Faith of our Mothers...

Mary Maria Terry Hurst

The Egg Story as I Remember It
By Margie H. Lyman

A story that is told and retold by four or five impressionable and talkative boys and girls ranging in age from 21 years to a bit over ten can have many different angles. But the kernel of the story is true and has been one of the faith promoting stories told in our family for lo these many years. Now I want to write it as I remember it.

I was four years old – not old enough to remember very much – Phil had turned two in October, a week after Beth was born with papa away working to support his growing family. Luell was six, George was eight and Inez was 10. Well, I might add Mama was just a dark haired beautiful girl of 28 years. Carrying great responsibilities and in poor health. We were in poor circumstances.

It was Christmas time, there was no way really that Mama could get anything for us for the great event which children always look forward to from one year to the next.

A few days before Christmas a letter came from Papa with a little money. From older brother and sisters the amount was small, perhaps $10.00. But that would help a lot and Papa would be able soon to send some more. Mama called a council to say that we had the money, but our tithing was not paid in full and it was the last of th year. What should we do? Mother was a woman of great faith and integrity. She knew the answer. I know as in other things what Mama said was always right. I do not remember the family council. What I remember are the events following the decision that the right thing to do was to pay our tithing and trust in our Father in Heaven who was very real to us.

It was the day of Christmas Eve. Can you visualize a Mama watching her children looking eagerly for Santa Claus to come and there was no way? I’m sure only she could say where and how many times she was on her knees in prayer that day. We lived in a small house. In the bedroom where there was a fireplace, there were two wide beds, not queen or king size, just double beds. Mama’s and papa’s was yellow, big high head, little lower foot, stood in one corner. In the other corner was a brown bed much the same the yellow one where Inez, Luell and I slept. Between the beds under the window stood an old tin truck which had belonged to Grandpa Philip Hurst. Folded on top of the trunk were some quilts, used for beds on the floor at night. It was around this trunk I remember kneeling with Inez, a big sister in charge, having us take our turns in praying to Heavenly Father to send Santa Clause. Naturally at four years, the words of each prayer is not remembered, but the picture and the impression is very vivid on my mind.

During the course of the afternoon, Mama suggested to George that perhaps he could sell a fat hen to some one for Christmas dinner. I don’t know if Brother Clark just happened to come by or if George went to his home, but he did ask Brother Clark if he would buy a couple of good fat hens. When Brother Clark said he would George asked if he could pay for them as it was getting late. This part I quote more or less from George. “Inez and I caught the hens. I cut off the heads and we delivered them bearing proudly one dollar and fifty cents for each one.”

But the second vivid picture I have is standing in front of our kitchen door and seeing Mama coming from the barn, holding her apron to form a basket, full of eggs. Could you even think of anything more natural than that she could have been inspired to search for eggs in the hay? And that she had been led to them? She had been praying constantly for this. I feel certain, as we think how George himself just a little boy, but to me born a man and took a man’s part, went almost at closing time with Mama to the little store owned by Willard Call with the money from the hens, and eggs which could always be used for barter, and got the things which would make the Christmas I remember best. I know we had a bit of candy and nuts in our stocking which hung above the fireplace but the gift of all gifts were the little dishes that Luellie and Margie got together. A little box, maybe 5 x 7 inches and in it two plates probably the size of a silver dollar, two saucers with little cups in corresponding size, a wee tea pot and a little covered sugar bowl. White china they were with little blue and pink flowers. But glorious they were, and the Christmas was joyful, but the best of all again our prayers had been answered and we had been given one more assurance that the Lord lives. A lesson which each of us has builded on through the years and upon which we still place our faith and hopes for the future.