This page is humbly dedicated to the one who loved me, raised me and guided me as long as she was here. She left before I was an adult and I was never able to repay her for her generosity. This is an effort to let those grandparents who find themselves in a similiar situation know that your sacrifices are appreciated more than you will ever know. Keep making them. Your memory will always be treasured.

AFTER A WHILE
(C) 1971 Veronica A Shoffstall

After a while you learn
the suble difference between
holding a hand and chaining a soul
and you learn...
that love doesn't mean learning
and company doesn't always mean security.
And you begin to learn
that kisses aren't contracts
and presents aren't promises
and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes ahead
with the grace of a woman,
not the grief of a child
and you learn
to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow's ground is
too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way of falling down
in mid-flight.
After a while you learn
that even sunshine burns
if you get too much
so you plant your own garden
and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting for someone
to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure
you really are strong
you really do HAVE WORTH
and you learn
and you learn
with every goodbye, you learn...

"Grandma Lillie, (my only "Momma") There are no words sufficient to express the love and gratitude felt for one who accepted the responsibility of a tiny three-month old soul when no one else could or would. You guided a young life with heart and hand and never questioned the reason why you were the one required to make the sacrifices.

May you always be remembered as pictured here, for this depicts your love of God, your love of family, of sharing quiet strolls in the woods with your hands crossed behind your tired, aching back. May we always remember hearing the melody of your beautiful soprano voice singing...

There's A Church In The Valley By The Wildwood

There’s a church in the valley by the wildwood,
No lovelier spot in the dale;
No place is so dear to my childhood,
As the little brown church in the vale.

Come to the church in the wildwood,
Oh, come to the church in the dale,
No spot is so dear to my childhood,
As the little brown church in the vale.

How sweet on a clear, Sabbath morning,
To list to the clear ringing bell;
Its tones so sweetly are calling,
Oh, come to the church in the vale.

There, close by the church in the valley,
Lies one that I loved so well;
She sleeps, sweetly sleeps, ’neath the willow,
Disturb not her rest in the vale.

There, close by the side of that loved one,
To the trees where the wild flowers bloom,
When the farewell hymn shall be chanted
I shall rest by her side in the tomb.

From the church in the valley by the wildwood,
When day fades away into night,
I would fain from this spot of my childhood
Wing my way to the mansions of light.

Rest in Eternal Peace

"Momma"

Lillie Mae Hayes Humphrey

Born: September 12, 1901
Departed: October 11, 1964