| Our parents called them "the Bible Club | | | | crying?""Because he's lost," said the little |
| girls," even though Hazel Simonton and Jean | | | | girl solemnly. "He doesn't know where he |
| Clark had strands of grey sprinkled through | | | | lives.""Do you know where he |
| their dark hair by the late 1940s. That's | | | | lives?""Nope.""Does anybody in here know |
| how people referred to women, especially | | | | where he lives?""Nope." (The little boy began |
| single women, back then.Every Wednesday after | | | | to sob deeply and hopelessly.)"Don't cry, |
| school, the Bible Club girls came to our | | | | sweetie. We'll find your home."Not the |
| church in the Bitterroot Valley of Montana. | | | | highlight of the little boy's week or theirs, |
| The pastor had built a fire in the cast-iron | | | | but eventually, after hours of travel, the |
| furnace in the back corner of the church, but | | | | little lost boy was home again.Why did they |
| the building was still bitter cold when we | | | | do it?Not for money. They came West from New |
| arrived at three-thirty. We perched on the | | | | Jersey with just $40 per month pledged to |
| first two rows of cold wooden pews, little | | | | them. But their idea was never to get, but to |
| kids with rubber boots, winter coats leaking | | | | give. The things they did, they did for love: |
| dirty mittens, stocking caps, and, | | | | the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our |
| frequently, cold sores and runny noses, which | | | | Lord. Which love they poured out on all of |
| noses, if they were wiped at all, were wiped | | | | us, year after year.They died in the 1990s in |
| on the dirty mittens.Miss Simonton and Miss | | | | Montana, which had become their true home. |
| Clark knew all our names. And remembered them | | | | Shirley Rasmussen Downing describes Hazel |
| forever. We could meet them in a store in | | | | Simonton's death:"Cathy called me in Arizona |
| Missoula ten, fifteen years later to be | | | | and told me that Miss Simonton had just |
| greeted by name and flooded with love.Because | | | | passed away . . . on the hospital heart |
| they loved us. Truly did. And we warmed to | | | | floor. At 4:00 A.M. she spent ONE HOUR |
| that love the way little plants do to | | | | talking with Miss Simonton, as Miss Simonton |
| sunshine.After the class session was over, | | | | wanted to tell her about me -- the Daily |
| Miss Simonton and Miss Clark asked, "Who | | | | Vacation Bible School years and helping at |
| needs a ride home?"A forest of hands went up. | | | | camp, all the many, many verses I had learned |
| Mine usually didn't, because Mamma usually | | | | at Bible School, and the Bible drills I had |
| sat in the back of the church, ready to take | | | | won."Then, after her long visit with Cathy, |
| all children from around Willow Creek. But | | | | Cathy left for a bit, returned to check on |
| sometimes she couldn't come, and I was one of | | | | her, and she had died."How like her to die |
| the children who piled into the Bible Club | | | | thinking of one of her children -- for we |
| girls' little car. I sat up front, as I got | | | | were all her girls and boys.Her family back |
| carsick, and six or seven children crowded | | | | East sent a nephew to represent them at the |
| into the back, poking and pinching each | | | | funeral. He arrived at the church early and |
| other. "Who's closest?" Miss Simonton would | | | | was seated in a front pew in the almost empty |
| ask."Me," a hand went up. And we were led | | | | auditorium. He had said he couldn't give a |
| through mile after mile of icy dirt road with | | | | speech, but the pastor didn't know that and |
| ruts frozen into place, past cold, forlorn | | | | called on him. He bravely went to the front |
| farmhouses and barns and bare trees and | | | | of the auditorium and turned around. And |
| chilly looking cows and horses with long | | | | gaped to find the church now packed, the |
| winter coats, while the snow-covered Rocky | | | | balcony filled, and people standing at the |
| Mountain peaks looked down at us in the | | | | rear.All the little boys and girls Hazel |
| deepening gloom."Turn here," a little voice | | | | Simonton and Jean Clark had loved all those |
| would command from the back seat, as the car | | | | years had grown up and had children and |
| jolted and jumped and skidded over the roads. | | | | grandchildren, and hundreds of them were |
| "And here."Gradually the crowd in back | | | | there that day to show their love and |
| dwindled. Until there were just a little girl | | | | respect.Because Hazel Simonton and Jean Clark |
| and a little boy. A freckle-faced boy with | | | | loved us. And we loved them right back. |
| tears streaming down his face. "Why is he | | | | |