Chattanooga, Tennessee (1959 - 1961)
We were nearing the end of our fifth year at Clinton. Bro. Bolender began to feel that a change might be advisable. I felt if he would allow his name to be open for a recall that we would receive a heavy majority but hardly a unanimous call. I truly dreaded moving Mom. She had shown some signs of decline, but as always I knew that the decision was his to make. The District Superintendent informed him that Chattanooga was changing pastors. Bro. Bolender’s name was suggested at their annual business meeting and he received a call. He accepted.
We were told that the parsonage was fairly new, five rooms and a bath, next to the church. We had never allowed a parsonage to be a deciding factor in considering a church and we had lived in several far less than desirable. We had something different waiting for us. Herbert came from Ohio to help us move. They took Mom’s bed on the first load. I went with her in the ambulance. The outgoing pastor had evidently left the day before. The church people had little chance to prepare for our coming and evidently the pastor and his wife thought getting their furniture out was their only concern. Bro. Bolender and Herbert had to hurry back for a second load so I had it all to myself when the ambulance brought us. To say that I was horrified puts it mildly. The day was hot and we had failed to bring an electric fan on the first load. We found the lower section of both outside screen doors torn. Flies were plentiful in the house. Poor Mom was wheeled in and placed on her bed in the hot room. Before they got the cart back in the ambulance a stray dog came in through the big hole in the screen. We simply had to leave the doors open because of the heat. All afternoon I chased dogs out of the house with a hand fan. I tried to fan Mom to keep her as cool as possible and keep flies off her. Dogs even came in the bedroom. When I chased a dog out the back door another came in the front. It looked as though they were playing “Ring Around the Rosy” that we children played when I was a very little girl. The afternoon finally passed and we were very glad to hear the truck come. The men were tired. I think a young man across the street came over to help unload after he got home from work. We learned that the former pastor had a big boxer dog that had torn the screens. Of course that was quickly remedied with new screen wire, but I could never forget that afternoon I spend chasing dogs.
Dear Mom never felt at home in that house and declined quickly. We celebrated her 91st birthday August 6th, 1959. Her daughter and husband came and we celebrated it early for the son-in-law felt that they must leave before the 6th on their way to Florida. Her condition steadily worsened. She remained able to express herself until near the end, but could read less and less. Finally I could only nod or shake my head if she asked a question. I wanted to care for her. I felt I could understand her needs better than anyone. The last 2 or 3 weeks she screamed constantly. She seemed to have lost all realization of the sound of her voice. We were fortunate to have a doctor who was very understanding. I told him I had solemnly promised her I would care for her until she breathed her last if it was at all possible. We were giving her sedatives, but they took little effect. The doctor made regular home calls every few days. When he did he gave her a shot which quieted her for a while, but one day he told me, “I cannot give her stronger shots for these would put me out for 12 hours.” They kept her quiet about 4 hours. Some of the church ladies offered to help and they did in some ways, but with her personal care, we wanted to be by her side. Often she would reach out her hand for me to take her pulse and she would whisper, “Am I nearly gone?” I would shake my head. She would sigh and say, “I wish.” She was weakening but her pulse was strong and steady. Finally, she held her hand out for the last time. As I took the pulse it was steady but faint. Her eyes were on me. I knew what she wanted. I honestly nodded my head. Summoning extra strength she said, “Glory to God, I’ve been getting ready for this for 75 years.” She was fully conscious. How often we had heard her tell of her conversion at 16 years of age. These were among her last words.
We were told that the parsonage was fairly new, five rooms and a bath, next to the church. We had never allowed a parsonage to be a deciding factor in considering a church and we had lived in several far less than desirable. We had something different waiting for us. Herbert came from Ohio to help us move. They took Mom’s bed on the first load. I went with her in the ambulance. The outgoing pastor had evidently left the day before. The church people had little chance to prepare for our coming and evidently the pastor and his wife thought getting their furniture out was their only concern. Bro. Bolender and Herbert had to hurry back for a second load so I had it all to myself when the ambulance brought us. To say that I was horrified puts it mildly. The day was hot and we had failed to bring an electric fan on the first load. We found the lower section of both outside screen doors torn. Flies were plentiful in the house. Poor Mom was wheeled in and placed on her bed in the hot room. Before they got the cart back in the ambulance a stray dog came in through the big hole in the screen. We simply had to leave the doors open because of the heat. All afternoon I chased dogs out of the house with a hand fan. I tried to fan Mom to keep her as cool as possible and keep flies off her. Dogs even came in the bedroom. When I chased a dog out the back door another came in the front. It looked as though they were playing “Ring Around the Rosy” that we children played when I was a very little girl. The afternoon finally passed and we were very glad to hear the truck come. The men were tired. I think a young man across the street came over to help unload after he got home from work. We learned that the former pastor had a big boxer dog that had torn the screens. Of course that was quickly remedied with new screen wire, but I could never forget that afternoon I spend chasing dogs.
