Highlights of aviation history

Thanks to Union County Representative, the Honorable Charles F. Jenkins, Highway 180 will soon be designated the Micajah Clark Dyer Parkway.

The resolution which has passed the Georgia House and Senate will receive Governor Sonny Perdue's signature at a ceremony at the state capitol on May 31. Some of the descendants of the Choestoe inventor will be present for the significant signing.

In this column several months ago, you read how the patent for “An Apparatus for Navigating the Air" was registered with the U. S. Patent Office in 1874. In his workshop near Rattlesnake Mountain at Pine Top in Choestoe District, this farmer-turned-inventor labored away to perfect his flying machine. My Uncle Herschel Dyer told of seeing the machine and so did a grandson of Micajah Clark Dyer, John Wimpey.

His plans for the apparatus were drawn to scale and his description of how to build the machine read like those of a well-educated engineer. For years "Clark Dyer and His Flying Machine" were treated like legend, a story passed from generation to generation for the purpose of claiming some glory from one who had gone before. It has been said that this genius of the mountains secluded himself to work as much as possible on his plans for an airplane. As a recluse, he was considered somewhat eccentric and "different" from his neighbors.

He lived from 1822 through 1891, and got his airship to lift from a take-off runway he had built on the mountain, aiming the vehicle to his cleared field. He died before he had perfected the flying machine. His plans were sold to the Redwine Brothers of Atlanta. It is believed that this company turned the plans over to the Wright Brothers of Kitty Hawk fame, who launched their plane on December 17, 1903.

The scene at Kill Devil Hill on that windy December day in 1903 has been noted as America's initiation into the flight age. Powered by a twelve horse-power engine, the Wright's plane weighed 745 pounds. Although the four trials on the day of its launch were short, the longest being 852 feet in 59 seconds, according to Orville Wright's journal, "The machine started off with its ups and downs, but by the time he (Will) had gone over three or four hundred feet, he had it under much better control, and was traveling on a fairly even course." The day's trial runs and the brisk wind caused the plane to be so broken up that the Wright brothers had to do much mending and improving before their next trial run.

Nowadays, we take air and even space travel for granted. But thinking back on some aspects of flight history, it is amazing that by 1927, 24 years after the Wright brothers' initial flight, and 52 years after Micajah Clark Dyer received the patent for his "Apparatus for Navigating the Air," Charles Augustus Lindbergh had flown solo over the Atlantic Ocean from New York to Paris.

Lindbergh was an airmail pilot between St. Louis, Missouri and Chicago, Illinois. A group of St Louis businessmen pooled money and offered to sponsor the flight. A $25,000 prize was to be offered the pilot who could successfully complete the trans-Atlantic flight.

Lindbergh purchased a Ryan monoplane in San Diego, California, and set a trans-continental flight speed record by taking the plane to New York. On May 20, 1927, Lindbergh took off from Roosevelt Field heading east over the Atlantic. The next day, thirty-three and one-half hours later, he set "The Spirit of St. Louis," as the plane was named, down at Le Bourget airfield outside of Paris, France.

An estimated crowd of 100,000 people had gathered outside the fences at Le Bourget, waiting six or seven hours to see the American pilot land. Many doubted that he would complete the trip. Soldiers and guards tried in vain to control the excited crowd. To keep Lindbergh from being crushed in the press, two French aviators, Major Weiss and Sergeant Troyer, rescued him and took him in a Renault car to the commandant's office across the field. The first Frenchmen to "The Spirit of St. Louis" said, "Cete fois ca va!" (This time it is done!"). The tired, disheveled, victorious Charles A. Lindbergh replied, "Well, I made it!"

From Rattlesnake Mountain in Choestoe to Kill Devil Hill at Kitty Hawk, N.C., to Le Bourget Airfield in France is a long way in miles and in mission. These early heroes of aviation saw visions and dreamed dreams. They were willing to forego naysayers to do what they felt impelled to do. Pilot John Gillespie Magee expressed the ecstasy of flying as he flew a test plane in World War II. His poem, "High Flight" ends with these exquisite words: "And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod/The high untresspassed sanctity of space,/Put out my hand and touched the face of God."

c2006 by Ethelene Dyer Jones; published May 18, 2006 in The Union Sentinel, Blairsville, GA. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

A Salute to Mothers

Women in this present age often wear many "hats"- career, community activist, wife, mother, grandmother. This time of year we set aside a day to salute mothers and give credit where due to the women who have made a difference in the role of child-nurturing.

