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