Aunt Wilma

First grade.

Walking out the side gate of our backyard in Surabaya, I turned right, and headed down the driveway to Aunt Wilma’s house. My Dick and Jane book clutched to my chest.

After climbing her front steps, I knocked on the screen door. I could hear the ceiling fan turning. Her dog, Si Nakal, gave a soft bark. 

Aunt Wilma opened the door and welcomed me in with a smile.

I eagerly showed her my book. Then we sat on the couch and I read it aloud.

Aunt Wilma

Aunt Wilma owns lots of firsts in my life. First reading. First piano lesson. First Monday School teacher.

Monday school? We were part of a local church. Attended Sunday School and worshiped in Indonesian. Mom started Monday school to give us an English version. Missionary kids and consulate kids attended. 

Aunt Wilma also served as my first GA leader. Girl’s Auxiliary as it was called back in the day. Providing missions education for young girls.

Often I was her only GA. But she prepared diligently for each meeting. 

And sitting at her dining table, I learned about God’s plan for the world. Memorized Scripture. “Arise, shine, for your light has come….” (Isaiah 60:1)

We studied Paul’s missionary journeys. And read about missions in Nigeria, China, and more.  

Called

Going over to Aunt Wilma’s house was always a treat. 

Quiet. Peaceful. And there was always a cup of juice and sometimes Marie cookies to snack on. 

Her dolls and other trinkets from China intrigued me. She’d been appointed by the Foreign Mission Board to China in 1936. She served there until war drove her out. She taught briefly at Woodstock School in northern India, but always looked for ways to return to China. 

Called and tenacious, persevering and prayerful.

Family

Eventually the doors to China were firmly closed. 

She landed in the tropics. Surabaya, Indonesia. And one day our family moved in next door.

She became part of the family. Joined us for holidays and game nights. Played along with our knock-knock jokes. 

And I remember one morning vividly. We were eating breakfast and she called out to us from her side window. “Turn on the radio! The president’s been shot.” I didn’t fully understand what was going on, but felt the somber mood when we learned President John F. Kennedy was dead.

Prayer warrior

As a college student, growing in my faith, I remembered other missionaries called Aunt Wilma a “prayer warrior.” So the following summer I asked about her prayer life. She showed me her book of prayer. 

On its pages were lists of individuals and couples she was praying for regularly every month, day by day. Specific requests were listed. Answers to prayer noted. 

She was praying for my parents and siblings. She was praying for me.

Later, she gave me a copy of John Baillie’s A Diary of Private Prayer, so I could make my own daily lists.

I love you

After retiring from the field, Aunt Wilma went on to serve as a part-time chaplain at her retirement village in Missouri. 

When I married and moved overseas with my husband and our newborn, Aunt Wilma received our prayer letters and faithfully prayed for us. 

The last time we talked on the phone, she was over 100 years old. At the end of our conversation, she said, “I love you. I’m praying for you and your family every day.” She passed away at the age of 101, on February 14, 2013.

Invested

Aunt Wilma invested in many people over the years.

She faithfully made disciples, taught the Bible, and helped plant churches. She prayed for and walked alongside fellow servants of the gospel.

And she made time for the little kid next door who came over to read aloud that very first book. 

I’m forever grateful.

What about you?

Who invested in you as a young person? How are you investing in the next generation for the glory of God?

Related posts

Loss – Rushing past – Healing hurts and counting stars – Feeling sand between my toes – Keeping a sense of humor – Listing losses –

Isaiah 60:1 –