I recall a time back in 1948 when I had accompanied Rev. Claude Boynton and Mrs. Boynton on a speaking engagement to represent the then new and struggling Truett McConnell College. Rev. Boynton, one of the first trustees of the college, had been very instrumental in calling the first meetings to get the college organized. As a charter student there in September, 1947, and one of the students selected to go on "deputations" in the interest of the college, I had the privilege of going with Rev. and Mrs. Boynton on a speaking engagement to First Baptist Church, Fairburn, Ga.

"How does this relate to Mother's Day?" you ask. No, it was not Mother's Day weekend, but as we approached Atlanta and saw the capitol building's golden dome reflected in the light, I remember Rev. Boynton's observation: "We say the seat of Georgia's state government is within that capitol building. But my contention is that 'the hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world.'" He then went into a discussion of how much influence good mothers have upon society in general.

I learned later, by using the "Oxford Dictionary of Quotations," that Rev. Boynton's statement on "the hands that rock the cradle" was the only quotation of a little known writer named William Ross Wallace who died in 1881. He made that insightful two-line saying in "John o'London's Treasure Trove." I concluded that Rev. Boynton must have been well-read, indeed, to remember and quote the cradle/ruler adage, and to launch upon a lecture about it. Maybe already he was preparing for his Mother's Day sermon which would not be too many weeks in the future.

The scene of Atlanta, not so busy on a late afternoon in early spring 1948 as it is today, and the quotation made an indelible impression on me. The rest of the way back to college at Cleveland, Georgia, I thought about the importance of mothers and their roles in society.

I also engaged in some self-pity on the remainder of that trip, thinking that my own mother had to make her contribution to the lives of her four children early-on, because she had died on Valentine's Day in 1945. There were so many things I wanted to ask her, to learn from her before I myself was launched out on my particular journey into life. What were her dreams for me? Was I in any way fulfilling them?

Then I thought of many who had stepped in after her demise to be a surrogate mother to me. There were my mother's sisters, Avery and Ethel Collins, spinsters, with no children of their own. Yet they had the "mothering instinct" and spent much time with nieces and nephews, giving them advice, teaching them practical lessons on life and living. From them I learned much about cooking, sewing, ironing and house-keeping, tasks that fell to me in my own home when I was a lass of fourteen. Add another name to my surrogate mother list, Aunt Northa Dyer Collins. She lived in sight of me, and it was but a brief walk to her farmhouse from ours. She was my father's sister and her husband, Uncle Harve, was my mother's brother. From them I learned multiple lessons in living, one of the main ones of which was to have ambition and dreams and to work toward those dreams. I don't think "impossible" was in their vocabulary.

At high school I had experienced the love of teachers who went the second mile and sometimes were in the role of surrogate mothers. I can name several: Mrs. Grapelle Mock who taught me, among many other things, that I could do public speaking without letting stage fright overtake me. Mrs. Elizabeth Elliott, Mrs. Flora Nicholson, and Mrs. Elizabeth Berry taught me the beauty of words and the joy of putting them together in readable, incisive poetry and prose. Mrs. Geneva Hughes, who taught and was librarian as well, planted in me a life-long love for good books. She also invited me to spend nights in her home on Hughes Street within walking distance of the school when I was a character in the school drama and would not have been able to participate because of distance and no transportation. Mrs. Gertrude Shuler, a paragon of patience as well as an excellent teacher, taught me that if we work through problems without making rash decisions the answers will truly come. Mrs. Lucile Cook was my home economics teacher at the time of my mother's death. Her understanding and ability to help me with housekeeping situations I faced at an early age have been invaluable to me throughout life. Mrs. Dora Hunter Allison (now Spiva) was a stunning example of requiring excellent grooming and good deportment from her students, but at the same time she made hard mathematics problems come alive. Like a problem in arithmetic, life problems can be solved with persistence and faith, she taught.