Dear Mom never felt at home in that house and declined quickly. We celebrated her 91st birthday August 6th, 1959. Her daughter and husband came and we celebrated it early for the son-in-law felt that they must leave before the 6th on their way to Florida. Her condition steadily worsened. She remained able to express herself until near the end, but could read less and less. Finally I could only nod or shake my head if she asked a question. I wanted to care for her. I felt I could understand her needs better than anyone. The last 2 or 3 weeks she screamed constantly. She seemed to have lost all realization of the sound of her voice. We were fortunate to have a doctor who was very understanding. I told him I had solemnly promised her I would care for her until she breathed her last if it was at all possible. We were giving her sedatives, but they took little effect. The doctor made regular home calls every few days. When he did he gave her a shot which quieted her for a while, but one day he told me, “I cannot give her stronger shots for these would put me out for 12 hours.” They kept her quiet about 4 hours. Some of the church ladies offered to help and they did in some ways, but with her personal care, we wanted to be by her side. Often she would reach out her hand for me to take her pulse and she would whisper, “Am I nearly gone?” I would shake my head. She would sigh and say, “I wish.” She was weakening but her pulse was strong and steady. Finally, she held her hand out for the last time. As I took the pulse it was steady but faint. Her eyes were on me. I knew what she wanted. I honestly nodded my head. Summoning extra strength she said, “Glory to God, I’ve been getting ready for this for 75 years.” She was fully conscious. How often we had heard her tell of her conversion at 16 years of age. These were among her last words.
Sylvia Bolender's Sea Shell Collection
We called Herbert asking him to stop in Cincinnati and bring my sister; I needed her. They arrived Saturday afternoon. She never recognized Beatrice but we thought that she did recognize Herbert. We all thought she said “Buddy.” She often called him that. She lingered all night and all day Sunday, someone by her side constantly. Bro. Bolender preached both Sunday morning and night. After the night service the boys coaxed me to eat something. They both went to be with her. In a few minutes they called. When I reached her I knew that she was dying. I said, “Boys, this is it.” We watched all night, taking turns to get a little sleep. She was in a peaceful coma. Herbert left early Monday morning; he had pressing duties. At 10:45 Monday morning, October 5, 1959, her redeemed spirit took its flight to the home for which she had been preparing for 75 years. Her funeral was at Felicity, Ohio. She was laid to rest in Bethel, Ohio beside Father Bolender. I have thanked God many times that we had the privilege to care for her the almost two last years of her life. She had truly been a mother to me. I had prayed and striven to be as good a grandmother to my grandchildren as she had been to mine.
We returned home to a very seemingly empty house, but life must move on. I was now free to assist with church duties as I had down through the years: home visiting, Sunday School, women’s missionary work, and preaching as my husband asked me to. Things were beginning to seem more normal when the telephone rang about 10 o’clock at night, November 5th. It was long distance. Ralph’s[1] voice said, “Daddy just died.” It was such a shock. I said, “Oh no, Ralph.” But he went on to say, “Daddy went to the barn and apple storage to lock up, got sick, but tried to get back to the house. Mama went out to see about him just as I drove in from working late. I had decided to stop there as I was going home. She called, ‘Come help your daddy to the house.’ We got him in and to the house. We got him in and to the couch. He said, ‘I taste blood.’ We called the doctor, but when he got here he was gone.” The next day we were on our way back to Felicity. It was such a shock. The two brothers had been so close. He had helped to found the Nazarene Church back in the 20’s, had stood loyally by for 30 years, was serving at the time of his death as both church treasurer and S.S. Superintendent. The Sunday before, he had told the Sunday School, after a song about heaven had been sung, “We sing and talk about heaven; someday it will be a reality.” Little did anybody realize that the next Sunday his casket would be in front of the platform on which he was standing. He left a faithful wife and six children, all married. The funeral was conducted in the Nazarene Church that he loved so well. He was laid to rest in the Felicity Cemetery. That has been almost twenty-five years and still his consistent Christian life and brother’s love is missed by us both. One unsaved neighbor remarked, “There is no question about Herbert Bolender’s being ready.” Some things we will never understand here, but we know He doeth all things well.
