A Note written by my grandmother, Agnes Colson Pollard (Born May 2, 1901, died May 14, 2000):

I crept out early one morning to observe the beauty of your creation. I watched you hang the sun on the edge of the world, listened to the waving corn as its blades hummed a tune in the morning breeze, pumped clear cool water from a spring that was on our farm and had never been known to run dry, counted the diamonds on a spider's web and turned my ears to the trill of a Jenny Wren and caught the magic second of a caterpillar when it emerged from its shell and my soul thrilled at the wonders of your creation. Then I faced squarely the brevity of life, with memories of our three children, who were now away from home and cherished the short years spent with them, sewing for them, talking with them of the big responsibilities of being a woman, felt the warm touch of their small hands as we took our walks on the farm, knowing that too soon they would walk with another. Then I turned my mind to utilizing my time. I would create things! Weave place mats, grow beautiful roses and have more time for others. I would enjoy the comforts of my home, the soft carpet between my toes, the comforts of a glowing fire with memories of when, with a day off from school my oldest whispered, "Mom I love You" and another thanked me for being a part of this family, & the warm smile of the youngest was a ray of sunshine and when my weakening husband gathered me in his arms and I with a quickening heart beat, thanked you for all that he was to me, sweetheart, friend and companion! For these dear Father I give you my grateful thanks.