And at college I had other surrogate mothers. Mrs. Staton, English and journalism teacher, nurtured my desire to be a writer by making me editor of the college newspaper and co-editor of the college yearbook. She, too, invited me to her home and made me feel a special part of her life. Dr. Pearl Nix, psychology teacher, knew how to "pour on the work" to her students, but made us realize that there is no limit to our ability to learn except through our own limited desires to accomplish. Miss Edith Sayer was our librarian and taught mathematics, too. She was an example that even with a mild handicap, one's life can be fulfilling and an inspiration to others. Miss Charlotte Sheets lifted my level of appreciation for good music as she led the college chorus to be good enough to be invited to sing at the Georgia Baptist Convention and notable churches throughout Georgia. Miss Lounell Mullis brought history alive for us, but she also had a faculty residence in our dormitory and advised us girls on proper etiquette, life goals, and, yes, even behavior on dates!

As I think back on William Ross Wallace's quotation, "The hand that rocks the cradle/Is the hand that rules the world," I am grateful I heard this when I was eighteen, and that it lingered with me throughout life. Rev. Boynton may not have realized that the quotation would sink itself into his young parishioner's memory. What we say does make a difference.

I am grateful for my mother's influence on my life, and for all of those who stepped in, relatives, teachers, others, to be strong surrogate mothers to me when I needed a helping hand and direction in life. One of the greatest honors that has come to me in this life is not my career as a teacher, but that I was entrusted to be a mother of two wonderful children, a grandmother to seven fine grandchildren, and now, just this April, the great-grandmother to Gavin and Brenna. "The hand(s) that rock the (cradle)s" of these two have heard my evaluation: "They are the most beautiful great grandchildren ever, and they have a significant role in the future!"
Happy Mother's Day! Enjoy your memories. Tell some mother she is special.

c2006 by Ethelene Dyer Jones; published May 11, 2006 in The Union Sentinel, Blairsville, GA. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Echoes of camp meetings and evangelist Rev. Elijah Kimsey

The Rev. Elijah Kimsey was a great uncle of the noted Dr. George W. Truett who became one of the outstanding Baptist pastors and denominational leaders of the 20th century. Rev. Kimsey did not travel far from the mountain area where he was born, but his evangelistic zeal and fiery preaching had such an effect on summer camp meetings in the mountains of Western North Carolina, North Georgia and East Tennessee that echoes of his influence still linger on in lives he touched and in legends told about him.

In a biography about Dr. George W. Truett written by that great preacher's son-in-law, Powhattan W. James, Dr. Truett recounts how his "Uncle Lije" Kimsey waked up a floundering Methodist Camp Meeting being held one summer near Hayesville, N.C.

The fact that Rev. Elijah Kimsey was a Baptist minister ordained November 20, 1847 did not deter him from going to the Methodist overseers of the Camp Meeting at Hayesville. He told them that he had prayed all night and the Lord had told him to seek out the arbor meeting gathering and preach there. Rev. Kimsey had a thick lisp to his speech. The Methodist ministers conferred and told the itinerant preacher their services were at 8 a.m. and 11 a.m. and again at 4 p.m. and 7 p.m. "When do you want to preach?" they asked Rev. Kimsey.

"Brethren, my thoul ith on fire. I want to preach to these people. The thooner, the better, brethren," Rev. Kimsey replied. "The fire is burning in my thoul," he reiterated.

The ministers told him he could preach at the 8 a.m. service. They rang the bell to gather the people from their wagons and tents, and soon a crowd was under the brush arbor tabernacle. After an introduction by one of the Methodist elders, Rev. Kimsey was given the pulpit.

The story has been passed on for generations about that camp meeting and how the evangelist with a speech impediment began to preach and seemed not to be able to stop. His lisp only added to the interest, because everyone listened carefully to understand every word as Rev. Kimsey expounded the Scriptures and poured out his heart in zealous preaching.

As he preached, and as the services went on, sometimes not even stopping for the usual meals and fellowship, people in the surrounding area heard about the revival. The crowd increased as the Camp Meeting went on with exhorting, testimonies, singing, and preaching. As much as the people enjoyed eating around their campfires, fasting was a natural outgrowth of the spiritual climate and praying. Campers preferred hearing the preacher with a lisp and anointed with the Word of the Lord than to cook and eat.