We returned home to a very seemingly empty house, but life must move on. I was now free to assist with church duties as I had down through the years: home visiting, Sunday School, women’s missionary work, and preaching as my husband asked me to. Things were beginning to seem more normal when the telephone rang about 10 o’clock at night, November 5th. It was long distance. Ralph’s[1] voice said, “Daddy just died.” It was such a shock. I said, “Oh no, Ralph.” But he went on to say, “Daddy went to the barn and apple storage to lock up, got sick, but tried to get back to the house. Mama went out to see about him just as I drove in from working late. I had decided to stop there as I was going home. She called, ‘Come help your daddy to the house.’ We got him in and to the house. We got him in and to the couch. He said, ‘I taste blood.’ We called the doctor, but when he got here he was gone.” The next day we were on our way back to Felicity. It was such a shock. The two brothers had been so close. He had helped to found the Nazarene Church back in the 20’s, had stood loyally by for 30 years, was serving at the time of his death as both church treasurer and S.S. Superintendent. The Sunday before, he had told the Sunday School, after a song about heaven had been sung, “We sing and talk about heaven; someday it will be a reality.” Little did anybody realize that the next Sunday his casket would be in front of the platform on which he was standing. He left a faithful wife and six children, all married. The funeral was conducted in the Nazarene Church that he loved so well. He was laid to rest in the Felicity Cemetery. That has been almost twenty-five years and still his consistent Christian life and brother’s love is missed by us both. One unsaved neighbor remarked, “There is no question about Herbert Bolender’s being ready.” Some things we will never understand here, but we know He doeth all things well.
Herbert Bolender Family.
Back, left to right: Eleanor Shirley, Leon Ronald, Ralph Burton, Arnold Joseph. Front, Left to Right: Kenneth Merrill, Genevieve Gertrude, Herbert Joel, Wanda Leota
We had some fine people in Chattanooga who were very loyal and they are faithful to this day, but we sailed some troubled waters as the former pastor moved to the other side of town and started an independent church. This cost us one of our most talented young couples who were serving as S.S. Superintendent and youth leader. Again God used Bro. Bolender to lead a disturbed group forward. Soon vacancies were filled and reaching for new goals. One of my great joys was working with the missionary society. Several of the saints that we had such sweet fellowship with both at Clinton and Chattanooga have gone on to glory. Among the evangelists we had on this charge were Rev. Maxie Walton and Rev. Denton. We also were privileged to have Rev. R.G. Flexon for special services and in our home. This was a great honor to entertain this holy warrior and great missionary.
We enjoyed having several visiting friends and children with grandchildren and visiting various places of interest including Ruby Falls, the scenes and monuments of the Civil War, etc. We enjoyed wonderful fellowship with the ministers of the Tennessee District at the ministerial meetings and Jamestown Camps. We were entertained in the home of Sgt. Alvin York more than once and found him a stalwart Christian, although he held the distinction of the World War I hero. Bro. Bolender served as District Treasurer and editor of the District church paper, and I thoroughly enjoyed the work of Women’s Missionary Society District president while we were in Tennessee.
[1] Ralph was Herbert’s son.
We enjoyed having several visiting friends and children with grandchildren and visiting various places of interest including Ruby Falls, the scenes and monuments of the Civil War, etc. We enjoyed wonderful fellowship with the ministers of the Tennessee District at the ministerial meetings and Jamestown Camps. We were entertained in the home of Sgt. Alvin York more than once and found him a stalwart Christian, although he held the distinction of the World War I hero. Bro. Bolender served as District Treasurer and editor of the District church paper, and I thoroughly enjoyed the work of Women’s Missionary Society District president while we were in Tennessee.
[1] Ralph was Herbert’s son.
