My Grandmother (1887-1972)
A wife of good character, can anyone find?
She is worth more than rubies. She’s gentle and kind.
Her husband has trust in her. She meets all his needs.
All her life, she brings him favor and kind deeds.
She can select wool and flax and works with eager hands.
She is like the merchant ships; brings food from far lands.
She gets up while it’s still dark to provide good food
For family and servants. She’s never gruff or rude.
She will consider a field and then will buy it.
She will plant a good vineyard; all will benefit.
She sets about her hard work with vigor and might.
Her arms are strong for each task. Work is her delight.
Everything she makes is good. Each profit is won.
Her lamp keeps burning at night; her work is never done.
She uses a spinning wheel and holds the spindle.
She makes her own wool and flax, gets wood for kindle.
She reaches out to the poor and to the needy.
Her hands always extend out; she’s never greedy.
When it snows, she has no fear for those in her care
For all of them are clothed in scarlet that’s so rare.
She makes covers for her beds and makes for herself
Clothes in fine purple linen, filling up each shelf.
Her husband is respected at the city gate.
He sits there, among the elders, to advocate.
She makes fine linen garments; they’re ready to sell.
She supplies merchant sashes; she does very well.
She is clothed with a calm strength and with dignity.
She can laugh at days to come, smiling visibly.
She speaks with lots of wisdom, instruction that’s true.
Faithfulness is on her tongue. Knowledge she’ll pursue.
She watches over the affairs of all her household.
She doesn’t eat the bread of idleness, we’re told.
Her children rise up to call her blessed and adored.
Her husband praises her. All their love is outpoured.
Many women will work hard and do noble things,
But you surpass all of them. Your faithful deeds sing.
Charm is very deceptive. Beauty doesn’t last.
But a woman who fears the Lord has praises so vast.
Give her the rewards she’s earned. Let her works bring praise.
Exclaim at the city gate, “Honor her all her days.”
(Based on Proverbs 31)
Maggie May Johnston Marti was born November 23, 1887 at Johnsonville, Oklahoma and died on October 4, 1972. Her grandmother was a Chickasaw Indian and Maggie lived on her Indian allotment land in Washington, Oklahoma. Maggie and Chris Marti raised seven girls and one boy on the family farm during the Depression years, which was difficult. She made all of her clothes as well as clothes for the 7 girls.
She was a Sunday School teacher at the First Baptist Church for many years. Maggie on the far right.
Mother’s Day, May 8, 1954. My mom and dad are on the left on the back row next to my Uncle OB. I am on the right on the front row.