It has been said that particular meeting marked the beginning of a moral and spiritual awakening of that section of North Carolina, Western Tennessee and North Georgia. Word of the meeting lept over the mountains and sped through the valleys. Hundreds were converted and the people who gathered there went home at the end of the series of meetings with renewed hope and inspired zeal.

Who was this preacher with the gift to move people to spiritual commitment? Elijah Kimsey was born February 4, 1812, a son of Thomas and Nancy McClure Kimsey. His birthplace was old Buncombe County, N.C. His family moved from Buncombe to Haywood County (now Macon) when Elijah was a boy. He and Sallie Bryson married there, but by 1837 the new couple had moved to what was then Union County, Georgia, a county five years into organization. They settled in the Friendship Community which would later be taken in as part of Towns County in 1856.

Elijah Kimsey, despite his pronounced lisp, had a desire to serve through both teaching school and being a preacher. He pastored churches and taught in one-teacher schools in the area of North Carolina and Georgia near where he lived.

Rev. Elijah Kimsey and Rev. John Corn were chosen as representatives of Towns County to go to the secession convention held at the Georgia capitol then at Milledgeville. Both the ministers were pro-union. It is said that they did not protest the right of Georgia to secede from the Union but questioned the wisdom of such a move in their general opposition to war and division in the country. When a large majority voted in favor of secession, the Revs. Kimsey and Corn went on record as accepting the decision to secede.

Rev. Kimsey was too elderly by the time of the War Between the States to serve in the army. However, three of his sons enlisted and fought for the Confederacy.

Rev. Kimsey's beloved companion, Sarah Bryson Kimsey, mother of their nine children (William, Thomas, David, Nancy, Amanda, Josiah, Araminta, Elisha, and Sarah) died September 1, 1886 and was buried in the Burch Cemetery in Towns County. Following Sarah's death, Rev. Kimsey moved to Habersham County. There he married his second wife, Ella, on April 3, 1887. Rev. Elijah Kimsey died May 7, 1896 at age 84 and was buried in the Kimsey Cemetery, Mt. Airy, Ga.

The epitaph on Rev. Kimsey's tombstone is typical of his life: "He went and done what the Lord commanded."

c2006 by Ethelene Dyer Jones; published May 4, 2006 in The Sentinel, Blairsville, GA. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Honors on Confederate Memorial Day

April 26 is officially Confederate Memorial Day. However, since the mode now is to take the Monday nearest the date as a holiday, April 24 this year was officially noted for those who closed businesses and had a day off from work, making a long weekend from April 21 through Monday, April 24 as a time to remember our Confederate Dead.

April 26 marks the official end of the War Between the States for Georgia. It was on that date in 1865 that Confederate General Joseph E. Johnston surrendered to General William Tecumseh Sherman in North Carolina.

Already, General Robert E. Lee had surrendered to General Ulysses S. Grant at Appomattox Court House in Virginia on April 9, 1865.

Supporters of the Southern cause can feel pride in the way General Lee conducted himself at that meeting. It is reported that Lee maintained dignity to the end. He appeared at Appomattox Courthouse in a brand new uniform, wearing an embroidered red sash, and polished boots with spurs. Standing tall, with his gray hair and beard in place and his dress uniform impeccable, he met General Grant whose boots were muddy and his old slouch hat askew.

The Generals, nevertheless, were gracious to each other. Grant said to Lee, "I met you once before, General Lee, while we were serving in Mexico. I have always remembered your appearance, and I think I would have known you anywhere." (p. 167, National Geographic, "Almanac of American History," c2005).

Lee had evaluated the hard nine-month siege at Petersburg and decided that holding on longer would bring only a sad, pointless loss of more lives. He agreed to meet Grant and work out terms of surrender.

The Confederates were to lay down their arms, which they did. Lee suggested that his men would need their horses for spring planting. Grant agreed to this request and also promised to provide rations to the emaciated Confederate Army.

