Elizabeth Hille
One of the earliest memories I have is of Mom teaching me to climb stairs She would recite the words from the book, The Little Engine that Could… I think I can, I think I can, I think I can… I thought I could. I thought I could, I thought I could. It was her way to instill confidence and encourage me. I realized throughout her life, Mom was in fact, The Little Engine that Could. In the way she plugged along, through good times and bad, never giving up, always looking on the bright side, choosing joy. She encouraged those around her to always see the good, to take the high road. I have strived to follow her example in all aspects of my life. And, she is a hard act to follow.
Mom was loving, nurturing, a gentle giving spirit. She was always there to share her gifts with us. Singing, writing, songwriting, painting, storytelling, and of course playing her piano. Mom had a great sense of adventure, a mischievous streak and a playful sense of humor. One of my most vivid memories is of Mom’s birthday, January 11th, 1982. I had just gotten my first real job and my first car. I decided I would take Mom to dinner to celebrate her birthday. We chose a favorite spot, Old Angler’s Inn, along the C&O Canal. Mom was the pianist there for years, during my childhood and in my early adult years. So this would be a night of nostalgia… We struck out in my new little Honda Civic (think the size and shape of a Volkswagen Beetle). Winter was in full swing. Snow on the ground. When we got to Macarthur Blvd, we noticed the roads were a little slick. We were cruising along, when my wheels locked on ice. My little car drifted on its own, across the oncoming lane and down into the woods. We were in slow motion. It was as if a giant hand had scooped us up and was guiding us to avoid hitting trees. The car glided between big trees and then gently flipped on its right side. So, Mom was literally under me, as I leaned on her from the driver’s side. Miraculously, we were both intact. Just then we looked out and saw 4 large, strong people running toward the car, 2 men, 2 women, from out of the blue. They pulled us out through my driver’s side window. They grabbed all four corners and flipped the car upright. They inspected both us and the car, and when asked if we were OK, Mom kind of picked herself up, brushed herself off and said, Well, I snagged my hose, but other than that I’m OK. To this day, we have no idea where those people came from. It’s as if guardian angels were sent from above. We thanked our celestial rescuers profusely and went on our way. The car was drivable, so off to dinner we went. And we were so glad we did. We had a most memorable and delicious birthday meal.
I watched mom courageously pick herself up and brush herself off time and again over the years, through good times and bad. I had to do the same, but because of Mom, I was prepared. And it was Mom, who stood by me through some very hard years. We were survivors together and whenever one of us would get into a scrape, we’d just say, “Keep your boots on and stay out of the ditch”. That advice applied to so many things in our lives!
After some tough years on her own, the sun broke through for Mom when Henry Nash walked back in to her life. It was an answer to prayer to see her so happy again. I’m grateful that she and Henry spent 20 beautiful years together. I’m convinced it was God’s plan all along. For that I give thanks. I love you dearly, Mom. You are a part of my soul now. - Betsy
