It’s been a good life, son, I can’t complain, but it’s been much too short.

 

 

I remember when I pledged my love to your daddy, Fred on June 20, 1926. You were just a dream then. Your daddy was three years my senior, and not much taller than I, but he was my hero. I was only nineteen, but fancied myself to be a grown woman. Standing there beside him, I felt like a queen - me in my simple, white cotton gown, and he in his worn, Sunday-best suit. It wasn’t fancy, but I didn’t care. We had each other, and vowed that we would face tomorrow together.

 

 

I know I’ve told you many times, “Son, don’t ever break a promise.“ So forgive me, dear, for breaking mine. I\'m not well. The doctor says it’s my heart. Maybe one day you will grow up, and learn to care for the sicknesses of women like your mother. Whatever you choose to do with your life, son, do it with integrity.

 

 

Life hasn’t been easy for your momma. I’ve lived through three economic depressions in my brief lifetime: 1907-08, 1920-21, 1929-33. I was only a baby during the first, but I was a youngster of 13 during the second. I was so afraid, and was certain I would never live to marry, or be a mother. It was a sad time, but a good time for it was then that I came to personal faith in Jesus Christ. Though life was still hard, after that I had peace. I folded His promise to my heart, “I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.” And, he hasn’t.

 

 

I was a young momma during the third depression having given birth to your brother, Jim and three years later to you. My faith was solid, but many nights I lay awake wondering if we would survive. As long as the cow didn’t go dry, I knew I’d have milk for you, but beyond that I was never sure. “Give us this day our daily bread,” was my constant prayer.

 

 

We’ve had three great years, though there\'s talk that another depression is surely headed our way. I can’t even entertain thoughts such as those. If I’m not here, who will care for you?

 

 

You won’t read this letter for a long time to come - perhaps not until you are a man. I pray my life has not been lived in vain. I pray that I will leave my mark on this world in some small way. That somehow I will leave a legacy that will pass down to my children, and they to theirs.

 

 

I read today in Hebrews 12:1, “Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance, and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith . . .“ Maybe God will let me watch from heaven, son. If he does, I will cheer you on. I will watch my tiny son become a giant of a man.

 

 

You will be a giant of a man, whatever your stature, if you come to faith in Jesus Christ. Don’t be afraid, son, whatever tomorrow brings. We have a great Heavenly Father who will care for you. One day, when your work on earth is done, He will bring you home to me. Look for me, Paul. I‘ll be waiting for you just inside the eastern gate.

 

 

Love,

 

Mother

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More Prayers for Paul from His Mother Nellie
Prayer Nellie Wrote For Son Paul Before Her Death

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Ronda Knuth

Ronda Knuth

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