Astride his horse, Traveller, General Lee rode among the ranks of his faithful soldiers. His words to them were: "Men, we have fought this war together. I have done the best I could for you. My heart is too full to say more." (p. 167, "Almanac of American History.") General Grant expressed his feelings with these words: "I feel like anything rather than rejoicing at the downfall of a foe who has fought so long and valiantly." (p. 167, "Almanac of American History.")

Much lay ahead before the War Between the States was officially over. Because news traveled slowly in April of 1865, there were more skirmishes in various places before complete cessation of fighting. That's why the treaty between Johnson and Sherman was not signed until April 26, 1865.

And then remained the long road to Reconstruction. In his second inaugural address, President Abraham Lincoln expressed his hope for reconciliation: "With malice toward none, with charity for all...let us strive to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds."

President Lincoln's assassination shot hit him at Ford's Theater in Washington on April 14, 1865 and he died the next day. His death complicated efforts at Reconstruction and hampered reconciliation between the North and South.

As we observe Confederate History Month this April, we remember the sacrifices of soldiers, many of them our ancestors, who fought for what they believed.

Without the war, slavery may not have died out soon. The South's economy may have lingered for many more decades to agrarian pursuits with production hinging on slave labor. The Civil War and the period of Reconstruction were tragedies in America's history. But through it all came "a new birth of freedom," and proof that democracy could prevail, that "government of the people, by the people, and for the people would not perish from the earth."

An anonymous poet has written these striking lines for "Confederate Memorial Day":
The marching armies of the past
Along our southern plains,
Are sleeping now in quiet rest
Beneath the Southern rains.
We bow our heads in solemn prayer
For those who wore the gray,
And clasp again their unseen hands
On our Memorial Day.

c2006 by Ethelene Dyer Jones; published Apr. 27, 2006 in The Union Sentinel, Blairsville, GA. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

April: National Poetry Month

As a lover of poetry and a poet of sorts, I am very interested in April, set aside as National Poetry Month, thirty whole days to celebrate poetry. With your indulgence, I want to depart from my usual history column and write about poetry.

April as National Poetry Month was inaugurated in 1996 by the American Academy of Poets, a non-profit organization promoting the vitality and value of poetry in American culture. National Poetry Month has grown since 1996 to be the single largest literary celebration in the world.

We have but to examine America’s early history to find that our forebears practiced the art of poetry. America’s founders brought an amalgam of cultures composing our original population. From the countries in the old world they brought their love for poetry and their ability, in many instances, to write poetry, to catch a deep and abiding truth in concise lines. This appreciation for poetry has grown through America’s years as a nation and will continue through the present and future generations.

The Academy of American Poets set up as the overriding aim of a whole month of celebrating poetry as a time to make poetry more visible and accessible to citizens. This year’s National Poetry Month has seven specific goals:

1. To highlight the extraordinary legacy and ongoing achievement of American poets.
2. To introduce more Americans to the pleasure of poetry.
3. To bring poets and poetry to the attention of the public in immediate and innovative ways.
4. To make poetry a more important part of the school curriculum.
5. To increase the attention paid to poetry by national and local media.
6. To encourage increased publication, distribution and sales of poetry books.
7. To increase public and private philanthropic support for poetry and poets.

Even though the month of April 2006 is in its last two weeks, it is still not too late to make poetry more visible and accessible to citizens. Just now, with the writing of this column, and your reading it, we are fulfilling Goal 5 above. If you are a teacher reading this column, I hope you will think of ways you can increase your students’ appreciation of poetry in the days remaining of April, 2006. Your local book store has poetry books for sale. Buy one and read it with joy and pleasure. If you have the capability of going online, you may access the Academy of American Poets and see the thirty-day suggestions of innovative things to do during each day of April to make poetry come alive for yourself and others.

And, being a great fan of Union County’s Byron Herbert Reece (1917-1958), poet extraordinary, I can plead for you to fulfill Goal 7 listed above by supporting the Byron Herbert Reece Society’s aim of making the Reece Farm into a cultural center to honor the poet and his poetry, and to aid future poets who might be inspired as they visit the place where Reece thought so deeply and wrote so admirably.

