This tribute to the memory of Miss Rhetta Gresham was written by Ruth Rogers as part of the Learning in Retirement memoir writing group led by Anita Latimer.)

“Do you want to go to camp?”

“This place called Camp Pinnacle sounds great,” exclaimed the group of pre-teen girls. Our Girls Auxiliary leader had just told us about the new Woman’s Missionary Camp located at Clayton, Georgia. Camp Pinnacle was ready to register young girls for the summer camping program. Our adult leader made it sound like such a wonderful possibility.

One large figure stood in the way of most of the GA girls’ being able to attend. That figure was the cost. Our leader told us to talk with our parents, and she would talk with the WMU ladies of First Baptist Church about help with the cost.

“You can go, if you want to. The cost is covered!” was the news our leader gave us at the next weekly meeting. “Miss Rhetta has the money for the fees. You will just have to supply your transportation.” Three girls attended Camp Pinnacle that summer because of Miss Rhetta. I was one of those GA girls. Miss Rhetta had given the money for one and had gone to the senior adult men’s class and challenged them to give the funds for the other two.

This was just the beginning of many things Miss Rhetta did to encourage me to be an active member of my church. Each year after that, she would tell me the funds were available for camp if I would like to go. Camp Pinnacle became a place that was dear to my heart, a place where I felt closer to God than any other place.

My love for Pinnacle carried over into my adult life, and when Miss Rhetta no longer should drive out of town, she rode with me to Pinnacle for the Annual WMU Prayer Retreat. Sharing this time with Miss Rhetta was a blessing. As I watched this eighty-plus Christian woman kneel by her bed and pray, I knew she was special not only to me, but also to God.

Miss Rhetta was not all seriousness. She had a great sense of humor. One evening at Camp Pinnacle we all had returned to our cabins, and everyone seemed to be waiting around after devotional. I knew why when I turned my bed covers back and my bed was full of pebbles, pinecones and straw. Everyone got a good laugh at my expense, and Miss Rhetta was laughing the most. She soon claimed the trick as hers.

Throughout Miss Rhetta’s life, she was my encourager, always praising me when I had a part on a WMU program or in Baptist Training Union, where she served as the leader. She never failed to single me out and speak to me and ask about things in my life.

In 1960, my first child was born. My husband and I were overwhelmed when we were told that all was not normal with our baby son, and things did not look good for his survival. After the news spread, Miss Rhetta was one of the first to come to the local hospital to express her love and concern. She assured us that she would be praying for our baby and for us.

Our son, David, died at seven days old due to a congenital heart defect. At his funeral were many flowers, but the small wreath made with flowers from Miss Rhetta’s flower garden was very special. Several days following the funeral, Miss Rhetta came to my home and told me she had used the wreath form and stand from her young daughter’s funeral many years. She had kept these, and as the occasion arose, she would arrange flowers from her garden for some child’s funeral. She shared with me her sadness and loss and assured me that time would heal and that God would be with me.

Three years later, when I brought my Angela home from the hospital, I soon had a telephone call. Miss Rhetta said,” Since I no longer can drive, as soon as you are able, bring that little Angela to see me.”

In a few weeks I called Miss Rhetta and told her we were coming for a visit. She was sitting in her rocker on the porch. She reached out her arms and said, “Let me hold this precious angel.” We sat and rocked and talked. With misty eyes, she shared her memories of her daughter with me. She assured me that I would never have a more blessed task than caring for this new life and guiding her in the right direction. I left Miss Rhetta’s porch with my small baby and with the feeling that she had been blessed by this godly woman.

On occasion I tried to show my appreciation to Miss Rhetta and tell her how much she had meant to my life. It never seemed sufficient. When I join Miss Rhetta in eternity and we are working the same flowerbed in heaven, I will again try to express my love and thanks to “My Barnabas.”