|
|
Mollie Lanier ATWOOD --July 26,1951
Mollie Lanier ATWOOD was born March 25,1879. She departed this life on June 25,1951,
making
her stay on this earth 72 years and 3 months.
She was united in marriage to John ATWOOD of Scottville, N.C. July 30,1899 and to this
union
were born 11 children; 9 sons and 2 daughters. She was preceded in death by six of her
children.
She is survived by her husband, John ATWOOD, Scottville, N.C.; four sons: Glenn ATWOOD, Amnote, Virginia; Carl ATWOOD, Scottville; Dale ATWOOD, West Jefferson; Junior ATWOOD, Rising Sun, MD; One daughter: Mrs. Ada FOWLER, Jonesville, N.C.
Prior to her marriage, as a young girl, she made a profession of faith in Jesus Christ and united by baptism with the Mount Carmel Church of the Brethren. She was ever loyal to her profession of faith in Christ and to her church.
To know Mrs. ATWOOD was to love her. Her motherly love, her kindly disposition, her attitude toward life and her relationship with her neighbors reflected in her personality, the very image of the Son of God.
She was well acquainted with difficulty, hardships and sorrow, but never to the point of becoming miserable or unpleasant during all of her life's labor and sifferings. One of her prayers was "God help me to live to take care of my mother during her old age and infirmities." She was so happy that the heavenly Father answered that prayer.
During all of her sickness and suffering she endured with a smile and unusual patience. She carried to her bed of affliction and to the hospitals, her radiant Christian personality, which won for her many friends, who were so impressed by her patience, words of kindness and expressions of sympathy, that many wrote to her after she left the hospitals.
In recent days she expressed to her husband, her love for her church and her eagerness to see the new building completed, and to see the congregation grow in its spiritual development.
Shortly before her death she remarked, "I am ready to go, pray not for me to stay here any longer."
No, not cold beneath the grasses
Not close-walled within the tomb,
Rather in my Father's mansion
Living in another room.
Living, like the one who loves me,
Like my child with cheeks abloom
Out of sight at desk or school book,
Busy, in another room
Nearer, than my son whom fortune,
Beckons where the strange lands loom
Just behing the hanging curtain,
Serving in another room
Shall I doubt my Father's mercy?
Shall I think of death as doom?
Or the steppin o'er the threshhold,
To a bigger, brighter room?
Shall I blame my Father's wisdom?
Shall I sit enswathed in gloom?
When I know my loves are happy.