I cannot close this article without sharing some personal thoughts of how I have celebrated April, National Poetry Month, to this date. I have sent my original poems to several people in letters and sympathy cards already during this month, and I will continue to do so until the end of April, and, indeed, all year long. To dear friends and relatives who have lost loved ones during the month of April, I sent them my sonnet entitled “Death at Times Is Kind.”

For my first great grandchild, born April 12, 2006, I printed and framed my poem entitled “This Clay to Mold – A Mother to Her Child,” which I hope my dear granddaughter Paula will take to heart and use as a sort of idealistic guide for motherhood as she rears the precious baby, Gavin Ernesto Berenguer-Aguirre, entrusted to her and Ernesto for rearing.

A dear younger friend of mine, Beverly Michelle Denmark, has published during this month of April her first book of poems entitled “Sipping Coffee.” I received my copy of the book from her, signed by the author, with the notation that through Georgia Poetry Society I had inspired her to write. I will write a book review of Beverly’s book, and hope thereby to help her with publicity for her book and to increase her book sales.

I thought how I would like to go into the schools and teach poetry workshops as I once did, or teach my own classes (as I did prior to my retirement) the beauty of poetry and how students can write their own. Just now, my circumstances of care-giving for my husband do not permit me to engage in this much-loved activity. But I can appreciate all the teachers from my past who made me a lover of poetry from elementary school through college and graduate school. At Choestoe School, a two-teacher school when I attended there, my teachers loved poetry and taught me to appreciate it. It was then I memorized “The Village Blacksmith” and “Song of the Chattahoochee,” and other poems for “recitation” day on Fridays. Thank you, Mrs. Mert Collins, Ms. Opal Sullivan, Mrs. Bonnie Snow, Mrs. Florence Hunter and others for instilling in me the love of poetry when I was young. I have never departed from that appreciation of poetry, and my love for poetry has grown with the years.

I will end this appeal for you to celebrate and enjoy poetry during April, National Poetry Month, by ending with Byron Herbert Reece’s quatrain that says so much about the love of poetry and how it is written. His aim certainly has come true:

“From chips and chards in idle times,
I made these stories, shaped these rhymes;
May they engage some friendly tongue
When I am past the reach of song.”

c2006 by Ethelene Dyer Jones; published Apr. 20, 2006 in The Union Sentinel, Blairsville, GA. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

On the Church Calendar, This is Maundy Thursday

I do not pretend to be an authority on theology, doctrine, or holy days. But having spent 56 years married to a minister, I've had occasion to observe almost every day the Christian Church holds significant.

Today is Maundy Thursday in Holy Week. What does it mean? How can we as Christians best observe it?

Webster's dictionary is a great help in defining words. I was delighted to see that this prestigious reference work entered the term in capital letters, MAUNDY THURSDAY, indicating its significance. I found that it stems from Middle English, 'maunde'- the ceremony of washing the feet of the poor on this day before Easter, an early church practice. The Old French word for it was mande, from the Latin mandatum, which means command.

All of this stems back to Jesus' last night with his disciples before his trial, crucifixion and resurrection. In an upper room in Jerusalem, Jesus washed his disciples' feet.

He also instituted the Lord's Supper. He gave His disciples a mandatum, we would say, a mandate, to do the Supper in remembrance of Him. As he washed the disciples' feet, He said, "Ye ought also to wash each other's feet." (John 13: 14) John 13:34-35 gave another mandate from Jesus: "A new commandment I give unto you, that ye love one another as I have loved you; that ye also love one another."

By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one for another."

These mandates from Jesus on that long ago Thursday (whether they called the day Thursday then or not) were acts of humility and obedience. And as we in our churches observe Holy Week, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Easter Sunday, we are drawing from the teachings and commandments of Jesus to examine what it means to be His disciple and what true servanthood is all about.

I read recently these words: "Without Christmas we could not have Easter. But without Easter, Christmas would be of little significance."

In the church's holy calendar, we observe many traditions. The traditions were set up by our Lord and our spiritual forebears for reasons of remembrance. Even Christ Himself knew that we needed dates and ceremonies to bring to mind the dynamic, even revolutionary, teachings He left for His disciples of any age to follow.

