The Legend of the Poinsettia

     Poinsettias are known as the Christmas flower. The red flowers, which are really leaves, are in the shape of a star, such as the one that shimmered over Bethlehem when Jesus was born. The red color symbolizes the blood of Christ that was shed for the salvation of the world.

     There are several legends concerning the poinsettia.  One was that a small boy, wanting to have his very own gift to lay before the Creche at his church,  knelt to pray outside.  When he arose he discovered that the ground was covered with beautiful plants with scarlet leaves and yellow flowers.  He then picked the flowers and laid them at the Creche as his gift to the Christ-child.  Another legend is about a girl named Pepeta, whose mother was asked to weave a new blanket to cover the Baby Jesus in the manger for the Christmas Eve service.  Because the mother became ill, she was not able to complete the blanket.  Pepeta tried to weave, but could not do it alone.  The best she could do was pick an armful of green weeds to lay over the Baby Jesus.  As Pepeta prayed the green weeds were transformed into flaming red stars with green branches.  Today they are referred to as “La Flor De Noche Buena,” the flowers of the Holy Night.

     However, there was a time when there were no poinsettias in the United States. They were discovered growing wild in Mexico sometime between 1825 and 1830 by Dr. Joel Roberts Pointsett, the first ambassador to Mexico. Poinsett, a skilled botanist, was captivated by the beauty of the wild plant and called it “painted leaves.” He grew the plants in his greenhouse in Greenville, South Carolina and shared cuttings with his friend and neighbor Wilson Barton, great-great grandfather of Suzanne Barton Fisk. It was Wilson that gave the plants the name poinsettia after Dr. Poinsett. Wilson named his eldest son Joel Roberts Poinsett Barton in honor of his friend and neighbor. Joel Roberts Poinsett Barton, great grandfather to Suzanne, then named one of his sons the same. This son was Suzanne’s grandfather. Her father, who is now 92 years old, was named Joel R. Poinsett Barton. Suzanne’s brother is Joel R. Barton, the Poinsett being left off in this generation. Joel named one of his sons Robert Joel Barton.

     While the poinsettia is a beautiful Christmas flower to most people, for our family it is a symbol of love and unity and a reminder of our strong heritage.  Nothing seems to say “Merry Christmas” better than a beautiful red and green poinsettia.

The Phone Call

I remember that phone call as if it were yesterday. The woman introduced herself as a neighbor, Diane Baker. She explained that she was the granddaughter of my mother-in-law’s neighbor. She continued to say that she had heard I recently moved in and that she wanted to welcome me to the area.

The year was 1980. I was 30 years old and had just moved, with my family, from the suburbs of Newark, Delaware, to a rural community about 30 minutes south. The purpose of our move was to “save our marriage.” The plan was for me to quit my job selling real estate and together we buy a house closer to Bill’s work in Dover. Then, we would have more time together and surely that would fix our marriage. It sounded like a good plan, but it was seriously flawed. First, our income was cut in half. Second, we had a bigger mortgage! Now, we not only had marital problems, but financial ones as well!

Shortly after moving in, we realized we were in over our heads, financially. I began to think about how I could earn money from home. Only God knows how, but someone from DuPont company (where I had worked as a typist) found out I was looking for work and called me . She wanted to know if I was interested in transcribing a book she was writing. I said, “Sure.”

The book turned out to be an autobiography of a woman who had been in witchcraft and how she got “saved.” Because I dabbled in the occult, I found it interesting; but, I shrugged it off as “nonsense.” It did get me thinking about religion, again, so I decided that day that I ought to take the kids to church so they could “decide for themselves” about religion. Shortly after that decision, I received the phone call.

After our brief introduction, I asked Diane where she went to church. She told me about her Methodist church a mile down the road, and I told her I would meet her there the following Sunday. (She later told me that she was shocked that I asked about church as she had heard I was a pagan!)

That Sunday, I attended church for the second time in my life. The first time was at about eight years old with a friend who attended a Catholic church where the service was in Latin. (I later found out from my mother that I attended church several times as a toddler. However, I don’t remember it.) The Methodist service was dull and uninteresting and the kids began to misbehave; so I ended up leaving church early. But Diane didn’t give up.

She invited me and the kids over to her home which was part of their huge family farm. My kids loved going there to play with her four children and I enjoyed Diane’s friendship. While the kids played, Diane shared her life with me. She listened as I talked about my problems. She gave us a bag of food one time when we were short of money. She accepted me for who I was - a messed up woman who cussed, dabbled in the occult, and had totally messed up her life.

I began going to a Bible Study in her home where she showed me who Jesus really was. She gave me books to read and music to listen to. She prayed for me and counseled me. I slowly came to the knowledge that Jesus was real and that I needed to make Him the Lord of my life. But Satan wouldn’t let me go that easy.