Most of us in this mountain region can look back upon our "raising" and be grateful. Our parents and grandparents, even our great grandparents felt that a part of a steadfast life was a strong faith. Most of us were "brought up" in the church. How well do I remember how joyous Easter was in my country church, Choestoe. I cannot recall our observing Maundy Thursday when I was a child, but certainly Easter was one of the high holy days.

I remember how cold it was the first sunrise service I attended on a hill in a neighbor's pasture. We stood there hearing the words of our pastor as he read the accounts of those who came early to the tomb to find it empty. "From darkness to light, from death to resurrection!" It was a climactic moment as the sun rose gloriously over the eastern hills, dispelling the darkness of that early morning. It was not hard at all for a young child to imagine being at the Garden Tomb in Jerusalem to find the grave empty.

Later on, at the morning worship service on those long ago Easter Sundays we enjoyed joyous occasions of happy music and wonderful encouragement. Death was but a passageway to eternal life. It was a concept wrapped up in Easter and new life all about us as Spring in its glory reflected a truth almost too deep to understand.

Leading up to Easter is Maundy Thursday, with its remembrances of foot washing and the Lord's Supper, helping to keep us attuned to holy promises, holy mandates. The Lord Christ willingly did what He came to earth to do. What He commanded His disciples is still taking place around the world, awaiting the one promise He has yet to fulfill: "I will return."

I like to consider the act of washing the disciples' feet on that long ago Maundy Thursday as being the humble service Christ assigns us to do. This washing can take the form of clothing the poor, feeding the hungry, caring for the sick, comforting the dying-and, yes, washing the feet of those who need this balm.

In a letter recently from missionary friends who work as doctors in Bolivia, they asked us to pray as they go out on the streets to actually "wash the babies," the many displaced children. As they bathe dirty bodies and give medications, they minister with "the hands of Christ."

Maundy Thursday is a day for soul-searching and good deeds. We have a mandate to live out, an example to follow. I invite you to "think on these things," and have a meaningful Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter.

c2006 by Ethelene Dyer Jones; published Apr. 13, 2006 in The Union Sentinel, Blairsville, GA. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

The influence of a good woman: Renva Smith Acree

In physical stature she was small. In influence and good works she was stalwart and productive. She wore many hats: teacher, wife, mother, pastor's wife, grandmother, tireless worker in so many areas of expertise, friend, encourager. Friends knew her as Renva. She was the gracious wife of the Rev. Troy Acree.

She left this world rather suddenly on March 29, 2006 after having suffered a massive stroke. Crowds gathered to express condolences and to lend comfort. Her funeral was a celebration of her life and a glimpse of her translation to heaven.

For many years she and Rev. Troy Acree had lived on the outskirts of Blairsville toward Young Harris. Her influence was scattered from these mountains throughout the state and into the nation and world.

How could one so quiet and humble have such an impact on others?

I gave the question some thought and came up with three R's. She would relate to the three R's, educationally, for literacy education was her long suit. But she became who she was through her raising, her religion, and her relationships.

As to her "raising," she was born into a preacher's family on January 11, 1927 in Gwinnett County, GA, daughter of the Rev. Dr. L. E. Smith and Leone Moon Smith. She had one sibling, a brother, Les Smith who chose a military career as his life's work. Stability was a characteristic of the Rev. Dr. Smith family. Unlike many Baptist pastors who moved every two or three years, Dr. Smith was pastor for 39 years at the Park Avenue Baptist Church in Atlanta. Following his retirement, he was named pastor emeritus at the same church. Renva's mother graduated from the Georgia Normal and Industrial College in Milledgeville and was a teacher before she became a preacher's wife. Renva told me that they often had church children in their home where her mother, and later Renva, tutored them with their homework.

In rearing her, Renva's parents were loving but firm and, unlike many PKs (preacher's kids), Renva grew up active in the church and having her father as her pastor. The Christian religion had a major place in her entire life. At an early age she gave her heart to the Lord, and kept her religious development tuned to God's will for her life. Her mother was an excellent role model of a pastor's wife, even though Renva did not know at the time she needed such a role model for her own life.

Mrs. Renva Smith Acree

Relationships play an important role in who we are and who we become. When it came time for college, Renva Smith chose to attend Bessie Tift College in Forsyth, GA, where she graduated from the all-girls' school in 1948. Her relationships at the Christian college helped to make her who she was.

She had already met a young man considering the ministry-Troy Acree. They met at the statewide speakers' tournament sponsored by the Discipleship Training Department of the Georgia Baptist Convention. They had more time to develop friendship at Ridgecrest Baptist Assembly, North Carolina. Their courtship grew into a lifetime of commitment. Shortly after Renva graduated from college, she and Troy married and they moved to Louisville, KY. Her next degree has sometimes been called in ministerial circles the PHT degree-putting hubby through. Renva taught school while Troy attended Southern Baptist Seminary.

Her role of mother and grandmother saw the birth of four children, Wanda, Allen, Marc and Penny, and seven grandchildren, all of whom were Renva's pride and joy.

For 30 years Rev. Troy Acree served as a pastor, mostly in Georgia churches. Then for ten years, before his retirement in 1989, he was director of area associational missions centered in Blairsville. During the years of Troy's ministry, Renva was his helpmeet and also followed her own career of elementary and kindergarten teacher. She earned the Master of Education degree from West Georgia College. She retired in 1988.

In her relationships with others, she met Ms. Mary Allred at the Georgia Baptist Assembly in Toccoa, GA, in 1979 and heard the lady speak on the great need of adults who were functionally illiterate due to circumstances that had prevented their learning to read or write. In 1980, she and Rev. Troy Acree attended a conference at Glorieta, N.M. There she took training to become a certified literacy teacher using the Laubach method to teach the ARW (Adult Reading and Writing Program).

In 1983, as she was a member of the Georgia Baptist Convention Woman's Missionary Union Executive Board, she went to Samford University in Birmingham, Ala., to take further literacy training under the Home Mission Board. Later on, in 1998, she was on a committee at Samford assisting with rewriting and updating the literacy teaching manual.

She qualified as a trainer in four areas of literacy work: Adult Reading and Writing (ARW), English as a Second Language (ESL), Conversational English (CE) and Tutoring Children and Youth (TCY). She was much in demand to lead conferences to train literacy workers throughout Georgia, in nearby states, on the Navajo Indian Reservation in the west, and as far away as Ghana, Africa. Persons gaining certification through the conferences Renva Acree led so ably were required to complete sixteen hours of in class time and additional work to be qualified as a literacy teacher.

She gave much credit for her interest in literacy education to her elementary school teacher, Mrs. Goss, at the Grant Park School in Atlanta. That excellent teacher "moved up" as Renva progressed through grade school and gave her the desire to be a genuine, caring teacher like Mrs. Goss.

In 1988, she set up a successful after-school tutoring program at McConnell Memorial Baptist Church in Hiawassee, with trained tutors enlisted to give help to students needing special instruction. The program still moves forward.

T.U.L.I.P. is an acronym for Towns-Union-Literacy-Instills-Pride, an organization which she helped to organize and which maintains several sites in the two counties for training literacy workers and for tutoring students with special needs.

Multiple honors and accolades through the years were conferred on Renva Acree because of her hard work and community service. She always accepted them humbly. Some were Georgia Mother of the Year; Chairman of National Literacy Education Committee, American Mothers, Incorporated; Community Service Award, Old Unicoi Trail Chapter, Daughters of the American Revolution; Chaplain, Executive Board, Georgia Mothers; and for ten years on Georgia WMU Executive Board.

My life has been enriched because she was my friend. We shared many insights on the journey of life from the time we were young minister's wives in the Hebron Association at Hartwell, GA, to experiences through Woman's Missionary Union, associational missions work, and retirement. But for Renva Acree, there was never really "retirement." She may have changed gears, and maybe, just maybe, she learned to slow down a bit in the last year or so.

The last time I talked to her she was telling me the happy news of a student whom she had tutored for many years through various levels of the young lady's education. "She will be entering the Dora Hunter Allison Spiva School of Education at Truett McConnell College to become an early childhood education major."

The story of the young lady could be multiplied many times over about persons Renva Acree touched positively: They go forth to help others as she helped them.

c2006 by Ethelene Dyer Jones; published Apr. 6, 2006 in The Sentinel, Blairsville, GA. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.