As I considered giving my life to Jesus, a thought came into my mind that if I did, Bill would die. I know now where that thought originated, but at the time, I thought it was ESP. It frightened me. I told Diane and she and the group prayed that God would show me that this was a lie.

In June of that year, I went to visit my parents and decided to “camp” out in the back yard with the kids. While they were asleep, I thought about all that Diane had told me. I cried out to God that I knew He was real but I couldn’t let Bill die. As I prayed that prayer, God sent me a supernatural sign that convinced me Bill would be safe.

I gave my heart to Jesus that night, in a tiny tent in the back yard of my family home while Wil and Shelly were asleep. When I got back to Odessa and told Diane what happened, she was delighted. During the next few months, Diane became my best friend and my spiritual mentor. She modeled what a Christian should be. She loved me when I was at my worst and accepted me just as I was. She was never judgmental and she showed her Christianity through her actions as well as her words. She was one of the best examples I have ever met of someone who was a “doer of the Word and not a hearer only.”

In 1990, Diane was struck by an automobile and killed while walking down the road past her home. Her life was short, but I know that when she arrived in heaven, God presented her with at least one crown - a crown labeled, “For your patience and faithfulness in presenting the Gospel to Cindy Downes.”

The Heirloom

In the 1890s, west of what is now Ballinger, Texas, Susan Cobb Abernathy, great-grandmother of Suzanne Barton Fisk, was the recipient of a family heirloom. It is more precious because of the courage and love it represents.

The west Texas prairie was a harsh and lonely land in the 1890s. Charles and Susan Abernathy watched wagon trains roll westward across their dusty ranch, everyone searching for the promised land. One day they noticed that one of the covered wagons had stayed behind. Upon investigation, they discovered the family needed help. The mother and several of the young children were quite ill. Everyone was transported to the Abernathy homestead, where Susan valiantly worked to nurse them back to health, while attending to her own small children and the many other chores required of a rancher’s wife. Despite Susan’s valiant efforts, the mother died; however, all the children regained their health. Because Susan came to love these children, it was with a heavy heart that she watched their still grieving father load them into the covered wagon several months later and head back east.

Time passed. Then Susan received a package sent to her from the father and his children, who Susan and her family had helped some time back. Opening the package, Susan was amazed to discover six gleaming silver tablespoons with the inscription Matthew 25:35-36 engraved on each one. In the large family Bible she read:

“For I was hungry and ye gave me food; I was thirsty and ye gave me drink; I was a stranger and ye took me in; Naked and ye clothed me; I was sick and ye visited me; I was in prison and ye came to me.”

These silver tablespoons would become a treasure, a family heirloom.

Charles and Susan had six children. Each of them was given one of the spoons. Joel R. Barton III has the spoon given to Susan Abernathy Barton, grandmother to Joel and Suzanne Barton Fisk. The spoon belonging to Luther, one of the sons, now hangs on the living room wall in Suzanne’s home. It is a reminder of the courage and faith, heritage and love, which has always been an inspiration for this family. For it is in giving that we receive.

Getting Organized

 

How in the world did I ever get organized? Even though I am a librarian, organization for me is frantically pulling it all together at the very last minute and never fully understanding how it got done. It began with thinking…… Family history is an important tool in discovering who we are. I wanted to help my grandchildren know more about their ancestors in order to help them better understand how those who lived before them helped shape who they are. I decided the first “bite” of family history that I would explore would be a much loved story of my great-grandmother Susan Cobb Abernathy, because it depicts the faith and courage that have always been such a part of our family. I wanted my story to “inform, enlighten, and entertain” as stated in chapter 2, page 13 of our text book. So my organization entailed:
1. Deciding what “bite” to write first
2. Collecting and rereading data about the story
3. Writing
Not too bad for a disorganized librarian!

Organizing - Lesson 1

Here I am - sitting in a somewhat cramped booth waiting for two “study buddies” so we can work on our project for Intro to Mass Media. While I wait, I am listening to comforting music, taking in the aroma of hot mocha and cinnamon rolls, and writing my first lesson from the book, “How to Write the Story of Your Life.” So, here goes:

Lesson # 1 - Organizing. The only organizing I am going to do is create a new folder on my Mac entitled, “My SOYL.” Don’t you love computers! So, I’m ready to begin writing “The Story of my Life.”

After reading the chapter, I think I am going to begin with a transition in my life. I am creeping up on 60 (58 in February) and I became a Christian at 30. So, I’m going to begin with the event that divided my life in half: One half living my life the best I could as a pagan and the other half living my life the best I can as a child of God. I think that would be a good starting point for anyone reading my memoires so they could understand the contrast in my life experiences!